Shattered Crystals by Mia Amalia Kanner (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

“I have packed your things. You have to leave right away.”

Ponponiere was my fourth OSE home. I was assigned a closet-sized room. The narrow bed took up more than half the width of the room, so there was hardly room to move about. Yet I was more than satisfied with my quarters. Each night I thanked God for that narrow bed and fell asleep and thanked Him again when I opened my eyes in the morning. For the time being, I awoke every morning knowing where I would sleep that night.

The cook was known simply as Madame B. She was a French woman from the area and she was kind and welcoming. Levy was right when he said she would be glad to have help, for there was plenty of work. And work was what I needed. That was what I was used to before we were forced into hiding. Hiding had brought with it enforced idleness. It made no difference whether I did nothing sitting on a patch of grass in the forest or in a chair in a small workers’ cafe. Inactivity created time for worrying. The less I had to do, the more I worried. The work also gave me less time to be lonely. Sal and I had spent all our waking moments together since we had fled Le Couret, and I missed him terribly. So I threw myself into the work in the Ponponiere kitchen and counted it a blessing.

The shortage of food at Ponponiere was just as acute as it had been at Le Couret. There was not much that could be done to spice up the meals with what we had, but Madame B. had some tricks that helped. One was adding garlic when she cooked carrots. “It brings out a sweet flavor without using sugar. It is the French way, Madame Amelie.” In turn I passed on my little tricks of stretching food and making vegetables more palatable.

When I had been at Ponponiere for a week, the head of the home came to the kitchen with a message for me. I remember every word and exactly how she said, “Madame Amelie, I have received word for you that your little girl is well.”

“Where is she?” I asked. “Can I see her?”

“There is only this message, nothing more. It will be best for all to leave it so.”

Hearing someone speak about Lea, even uttering just once sentence, brought her near to me. That day, I missed her more than usual. Soon it would be her birthday. She would be six. How could I not be with her? Then I chided myself.

By the time Madame B. came back into the kitchen I was quite cheerful. “Amelie, someone has brought a smile to your face,” she said.

“A message from my daughter,” I said.

“I did not realize you had a daughter. That is very good.”

I almost said, “I have three daughters,” but it was better not to mention that, even at this OSE home. Perhaps I had already revealed too much. I would have to be more careful.

“Yes, my little one is fine. She is well cared-for while I work,” I said. “What are we doing with the cabbage today? Can we spare just a little sugar to add to it?”

One morning, Madame B. was unusually jolly. “Today will be a holiday. Here, look what I have, Amelie.” She refused to tell me how she had obtained the flour and set to work preparing a dough. The mere aroma in the kitchen as the confection was baking was a special delight. Later, Madame B. and I stood against the wall of the dining room as the dessert cakes were brought in. The children clapped their hands and squealed with joy, driving all our fears away for a brief hour.

At three o’clock in the afternoon two weeks later, I was scrubbing the soup pot when one of the teachers walked into the kitchen. “Madame Amelie, please, you must stop washing. The police are here.”

The dish cloth slipped from my hand.

“The are checking the identification cards of every person over the age of fourteen,” the teacher said. “Our director is not certain your false papers will pass inspection. She is afraid for you, for the children, too, if all is not in order here.”

I felt a weight pressing on my chest, a stone I could not move.

“I have packed your things,” she said. “I am sorry I had to go into your personal belongings, but you have to leave right away.”

I stared at the young woman.

“Please, let me help you with your coat,” she said. “Go out the back door and take the path that leads into the woods. You’ll come to a fork. Turn left, and in about ten minutes you will reach the road to Limoges. Walk steadily on the main road, and don’t draw attention to yourself.”

Madame B. kissed me on both cheeks. “Au revoir, Madame,” I said. “I will not forget how happy you made the children with your marvelous pastries.”

From the back of the food cupboard, Madame B. extracted a sugar cube from the week’s ration and gave it to me. “Nourishment for the road, my dear,” she said.

My expulsion from Ponponiere was so sudden and so rapid that at first it lacked reality. My stay was terminated in under five minutes. In that little time, I had lost my sanctuary. It was the only OSE home in which I had not developed a closeness or a fondness for any of the children. In the past, the orphan children had gravitated to me, and I had responded by listening, talking, holding them to me. When I or the children moved on, I had to bear the sadness of parting. At least, I was spared that.

I was unfamiliar with the wooded path to which I had been directed, and even after all those weeks in the mountains, I was still not at ease outdoors in the country. I walked carefully, afraid I would miss the fork in the path. The dreadful feeling that I was being hunted overwhelmed me. It was a familiar feeling. I had experienced it every day that Sal and I hid in the mountains. There was a difference though. I was completely alone now. If I became ill, or if I were found by the police, no one would know what had happened to me.

The road seemed about to divide. I halted and studied the trees and the ground. Was this the fork where I was supposed to turn left? Ten minutes, the teacher had said. I checked my watch and walked to the left, concentrating on keeping a steady pace, looking about and listening for sounds of the main road as I walked. Where was the road? I checked my watch and saw that I had been on the left fork for only five minutes. Shivering with worry, I went on. Perhaps the woods were safer than the open road, but I found the loneliness of the forest oppressive. I was filled with relief when the path led into the road.

As I walked towards Limoges, it dawned on me that I had no destination other than the city. I did not know in what part of the city Sal was hiding, and I doubted word had spread about my ejection from Ponponiere. It would be dark by the time I arrived in the city, not time to go wandering about searching for him. I would find him tomorrow. Tonight, I would go to Gita. She would take me in, and no one would look for me there.

As soon as I made the decision and had a destination, I felt stronger. I kept my pace steady, lowering my head whenever I head a vehicle approaching. After two hours on the main road, I carefully unwrapped and began to suck Madame B.‘s cube of sugar. I could not have digested much else.

It took two more hours to reach Gita’s house. It was dark by then. I rang once and waited. In two or three minutes, the door opened a crack. She recognized me and pulled me inside. “Mia, what a surprise!” Her hand was soft and warm. Mine was shaking. “Mia, my dear, you are cold,” she said. I could not speak. At the touch of her hand, I began to sob and could not stop.