For Such a Time by Breslin Kate

Author:Breslin, Kate [Breslin, Kate]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: World War (1939-1945)—Jews—Fiction, Jewish girls—Fiction, World War (1939-1945)—Jewish resistance—Fiction, FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC014000
ISBN: 9781441263469
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2014-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Mrs. Brenner greeted Morty at the kitchen door with a bowl of thick vegetable stew, two biscuits, and a loud kiss on the cheek. “God be praised, Morty Benjamin, you were right!”

Morty glanced toward the kitchen table, where several others sat, including his friend Yaakov Kadlec. Each clutched a small cup of diluted ersatz, which passed for ghetto Kaffee.

They nodded and smiled in agreement. Morty shifted uncertainly. “I was . . . right?”

“Come, sit down, you poor man. Eat, eat,” Mrs. Brenner said, herding him into a chair. She placed the steaming bowl and biscuits in front of him. “What’s the matter with your legs, Morty?” she asked. “And your face!” Before he could answer, she added, “We heard about the Kleine Festung. You’re lucky to be alive.” She leaned to inspect his swollen jaw, clucking her tongue in concern.

“Ja,” Morty murmured, his attention completely absorbed by the smells of beef lard and spices rising from the bowl. He ripped off a chunk of biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth. “They beat the soles of my feet,” he managed between painful chews.

“That commandant is a devil!”

Morty shook his head. “I heard him order Sergeant Koch to keep me intact for questioning—no abuse. But Koch chose to disobey those orders.”

“Ja, and just see where that got him,” Mrs. Brenner huffed in a righteous tone.

The bread turned to a dry lump in Morty’s throat. “I saw what remains of him, in the yard with Brucker. Is my girl . . . is she all right?” he asked.

“Not only all right,” Mrs. Brenner said in a conspiratorial whisper as she glanced at the other faces around the table, “she’s our salvation!”

Morty’s head jerked up. Mrs. Brenner stood beside him, smiling, her straight white teeth a startling contrast to the rest of her neglected features.

He looked around the table. Everyone grinned.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, my friend,” Yaakov spoke up. “I should have believed your vision from God, especially after our food improved. But then she saved them—one hundred and sixty of them—including Mrs. Brenner’s daughter, Clara.” He nodded toward the beaming aproned woman.

Morty gaped at them, confused. “My . . . maideleh . . . saved . . . ?”

“The lists, Morty!” Mrs. Brenner’s excited tone filled his ears. “Ask Lenny, he’ll tell you!”

“Lenny . . . ?” Helplessly, Morty turned to the lanky twenty-five-year-old seated at the table. Lenny Buszak had been an engineer’s apprentice with the railroad in Krakow. Tall and sallow-faced, the young Pole’s oversized Adam’s apple made him look skinnier than he actually was.

“Ja, what she says is true, Elder,” Lenny said, doffing his cap in respect. “I was cleaning the toilet down the hall from Captain Hermann’s office on the day his sergeant’s typewriter broke. Herr Captain was very upset—I think it was the same day the phone lines fell down.”

Lenny swallowed, and his Adam’s apple slid along the column of his throat like a bobber tugged beneath the water. “I heard the captain say he would take the cards to Herr Kommandant’s secretary to be typed.

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