White Picket Fences by Susan Meissner Page A

truck’s wheels.
    “Looks like you have a new platform for lecturing the kitchen staff on how not to burn the bread, Eli.”
    “I smell new wood,” the blind man said, craning back his neck and sniffing the air.
    “I heard you needed a podium,” Neil said. “I’m Neil Janvier, and this is my son, Chase.”
    “Very nice to meet you both. My name is Josef Bliss,” the older of the two men said. “This is Eliasz Abramovicz.”
    His father said it was nice to meet them. Then he and Chase positioned the podium and released it from the hand truck.
    “Did you build it yourself, Mr. Janvier?” Josef asked.
    “Yes, I did. And please, you can just call me Neil.”
    The administrator came in at that point to thank them. Then she asked if Neil could step inside her office for a moment. Neil said he’d be right back.
    “Very nice work,” Josef said, sizing up the podium with his eyes. He turned to Eliasz. “Eli, what was the name of the furniture maker fromyrardów that we met up with in the camp?”
    “Jaworski. Does it look like something Jaworski would have made?”
    “Yes. Yes, I think it does.”
    Chase found himself wanting to ask Josef what he meant. “Camp?”
    Josef turned to look at Chase. “A concentration camp. Eliasz and I were at the same concentration camp. Outside Warsaw.”
    “Like a Nazi concentration camp?”
    “Just like.”
    “So…so you’re both Jewish.”
    “Eliasz is. I’m Catholic. You didn’t have to be a Jew to be an enemy to Hitler.” Josef smiled, but it was not an expression of amusement.
    “How did… What did you do?” Chase asked.
    “He made the Nazis angry,” Eliasz spoke from beside Josef.
    “Josef didn’t play by their rules in the ghetto.”
    “And you both survived a concentration camp?”
    “Yes. Eliasz and I both escaped from Treblinka.”
    “Treblinka…,” Chase echoed.
    “Yes. You know of it? It is in Poland.”
    “My great-grandfather died at Treblinka,” Chase murmured, almost to himself.
    “Almost a million people died there, son.”
    Neil and the administrator appeared at the entrance to the dining room, finishing their conversation as they walked back in. Neil looked at his watch and then motioned for Chase to come.
    “I guess I have to go,” Chase said.
    “Well, you must come back and visit us sometime, Chase,” Josef said. “Sounds like we have something to talk about.”
    Chase nodded but said nothing. As he walked away heheard Eliasz say surely it was time for tea and that the name Janvier sure didn’t sound Jewish or Polish to him.
    Chase came back only once after that—to bring Josef and Eliasz the Easter cookies. He had waited for Josef to bring up the concentration camp. But Josef did not. And neither did Chase.

    A hall clock chimed five o’clock as Chase, Tally, and Neil stepped inside La Vista del Paz. Neil went to find the administrator, and Chase asked at the reception desk if Josef Bliss and Eliasz Abramovicz still lived there. She nodded.
    “Tell my dad I’ll be right back,” he said to Tally, and he started down the B-wing corridor.
    About halfway down the long hall, Josef sat in a wheelchair in a sunny alcove, reading a sports magazine.
    “Chase!” Josef called out to him.
    Chase stopped and stepped into the alcove.
    “I thought that was you. Bringing more furniture today?” Josef asked.
    “Bookcases. For the anniversary and the new library.”
    “Ah, yes. The anniversary. It’s going to be quite the affair. Eliasz is resting up for it even now so he can dance the tango with all the nursing staff.”
    Chase nodded toward Josef’s chair. “You’ve got a wheelchair now.”
    “It’s what they punish you with when you fall too many times taking a pee.”
    “You all right?”
    “This is just what happens when you hang around too long, Chase.” He patted the arms of the wheelchair.
    The two were silent for a moment. Chase was suddenly hesitant to ask Josef if he and Eliasz would allow him to videotape them