Adam and Thomas

Chapter 4

The sun was setting, and red lights glowed on the treetops. Adam clearly remembered this hour, when he would sit under this tree with his parents. It was always an hour of soft light.

His father, an expert carpenter, would tell them a story from his army service or a secret of his craft, or he would describe something funny about one of his customers.

The carpentry shop was next to their house, and Adam used to spend long hours there. He liked the beams and boards, the power saw, and the tools his father used to carve and smooth the wood. Adam also liked the sawdust and its fragrance.

After his father finished assembling a table, he would stand and look at it from a distance. Then he would say, “I put quite a bit of myself into this. I doubt whether the buyer will appreciate that.”

His mother helped his father with sanding and polishing and applying lacquer. Before the Jewish holidays, they would work until late at night.

Now Adam took in what he might not have taken in before, the closeness between his parents. They liked listening to each other and didn’t argue.

Thomas woke up with a start, looked around, and cried out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the forest with me.” Adam knelt beside him.

“Sorry, in my sleep I was at home.”

“Now you’re here. Don’t worry.”

Thomas glanced at his watch and said, “It’s eight o’clock. Where are our mothers?”

“Let’s wait and see. The days are long during the summer. Darkness won’t fall until ten or eleven.” Adam tried to comfort Thomas. “I suggest that we eat supper. Our mothers will come, and they’ll find us eating. That will please them.”

“Excellent idea,” said Thomas.

There was a thermos of cocoa in Thomas’s backpack. On the lid, which was also a cup, was written, in his mother’s handwriting, “Close tightly.”

They each ate one of their sandwiches, and Thomas offered Adam a cup of cocoa.

“Excellent cocoa,” said Adam after sipping some. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Strange,” said Adam, “just last spring I sat under this very tree with my parents. Dad was taken to the labor brigade. Mom is trying to hide my grandparents, and I’m here. Everyone in a different place.”

“My dad was also taken to the labor brigade. Since Dad was taken, Mom hasn’t been able to sleep. She’s awake all night,” Thomas told him.

Darkness spread around the tree trunks, but in the depths of the forest some patches of light still glimmered. Thomas looked worried. He didn’t hide his worry and asked Adam, “Are you sure our mothers will come and get us?”

“My mom keeps her promises, and I assume yours does, too. But you have to take the danger into account. The ghetto is shut tight. The watchtowers shine bright searchlights on the area. Most of the ways out are through cellars, and they’ve posted guards over them, too.”

“Since the war began, everything has changed,” Thomas said, sounding like a grown-up.

“Our parents haven’t changed. They were and will be our parents forever,” Adam said, surprised that such a sentence had left his mouth.