Page 24 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

SEVENTEEN

HALINA

An hour ago, I would have had trouble defining the meaning of fear, especially since I’m certain my worst fear would have always been to grow up without parents or a family.

I’ve had nightmares and woken up drenched in sweat, jumped at eerie sounds in a dark room, and even screamed so loud that all the birds flew out of a tree at once, all because a squirrel ran across my feet while I was walking through the woods alone.

Now—after witnessing the death of a woman…

I don’t want to ever see someone die again.

That’s true fear. And I didn’t protect the children.

I wrestled with Marlene and Isla, trying to stop them, but it all happened so quickly and with Flora in my arms, I lost the fight.

Officer Sch?fer must have heard his daughter’s scream, but he didn’t come upstairs to check on them.

He might not have even known we were upstairs at all.

Julia never would have let me see something like that. She would have just known to keep me away from the window. Somehow. She would still keep me away from the window, even now. I didn’t realize how much she must have been protecting me from.

How could I not tell her that I loved her when I left? I barely embraced her. She must think I’m ungrateful, but it’s not true. Not at all. I’d do anything to tell her what she truly meant—what she means to me.

I hope I get another chance.

I don’t know what to tell them. How do I make this okay? I wish I could ask Julia what I should do right now…if there’s any way to make this better. Though, I think I know the answer.

I’ve kept them in Flora’s bedroom. The car has left, and a truck has come and gone, leaving us with the resonance of a dead weight falling against the metal lining in the back of the truck.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the sound to disappear, but it replays over and over, even after they’ve taken her away.

I stare down at Flora, finding her entranced by the magic of her hands, opening and closing them in front of her eyes.

How can someone so innocent live in such a hateful world?

With the return of quiet, Flora begins to cry, turning an angry shade of red.

I lower myself onto the circular accent rug in the center of the room and lay Flora on her back.

“I know your belly must hurt, sweet girl,” I tell her, speaking calmly in gentle tones, despite my racing heart, and the cold shock running through my veins.

“Bea was a nice maid. She made my bed smell like a rose garden,” Marlene says. “I didn’t know she was a bad Jew though.”

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, knowing anything I say will likely be repeated to her mother and father.

Isla’s sitting against the wall across from me, next to a tall oak bureau, staring up at the ceiling.

She presses her hands against her ears to block out the sound from Flora.

I take Flora’s little feet in my hands and push on them to bend her knees into her belly, a trick I learned with some of the other babies in the orphanage.

Julia taught me how to make them feel better.

It also helps strengthen her muscles. I’ve been working on this a little each day with her. I’m not sure if it’s helping much.

A series of heavy footsteps hurries down the stairs on the other side of the bedroom and Gavriel returns. Isla stares at him but this time it’s with a question swirling in her eyes.

Marlene turns away from the window and redirects her focus on him too. “Are you a Jew?” she asks. “Everyone who wears the same pajamas as you—they’re all Jews, aren’t they?” I’m surprised Marlene hasn’t said anything to me about the uniform I’ve adopted this morning. Maybe she knows it’s borrowed.

“I don’t think it matters much,” Gavriel tells her.

“It does,” Marlene says, her eyes like round coins, faithful to believing her own words.

“How so?” Gavriel asks, pressing his hands against the door’s threshold.

“Jews are bad people,” Marlene insists, her words as confident as they were likely taught.

“Who told you that?” Gavriel asks, his calm demeanor a wonder when I’m internally fuming for him.

“Papa did. He says Jews come in and steal everything from the good people, which makes them bad.”

“Remember what I told you and your sister? The Jews aren’t bad people.”

“They have their own story too,” Marlene repeats what I had told her. “They’re scared, hungry, and want to come out of the gates. Right?”

Gavriel’s eyes meet mine, and a flash of surprise flickers between his lashes as if he didn’t expect me to go against the lies fed to them by their parents.

“Halina’s right,” he says. “Bad people come in all different shapes and sizes, just the same as good people. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to tell the difference between the two unless they’ve proven who they are inside.

Everyone should have a chance to be seen as someone good before they’re called otherwise. ”

Marlene twists her lips to the side, her eyes still as she considers Gavriel’s statement. She’ll believe her parents over anyone else. All children are like that, I’m sure.

Even though the girls are more than likely very confused about what to believe after being taught one way for so long, they don’t argue with either Gavriel or myself, which comes as a surprise.

“Girls, why don’t you both go into your bedroom and find something to do while I try to help your sister with her achy belly.”

They leave the room promptly and move into the room next door.

Gavriel takes the opportunity to step in closer and squats beside me then reaches over and brushes the hair off my shoulder.

It’s nothing more than a simple touch, a gesture of reassurance, but my body tenses. “I was worried,” he says in a hush.

The warmth of his touch melts through the thick fabric of the uniform, and a flutter blossoms within my chest. I glance at him, and catch myself staring into his eyes, caught in a hold I can’t release.

“You knew he was going to kill her just outside of the house?”

“She isn’t the first?—”

Gavriel’s gaze drops between us. “I wanted to spare you and the girls. You don’t deserve to see such a sight.”

“Neither do you.”

“Halina…this is all I see now.”

“Well, you shouldn’t try to protect me from what you’re forced to see every day.

” I can’t look Gavriel in the eyes while I say this because despite the walls I’ve spent my life building around me, they don’t seem to keep this level of fear out.

“I can look after myself, and I’m tougher than I look. ”

Gavriel studies me, and for a moment I question if he’ll argue back. Instead, he offers me a small, sad smile. “Maybe,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to protect you.”

Maybe life is easier when there’s no one else to worry about. What if I’ve been the lucky one all this time—never knowing what it is I could lose so easily. But now I think I have a chance of knowing what that would feel like…and I’m terrified to lose it.

Thoughts continue to scatter in my head until one rolls off my tongue. “Did you know about the girl in the cellar? I had been hearing noises, but I wondered if they had a cat or maybe there were mice.”

“She disappeared a couple weeks ago. No one knew what happened to her.”

I wonder why she hadn’t run away. If she made it as far as escaping from the lineup to return to Auschwitz at night, why hide in this cellar of all places? “She almost made it, I suppose.”

Gavriel shakes his head. “No one escapes Auschwitz, or the bordering ‘restricted zone’ within, and lives to talk about it. Trust me. She figured that out after it was too late, I’m sure.”

His stare becomes dark and a bit lost. “I’m tired of this—all of it,” he says, his voice rising with hostility.

“The killing, the terror. The way they poison their own children—their minds filled with horrific sights they’ll never forget.

Ada should have taken her children with her. She knew. She’s a coward.”

I can’t argue. He’s right. She left her children here to witness their father murdering a woman.

But Gavriel’s words aren’t just an expression of frustration.

It’s something different. The look on his face, the way his hands are clenched into fists by his side, all I see is someone who is prepared to do something about it—this life here. Someone like me…

“I better get back to work,” Gavriel says. “If you need anything—sorry, I know you have everything under control.”

“I should have just said thank you for trying to protect us from seeing what we did. And for standing up for me to the kapo when I first arrived. I’m not very good at this…”

“Good at what?” Gavriel asks.

“Trusting someone, then showing my gratitude. It’s something that’s missing inside of me, I guess.”

“We’re all missing something inside of us. You’re not in this alone.”