P.A.W.S. Read online

  P.A.W.S.

  Debbie Manber Kupfer

  Copyright © 2013 Debbie Manber Kupfer

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  ISBN-13: 978-1514788912

  ISBN-10: 1514788918

  Second edition

  Cover design: © Rachel Bostwick.

  DEDICATION

  In memory of Omama,

  Sophie Manber,

  who would have liked this story.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank all those who encouraged and supported me along the way to publishing P.A.W.S. including my daughter Ronni, who is already on her way to being an amazing writer; my son Joey, whose enthusiasm is infectious; and my husband Ian, for putting up with me

  even when I didn’t have enough sleep, tea, or chocolate.

  I also want to thank my long-suffering friend, Larry Miller – I owe you one, mate; Joon Pahk for helping Danny find the right Irish folk song; Carly Amlen, for the beautiful charms; all my many wonderful friends for cheering me on while I was writing; National Novel Writing Month (without which I would never have finished this book); and Robin Tidwell and the writers of the All on the Same Page writers’ seminar, who welcomed me into their wonderful group.

  For this second edition I’d like to thank Rachel Bostwick for her wonderful cover design and all the members of the Dragon’s Rocketship group on Facebook for all their amazing support.

  And of course, thank you to all the cats in my life, past and present - Snowy, Cici, Pinky, and Miri Billie-Joe – you are my models and my muses!

  “The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”

  (Eden Phillpotts, A Shadow Passes, 1919)

  Prologue

  Vienna, October 2, 1941.

  Today was Celia’s tenth birthday. This was not how she imagined celebrating it. She was with her family – her mama, Miriam; her papa, David; her elder brother, Issel; and her baby sister, Sara. They were huddled together in the back room of their tiny two-room apartment in Grosse Spielgasse, in the dark, barely breathing.

  Outside the building, the boot steps got nearer and nearer. Celia heard shouting, screaming, gunshots. She crouched down even closer to the ground, wishing that somehow they could all melt away into the shadows. Celia clutched her cat, Max, tightly in her arms, feeling his warmth, his soft tabby fur close to her skin, willing him to stay quiet.

  Her mama cradled little Sara at her breast, nursing her so she would not cry out. Outside, the pounding footsteps were getting closer, closer: “Juden, Juden, Heraus, Heraus, Schnell, Schnell!” Now they were at the door of the neighbors – the Wassersteins. She heard crying and a single gunshot.

  Miriam beckoned to her. “Celia, mein Katzel, come here,” she whispered. “I have something for you, for your birthday.”

  Celia approached Miriam cautiously, still clutching Max to her. “What is it, Mama?” she asked, gazing into Miriam’s blue, blue eyes. She studied her prematurely wrinkled face, memorizing every crease. Mama, my mama, she thought.

  Still holding baby Sara with her left hand, Miriam reached around the back of her neck with her right and unclasped the chain that she always wore beneath her clothes, close to her heart. It was a silver chain with a cat charm on it. “Take this, Celia, mein Katzel. Wear it always, and remember I love you. Ich liebe dich.”

  “I love you, Mama,” Celia whispered as she fastened the chain around her neck just as the doors burst open. Six Gestapo soldiers rushed into their home – “Juden, Heraus, Heraus, Schnell, Schnell...” Celia watched as her family was herded out of the door.

  ***

  “Mama...” Celia woke up with a start. She must have fallen asleep. She didn’t sleep much anymore, or maybe she slept all the time, little catnaps throughout the day and night. She didn’t really know. These days it was sometimes hard to separate the dreams from the reality.

  Celia gazed at the silver chain around her neck, the cat charm always with her for so many years. She took it in her hand, closed her eyes, and concentrated. No, not now, not ever again, she thought. I’m so tired. I miss Max, though it’s been years since he passed away. Maybe I’ll see him again soon. She watched Miri sleeping by her side. Now, she thought. It has to be now or it will be too late.

  “Miri, Liebchen, wake up now, mein Katzel.” “Omama? Is it morning already? My birthday?”

  “No, Miri, but I need to give you your present now.”

  Celia unclasped the chain from her neck, the chain that had been there for sixty years. Time to pass it on now, she thought. It was hard to unfasten; her fingers were swollen from arthritis. I should not have had that milk last night, she thought. I know it makes me swell up, but still, what’s a little milk? Eventually she managed to unfasten the chain and fasten it around Miri’s neck.

  “Take this, Miri, and wear it always.”

  “Thank you, Omama. It’s a beautiful cat.”

  “Now, go back to sleep, Katzel. I love you, Miri. Ich liebe dich.”

  “I love you too, Omama,” Miri answered sleepily.

  Celia watched Miri as she quickly fell back into slumber.

  Despite all the stories I shared with you, she thought, there is so much I never told you, Miri, so much you’ll have to discover for yourself.

  “Be brave, mein Katzel.”

  Chapter 1

  October 2, 2001.

  Today was Miri’s birthday. She was ten years old. She had a strange dream last night. She dreamed about a cat with sleek gray fur and green eyes. She dreamed it talked to her and gave her a present.

  As Miri woke up, she felt something warm beneath her cotton nightshirt. She looked down and saw that she was wearing Omama’s cat charm chain, the one that she always wore close to her heart. Then she remembered. Omama woke her up in the middle of the night and gave her this for her birthday. Why did she do that in the night? It seemed so strange. Why not wait until morning?

  “Omama, Omama! Wake up! It’s morning now.” Why is she not waking up? “Omama, Omama! Wake up, wake up! You have to wake up. It’s my birthday, and Omama, it’s your birthday too. Remember? We always celebrate together. We’re going to make sponge cakes together – yours in the large kugelhopf mold, mine in the little cake pan. We’re going to decorate them with green icing, and Jenny is going to come over and sing Happy Birthday. Omama, Omama, please wake up.”

  But Celia would not wake up. Their cats, Kitty and Suzy, jumped onto the bed, meowing for breakfast. They walked onto Omama’s pillow, nudging her with their paws. Then Suzy jumped down and ran out through the cat door, wailing so loudly that Miri was sure now the whole neighborhood was awake.

  Tears formed in Miri’s eyes, and once she started crying, it was impossible to stop. She could not take her eyes off her omama – so still. She was the only family Miri had ever known.

  ***

  Miri’s mother, Nora, ran away from home when she was just fifteen years old. For months Celia searched for her daughter, but she seemed to have disappeared without a trace. It wasn’t until four years later that Nora reappeared. It was late one cool October night when Celia heard an urgent knock at her door. She had been having difficulty sleeping that night, as there was a full moon shining through the flimsy curtains in her bedroom. Celia grabbed her tattered robe and went to the door, wondering who could possibly be there that late at night.

  Standing on her doorstep was Nora. She had a wild, scared look in her eyes as she handed her mother a tiny bundle wrapped in a sky-blue shawl. Celia begged her daughter to stay, but Nora muttered nervously that she couldn’t and quickly walked back down the steps and out into the night.

  The newborn looked up at Celia with eyes she remembered fr
om so long ago, beautiful blue eyes, like those of her mother, Miriam.

  “Miri,” she whispered. “My own little kitten, mein Katzel.”

  They never heard from Nora again, not even a postcard. It didn’t matter, though, as Miri loved living with her omama. They lived in an attic apartment of an old building in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. It was the same building her omama had lived in since she first arrived in America in the 1940s. She came on a ship from Europe with her childhood friend Max, and later they married and had two children – Miri’s Uncle David (who moved away before she was born) and her mother, Nora.

  Miri never knew her Opapa Max. He had died before she was born, but everyone who talked about him said he had been a good, hardworking man. He never learned English properly and so could only do menial jobs. He was proud when he landed a job at the Streit’s Matzo factory on Rivington Street. He stayed in that job for thirty years, never missing a day’s work. He was known as an honest man who always provided for his family and never took any charity even when times were tough, and often times were very tough.

  Yet Celia was able to take the little bit of money that Max brought home and work magic in the marketplace and in her kitchen. With a few basic ingredients, Celia fed her family with wonderfully fragrant soups and stews whose delicious smells would waft down into the street below.

  One floor down in their building lived Miri’s best friend, Jenny. They did everything together. They walked to and from school each day, played jump rope and hopscotch in the street after school with the other kids, and shared all their secrets in the way only best friends could.

  Sometimes Jenny would come and stay at Miri’s place at night. Omama would make the girls treats, such as Viennese cakes and cookies filled with lots of butter and eggs and (Miri’s favorite) chocolate. On special occasions Celia would make a Sachertorte, so rich that you really should only eat a few forkfuls at a time. But of course, the girls always ate a lot more than that, eating until they gave themselves bellyaches.

  Omama had been teaching Miri to bake too, and she had even bought Miri her own set of miniature cake pans and kitchen utensils. Together they would measure, sift, mix, blend, and bake. In the long, cold winter months, when their old building was drafty and damp, they would fill it with the warmth and wonderful aromas of strudels and tortes.

  And always, there were cats – large and small, longhaired, shorthaired, tabby, ginger, Siamese. Celia seemed to be a magnet for cats. They congregated outside their building, and Celia would bring them some scraps of fish or a saucer of milk. Often she would sit on the steps and talk to them. At those times, Miri would watch her omama. There was a small brown cat with yellow eyes that was particularly fond of Celia’s attention. Sometimes this cat would turn and look directly at Miri like she understood something that Miri could not yet grasp. As Miri watched Celia interact with the cats, she often imagined that her omama could really communicate with them, could understand their innermost secrets and feline mysteries.

  But only two cats were actually permitted inside their attic apartment. Their two housecats, Kitty and Suzy, had lived with them for as long as Miri could remember. Kitty was a large, cantankerous tabby who would often express herself with her claws. Suzy, a black-and-white, longhaired cat, was much calmer and would be content some evenings to sit the whole night on Miri’s lap while she read the books she borrowed from the local public library. Miri loved to read and was friendly with the librarian at Tompkins Square Library, who would occasionally allow Miri to borrow as many as a dozen books at a time.

  She had been known to stay up the whole night reading and then, the next day at school, fall asleep in class and dream about the fantasy worlds from her books, until that is, she was rudely awoken by an angry teacher.

  Miri’s favorite book was Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It was one of the few books they actually owned, along with a prayer book and a big cookbook. She read her battered copy over and over, and sometimes she would write her own Alice stories, where, along with her teddy bear, Brownie, she would enter Wonderland and meet the Cheshire Cat, have tea with the Mad Hatter, or even play croquet with the Queen of Hearts.

  On rainy days when they couldn’t go out and play in the street, Jenny and Miri would read their library books out loud to one another and sometimes act the stories out, though they often argued about who should take the part of the heroine and who should be the villain.

  Sometimes they invented their own elaborate fantasy worlds. One of their favorite games was “fairies,” which they played on the steps of their building. Each step would represent a different part of fairyland, where they would gain special powers and magical possessions. Maybe there would be a dragon to vanquish or a giant to befriend. They would play until Jenny’s parents called her in for dinner, and then Miri would walk up the steps to Omama.

  Chapter 2

  For the next twenty-four hours, Miri cried. During that time, an ambulance came and took away her omama. She didn’t know who called for it. All she could do was cry.

  After they took Celia away, Miri just sat there, tears running down her cheeks. Suzy returned and jumped on her lap, trying to comfort her, trying to pretend it was okay. But of course, it was not okay. Kitty knew better. She prowled the apartment, pacing from room to room, yowling like a tormented banshee.

  Hours later, Miri heard a key turn in the lock, and in through the door walked a woman she had never seen before. She was of medium height and had bleached blonde hair with dark roots showing. She was dressed in a tailored navy business suit topped with a leopard fur jacket and wore heavy makeup, including bright red lipstick and matching manicured claws. When she came closer, Miri could smell her perfume, which was strong and overpowering, so much so that it made her gag.

  The strange woman regarded Miri with a look of distaste. “Hello, Miriam,” she said sternly. “I’m your Aunt Cynthia. You’re going to come with me.”

  Miri didn’t say anything. She just kept crying. “Now, now,” Cynthia said. “You’re far too big for that. Go pack yourself a bag; we have a flight to catch.” She gazed around the messy apartment with a look of disgust on her face.

  Miri went into the bedroom she had shared with Celia. She took a small suitcase out from under the bed. In it, she stuffed a few clothes, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, her notebooks and pencils, and her old stuffed bear, Brownie. On the dresser was an old sepia picture of her omama and opapa from their wedding day. Miri had often gazed at this picture, wondering at how handsome her Opapa Max had been and how beautiful the young Celia appeared. She took the picture and carefully placed it in her suitcase.

  “Hurry up, Miriam,” shouted Cynthia impatiently. “We haven’t got all day. Time to go.”

  Miri closed her suitcase and carried it back into the living room, where her aunt was waiting.

  “But, but, but...” Miri began. “What about Kitty and Suzy?”

  “Who?”

  “Our cats. They have to come with...”

  “No, they do not. I’m definitely not having any mangy cats in my house.”

  And then, before Miri had time to protest, Cynthia opened the front door and took a broom.

  “Shoo, shoo! Get out of here!” she shouted at the terrified cats. Kitty and Suzy ran out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out into the street. More tears flowed from Miri’s eyes, gushing in unstoppable torrents. She felt as if everything she’d ever cared about was being torn from her.

  “Where are we going?” Miri asked between sobs.

  “Somewhere a lot nicer than this rat hole,” Cynthia answered impatiently. “Come on, we’re going to be late for the plane.”

  Miri wordlessly followed Cynthia out of the door of their apartment and down the steps past Jenny’s door. The tears kept flowing down her cheeks. What would happen to Kitty and Suzy alone in the streets? Where was this woman taking her?

  Throughout the next day and night, Miri kept crying. She cried while she was ta
ken in a taxi to the airport. She cried as they waited in some fancy seats in an executive lounge at La Guardia. She cried as they boarded the plane for her first-ever flight. She felt that her eyes would never be dry again.

  The whole time, Aunt Cynthia looked at her with distaste and told her to shush, but Miri couldn’t shush. There was a gaping hole inside her where Omama used to be, and now she was being pulled away from the only home she’d ever known by a relative she hadn’t even known she had before today. Miri had never even had a chance to say goodbye to Jenny.

  The flight attendant brought trays of food, but Miri couldn’t eat hers. She felt sick to her stomach. Aunt Cynthia had earphones in her ears and was watching an action movie on the small screen in front of her. Miri closed her eyes. She was suddenly very tired...

  The gray cat with the green eyes was there again. “Be strong, Miri. Remember, mein Katzel, I will watch over you wherever you are. Keep the amulet safe and with you all the time. Someday it will help you as it did me.”

  Miri awoke with a start. Her ears were aching as the plane began its descent. A voice came over the loudspeaker: “Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving at Lambert Airport. Please ensure that your seatbelts are fastened, your tray tables are stored, and your seat is in an upright position. Local time is 9:00 a.m., and the temperature in St. Louis is 63 degrees. Thank you for choosing American Airlines, and enjoy your stay.”

  Miri gazed out of the window and watched the Gateway Arch coming into view. St. Louis, her new home. She only vaguely knew where that was on the map. As soon as the plane landed on the runway, Aunt Cynthia got out her cell phone. “David, yes, we’re here. I got the brat. You’re coming to get us, right? Okay.”