Children of the Stars Read online

  I trust Moses is as sweet and handsome as ever. His lips have the grace of his grandmother, always smiling, his heart spilling over with goodness.

  Kiss the boys for me. Tell them how much we love them, that we think of them constantly every day, and that we will be together again soon.

  Your loving sister-in-law,

  Jana

  Jacob’s eyes and face turned dark with the grime from his shirt-sleeve as he wiped away his tears. He sighed. Loneliness was starker when the heart wandered down memory’s paths. He looked at the half-dozen letters and thought twice before reading another. Finally, he settled on taking the last letter, as if the words in between were of no import.

  He read the beginning quickly, torn between wanting to make the letter last and hoping to know how his parents were. His chest contracted as he reached the last few paragraphs.

  A cry escaped before he clapped his hands over his mouth. He did not want to upset Moses, but it would be almost impossible to hide his grief. Did his eyes deceive him, or had he just read that his parents were planning to go to South America without them? Surely not . . . This could not be. He also knew that in the past year so many things had happened that the only truly impossible thing was for more unexpected things not to happen. The brothers had to find them as soon as possible, but they would have to cross France to do it.

  He remembered when the world consisted of their house, his days at school, walks with his father, and nights snuggled up to his mother—when everything was a game, and holding his father’s strong hand gave him a calmness he had found nowhere else. Jacob felt like an eagle perched at the edge of its nest just before diving into the infinite abyss below. Would his wings let them take flight? Would they be able to float through the unknown before them?

  He put the letter in his pocket, dried his face, and went to the kitchen. Moses and Joseph were playing a game on the wooden table. Jacob glanced at the pantry and saw that Moses had managed to remove Aunt Judith’s lock. The younger boys had eaten nearly all that was left of Judith’s meager stores. Hunger and sadness were at war within Jacob, but upon seeing the bits of cheese and the half loaf of bread on the table, his stomach won. Then he drank as much water as his belly could hold. Approaching something like fullness, he said, “I actually think it would be better for us to go to your house, Joseph. It’s not that far away. Then we can come back here to see if my aunt is home.”

  Joseph nodded, feeling the panic of the raid wash over him again.

  “Moses, you’ve got to shower first. I’ll find you some clothes,” Jacob said.

  “Shower? No way. I can do that when we get back.”

  “The Germans will smell you a mile away. The idea is for no one to notice us, so we’re all three going to shower before we leave here.”

  Moses grumbled but moved toward the bathroom. Jacob went to their room and found clean outfits, walking shoes, warm clothes, hats, and the packs they used when they would go for walks in the countryside.

  “What’s all that for?” Joseph asked.

  “We might have a long journey ahead of us. I found some letters in Aunt Judith’s things, and it looks like our parents finally got visas and were hoping to leave at the end of the—”

  “Without you?” Joseph interrupted.

  “They couldn’t get visas for us. They wanted to go to South America and then send for us, but they have no idea what’s happened the last few days here in Paris.”

  Joseph nodded. “So you want to go find them?”

  “If my aunt comes back, we could go with her. But if she’s not here anymore, we’ll have to try it anyway.”

  Joseph buried his hands in his hair, closed his eyes, and shook his head. It was too much to take in. “And you thought I was crazy for trying to find my parents at the other camp? There’s no way you can travel around the country on your own.”

  Jacob knew his friend was right. Traveling through France right now would be suicidal. But he could not give up. He would walk until his strength ran out, searching for his parents.

  “It’s worth a shot,” he answered, with all the conviction that innocent confidence could muster—at the age when dreams and reality were still jumbled together and recklessness was still a kind of bravery.

  Chapter 7

  Paris

  July 18, 1942

  The shower and food refreshed them, though the boys were bleary from not having slept since their fitful rest in the velodrome basement two nights before. They cautiously left the apartment, walking with short, light steps over the floorboards of the landings. When they reached the courtyard, they took care that no one saw them leave. Once in the street, they stuck their hands in their pockets and tried to appear like boys just whiling away the time before supper. No one paid them any attention. One of the advantages of being children was being completely invisible to most adults.

  The building where Joseph lived was much older and more run-down than Aunt Judith’s. The brick façade was blackened from proximity to the nearby factories. Several of the windows had broken glass, and the dirty shutters, many only partially attached, made them look like eyes wide open in desperation. But for Joseph, it was home.

  They walked up the stone stairway. Some steps had crumbled, and the rickety bannister offered flimsy support as they climbed. They reached the third floor and saw an apartment door open. Joseph began to cry at the doorway.

  The floor was wet and littered with newspaper, with things thrown everywhere. The mattresses had been removed from the bedrooms, and the clothing strewn about tightened the noose of desolation around Joseph’s heart.

  Jacob and Moses followed Joseph into what had been his room. Broken toys and dirty clothes had been scattered around at will.

  So this was not his home anymore after all. The walls still enclosed his memories, but the soul had been removed. All the birthdays with a simple cake made by his mother, the steamy aromas of soup made by his grandmother, the squabbling and laughter punctuating family meals, the absurd assumption that they would always be happy . . . Everything was gone. They had never had money, but they’d always had one another. There is no greater wealth than love; but when the wrenching force of fate crushes affection, the misery of love’s lack turns people into shadows of themselves.

  Joseph fell to the floor, gripping his stomach and weeping. He felt as though knives were stabbing him. Jacob and Moses were afraid his wailing would alert the neighbors, but they did not silence him. They offered what comfort they could.

  “The important thing is that your family is okay. Tomorrow we’ll go to that camp at Drancy. I’m sure you’ll see them again. At least they’re not too far away,” Moses said. Yet sadness descended upon him as he heard his own words. Jacob wanted to go look for their parents, but Moses was terrified. Since leaving Germany, he had rarely been outside the place where his aunt lived. Running all over France seemed like madness. The only thing that made it bearable was that he would be with Jacob.

  No one spoke for a while. Then Moses sat down and started fiddling with some little lead soldiers that were damaged. Jacob finally broke the stillness. “Do you need to get any clothes? We shouldn’t stay here long.”

  “Do you think your aunt will be back?” Joseph asked, stuffing a few belongings into a backpack.

  “I don’t know. The house was quiet, like she hadn’t been there for a while. The furniture had dust on it, and Aunt Judith doesn’t tolerate dust. The kitchen looked abandoned too . . . I don’t know. Maybe she’s been out looking for us this whole time, or maybe they took her. I think we should stay there tonight. And if she doesn’t come back, we’ll get you to that other camp and then head south.”

  Jacob’s voice was so quiet it startled Joseph. Jacob always tried to encourage the others, but he seemed to be running out of steam. Joseph had seen Jacob stand up for his brother on more than one occasion when nasty schoolboys were roughing Moses up because of his yellow star. Yet, as he zipped his backpack closed, Joseph wondered if the atmosp
here of his apartment and the fear surrounding them had taken a toll on Jacob.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Joseph said, throwing his backpack over his shoulders. They walked down the hallway, and Joseph saw his father’s hat hanging on a nail behind the door. “I should keep this,” he said, settling it on his head. Contact with something that belonged to his father filled him anew with dread, but he swallowed hard and walked out to the landing.

  Joseph kept his eyes glued to the narrowing vision of his apartment as the door closed behind them. He knew his old life was over and that things would never be the same.

  They went down the empty staircase to the entryway. Just as they started down the street, Joseph glanced back. Fearing he would be turned into a pillar of salt like Lot’s wife, the boy could not resist one last look at what remained of his world.

  Innocence can only be lost once. The eyes of the boy now beheld something unknown. The bright colors of his childhood had turned to gray, the magic morphing into the dark reality that now held everything in its merciless grip. Becoming conscious of himself, a boy turns away from the lost paradise of childhood and becomes one more soul to whom the gates of Eden are forever closed.

  Before the three boys reached Aunt Judith’s apartment building again, they noted the heightened activity in the streets. Many of their former neighbors were Jews, but the non-Jews who remained carried on, indifferent toward the lot that had befallen their former friends, neighbors, students, employees, and clients.

  Jacob found the normalcy shocking. Within a matter of hours, no one recalled his existence, no one was concerned. It was as if he had never even been born.

  Jacob told Moses to go ahead and spy out the approach to their apartment building. Moses went to the corner, took a few cautious steps beyond the threshold, and saw the doorwoman. Her back was to him. His pulse shot up, and he ran back to the other boys.

  “She’s in her lookout,” Moses said, eyes wide.

  “Okay, okay, think. What are we going to do? When she’s at the entryway, she can stay there for hours . . .” Jacob’s mind ran through all the possible scenarios.

  “I don’t think she’d recognize me,” Joseph said. “I could distract her, and once you two are in, I’ll sneak in after you.”

  Jacob shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. That woman is the devil incarnate. You know what she did to us.”

  Joseph’s chest rose with determination. “I’ll take my chances. Leave it to me.” He was eager to help. Danger sometimes was the best sign that life carried on. It was better to stare fear in the face than hide in a hole.

  Joseph took his hat off and went up to the doorwoman. His friends could not see him, but they could hear him faintly.

  “Could you help me, ma’am? I think I’ve gotten turned around. My Aunt Clara is waiting for me on Rue Nollet. Is it nearby?”

  The woman turned her dark brown eyes on him, not hiding the annoyance she felt when anyone asked for help. She stood, opened the green door, and stepped down to the cobblestones of the entryway. “It’s not far. You have to go down to the end of the street,” she said, pointing vaguely.

  “To the right or to the left?” Joseph asked, stepping toward the road. He needed to draw the doorwoman away from the entrance without her seeing his friends.

  The woman frowned. She was heavy and preferred not to move from the door. Supposedly she swept the courtyard and mopped the stairs, but no one had ever seen her do it. She heaved herself forward, over the threshold, and Jacob and Moses seized the moment of her back being turned to them and dashed behind her into the courtyard. Once behind the wall, they paused to quiet their breathing and let their heartbeats slow.

  “Watch out, sir!” Joseph cried out as a noisy truck bearing casks of wine chugged down the street too close to them. The doorwoman turned and flinched, and Joseph skittered through the gate. By the time the doorwoman turned back to the lost boy, recovering from the fright, there was no one there.

  “Little brat!” she yelled, arms raised. Her sweaty, white flesh jiggled beneath her coarse black dress. She hefted herself slowly back toward the lookout.

  The three boys giggled as they made their way up the stairs. With the key in the door to their aunt’s apartment, they heard a noise behind them. They turned, terrified, but it was not the greasy face of the doorwoman. Instead, it was the sweet face of Margot, the woman who lived right below them. She was a loner who preferred cats to other adult company, but she did like to give sweets to children and sing along to old songs on her gramophone. Jacob and Moses had spent many a night listening to her through the floorboards.

  “Ms. Margot!” Moses greeted her with a smile.

  “My dear children,” she said, holding out her soft, pale hands. “Are you looking for your aunt? Come into my apartment. Let’s not talk here in the hallway.”

  With difficulty, the woman made her way down the set of half-turn stairs. She opened her lock with a large key and stood aside for the boys to pass, and they went to the living room and settled on a couch. Margot came in a few minutes later, holding a tray.

  “I’ve brought you some pastries and milk. An old woman doesn’t eat much, and you are growing boys.”

  The boys eyed the food greedily but did not move. Margot placed the silver tray on the table and motioned for them to help themselves. That was all the invitation needed. The three boys gobbled up the food and downed all the milk in their glasses. Margot watched them quietly, pleased. She waited until they were finished before speaking again.

  “So you have come looking for your aunt Judith?” she asked the brothers.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jacob answered. Margot’s smile faded, and she looked down at the floor. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and chose her words carefully.

  “The day of the raid was terrible. I never imagined anything like that could happen here. You boys know I’ve been a teacher for forty years. In fact, I taught literature at the same school you attended before the Nazis came to Paris.”

  Jacob and Moses nodded, crumbs around their mouths. The little feast had perked them up.

  “From my window I watched them take all those poor people away. When I saw Moses’s little blond head, I just broke down and wept. I so admired your parents, and you boys have always been so sweet and respectful to me. I’ve known your aunt for ages—a wonderful woman.” It always took Margot a while to get to the point. The boys kept quiet but were getting impatient. “After that beast of a woman denounced you,” she continued, “I heard the race up the stairs—how you went out to the roof, how the gendarmes chased you—and I prayed you would escape to safety. Speaking of which,” she said, interrupting herself, “where have you been the past few days?”

  “Locked up with thousands of other people in the velodrome,” Jacob answered.

  “The velodrome? Where they have the bicycle races?” Margot asked, incredulous.

  “Yes, there in the stadium.”

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered, looking for confirmation from the cat she cradled in her lap. “The world has gone absolutely mad.”

  “So have you seen Aunt Judith?” Moses broke in.

  “Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Your aunt came back a few hours later. I heard her go in the apartment—”

  They all four jumped at the sound of loud rapping at the door. Silence fell. Margot got slowly to her feet and went to the hallway, gesturing for the children to stay quiet. She peered through the peephole and saw two gendarmes shuffling uneasily before her door.

  Chapter 8

  Paris

  July 18, 1942

  Margot took a deep breath and opened the door just a crack.

  “Madame, pardon the interruption, but the doorwoman called us. Some of the tenants have heard voices coming from the apartment upstairs,” said the gendarme, still breathing heavily from his trip up the stairs.

  Margot waited a moment. She never lied, yet she could not let the children be taken.

  “I’m so sorry.
It’s my fault. Two of my cats got out. Sometimes they get into my neighbor’s apartment. I actually have keys, so I went up to get them. That must be what people heard.”

  “Could you let us in upstairs so we can have a look? It will only take a moment,” the older gendarme said. The younger one gave him a look of annoyance.

  “Why, yes, of course,” Margot responded, rustling through a drawer in the table beside the door, looking for the key to Judith’s apartment. She opened the door just wide enough to pass through and hand the key to the gendarmes.

  The gendarme continued, “A lot of the Jews have tried to hide in their neighbors’ and friends’ houses, and we’ve got to round up the last of them. They’ll be shipped out of France soon.”

  “Is that so? Away from France?”

  “Yes, the Germans need them to work, it seems. They’ve got too many men on the Russian front, and they need manpower to make weapons in the factories,” the gendarme confirmed.

  Margot nodded and crossed her arms. The agent’s answer had convinced her. As the gendarme walked upstairs, she shut the door again and sighed with relief. She went to the living room and held a finger to her lips. “Not a word! The gendarmes are upstairs.”

  “My backpack!” Jacob whispered, horrified. “I left it up there. They’ll see it, and there were some really important things in it . . .”

  “Let’s just hope they don’t take anything,” Margot said.

  They heard footsteps above them, the sound of doors opening and closing. Moments later, the two men knocked again at Margot’s door.

  “Thank you for the key, ma’am. Do you know if anyone’s been up there in the past couple of days?” the older officer asked, his face clouded with concern.

  “It’s difficult to say. Like I said, there was a woman living up there, but I haven’t heard anything for a few days and, I’ll tell you one thing, though my hearing’s not what it once was, down here you can hear a pin fall from upstairs. You should have heard those children who used to live up there. The way they would tear from one end of the apartment to the other—never a moment’s peace!”