Names in a Jar by Jennifer Gold

Author:Jennifer Gold
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Second Story Press
Published: 2021-07-05T18:52:04+00:00

Chapter 13

Anna

Fall, 1942

“Going to see Piotr?” Elsbietta winked, and I blushed furiously.

“Yes, but I’m just going to return this book,” I protested. I waved it as proof.

“Sure,” said Elsbietta slyly.

“Ria.” Patryk rushed and grabbed me around my knees. “Up!”

“Patryk, come now. Your sister needs some time to herself.” Elsbietta moved to pull him back, but he clung tighter.

“You know what? You can come.” I scooped him up and rested him on my hip. Patryk beamed and threw his arms around my neck. I inhaled the sweet baby smell of his head and kissed it.

“Oh, Maria, no.” Elsbietta looked distressed. “You rarely have any time to yourself.”

“It’s no problem,” I said cheerfully. “Patryk can come. He can play with Eva and Ursula.”

“Meow!” Patryk looked excited. He loved Ursula, who was much friendlier than our aloof barn cats.

“If you’re sure.” She looked dubious.

“Of course! It will be fine.” I set Patryk down. “Ready? You can walk like a big boy. You can run! It’ll be a race.”

“Run!” He clapped his hands together excitedly. Elsbietta and I exchanged a smile.

Patryk and I made our way through the field between our farm and the Kowalskis’, avoiding the main roads so Patryk could run and tumble. He ran ahead of me, his little bowlegged frame toddling and pointing.

“Ria!” Patryk pointed excitedly. “Woof!”

He ran toward a moving speck in the distance. I squinted. There was a dog, and close behind it was a man in a pale brown uniform.

“Nazi,” I whispered to myself, freezing. Patryk continued to run, arms waving in excitement at the four-legged creature trotting toward us. My heart quickened as the soldier came closer.

“Heil Hitler!” he declared. He grabbed the dog’s collar. “Careful, Shatzi,” he said to it. “You’ll knock him down.”

He flashed me a toothy grin, and I forced a weak smile. He was young, near Lina’s age. I scooped Patryk up into my arms despite his wriggles and protests.

“Your son?” The soldier nodded at Patryk and stared at me, his gaze lingering on my face before dropping lower.

My son? I shook my head. “My brother,” I whispered.

The Nazi shrugged. “You look a bit young, but you never know with Polish peasants.” He flashed another grin, but this time I didn’t smile back.

“What’s your name?” he said, turning to Patryk.

“Patryk,” I answered for him.

“And you?” His eyes traveled up and down my body. “What’s your name, Mädchen?”

“Maria,” I whispered, my eyes on my battered shoes. I clutched my bag with the book against my chest with one hand.

“My mother’s name!” He nodded approvingly. “She’s not a redhead like you, though.”

I said nothing, fidgeting anxiously.

“I’ve always liked redheads.” He caught my eye. “Your brother doesn’t have red hair.”

“Maybe not,” I agreed, my voice trembling. “It looks as if it may be blonde, like my father’s was.”

“Blonde?” He frowned, inspecting. “Perhaps.”

“Dog?” Patryk had stopped squirming, still staring longingly at the German Shepherd, now seated. Grateful for the distraction, I forced a beseeching smile.

“May he pet your dog, sir?”

“But of course,” he said, putting out his arms for Patryk.

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