The Winter Guest

  Leaning back, Helena stared up at the gray morning sky that traveled boundlessly over the mountains to the south. A whistle sounded in the distance, pulling her from her thoughts. A train, the ordinary sort with a dozen or so boxcars that she had seen her entire life, puffed slowly around the corner, steam rising. Unlike the empty train she had told Sam about, the boxcars on this one were closed. Through a slat in one of the closed doors, she thought she glimpsed the very oddest sight: an arm sticking out. But she blinked and then it was gone.

  The train moved around a curve and disappeared from sight. She would tell Sam what she had seen on her next visit and see if he could make any sense of it. Turning in the direction of the chapel, Helena scanned the tree line. Something moved, breaking the stillness of the forest. A dog, or wolf perhaps... No, it was bigger than an animal, she realized, squinting. A man? Helena leaned forward, her concern growing. Was he looking for Sam?

  The figure was headed away from the chapel, though, walking toward the village. As it drew closer and came into focus, Helena gasped at the familiar limp. Sam! He had left the chapel and somehow made his way through the woods. Did he mean to come here to the cottage? No, he was walking parallel to the tree line, headed doggedly for something. But he was out in full view of anyone who might look in that direction. She climbed down the ladder from the loft and raced across the barnyard. She had to stop him.

  At the ground level, Helena paused, unable to see him through the trees. She started toward the forest in the direction he seemed to have gone. Moments later she spied him, some fifty meters ahead. He was trying to move quietly, but his awkward limp, magnified out here in the rough terrain, caused branches to snap, threatening to betray him at any second. She started after him, sliding in her haste. Then she righted herself and stepped forward more carefully, using the trees on either side for support, making up ground between them. She wanted to call after him but didn’t dare.

  “Sam,” she whispered finally as she neared him. He turned, surprise and then stubborn defiance setting his face. Perspiration coated the delicate curve of his upper lip. “Are you mad? Where are you going?”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then, seeming to think better of it, turned and started walking again, heading east. Now she understood—she had told him where the crash site was. She followed him, watching his shoulders square with determination and his muscles strain. Warmth surged through her. Though she was frustrated that he had risked everything by leaving the chapel, she could not help but be glad to see him again. But her annoyance persisted. “Your leg isn’t healed. You’re going to make it worse. And it’s broad daylight. Anyone could see you, or the Germans could come back.”

  “I can’t just sit around waiting. I have to find the plane.”

  “Why? You can’t think someone might still be alive?” After all the time that had passed, he could not possibly have hope.

  His eyes darted back and forth desperately and she knew then it was more than that. “There’s information in the plane, things that the Germans must not discover.” It was the most he had said about why he had come to Poland. Her curiosity grew.

  “What information?” He bit his lip. Her frustration rose. “I’m risking my life helping you, Sam. I would think you might trust me by now.”

  “The longer I wait here, the greater jeopardy for the mission.”

  She wanted to tell him that his mission, whatever it was, had ended the minute his plane had crashed, that it was madness to do this. But she knew he would not be dissuaded and standing here arguing made the risk of discovery even greater. “Fine, I’ll help you.”

  Helena held out her hand and he took it, leaning on her slightly for support. She led the way, trying to clear a navigable path for him while clinging to the bit of forest where the pine trees were most dense so as not to be seen. They made their way through the forest, their footsteps breaking the silence.

  They reached the swath of forest she had seen from the loft. Trees had fallen or were sheared off midway, as if taken down by loggers and improbably left. The destruction was much more massive than Helena had imagined, even having heard the crash. There was a tangle of metal larger than her house, so twisted it scarcely resembled the planes she’d seen flying overhead. It sat deep in the crater it had made upon impact, covered lightly with the snow that had fallen since. The roof had been peeled off like an open can and one of the wings was missing. A faint burning smell hung in the air, suggesting someone had been here more recently than the night of the crash. Of course, the Germans had found the site—the fact that Sam had jumped and landed miles away was the only reason he was still alive.

  Sam stood silently for a moment, staring at the wreckage. Pain rolled over his face as he imagined the crash and what his fellow soldiers must have suffered. He dropped her hand and raced forward. “Careful,” she said as he moved awkwardly through the jagged, unsteady pieces.

  He disappeared into the front of the plane, leaving Helena alone. Her skin prickled knowing the Germans could come back anytime.

  Sam emerged, his face ashen.

  “What is it?” He did not speak as he made his way back toward her. “Come,” she said, taking his hand. Together they returned to the shelter of the unbroken trees. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “One of the men, John...he was still in there.” He shook his head, distraught over seeing his friend. “We’re soldiers, I know. We’re supposed to expect these things and be able to handle them” His face crumpled, sadder than she had ever seen it. She put her arm around him, searching for words to ease his pain but finding none. “John was the most eager of all of us to get home. His wife was having a baby.” He straightened. “The others could be alive. I should go look for them.” He started forward, pulling at her hand.

  She stopped. “Sam, wait. That’s impossible. Where would you look?” She did not wait for him to answer. “If they jumped like you did, they could be across a hundred miles of countryside. And if they were arrested, to go after them would be suicide.” He was silent, acknowledging that she was right. But his eyes darted wildly.

  “Did you find what you were looking for inside the plane?” she repeated in a low voice, changing the subject.

  “Gone.”

  A chill ran through Helena. “What was it?” she could not help but ask, unsure if he would answer.

  He bit his lip. “It was information,” he whispered, “that would have helped the partisans—and shown them that they could trust us.”

  Partisans. Helena had heard stories of pockets of resistance, groups of young men who had taken to the woods in hopes of fighting back. The Home Army, they were called. There was even a rumor that some rebels had thrown a bomb into a German military truck, killing several soldiers. But such hopeful anecdotes were few and unsubstantiated. And even if they were true, what difference could a few schoolboys make throwing rocks at tanks? It was David versus Goliath. Surely the American army had not come all this way for that.

  He continued. “Information for the partisans about positions, ways we could help them fight. The documents were encrypted, of course, with a key that we had to memorize. So the documents would be useless to the Germans, unless...” Unless one of the men talked. “If the Germans got their hands on the documents and the code, it would be devastating,” he added.

  Her stomach twisted. “Do you think they did?”

  “I don’t know. We were trained to destroy the information if captured, so one of the men might have done that if he had time. You see now why I had to come here.”

  She processed the information. Sam was not just the ordinary soldier he had made out to be. If he had lied to her about this, what else? He had been cautious and rightfully so. But he trusted her now.

  “You could have asked me. I would have gone to the plane for you.”

  “After all that you’ve done, I couldn’
t put you in further danger.”

  They were traveling parallel to the village now and for a moment Helena considered taking Sam to their house. Just for the night. She could hide him in the barn and Ruth wouldn’t even have to know. But that would make the danger even worse, bring it perilously close to the children. Instead, she started toward the forest.

  A figure appeared suddenly on the path in front of them. Helena jumped. A man in a constable’s uniform stood blocking their way. “Dobry wieczór, pani.” He directed his greeting to Helena, bidding her good evening as casually as though they had met crossing the market square. But his eyes watched Sam closely, a predator tracking its prey. Who was he? He did not look familiar but his tone suggested they had met before. She wondered where he had come from, and whether he had seen them at the crash site. Her heart raced.

  “What are you doing here?” the constable demanded. Helena searched for a plausible explanation.

  “Dobry wieczór, Pan Constable.” Helena turned in surprise as Sam spoke. His Polish was smoother and more flawless than it had been in any of their previous conversations, the accent undistinguishable from her own. “I’m Mirosław Sendecki, a cousin of the Nowaks and I’ve come from Rzeszów to pay respects for the loss of their mother, my aunt.” His intelligence training must have prepared him for scenarios just like this, she realized. “We’re going to the cemetery to pay a visit to my uncle, as well, and we’re hoping to make it before dark. If you’ll excuse us...”

  “Papers?” the constable asked. Helena reached into her coat pocket and pulled hers out, but the man waved her away and gestured to Sam.

  “My cousin’s papers are at my house,” she blurted out, then instantly regretted making her own family a target.

  The policeman stared at her and Sam for several seconds, weighing her story. Failure to present one’s papers was a crime in itself. They might both be arrested. “I’ll call by the house to check them later,” the policeman finally said sharply. He stepped aside, but continued to stare after her as they walked past and continued along the path.

  When they had rounded the bend and the policeman had disappeared from site, Helena stopped, trying to figure out what to do. “What will you do when he comes looking for my papers?” Sam asked in a low voice.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “You never should have come with me,” he said regretfully.

  “You never should have left the chapel!” She looked around—she could not take Sam back up to the chapel while the policeman was still on patrol. Sam had told the policeman they were heading to the cemetery, but that was in the middle of the village and they could not actually go there, either, without attracting attention. Her earlier idea, of taking him to the cottage, popped into her mind once more. “Come.”

  Sam was limping more now as he followed her, worn out from the trek to the plane. Helena hoped he would have the strength to make it back up to the chapel when it was time. As they reached the gate to her house, she looked longingly toward the cottage, wishing she could simply bring him inside. But who knew what impetuous Ruth might do when confronted with Helena’s secret? Instead, she hurried him into the barn and pulled up a door cut into the floorboards that led to a shallow cellar. She gestured for him to climb down into the empty space and he did so, crouching beneath the low ceiling. “Wait here.”

  She raced into to the house, where the fire blazed merrily now, giving the room a too-warm feel. Ruth had nearly finished the laundry and she and Dorie were wringing out the last of it. Helena waited for Ruth to rebuke her for being gone for nearly two hours and not helping with the wash. Ruth did not look up, but raised her finger to her lips and then pointed toward the bedroom, indicating that Karolina was napping.

  “I’m going back out to finish some work,” Helena said in a low voice.

  “Again?” Ruth asked mildly, not looking up.

  “Can I come?” Michal asked.

  “No!” she said too harshly, instantly regretting it as his face fell. “I think I saw a squirrel in one of the old traps and I’m going after it,” she lied, knowing Michal would not volunteer to help.

  “Well, at least take a potato to warm yourself if you aren’t going to be here for lunch,” Ruth said. Helena went to the stove and gingerly selected a potato, which was almost too-hot to touch, wishing she might have two. She grabbed some extra bread from the cupboard, hoping Ruth would not notice, and slipped from the house once more.

  In the cellar, Sam was rubbing his wounded leg. “Serves you right,” she said, handing him the food without keeping any for herself. “What were you thinking, going like that?”

  “I told you, I had to try to find the documents. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  “I understand. But no more secrets, okay?” He nodded, taking her in with a long look. She had rushed after him into the forest without the care she usually took before visiting the chapel, and was suddenly mindful of her disheveled hair and soiled work dress. He did not seem to notice, but touched her shoulder, warming her. “The fact that the documents are gone, does that make things worse for you?”

  Conflicting expressions crossed his face, unable to protect her from the truth without lying. “Perhaps. If they access the code, they’ll be able to figure out who we are, and what we were planning to do. And sooner or later they’re doing to realize that there were more of us than they’ve accounted for.”

  She shivered. “You have to get out of here.”

  He nodded in agreement. “My leg is just about strong enough.”

  “So I’ve given it some thought,” she began, then she paused, licking her lips. Helping him go was the only choice she had, but doing so could not be harder. “The mountains to the south are heavily fortified but if we could get you on a train north, a freighter perhaps to Gda´nsk, it might be possible to escape by sea.”

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “You said you wanted to leave.”

  “I do, but not to escape. I need to get to the partisans.”

  She stared at him, mouth agape, stunned by the audacity of his plan. To make it out of Poland, an enemy soldier getting across the border, was one thing. But to stay and keep fighting... “That’s madness!” she blurted out. His face seemed to crumple a bit, as if her confidence in him was something he sorely needed.

  “If the Germans crack those documents, it is going to reveal key information about the partisans—who won’t know they’ve been exposed. I have to get to them. I never should have said anything,” he added grimly, before she could protest. “The less you know, the better.”

  She persisted, ignoring his last remark. “I mean, first of all you’re wounded.”

  “I’m nearly healed,” he insisted stubbornly.

  “But how? Where will you go?”

  “Southeast.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice as if someone else might hear. “We were supposed to drop into a clearing on the Czechoslovakian side of the border.” It was the most he had said about his mission. “The objective was to make contact with the partisans in the woods there.”

  He continued. “We want to help them organize. The resistance is very fragmented. There are different factions, each with their own interests. There’s dissent among their leaders—whether to attack now before things get worse or wait until they’ve amassed more weapons....” He stopped suddenly, and she wondered if he was worried about trusting her again. “I don’t want to bore you.”

  “Not at all.” She was fascinated by this world, which until now she had not realized existed. People doing something real, something that mattered. Suddenly, she felt hope.

  “Plus, if I can find them, perhaps they know what happened to the rest of my team. I know it’s unlikely any of them survived,” he conceded, seeing the conflicted look on her face. “But there were other units operating with us.
If any of them made it to the partisans...”

  “And if they didn’t?”

  “Then it is so much more important that I do. I can help provide lines of communication, and the intelligence that they sorely need. Reinforcing the partisans is critical to holding the Eastern front.” Suddenly, the whole world seemed to hang in the balance of what he was trying to do and she could see the bigger picture, thousands of little pieces like themselves contributing to the whole.

  Helena pictured the rugged border region to the south. The High Tatras, which separated the two countries, were not like the rolling hills north of Biekowice. Rather, they were tall, snowcapped mountains, almost impossible to traverse on foot. “There couldn’t be a more dangerous route,” she protested. “Even if you could make it across the mountains, the border is guarded heavily.”

  “Do you think you’re telling me something I don’t know? I don’t have a choice.” He set his jaw.

  “But if they capture you...the things you know.”

  “I’ll never tell,” he said resolutely, his eyes far away. He would sooner die than betray his men, or the people he was trying to help. She had to get him out to make sure that did not happen.

  “They’ll kill you,” she ended, her voice nearly a wail. Usually the calm one, Helena could feel herself reaching a level of panic that reminded her of Ruth.

  He grasped her by both shoulders. “Which is why I have to get out. And you, too,” he added. “I want to get you and your family to safety. But first I have to make contact with the partisans. Setting off blindly without some idea of their whereabouts would be, as you say, madness.” She nodded, for once in agreement. “The problem is that the partisans are so scattered across the countryside. We don’t know who’s in charge or how to make contact.”