Tulips in Her Hand

Chapter Five

She heard a heartbeat in her ears as they exited the train.

Mariusz trailed closely behind, grasping Anka's hand. The cluster of soldiers stood unmoving; pale, plastered statues with eyes of fire. The very thought of them reminded Celina of her cottage, devoured in flames, the Nazis being the fire, and her the cottage.

"Just stay calm," Mariusz murmured in her ear as the set foot into the grassy reality of Częstochowa, "we'll find a place to stay for the night, then head out tomorrow."

Celina gazed at the sky, dusk soon to enshroud the sky in periwinkle and tangerine hues. Immediately she stiffened, eyeing the men in the brown, canvas uniforms. "And where would we stay, exactly?" she whispered. A reply never came, however, for as soon as the words escaped her lips, Mariusz broke out into an awkward, stiff sort of fast-walk, ducking in and out of herds of passersby. Yelping a clipped cry of surprise, Anka trotted behind, leaving Celina to gape at the soldiers. Maybe I should just tell them now, she thought, sweat pooling around her hairline. They haven't noticed us yet, so maybe...

"Celina!" a voice called. Stunned, Celina spun around, disoriented by the blurring crowds of a new city. Her eyes soon fell upon a disheveled figure, however, his olive hand waving violently in the air. Warily, she eyed the soldiers, apparently absorbed in their own vulgar conversation.

Thrusting herself through the crowds, she stumbled out of the train station into Mariusz's arms. Recoiling, a glare spread across her face, she brushed off the dust from her dress. "You idiot," she murmured, regaining composure, "were you trying to get us caught?"

The same look of relaxed contentment was present in his mahogany eyes again. "It was fine, all right, Celina? I double checked to be assured they were absorbed in something else before I said anything. Besides, you should have been paying attention."

Anka nodded in agreement, her cheeks flushing to a reddish hue. Sighing, ignoring Mariusz's snarky remarks, Celina led them down the cobblestone streets, a line of buildings either clothed in brick or peeling white paint on both sides. "So where are you planning to stay?" she asked.

"I know some people here," Mariusz said, shrugging. Veering off the road, avoiding a woman whose sobs sliced the air, he trotted over to a white paint apartment building. Anka followed dutifully behind, leaving Celina in the middle of the road, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Nonchalantly, he rapped his knuckles against the splintered wood, tension lingering in the air.

He waited, anticipation plainly written on his face.

Even from her position on the road, Celina heard the man's voice loud and clear. "I knew you'd be back," he said, hesitating.

Celina shook her head, begrudgingly giving in. Mariusz and Anka stood side by side before the door, voices arousing from inside. Curiosity piqued inside her as she jogged over to the peculiar white building. She was met by a tall, skinny man with skin tinted orange that rather reminded her of a carrot, blocking the doorway.

"...told you already I can't, I'm sorry Mariusz," he said, raising his eyebrows in curiosity at Celina.

"Mr. Gomulka, could you please just reconsider? It would just be for a night," Mariusz said, tapping his foot impatiently. Anka curled her lips into an awkward half-smile, her eyes pleading.

Mr. Gomulka sighed, twiddling his long, bony fingers as if the thought bored him. Finally he lifted his hands in surrender, mumbling something about impish twelve-year-olds. "Come back at ten sharp. No earlier, no later. There's plenty of places to busy your self with here."

Mariusz smiled, words of gratitude flowing out of his mouth like an unceasing waterfall. Celina stole one last glance at the carrot man, then leaped off his front steps as if they were burning coals. Scanning the cobblestone streets, her eyes searched for a cafe of sorts. Anka had already gone ahead, however, skipping down the street, nimbly avoiding clusters of people eyeing her warily.