“I don’t know, Kasia. With Russia trying to woo German doctors away from the U.S., we may’ve been trying to curry favor. Somehow the Germans lose every war but win every peace.”
“Your sources are wrong.”
Caroline stood and touched my sleeve. “They think the West German government has helped Herta settle up in Stocksee. Northern Germany. She may be practicing as a doctor again…A family doctor.”
I brushed off her touch. “I don’t believe it—she killed people, did this to me.” I pulled back my skirt.
Caroline stepped closer. “I know, Kasia. We can fight it.”
I laughed. “Fight them? How exactly would this happen?”
“First, we need someone to make a positive ID.”
“And that someone would be…”
“Only if you’re comfortable.”
The sun came up over the trees, warm on my shoulders. “Comfortable? No, I’m not comfortable with that.” I threw the trowel in the bucket, where it landed with a clatter. “How can you even suggest I visit Herta Oberheuser?” All at once, the sun seemed too hot.
“We need a photograph or an official receipt from her office. Otherwise, it’s simply hearsay.”
“Snap a picture of Herta Oberheuser? You’re kidding.”
“I’ll provide transit papers and money.”
Was she really asking me to go see Herta? I conjured up her face. The smug look. The bored expression. My stomach contracted. Was I going to be sick there on the perfect grass?
“I’m sorry. You’ve been very kind to us, but no thank you.” I started along the gravel path toward the house.
Caroline followed. “Sometimes we must sacrifice for the greater good.”
I stopped and turned.
“We?” So Zuzanna would stay here safe while I alone went to find Herta?
“Please just consider it, dear.”
“But—”
“Take your time. We’ll go make a fresh pot of coffee.”
The pig woke with a start, struggled to her feet, and followed as we walked to the house, our steps crunching in the gravel.
It felt good to be needed by Caroline, but she was asking the impossible. To go see Dr. Oberheuser? Would I have to talk to her? Would she recognize me? Remember Matka?
By the time we made it to the house, I realized Caroline was right about the roses. Once the sun was overhead, the fragrance was gone.
1959
Back in Lublin, things had changed so much. I’d been gone less than nine months, but it felt like ten years. Pietrik had moved us to our own apartment at the Lubgal Ladies Garment Factory where he worked, just outside of the city. The whole place was no bigger than Caroline’s kitchen in Connecticut, but it was ours, just the three of us. No Papa. No Marthe. Zuzanna was with Serge in Connecticut. Two bedrooms all for us.
The kitchen was compact, barely big enough to turn around in. On my day off from the hospital, I sewed blue curtains Matka would have loved, gingham, with birds along the hems, and I arranged the two little bottles of vodka the stewardess from my flight home had given me along the kitchen windowsill.
Pietrik seemed happy to have me home. Had he missed me? He would not say, and I was not about to ask, but he was all smiles when he met me at the airport, a single pink rose in hand. I was all smiles as well with my new tooth. Perhaps things would be better between us? Why did I feel so shy with him, my husband? I could walk so much better, too. The pain pills the Mount Sinai doctor gave me to ease the little discomfort I still had were running out, so I was irritable at times. But I was eager to make things right again, to get back to how it was before the war.
—
ONE LATE AFTERNOON that fall I went to the postal center to see Papa. He handed me a package through the bars of the pickup window.
“I got to this before the censors did,” he whispered.
The package was no bigger than a shoe box and wrapped in brown paper.
“Be careful about what your friends mail you.”
The return address was C. Ferriday, 31 East 50th St., New York, NY, U.S.A. Caroline had been smart not to send it from the consulate. It would have been opened for certain. But any communication from the West was suspect and noted on one’s record.
“And a letter from Zuzanna,” Papa said.
He looked curious, but I just tucked both under my coat.
I hurried home to our apartment and climbed the three flights of stairs, finally able to walk like a normal person. Halina had pinned a new poster on our door: DISTRICT 10 ART EXHIBITION: POLAND IN POSTERS. It was graphic and stark, a new look for her. How had I forgotten the art show was that night? Since I’d left, Halina had attacked art with new vigor. I tried not to think about this.
I set the brown paper package on the kitchen table and stared at it. I knew what was inside.
I heard a pebble hit the kitchen window and went to see who’d thrown it. Neighborhood boys, no doubt. I pulled up the window sash, ready to scold, and saw Pietrik standing below.
“It is a beautiful day!” he said. “Come out and play.”
“You will break the window with those stones,” I said, resting my weight on my forearms along the windowsill. He was still so handsome, like a boy. A little thicker around the middle, but everywhere we went women still glanced at him when they thought I wasn’t looking.
“Are you going to make me come up there and get you?” he said with a smile, hands on his hips.
I closed the window, and he was up the stairs in seconds. He arrived in the apartment winded, his cheeks flushed. He came to me and tried to kiss me, but I turned away.
“Remember me, your husband?” he said.
“I think I have the flu. My muscles ache. I can’t stop sweating.”
“Still?” said Pietrik. “Maybe because you’re not taking those pills.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Pietrik placed his hand on the package. “What is this?”
“From Caroline,” I said.
“Well?” Pietrik tossed the box to me. “Open it.”
I caught it. “Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for, Kasia?”
“I know what’s in it. She wants me to go up to a town in Germany called Stocksee. To identify…”
“Who?”
I placed the box back on the table. “Herta Oberheuser.”
“She’s out?” Pietrik said.
“They think she might have a medical practice up there. And they need an eyewitness identification from someone who knows what she looks like.”
“Still a doctor? Are you going?”
I said nothing.
“You’d need special papers, Kasia. And even that doesn’t guarantee they let you through.”
“That’s what is in the package,” I said.
“And it isn’t cheap. The gas alone—”
“That’s in there too,” I said. “Knowing Caroline, both zlotys and marks.”
Pietrik took a step closer. “We have to go, Kasia. Finally we can do something to get back at them. I’ll come with you. Just getting across the border is dicey as hell. Do you know how many people have died crossing it?”
“Illegally. People do it legally every day.”
“It’s harder now. Plus the area’s full of booby traps and minefields. Fifty thousand GDR guards patrol it, all top marksmen. When in doubt, they shoot first.”
Pietrik took up my hands in his.
“I’ll come with you. Halina can stay with your parents.”
“I’m done with all that, Pietrik. The underground. Ravensbrück. I need to move on.”
“That’s the problem—you can’t move on. Have you even said two words to your daughter since you’ve been home?”
“She’s been busy with art class—”
“She missed you when you were gone. Made a calendar and X’d off the days till you came home.”
“I’m working two shifts now,” I said.
Pietrik took hold of my shoulders. “Can you make room for her?”
“She’s always over at Marthe’s…”
He walked to the chair where he’d thrown his jacket and reached for it.
“It’s always someone else, Kasia.” Pietrik headed for the door. “You never learn, do you?”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To our daughter’s art show.”
I stepped toward him. How could he just leave? “What about dinner?”