A Feather on the Water(88)

CHAPTER 27


In the first week of May, four hundred new DPs arrived to replace those who had boarded the train for Poland in April. They had been living in a camp in another sector of the American zone. As more DPs returned to Poland, some camps were closing and the remaining inmates were sent to those that, for the time being, would remain active. Seidenmühle, it seemed, was in it for the long haul.

It wasn’t easy, settling the newcomers in. They had neither wanted nor expected to move camps. Like all the DPs in the occupied territories, they nurtured dreams of a better life, and it was a depressing business to find themselves tacking up blankets and piling up suitcases to create makeshift living spaces.

Two days after the new DPs arrived, Martha was collecting the mail from the guardhouse when she saw a farmer’s cart pull up outside the gates.

“I didn’t think we were expecting a food delivery today.” She glanced at Corporal Brody, who was already tucking into the bread and marmalade she had brought him.

“We’re not.” Reluctantly he put down the food and stepped outside to ask what the farmer wanted. The reply came from a voice she recognized. Her heart almost burst through her ribs as she darted outside. When she called out his name, all that emerged was a rasping whisper.

“Good morning!” He greeted her with a wary smile.

“G . . . good morning.” She forced the words out, her body electrified with shock.

“Mr. Dombrowski, isn’t it.” Brody tilted his head as he looked at him. “Thought you went back to Poland.”

“I came back.” The muscles of his jaw clenched. “I am not asking to come into the camp. I know that is not possible.”

Brody glanced at Martha. She hoped the corporal couldn’t see how close she was to tears. She was staring straight through the gates, mesmerized by the face she thought she’d never see again.

Stefan met her eyes, searing her with his hot blue gaze. “I came only to show you . . .” He went over to the cart and said something in Polish that Martha didn’t catch. Then two heads appeared over the side. Two little girls with their hair in braids—one dark, one fair—were peering shyly at Martha.

“This is my daughter, Lubya.” Stefan lifted the blond child down and set her on the ground. “And this is her friend, Halina.”

“Will you open the gates, please?” Martha had difficulty controlling her voice as she turned to Brody. “Mr. Dombrowski has had a long journey. I’m sure there’s nothing in the rules to say we can’t offer him some refreshment.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Martha turned back, smiling to cover her bewilderment, her eyes moving from Stefan and the girls to the cart, expecting another figure to emerge from among the crates of onions.

Stefan took both children by the hand and crouched down, murmuring words of reassurance. This time he was close enough for Martha to hear what he said, despite the blood pounding in her ears. He was telling them not to be afraid, that the lady was kind and would give them something nice to eat.

The dark-haired girl, Halina, looked doubtful. “Wygl?da jak ?o?nierz.” She looks like a soldier.

Stefan said that no, she wasn’t a soldier—her name was Martha.

The girls looked at each other. Then his daughter said: “Czy ona b?dzie moj? now? mam??” Will she be my new mama?



When they were out of sight of the guardhouse, Stefan’s hand brushed Martha’s arm. It was the briefest touch—unseen by the girls, who were a few steps ahead, skipping along the path—but the look that came with it was intense.

“I’m sorry. I shocked you—I can see from your face. You didn’t get my letters?” He paused, his eyes fixed on hers. “I wrote to tell you what happened when I got back to Warsaw. I . . .”

“Papa!” Lubya turned around. She was pointing to a squirrel darting about beneath the trees.

He stepped away, his hand dropping to his side, as if his fingers had touched an electric fence.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You go to her. We can talk later.”

When they reached the office, Kitty did a good job of covering her amazement at the sight of Stefan coming through the door.

“It’s a shame you didn’t come back last week,” she said. “We had lots of room then. But we can probably squeeze you into the stable block.”

“They can’t stay.” Martha shot her a desperate look. “The army won’t allow people back once they’ve left. But if we could rustle up something to eat . . .”

“Of course.” Kitty dropped down in front of the girls, her head level with theirs. “Czy jad?y?cie kiedy? amerykańsk? czekolad??”

Their eyes widened. She was offering them one of the precious Hershey bars Charlie had given her.

“Is that okay?” She glanced up at Stefan, who smiled. Turning to Martha, she said: “I’ll meet you in the mess hall in about half an hour.”

Martha nodded. Her throat was so tight she didn’t trust herself to speak.

When they’d gone, she and Stefan stood in the room like a couple of strangers. She felt paralyzed, unable to run to him and wrap her arms around him because she didn’t know what he was going to tell her. And he looked as uneasy as she felt.

“Will you walk with me?” He tilted his head toward the window.