Free Karolina's Twins by Ronald H. Balson Page A

warmed by the hospitality of this hardened farmwoman.
    â€œâ€˜Sometimes they come out here, the Nazis, you know, just to check on us. They want to make sure we’re not hoarding butter, even though we give them almost everything we have.’ She pressed her lips and stood defiant with her hands on her hips. ‘Sometimes they even help themselves to our chickens. If they come out here and they see you, you tell them you’re Lena Tarnowski. They won’t know the difference.’
    â€œI thanked her and told her that I was grateful, but it was patently clear to me that not only was I an imposition, but a ticking time bomb for her family. I decided that I would have to move on when I got the chance. I would not hold her to her promise.
    â€œI awoke from my nap to the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Tarnowski engaged in an animated conversation. More like an argument. And I heard my name mentioned several times. They were startled when I walked into the kitchen.”
    â€œWhat were they like, Lena?” Catherine asked. “The Tarnowskis?”
    â€œMrs. Tarnowski was sturdy. A strong farmer’s wife. A lifetime of summers had weathered her skin. Her hair was dark gray, but always neatly combed and frequently accented with a colorful bow. She wore housedresses that hung like draperies. Mr. Tarnowski was a bear. He had broad shoulders, big hands and stood well over six feet. No facial hair. He was always neatly shaven. They were a matched set. Good people.
    â€œWhen I walked into the kitchen they immediately stopped talking and offered me a cup of milk. It was a little awkward because the three of us knew I was the topic of the morning. I sat down to drink my milk—fresh milk right out of the cow. There’s nothing like it.” Lena smiled and her eyes brightened. “I still like milk. I drink it every day. But farm-fresh milk is something entirely different. Have you ever had fresh milk on a farm?”
    Catherine shook her head.
    â€œIt’s like drinking ice cream, only better. You should try it sometime. It’s good for expectant mothers.” She punctuated her imperative with a sharp nod.
    Catherine blushed. “Who told you I’m expecting?”
    Lena smiled and shrugged. “I don’t have to be told.”
    Catherine quickly looked down at her midsection.
    Lena laughed. “It’s not there, it’s in your face. And in that of your husband.”
    â€œHow could you possibly…?”
    She raised her eyebrows. “My babcia always told me there’s a little Gypsy in our family.” She laughed again.
    â€œWell, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t…”
    Lena held up her index finger. “Mum’s the word.”
    She chuckled softly and continued with her story. “Sitting around the kitchen table, I told the Tarnowskis, ‘Please don’t think me ungrateful, but it’s probably best for all if I go back into the city. I think it’s my place to rejoin my family. I’m sure they’ll be with the rest of the Jews somewhere.’
    â€œMr. Tarnowski shook his head. ‘Big mistake. You stay here. You’re safe here. The Jews of Chrzanów are not safe. It’s true that many have been forced to move into a small area, but the Germans are not done with them. They are enemies of the Germans and we are at war. They will not be permitted to run their little area without interference and abuse. The Jews have no protectors, not anywhere in Europe. They will live so long as the Germans have use for them. And then they will die. When the Jews are gone, the Catholic Poles will be next. The Germans speak of Lebensraum , their living space. They intend to expand, to clear out Poland for the German people. We do not kid ourselves. I make plans.’ He nodded his head.
    â€œâ€˜Shah! Enough,’ Mrs. Tarnowski said. ‘There’ll be no talk of the plans.’ Then she turned to me. ‘You may