“If he is?” I whispered, stricken at the thought. Whenever we saw Fischer, he inevitably stopped us and riffled through our bags, delighting in inconveniencing us. He’d never found the hidden compartments, but then again, neither one of us had ever had anything even close to the weight of a child in there. “And will she be able to get air in the bag?”
Sara showed me a tiny flap on the corner of the hidden compartment.
“I will leave this open while she’s in there.”
“Sara, if Fischer is on the gate—”
“We will cross that bridge if we come to it.”
Maja was rocking the baby, singing gently to her as Sara administered the needle. The baby barely reacted to the pinch, but within seconds, her little eyes fluttered closed. Sara took a piece of muslin cloth and stretched it out on the mattress and Maja gently rested her sleeping child on it. She arranged Eleonora’s limbs this way and that, and then kissed her on the forehead. Samuel composed himself momentarily, then stepped forward to press a kiss to her cheek. His voice was hoarse as he whispered to the baby, and I didn’t need to speak Yiddish to know he was saying goodbye.
I knew Matylda kept meticulous records so that the children could be reunited with their parents after the war, but I also knew that the chances of Maja and Samuel surviving were slim. I was so relieved to be with Sara. She was calm and composed. As soon as Samuel stepped away from the baby, Sara took his place, wrapping the baby up tightly and efficiently, leaving just a gap in the cloth around her mouth and nose, then lifting Eleonora to gently rest in the bottom of the bag.
“This is safe?” Maja choked, finally close to tears.
“I have done this many times,” Sara murmured. “The bag is designed for this. Elz·bieta, a hand?” I stepped closer, and she dropped her voice to just loud enough for me to hear her say “We need to do this quickly. Help me, please.”
I helped her rearrange her medical supplies back on top of the baby, and then Sara straightened.
“We will return to discuss Dawidek as soon as we figure out where he can be safe,” she said, and then she stepped toward the door.
I moved to follow, but Maja caught my arm. “Please take good care of her,” she whispered, through her tears. “She deserves the best kind of life.”
I didn’t know why she was saying this to me. My role in that moment was just to follow Sara. I didn’t even know how to respond, so I squeezed Maja’s hand, then said awkwardly, “We will make sure she is cared for.”
“Thank you. Thank you for helping us.”
I thought of the note Roman had sent and wished I had taken the time to write a reply. Most likely I’d be training Dawidek at some point, but I didn’t want to wait. Time was so precious in this place.
“Could you please tell Roman that I forgive him? He wrote me a note, apologizing for what happened here last week... I’d appreciate it if you could let him know that I received it.”
“He is a good boy. I’m so glad he apologized.”
I nodded sadly, then had to go. Sara was already on the street.
“Come,” she hissed when I finally stepped outside. “The sooner we are out, the sooner she is out. Faster footsteps, please, Elz·bieta.”
I had been in and out of the ghetto dozens of times, often enough that I no longer felt terrified every second of each journey. But that day, with that tiny baby in the bottom of Sara’s medical bag, my anxiety was as high as it had ever been. We walked briskly, heading to the gate on Muranowska Street, not engaging in conversation. There was no distracting us from the reality of what we had just seen and what we were currently doing.
But as we turned a corner around the last building before the gate, Sara stopped abruptly. I almost ran into her back, and she hissed under her breath, “Stop. Stop.”
I came to a shuddering halt and pressed myself against the side of the building. My heart was racing so hard and so fast, I could feel black at the edges of my vision. I had to remind myself to breathe slow and deep. If I passed out, I’d be a liability and a distraction, and the baby could die.
There was movement near my feet, and I was startled to see that Sara had lowered the bag onto the ground and was slowly pushing it back toward me with her heels. I reached out and pulled it along the sidewalk, back toward my feet.
“Give me your bag,” Sara whispered.
“My bag? But why—”
“There is a line at the checkpoint,” she whispered to me from around the corner. “Fischer is there. He has seen me so if I turn back it will look suspicious, and he may follow me. You will have to go on your own.”
My heart lurched as I looked between my bag and Sara’s bag.
“What do I do?” I whispered frantically, as I pushed my bag along the ground toward her.
“There isn’t much time. She shouldn’t be in there much longer. Walk to the gate at Krasin´ski Square, then go to the tram stop on Muranowska.”
“By myself?” I choked, but she had already stepped away from the corner. The line had moved on.
Sara’s bag was heavier than expected, but even so, far too light to contain a human being. The minute I lifted it off the ground, my stomach heaved. I was out of my depth and utterly terrified. Yes, I had been in the ghetto dozens of times, but I’d never so much as passed through the gates alone.
Now there I was, not just on my own, but entirely responsible for the rescue of an unwell infant.
Everything slowed until I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. When I dragged in a breath through my nose, trying to calm myself down, I was acutely aware of the scent of death and suffering in the air. I thought about how clear and fresh the air was on the other side, and I thought about how much that baby needed that air, but I was frozen in panic and fear.
I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I’m not brave enough. I am a child playing an adult’s game.
I turned the corner and found an alleyway. It wasn’t deserted; nowhere in the ghetto was ever deserted. But the alley was home to only a few children on their own and an emaciated man sleeping under his coat.
I sank down onto the cobblestones and stared at the medical bag.
I could take the baby back to her parents. I knew that this could be an entirely reasonable thing to do. Sara and I could try again tomorrow. I tried to convince myself that if I did this, she would be proud of me for thinking so sensibly about the situation, when she was obviously not: she had likely panicked when she saw Fischer, and that was why she hadn’t thought to suggest this.
Or maybe I could just take the baby back to the youth center. Andrzej would help. Maybe there was a tunnel I could crawl through with the medical bag. That would save me from going through the checkpoint on my own.