Every evening Margot and Anne left for the agreed-upon place, walking purposefully in the shadows until they reached the fence, where they lurked waiting for Hanneli to show up. On the third night, Anne returned beaming with joy. “It was my Hanneli! Can you imagine that? I’m so happy she’s alive.”
Rachel bit on her lip, anxious to hear more.
“She promised to return tomorrow night with…your sister,” Margot said.
“Do you think it’s really her?” Rachel asked.
“Probably yes. She doesn’t know her last name, but the only Mindel she knows is four years old and used to live on a farm.”
“That does sound like it could be my sister.” Rachel didn’t want to get her hopes up, but couldn’t help but pray it really was her Mindel.
“I’m sure it’s her. It has to be her,” Anne said.
Moved to tears, Rachel couldn’t utter a word. Both of the Frank girls hugged her and Margot said, “Tomorrow I’ll cover and you go with Anne. I hope you can talk to your sister.”
“Talk?” Rachel perked up her ears. “Why not see her?”
“They put straw inside the barbed wire just a day ago, because there were too many people standing by the fence hoping to catch a glimpse of relatives in the other compound.”
“Damn!” Rachel felt cheated, but quickly consoled herself with the fact that talking to her sister was better than nothing. At least Mindel is alive, she thought, a fresh surge of hope blossoming in her chest.
19
Winter had come with snow and bitter cold. Mindel had always loved the snow. Back home, she and her brothers had used to play outside for hours, building snowmen and igloos, take the sled for a ride, wrapped in warm clothes from head to toe. When they had returned inside after hours, exhausted and cold, her mother would make them hot milk with honey and settle them in front of the oven, in their terrycloth pajamas. How she missed that time.
Here, she was always cold. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt warm, not even at night wrapped in the thin blanket and cuddled up against Laszlo and Tina. Since more and more children arrived, Mother Brinkmann had assigned three or four of them to each bunk, which was actually good, because the other bodies gave off heat, but it also meant she had to sleep pressed together without moving.
Mindel was waiting her turn in the food line, blowing on her hands to get some warmth into her fingertips, which had lost most of their feeling.
She remembered her first winter away from home in another camp with Rachel by her side. In her memory it had been much warmer and she couldn’t remember her hands being that cold. She tried to push the sleeves of her dress over her hands to keep them warm, but found out it wasn’t possible.
Without her noticing it, the sleeves were suddenly ending mid-forearm, just like the rest of her dress seemed to have shrunken, barely covering her knees, and she was having a hard time getting the blouse portion buttoned up.
Since the incident with the SS beating up Laszlo, she’d been scared of the kitchen hut and had refused to set a foot anywhere near it; however, that day Mother Brinkmann sent her to fetch their ration of bread for the day from the kitchen, a chore that normally was Mia’s. Since the older girl had died the day before and most of the older children were too sick to go outside, Mindel had reluctantly obeyed.
As she now stood waiting for her turn, the horrible images came rushing back and she fidgeted her feet, wanting to run away. But then they’d have no bread. And Mother Brinkmann would be angry with her.
The line moved slowly and with each step, her scrunched-up toes painfully bumped against the confinement of her shoes. She curled her toes as much as she could, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable either. Walking in these shoes had become excruciatingly painful over the last weeks, but it was still better than going barefoot.
When it was her turn, she reached out her hand to receive the two loaves of bread, recognizing the Russian woman who’d been so kind when she’d caught her stealing potato peels a long time ago.
“Poor mite,” the woman said with a twinkle in her eye. “Wait over there until I’m finished, will you?”
Mindel was scared out of her wits, but didn’t dare to run away, in case the woman would call the SS on her. Once the bread was distributed and everyone gone, the kitchen worker approached her with some ugly gray things in her hand and said, “Here. Take these.”
Mindel looked at the woman and back to the things she offered. When recognition hit her and she identified the ugly things as knitted gloves, she almost screamed out with joy. “Thank you so much!”
“You are welcome. Now your fingers will not be so blue,” the woman replied in broken German.
Mindel pulled the gloves on, feeling as if she’d been given the most beautiful present in history. She thanked the woman again and walked out with her new gloves and two loaves of bread. The bread always tasted like a brick, but she was still tempted to eat just a tiny bit on her way back. The only thing keeping her from doing so was the fear of punishment by Mother Brinkmann.
“Hey, Mindel.” Hanneli stepped into her path.
“Oh, Hanneli, how nice.” They hadn’t seen each other in a while, but Mindel hadn’t forgotten the kindness of the older girl.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course, I can.” Mindel stood as tall as possible, trying to show the other girl just how big she was.
“You can’t tell anyone and you can’t scream.”
“I won’t.” This was getting
