Karolina's Twins (32 page)

Judge Peterson exhaled a grateful sigh. “No, ma'am, you have not.” He sat back. “Since the court's basic inquiry of Ms. Lockhart has now been satisfied, and since I'm also satisfied that Mrs. Woodward's financial estate has not been depleted or placed at risk, and, most importantly, based upon my observations of the witness this morning, this contempt hearing is dismissed. Ms. Lockhart, any findings of contempt are stricken from the record. You are free to go.”

“Just a minute,” Shirley interjected. “I have questions. I want my right of cross-examination.”

“Denied.”

“But, Your Honor, all you've done today is to complete the contempt hearing. This case isn't over. My client, Arthur Woodward, still maintains that his mother is suffering from an obsessive-compulsive disorder to find children that do not exist. We've done our homework and we strongly believe there is no proof they exist or were ever born. Just because this woman comes to court, puts on a good show and says they existed doesn't make it true. Arthur's petition is pending, and we insist upon keeping our trial date of April twenty-fifth.”

Lena turned around and looked sternly at Arthur, who hid his face.

“Is that correct, Mr. Woodard?” Judge Peterson said. “Do you still wish to proceed to trial on your petition to declare your mother a disabled person?”

Arthur nodded. “I do.”

“He does, he most definitely does,” Shirley said.

“Very well. This matter is continued to April twenty-fifth for trial on Mr. Woodward's petition to declare Mrs. Woodward a disabled person. We'll consider the proofs on that date. This hearing is adjourned.”

Outside of the courtroom, in the busy halls of the courthouse, Lena, Liam and Catherine gathered. “Did you tell her to come today?” Catherine said to Liam.

“I'd be revealing a confidence, wouldn't I?”

“I did it of my own accord,” Lena said. “I called Liam. I couldn't allow your loyalty to subject you to punishment. I'm sorry if I stepped on your legal toes.”

Just then Shirley and Arthur walked out of the courtroom. Arthur looked sheepishly at Lena. “I'm sorry, Mother, but I have to do what I have to do.”

“No, you're not sorry. Not in the least. Arthur, I'm ashamed of you. This is an entirely selfish pursuit.”

“Well, you're wrong. I'm doing it for your own good, to protect you. I just can't see you throwing all Dad's money away on some preposterous quest for two Polish children. If such children ever existed. Perhaps you believe in your mind they're the daughters you always wanted. Maybe that's it, huh? Maybe it was never very satisfying just having a son, was it? You'd rather chase after imaginary daughters.”

With tears in her eyes, Lena took a quick step and slapped Arthur's face.

“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Arthur said to Shirley. “Didn't I tell you she's out of control?”

Shirley tugged at Arthur's sleeve and pulled him toward the elevator. “C'mon, Arthur. Don't make a scene here. You'll have your day on April twenty-fifth.”

“Damn right I will.”

Lena shook her head and blotted her eyes with her handkerchief. “He was never like that before my husband died. He never forgave me for selling the business. He wanted it for himself. To tell the truth, I didn't think he was capable of running my husband's business, but it didn't really matter because the business had to be sold to pay the estate taxes. It's what my husband wanted anyway.”

 

T
HIRTY-SEVEN

“M
URIEL, KAROLINA AND I
arrived at Gross-Rosen concentration camp in a state of total shock,” Lena said as she started another session in Catherine's office. “The main entrance was similar to the entrance to Auschwitz. It was a large brick façade. The entrance to the camp was through a tall archway flanked by two one-story buildings, like wings on either side.
ARBEIT MACHT FREI
was stenciled over the archway beneath three windows. ‘Work makes you free.' History's most cruel joke.

“We disembarked from the passenger cars and were pushed into two lines, one for men and one for women. I held Karolina close to me. She was still in a stunned state. Truthfully, I wasn't much better. We clung to each other, staggered by what we had done, wondering how we could possibly carry on. All the women were led into a room and told to disrobe. We were being cleaned, disinfected. Jews were known to have lice and other dirty diseases, they told us. Each of us was handed a tiny piece of soap.

“We showered and were led into a large empty room. No towels. The door was locked and we were kept in the room for hours. About a hundred naked women. From time to time, a guard or two would come in. They'd tell us to stand and be counted. They'd call our names. They had a list. Sometimes the guards were women. Sometimes they were men who would look us over, point and make snide remarks. They subjected us to cavity searches twice. Often they would stare and comment about which ones looked strong. They asked us what we did before we got there.” She shook her head. “I was in bad shape mentally. All I remember was the room was cold and we had no clothes.

“Finally, guards came in and separated us. Half of the women were given uniforms and marched out. Karolina and I were in the other half. We were given our uniforms and marched back to the train tracks. We were told that our group was going to a sub-camp. To our good fortune, it was a production sub-camp, not a construction sub-camp.”

“I don't think I understand,” Catherine said.

“Construction sub-camps were hard labor. Work in the quarry, work in the mines. Bomb shelter construction, removing rubble, underground construction—many of the manufacturing facilities were underground, like tire manufacturing and weapons manufacturing. Prisoners assigned to construction sub-camps had a short lifespan. Because of malnutrition and hard labor, prisoners became emaciated, they lost muscle mass, their immune systems were weakened. Many died within six months. There was a term used in the camps—
müselmanner
—to define someone who had lost more than a third of her body weight. At that stage the body begins to consume itself and mental acuity fails. People become zombielike, apathetic, and it's only a matter of time.

“My group headed back to the train. Muriel was not with us. I guess it's because she told them she was a nurse and was sent somewhere else. My group was going to a textile plant.”

“You didn't stay at Gross-Rosen?”

“Gross-Rosen was a huge conglomerate, a concentration camp with over one hundred sub-camps spread all over Poland, Germany and Czechoslovakia. At its peak, Gross-Rosen held over one hundred thousand prisoners. Some were sent to be slave laborers for Blaupunkt, some for IG Farben, some for Mercedes-Benz; others worked for other German corporations, like Bosch, Bayer, and Audi. Our train headed south to Parschnitz, a sub-camp just over the Czechoslovakian border.

“We boarded the same train that had brought us to the main camp. When Karolina saw the train she began to shake. Almost as though she had palsy. As she boarded, she let out a deep moan that came from the bottom of her soul. ‘Aaahhhh.' It frightened the women. The guards came running over telling her to shut up. But she kept moaning. One of the guards swatted her with his rifle stock and knocked her down. She bruised on the side of her face.

“‘Don't, please,' I yelled. ‘I'll take care of her. She'll be all right. Please, don't hurt her.' I wrapped my arms around her and tried to cover her mouth. I put her in the seat and talked to her, telling her it would be okay. I told her to stay strong, we needed to survive, come back and find the girls, but I could see that Karolina was slipping away.

“The train pulled out of Gross-Rosen and started its slow journey toward Parschnitz. Karolina remained distant and lethargic. It was like she had snapped. From time to time she'd call out the names of our babies. She'd moan, she'd cry. She'd tell me how sorry she was. I did all I could to comfort her.

“When the train arrived at Parschnitz, we were marched to large barracks where the workers slept in wooden partitions. We were given new uniforms—short-sleeve, calf-length smocks with three or four buttons. They were made of a scratchy material, like a mixture of cotton and linen. Each woman was also given a scarf or bonnet to wear over her hair. I would soon learn that the uniforms were made in the camp's sewing shops. We were allowed to keep our own shoes. Each of us had a little locker where we'd keep our cups, bowls and the week's portion of bread.

“I guided Karolina to a sleeping area and held her through the night. The next morning we marched to the textile factory. Hundreds of women worked a variety of textile machines. Some unloaded cotton bales. Some operated spinning machines, the machines to make threads and yarn. Other women sat at sewing machines. Karolina was placed at a large cotton-spinning machine. She didn't move.

“‘Get to work! What's wrong with you?' yelled a female guard, but Karolina could not respond. ‘Do you talk?' the guard yelled in her face.

“I rushed over and told the guard that she was the best seamstress at the Shop in Chrzanów, and that she had just lost her children but she would be okay, I would see to it. I offered to watch over her if she could be assigned to a sewing station. At first the guard pushed me away and prodded Karolina with a baton. But she didn't respond. Then the guard swung the baton, hit Karolina in the ribs and knocked her to the floor. I covered her and held my hands over her head. ‘Please, don't. Tell them, Karolina, tell them you will work.' But she sat with a blank stare, holding her ribs.

“‘I can take care of her,' I cried. ‘Please.' The guard looked at us on the floor, shook her head with a disgusted look, and said, ‘Take her to a sewing station, but I tell you both, if she doesn't produce, I will have no more patience.'

“I pulled her to her feet, took her to the station next to me and sat her down at the machine. ‘Please, Karolina. Why won't you work? They'll kill you if you don't start working.'

“There were tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I don't care. I don't want to live anymore, Lena. It's all too much.'

“‘Yes, you do. Of course you do. You need to survive. If not for yourself, then for the babies. We're going to get our babies. Together. You and me. Please, Karolina.'”

“She started to sew, but was moving in slow motion. I knew she wouldn't get any garments made so I doubled up my efforts and placed completed garments on her table. By the end of the day, the guard came by and commented, ‘This is not acceptable production. You two have to do better tomorrow.'

“We walked slowly back to the barracks. I could see that Karolina was wincing from the pain in her ribs. Bowls of soup and a third of a loaf of bread and some butter were provided. The bread had to last for three days. Karolina wouldn't eat.

“I tried to feed her. ‘Eat, Karolina.' But she shook her head. ‘You take mine,' she said.

“I begged her, but to no avail. Karolina looked at me with defeat in her eyes and said, ‘I can't do this. I can't sit here like nothing has happened and make clothes for the Germans. I miss our babies. I want the little ones. I need to hold them. They need us, Lena, and I need them. I have to go to them.'

“‘We will,' I answered. ‘As soon as we're freed, we'll come back and find them. No matter where they are.'

“She didn't sleep at all that night. Every time I looked at her, she was staring wide-eyed into space. Her lips were moving and I could tell she was planning something. I saw that look on her face.

“At dawn we were awakened by the guards and told to line up. They took us out into the yard for roll call. When they had finished they marched us in groups of five across the yard toward the factory. Suddenly, Karolina bolted out of line and ran for the gate.

“‘Halt! Halt!' But Karolina was running at full speed. I broke out of the line and took off after her. I was stronger, faster. I could catch her. ‘Stop, Karolina. Please.'

“‘Halt!'

“‘Don't shoot!' I yelled in German, wildly waving my arms. ‘
Nicht schießen! Nicht schießen!
I'll stop her. Don't shoot her.'

“A volley of shots rang out and Karolina tumbled to the ground. I ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her. She had been hit several times and she was barely breathing. ‘Oh, my dear Karolina. Why? Why? You could have survived.' I held her tightly. ‘Damn it, Karolina! I love you so much. We could have made it.'

“She coughed and lightly shook her head. ‘I'm not a survivor, Lena. I never had your strength,' she said weakly. ‘You were always my hero. You'll survive and find our babies. I know you will. Tell them I loved them. Find them, Lena. I love you.' Those were her last words. I closed her eyes for her.”

Lena balled her hands into fists and held them hard against her cheeks. “She knew they would shoot her. That's the way she wanted to go out. Running after our babies. Life had become too hard for her. I saw it, I knew it, but I couldn't save her from her despair.”

“I'm so sorry,” Catherine said.

“They pried me off of her and dragged her lifeless body away. I was pushed back into line and marched to the factory.” Lena buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I lost my best friend.”

The room was quiet for a few moments, and Lena finally said, “Could we take a walk? Would you mind?”

“Sure,” Catherine said. She retrieved their coats and the two proceeded down Webster toward the Lincoln Park Conservatory. It was a mild spring day and they found a bench beside the dormant flower gardens in front of the conservatory. A park district worker was tilling a flowerbed for planting. In a few weeks, the gardens would be ablaze in color.

“Through the years, I never told a soul what really happened. Not even my husband. No one knew the details. Once the war was over, I closed the door. And locked it. Now, as painful as it is, I must open it. I'm grateful that I found you to open it with me.”