Page 8

SEVEN

LUKA

July 1940

Warsaw, Poland

Tomorrow.

The day after that, and then a couple more dozen days after that, too—there she was, here she is—appearing in the crowd like the North Star.

She’s held true to her promise, one I would never hold her accountable to.

Today, I see her on her bicycle before I’ve even taken my hat off and set it beside me.

There’s no crowd, just us.

“What are you doing here so early today? Shouldn’t you be at your family’s store?”

“I told my father I had to leave. I had to come warn you. They’re coming this way.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart racing, my breaths short.

“The Germans. There’s a lot of them. It’s hard to tell what’s happening, but there’s a convoy of trucks heading in this direction. They stopped a couple of streets down, but they’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

“Trucks?” I understand what she’s describing.

There’s no reason for me to be asking.

That’s how the soldiers arrived when they came to take Father, Grandfather, and many other men away, too.

“I didn’t receive a letter. It seems that’s what they do before taking people away. They give them a short warning, but I still don’t want to be here when they arrive.” I glance around.

“What direction were they coming from?”

Ella points south.

“There’s a place we can go. We’ll make our way behind their convoy so we’re not in their path. Come on.”

Without another thought, I follow Ella through the square and down several side streets.

She shoves her bike behind a row of metal rubbish bins and grabs my hand, continuing to lead me to wherever we’re going.

We hobble over a short iron gate and into a small park with a cluster of sky-scraping oaks, then dart through the center of the trees, stopping halfway through.

“Climb,” she commands.

My eyes travel upward into the rich cluster of green leaves, hoping there are enough branches within reach.

People are walking along the exterior paths, passing along as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

I reach for the lowest limb and pull myself up, anchoring on a thick, sturdy branch, then reach down to help Ella up along with me.

She’s nimble and quick, making the act of climbing trees seem no more difficult than playing hopscotch.

I climb up to the thickest part of the tree and rest between the crook of the branch and the trunk.

Ella situates herself across from me on a parallel branch, bringing us knee to knee.

“There, no one will find us up here,” she whispers.

“You mean, me?” I remind her.

“I mean us,” she says.

“I’m by your side, Luka.”

The synchronized march of boots grows in volume in the distance, clacking horseshoes, and motorized vehicles, just as she’d warned.

I stare through a small window of leaves, out to the street to see if I can sneak a glance at what they’re doing.

“Men are exiting their buildings with a suitcase in hand like Father and Grandfather.” The thought of why I hadn’t been pulled for labor keeps me up at night, fearing that the longer I go, the worse it will be when I am called.

“They’ve come to take away more men…”

Ella understands my concern for where they’ve gone, how they are, if they are surviving, and the guilt I live with.

I hate to remind her, but it’s a reality I can’t ignore.

“It’s still only a matter of time before they come for me.”

Ella stares at me with grief swelling through her blue eyes.

I don’t want her to pity me.

I don’t want that to be the reason she wants to spend time with me.

“But you haven’t gotten a letter, so it’s not today,” she snaps, before taking in a shuddered breath.

She tries to conceal her worry, but I see it.

Ella tugs at my arm, pulling my attention away from the awful sight in the distance.

“Tell me how you find the energy to sing every night with what’s happening around us? Your voice is always filled with such hope and happiness, contrasting the despair within everyone who watches you. You give them—us—so much more than you realize.”

“When I sing, I forget about the pain and worry. I block out the suffering and hunger and imagine the world I paint in my dreams at night. It’s hard to explain.”

“You just did,” she says.

“That’s what your songs do to me, too.”

The marching soldiers are so close, the branches rattle around us.

A shouting slew of insults rips through the air toward a Jewish person, following a demand to turn around.

Hardly a second passes before a gunshot pierces the air.

Ella startles and clutches her chest, and fear appears in her eyes, one I haven’t seen before.

I take her hands and hold them in mine, both of us staring at one another as the freight train of evil passes us by.

Her hands are warm and trembling.

Mine might be, too. My heart’s racing so hard it’s stealing my breath.

Ella’s branch crackles and makes her jump, releasing my hands to hold onto the tree trunk.

I grab her arm and swing her over to my side, knowing the branch I’m on can hold us both.

I wrap my arm around her and hold on tightly.

She’s breathing so hard as she presses her cheek to my chest. I close my eyes and sing softly into her ear:

Whenever you smile

It’s no real surprise

I could stare for a while

When souls collide

Like yours and mine

It’s a sign, can’t be denied

I think this must be love

What else could it be…

Only the sky sings from above

So, darling, the answer’s clear to me

The commotion has moved past us by the time I finish singing the short verses, but she’s still holding on to me with all her might.

“Did you write that one?” she utters.

A rush of heat envelops my neck and crawls up my cheeks.

“I did. You see…I’m quite taken with you.”

She touches her fingers to her chest, and her glimmering eyes question if it’s truly her I was singing to.

A thunder cloud rumbles above us and the air thickens with moisture seconds before rain trickles through the leaves.

I yank my coat open around her to shield her from the rain, but she lifts her head above the collar, staring up into my eyes.

My gaze is helplessly drawn to her lips, desperate to close the space between us.

I shouldn’t pull her into my world.

It’s wrong. It’s unfair to her.

My self-control fails me, and I slide my hand across her damp cheek.

My heart quakes and my breath hitches as I gently lean in closer until our lips meet.

Warmth consumes me as a frenzy of nerves flicker in my chest…

she’s a song, my favorite song, a song I might want to sing over and over just to feel like this.

She pulls back to take a breath, staring into my eyes helplessly before surging forward to kiss me again.

If only we could stay in this tree forever…