My heart stops. I can hardly remember how to breathe. This is impossible. My chin quivers as my mouth parts. “H-H-Helena?” I mutter. I never thought I would see her sweet face again—the woman who saved my life. “How?”
“God works in mysterious ways, Nora,” she says, helping me into the chair before folding me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around her neck and hold her as if she’s my last hope. My body trembles and sobs thrust through my chest.
“How—a-a-are you cl-cl-claiming me a’ family?” I ask, trying to compose my ragged breaths.
“Oh no, I’m not. I mean, I didn’t claim you as family because I’m here to bring you to where you need to be.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Y-y-you can’ leave me.”
“Nora, I won’t leave you. Please don’t worry.” She places her hand on my shoulder and pushes my chair over to where the luggage is piling up. “Are one of these yours?”
I point to my suitcase, staring at my hand that I can’t hold steady.
Helena looks so beautiful, healthy, and put together in a maroon day dress that pokes out from beneath her overcoat. She’s in stockings and shiny brown shoes that almost look brand new. She’s pinned her light ashy brown hair back loosely to rest against her shoulders, and she’s wearing eye makeup and lipstick. No one would know what she had been through. I’m envious.
She lifts my bag and I reach out to take it from her, knowing I can easily rest it on my lap. “You must be quite tired from all the traveling, but we’re just a few minutes away.”
“Wh-wh-where?” I ask.
“It will make more sense when we arrive.”
I’m going to wake up from this dream at any moment and find the side of my face stuck to a bus window where I likely fell into a deep sleep.
The walk takes us about fifteen minutes, but all I see is a brick building surrounded by a few other smaller buildings with a snowy patch of grass and a few trees in the center. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s a wonderful place.”
I reach over my shoulder and place my hand on top of Helena’s gloved fist that’s curled around the handles of my chair. “Or-or-orphanage?” My dream has taken a turn for a nightmare. Madame Louise told me I had family in the United States. I realized they must be distant relatives since I was unaware of their existence, but that was the entire reason for sending me all the way out here. “Why?” I moan.
“Hush,” Helena says, rolling me up a short ramp toward the front door. She rings a bell, and we wait a long moment before a creaky wooden door opens. A tall, slender woman with dark hair pulled back tightly into a twisted bun at the base of her neck drops her gaze toward me. She tilts her head to the side and continues to stare until her eyebrows flare. It seems she is silently asking and answering her own questions without sharing a word with either of us yet.
“Come in. I’m so glad to have you back,” she says, squeezing Helena’s shoulder. “We all missed you so much.”
“I’m quite happy to be back too,” Helena says.
“I appreciate the phone call last night, since it gave us some extra time to set up all the arrangements.”
Once inside, where the wooden door seals us in the warm hallway, the woman who seems in charge here leans down and presses her hands against her thighs, inspecting me. “You must be Nora Tabor,” she says, smiling. The contrast of her strawberry-red lips against her white teeth should offer a feeling of happiness and comfort, perhaps, but with how tight her hair is pinned back, her skin stretches, giving her a stern appearance. Her ankle-length black teacher’s dress doesn’t help.
“Wh-wh-why am I here?” I ask.
The woman’s lips press back together, but the smile remains intact. “Give me just a moment and I’ll be able to answer that question for you.” The woman holds up her finger and shoots a wink in Helena’s direction before twisting on her black heels and click-clacking her way around the nearest corner.
I reach back over my shoulder for Helena’s hand, but she steps in front of me before kneeling. “Trust me, okay?”
I want to tell her she left me in Auschwitz, but that wouldn’t be fair. Neither of us knew what the Soviets were organizing. We were in no position to argue, but that was the last time I saw her. I had trusted her with my life and then she was gone too, just like everyone else.
“M-m-my che’ i’ a-a-aching,” I say, being honest with her. I’m not sure what’s happening but I’ve waited long enough. I want the internal pain to go away. I’ve grown exhausted of feeling hurt.
“Everything will be okay,” Helena says, taking my suitcase off my lap and placing it down on the ground beside me.
“What now?” I hear someone shout. “I did nothing wrong, and you’re punishing me again? If someone told you I did something, they’re lying.” I can’t see the person speaking, but the voice coming from around the corner… I know it well. I close my eyes and tell myself I’m hearing things I shouldn’t be hearing.
The woman who escorted us inside the building returns, and she has her hands resting on a girl’s shoulders. The girl has her arms crossed over her chest. Her cheeks are red with anger. Her eyes are—they’re my eyes, and her nose…also mine.
At the same instant, we both cup our hands over our mouths and gasp. “Nora,” she utters first. My name becomes a cry and a struggle for air. “Miss Blum?”
“A-A-Arina,” I whisper before needing to pull in more air.
She falls to her knees and throws her head on my lap, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me forward. “I thought you were dead,” she whimpers.
“M-m-me ’oo,” I struggle to say.
She lifts her head and reaches for my hair. “It’s short. I love it.” It’s long, but not long enough. Even after two years, my hair has only grown to just below my shoulders. It used to be halfway down my back, just like hers. “What did he do to you?” Arina places her cool hand on my cheek, then looks down at my legs, probably wondering why I’m bound to a chair.
I shrug because I still don’t know what he did to me. “H-h-he wan’ed ’o fix my ’ongue, bu’ he made me wor’e, an’ my l-l-leg ’opped w-w-working.”
“What?” she says, exasperated. “What does your tongue have to do with your leg?”
I shrug again. “He p-p-performed brain ’urgery,” I say, pointing to the top of my head where the hair didn’t grow back because of the thick scar.
Arina stares me in the eyes, and I can feel what she’s thinking. Why her and not me? She takes my hands and squeezes. “Are Mama and Papa—? Do you know?”
“I c-c-couldn’ ge’ an an’wer, bu’ I ’ried.”
“I tried to get an answer too, but not a word from the Red Cross has arrived here.”
“Nora, I’m Mrs. Vallentine, the headmistress here, and as you already know, Miss Blum. She works here as a therapist.” I twist my head to look at Helena, realizing I never knew her last name.
“Helena Blum,” she says with a smile toward me.
“You knew Nora?” Arina asks, her voice croaking. I can tell she doesn’t know whether to be mad or grateful for the secret.