The Moments Between Dreams

By Judith F. Brenner

Top Notable 100 Indie Award of 2022

A story of hope, courage, and perseverance 

​Carol misses red flags about Joe’s need for control before she marries him, dashing her dreams for herself and her family. Trouble escalates after their daughter Ellie is paralyzed by the polio virus and Joe returns from WWII. Carol realizes how brutal waking life can be, and she conceals bruises and protects her children the best she can.

The Moments Between Dreams is a captivating story of a 1940s housewife who conforms to the rulebook of society until Joe pushes her too far. His constant intimidation shrinks Carol’s confidence while she tries to boost Ellie’s. Church-going neighbors in Carol’s tight-knit Polish community are complacent, but Sam, a handsome reporter, stirs up Carol’s zest for life. Despite impossible circumstances, Carol plans a secret escape. Along a risky path, she empowers her daughter to know no limits and teaches her son to stop the cycle of violence and gender discrimination.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greenleaf Book Group
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781626349346

Book preview

1

SUMMER 1943

I closed my eyes and held out my hand. Eight years ago, when he asked me to do this, he’d slipped a promise ring on my finger the day after I told him I was pregnant. This time, with my palm open, I felt a piece of flat metal press against my wedding ring. My eyes opened to the sight of house keys. In seconds, my mind processed that these shiny keys meant we could relinquish the cramped cottage to another renter.

Well? His dark eyes were wide and excited that he pulled off this surprise, and his expression conveyed that he was expecting a shower of grateful kisses and hugs, but I felt stunned he had made the purchase without me.

Where is it? What does it look like? Is it close to the school? I thought we were going to look—my voice trailed off—together.

I promised your father I’d provide for us, and now I can since I’ve been working overtime. It’s a solid structure. No more cracks in the window seals. Three bedrooms, a garage. Close to public transportation. A grocer, streetcars, and a bus line are all in walking distance. Just like living at your parent’s rental cottage, we won’t need a car.

I turned the key over and over and rubbed it with my thumb. It plunked to the floor when Joe pulled me toward his chest. I pulled back from his embrace to retrieve it, then looked at his beaming face, his grin wide. He extended his arms again. In his feverish glory, he lifted me at the waist and spun us around. I was dizzy with excitement yet dumbfounded. The mixed emotions had my stomach in knots. He must have taken out a bank loan in his name.

What is done is done. I heard my mother’s voice in my head. I had acquiesced my independence to Joe at nineteen. I thought by this time, we’d act more like my mother and father, as a team.

Pleasing my dad by giving him back his rental cottage key would be a highlight, and for that reason, I kissed Joe deeply and meant it. Whatever the house looked like would be better than having to drag a bathtub into the cottage’s center room and then fill it with hot water from the stove. Can I see it now?

We’ll have to take the 67 bus. It’s not running as often on a Sunday. I had Roger give me a lift today to get the keys. Sorry. I should have asked him to hang around to take us there.

My parents’ house was on the same property as the cottage, so I asked my mom to watch the children. I didn’t reveal why, feeling I needed to see it before telling her about the purchase.

Joe was right that the house was more spacious, and it was close to open-air markets on Maxwell Street and public transportation, which ran in proximity to rail cars. But having the extra space came with a price: the offensive odors of industry. What made the house affordable was its location near stockyards and factories.

The realtor says the odors aren’t too bad, except for hot days. Joe handed me the key again, and I opened the door to see a light-carpeted front room. At the back of the house was a large kitchen. See, Carol? Only smells like fresh paint once you shut the door. Lots of cabinets for you, doll. Opening the windows would be necessary at some point. Still, it was triple the size of where we had been living. There was an unfinished basement with a wringer laundry tub and enough overhead light bulbs to set up Joe’s watch repair studio on one side of the room and my sewing machine table on the other. The garage was set back by the alley. In it, we could store our bicycles and Joe’s hunting gear.

This time, I hugged him first. I can’t wait to show my family. It’s hard to believe we actually own it.

I own it, babe. But you know I wouldn’t let you down.

On the bus ride home, we realized how little time it would take us to pack since we had to leave the cottage furniture behind. It was my father’s.

We settled in fairly quickly on Chicago’s Southwest side, with furniture from a consignment shop where locals bargained in Polish more than English. To escape the crude odor of burning hides wafting from the stockyards, I joined a neighbor and her kids to swim at a community pool where the stench wasn’t as prevalent. Ellie and Tommy splashed me while I was looking through Marie’s newspaper for the weather report. Scram! You wet Marie’s paper. Please go swim with your new friends, I pleaded, turning to Marie. Sorry about that.

I don’t mind. I’m done with the paper. Besides, it feels good to cool off. Makes me want more. I’ll guide your kids toward mine. She waded into the pool. The wet news ink was smudged. I hoped the number printed was sixty-seven, not eighty-seven, when I’d be hosting our first barbecue. I thought about inviting Marie and her family, but we didn’t have enough food or chairs to have more than Joe’s friends and my family over.

The following weekend, temperatures climbed, yet all I smelled that Saturday were polish sausages and hamburgers grilling. Tommy whizzed up to us in the backyard, nearly knocking over the folding chairs we borrowed to show us his bloody gum and a front tooth, which he held in his hand. It came loose after he bit into a hamburger. I nearly swallowed it! he said. I made a mental note to play tooth fairy that night. I gave him a hug and a tissue, then looked around for his sister. Excuse me a moment, I said to Polly, who was talking about her agency promotion to our friend Barbara.

I walked through the house to the front porch and saw Ellie a few houses down, riding her new bike with training wheels. Ellie’s wheel spokes cast shadows on the sidewalk. She was singing as she passed me. I’m squishing up a baby bumblebee. Won’t my mommy be so proud of me? I’m squishing up a baby bumblebee—Ouch! It stung me! She steered over a bump from a raised tree root beneath the sidewalk. Instinctively, her body shifted to balance the bike in motion, the training wheels assisting lightly. Her voice faded as she pedaled away. The sight of my five-year-old wheeling down the sidewalk was satisfying. She was ready to be a big girl. I jogged down the steps to watch her go down the block. Not too far, now, honey! I called after her.

All the brick brownstones looked alike, casting box shadows of the brick houses and their chimneys. Uniform chain-link fences divided each. Sun-parched lawns absorbed the city’s industrial pollution emitted two blocks away, where smokestacks for the Cracker Jack and Argo Starch factories and a steel-processing center lined the railway. Some days we scrunched our noses against strange whiffs of cooked starch or burnt corn syrup, among other factory fumes. Today the air was sweet, and I breathed in the scent of caramel popcorn. I swiped a mosquito off my neck and stepped back inside the house.

Roger, Joe’s new friend from work, commented on the Uncle Sam Wants You posters appearing in storefronts and at bus stops. Barbara sighed and said, The draft is taking away all the men.

Don’t worry about me going. I’m too old to join the fight, Roger said, and put his arm around his wife. He turned and nodded his chin toward Joe. But this guy here, at twenty-eight, why you might be called up!

I have a bad ear; not sure they’ll take me, Joe said. I’m better off working to make ammunition, seeing how I was just asked to work an extra shift. They need guys with my machine lathe and welding talents for guns or tank parts.

Waving a kitchen towel in the air, I fanned the room to draw attention away from serious topics. Let’s not speak of war, I said, picking up a bottle of beer. Here’s to Polly’s promotion, Joe’s new job, and to a great barbecue bringing us together. Everyone’s beer bottles clinked with a chorus of the old-country toasts: "Cheers to health! Na zdrowie. Na zdraví." The Czech and Polish sayings blended our Eastern European roots well-grounded in Polonia, or Polish Chicago, for several generations. The clink of beer bottles made me long for the delicate clink of champagne glasses toasting our wedding. I thirsted for Joe’s adoration. He seemed distant lately, but I knew he constantly worried about money as we faced mortgage payments.

In the kitchen, my sister-in-law, Anna, helped Polly and me tidy up. Congrats on your new assignment, Polly, Anna said. Wow, ad copywriter. Are you excited?

Polly pretended to wash her face with the dish towel. Did you know that at J. Walter Thompson, I’ll be working on the Pond’s account? She looked to the window, noticing her reflection on the pane. We did a television commercial: ‘She’s lovely. She’s engaged. She uses Pond’s.’

Engaged, huh? I said, drying utensils.

You’ll find husband material there, Anna said. You being the only woman writer. Look how I found mine! Anna and my brother met at his law office. She was the only redhead I knew and the only law clerk I had ever met. I was envious of her and my sister working full time and being respected for their talents while I spent most of each day cleaning up dishes and toys.

Polly bumped into my side with her fanny. Not with these heavy hips, she said. You beat me to the altar, li’l sis. You with the thin, tall frame.

Did you hear Ellie calling me? I better go see, I said, leaving the towel on the counter. In the front room, Barbara was leaning over Ellie, who was crying on the couch. What happened, darling? I asked. Did you fall off your bike? I don’t see any blood.

Roger picked her up after she rode her bicycle into the wrong yard. All these houses look alike. She couldn’t stand up. He hopped the fence and brought her in here, Barbara boasted of her husband’s rescue of Ellie.

She must have heat exhaustion, I said. Tuck a pillow under her feet. I’ll get a cold washcloth and water.

My stomach hurts, Mama. My head hurts, too. From the corner of my eye, I saw Joe, watching us from the kitchen doorway.

Tommy heard the commotion and breezed past his dad. What’s going on? Is it time for ice cream yet? It’s getting dark out, and we didn’t even have dessert.

Can we? Barbara’s children piped up. Can we?

That’s a great idea. Barbara, will you help Polly serve? Ellie, do you want some ice cream? She shook her head no. Okay, sweetie, maybe later.

Joe, after the kids have dessert, can you and Roger put away the lawn chairs? I said, hoping everyone would get the hint to head home. Should we call a doctor?

She overdid it, Joe said. All that riding. Let her rest. Joe was matter-of-fact about everything. He went back outside with Roger to chain-smoke the rest of his pack of cigarettes.

While the young ones took their ice cream outside with Tommy, the house was quiet, though even with the ceiling fan, it still must have been eighty degrees inside. We left Ellie to rest on the couch until everyone headed home. I honestly wasn’t too worried.

The next morning, Tommy woke me. The tooth fairy didn’t come! My breath caught. I forgot about my cute boy.

She forgot we moved. Try again tonight, son. It was the first time his sister’s health overshadowed Tommy’s achievements.

Ellie’s head was hot. She complained her neck hurt. A small spoonful of oatmeal upset her stomach. I called Dr. Graczyk, our family doctor, who had delivered both my babies.

He called back late afternoon. Is she walking around? he asked.

No. I have to carry her to the bathroom. Her muscles seem stiff. She cringes every time I touch her.

You’d better bring her in to the emergency room at St. Clare’s. From what you’re telling me, we need to do some tests. It doesn’t sound like the flu. The sooner we examine her, the faster we can eliminate the possibilities.

Possibilities of what? I asked, feeling as though a bowling ball had struck my stomach.

If you wait longer than four days, you risk irreversible damage. Make her comfortable in a space away from Tommy. We don’t want him to become ill. She should be seen.

We don’t have a car.

Bring her in soon. I hung up, sweating. It was three o’clock. I had a stew on the stove for dinner. Joe would be home from the machine shop at four. I dialed his number at work, then hung up and called my mom instead.

Will Dad drive us now?

Wait until Joe gets home. I’ll come over and stay with Tommy, and your father can take the three of you together.

Thanks, Mom. She probably caught a stomach flu. They’ll check her for dehydration.

I bet you’re right. See you soon, darling.

When Joe returned, I told him the plan.

Is she awake?

Let’s go see.

She opened her eyes when Joe walked into her bedroom.

Ellie, come with me, Joe said, gently scooping her up. We’re going for a car ride. A doctor will give you a checkup.

Ow!

What hurts? Joe asked, carrying her into the front room. Hearing my parents arrive, I ran ahead to open the outside door.

Everywhere. My neck, my head, my legs. Can you put me down, Daddy?

In Grandpa’s car we go.

I can’t sit. It hurts too much. Can’t I lie down?

I’ll sit in the back, and she can put her head on my lap, I said.

No matter how we positioned Ellie in the car, she was in pain. When my father drove over the first set of railroad tracks, she screamed. Any rough road or pothole sent her moaning as if a thunderbolt had struck her. Joe carried her in through the ER entrance, where they immediately had us lay her on a stretcher. Dad left to go get gas, saying he’d pick us up later. He didn’t like hospitals.

The nurse asked Ellie to lie on her side, knees up to her stomach. This position helps us prep for a spinal tap, and then the lab will be able to do a cell count.

Cell count for what? I asked. Ellie clutched her dolly. No one explained to us what was next. She seemed delirious with fever, oblivious that they had exposed her backside. I talked to her quietly. It’s all going to be okay. A nurse whispered to me I should gently take the doll away, as a virus could survive on its surface.

It’s probably contaminated and must be thrown out, she said.

She didn’t throw up on it. The nurse ignored us. I gave Ellie a kiss on the cheek. I knew hugging her made my little girl cringe in pain. The flu, with body aches, does that sometimes.

Mommy, please stay.

I wish I could. I’ll be right down the hall, sweetie.

Within the hour, the doctor met us in the waiting room. We stood up to greet him. Sit down, sit down, he said. I have a diagnosis. Once we sat, he started in with the news. Your daughter has infantile paralysis, the polio virus. I couldn’t believe my ears.

Polio? Are you sure? Joe asked.

Her arm and leg are proof enough. With the neck pain, paralysis, and fever, it’s definitively polio. She’s being moved to our Communicable Diseases ward. We spared her from the spinal tap. It’s excruciating for someone her size. Our CD ward is necessary for any polio cases where fever is present. The high temp signals the virus is contagious. He paused. His calm, even voice broke in again. You need to keep a watchful eye on any siblings. Does she have brothers and sisters?

My little Tommy, I said. Did you tell our family doctor?

I have Dr. Graczyk’s contact information here in the chart. Your son should not sleep or play in the same room where Ellie spent her time. Remove common toys, anything she touched or played with, et cetera

Thank goodness Tommy has his own room, I thought. She has to stay here tonight? I asked, not familiar with hospital protocol for polio patients.

Yes, ma’am, for a few weeks, often months in these cases, depending on how long it stays in the body and how much damage it does to her limbs, lungs, and nervous system. Plus, a therapy treatment plan will start here when she’s ready. Summer means we see more and more cases of polio. Medical journals report it lurks in water, such as swimming pools and drinking fountains.

The white walls and black and maroon chairs along them began turning gray as I felt a fever of sweat wash over me with the guilt of exposing my girl. I clutched Joe’s arm. Oh, no. Not polio. Did he say months? Oh God, I took them swimming! I felt dizzy. White lights faded to gray. Then everything was dark as I fell against Joe.

Ma’am. Ma’am! Sir, guide your wife’s head down between her knees. Breathe deep, Mrs. Wozniak. I bent my head between my legs and started pressing my ears with my knees. I squeezed hard in anger. What did I do wrong? How did she catch polio? I released the pressure from my self-wrestling position and lifted my head, breathing hard and fast. Maroon chairs were in view against white walls. Hot tears streamed down my sunburned cheeks. I let myself cry fiercely as I buried my face in Joe’s white T-shirt. His chest was a haven, his embrace a comfort. I could see tears welling up in his eyes, too.

Come on, hon. Let’s go to Ellie, Joe said, forcing me to stand with him.

Dr. Penfold’s voice interrupted our intentions. The isolation wing restricts visitors. It’s a glass-enclosed CD unit, where you may see your daughter tomorrow. We gave her something for the fever and pain. She’ll be in a deep sleep by now. I’ll have Alice from our admin desk meet you in this lounge. There’s some paperwork to sign, and you’ll receive a folder with important phone numbers, he said and excused himself.

Now I understood why the bumpy road to the hospital had been so agonizing. I could hear Joe fidgeting with the coins in his pocket while we stood there, not saying anything. We both stared at the chairs, feeling as cold and cracked as the vinyl on them.

The next day, I walked through the door marked CD. The Communicable Diseases wing at St. Clare’s Hospital isolated polio patients from those suffering from scarlet fever, rubella, mumps, chickenpox, and measles, all which could be fatal since vaccines for these had yet to be developed. A passageway led to a wall of glass, where I could see Ellie four feet away. She was crying and mouthing the word, Mama, but the barrier muffled the sound. We both felt helpless. I knew Ellie didn’t understand why I couldn’t enter her room. Nurses assured me that when the fever broke, I’d be able to hold her hand. Come back tomorrow, they advised.

Tomorrows kept coming, and I’d hear the same. There were different nurses every day, bused in from nearby nursing schools to help with patient care, due to the wartime nursing shortage. They sent full-fledged nurses to military-base hospitals overseas.

Five days later, they told me the polio virus had paralyzed Ellie from the neck down, but I still couldn’t be by her side. My focus on Tommy’s health became obsessive. I checked his temperature twice a day until he denied my approach, so I’d ask him how he felt instead, and he’d answer quickly to avoid my intrusiveness. My heart broke every time I saw a child playing outside, knowing Ellie would not be skipping or roller skating. I hid behind the bathroom door, releasing my anger in convulsing sobs. God, why? Why? I cried. I ran the bath to drown out my incessant tears so Tommy wouldn’t hear my fear.

A week passed, then two. I called the nurses’ station daily. No change. Given a chance, I would burst through the separation glass. While these white-clad women were angels providing comfort, to me, all they did was to take control away from parents. They kept denying my request to visit her. Trust hospital administration, the director told me. If we let parents have all the leeway they wanted in hospitals, the polio virus would spread faster and farther. We don’t have a cure, but we can contain it.

Guilt washed over me. I felt as if I had abandoned her. If the fever had made my little girl delirious, perhaps she didn’t realize I wasn’t at her side. Nothing would ever be the same. Polio cases had no cure. I read the paper feverishly, finding news about more children catching polio. Scientists didn’t understand the virus enough to create a vaccine as they had done for smallpox. I couldn’t believe this would happen to us. The polio virus had haunted the world for a hundred years. Why was it spreading like wildfire in Chicago now?

Anna accompanied me to a library to investigate. She helped Tommy pick out books, and I went to the reference section. On the drive home, we shared what we learned. It’s not just kids. President Roosevelt’s legs became permanently paralyzed at thirty-nine.

It’s spreading among children in the city! I said. Anna reached over to grab my hand.

She whispered, Poor Tommy. What if he gets it too?

I worry constantly.

Weeks went by with no improvement. I called daily, hearing the same monotone voice. It was a Tuesday when my ears didn’t hear correctly. Excuse me, nurse, please repeat that?

Mrs. Wozniak, your daughter’s out of isolation. The polio virus’ contagious phase has passed. We are moving her out of CD and onto a different floor. Call back in an hour, and we’ll have a room number.

When can I visit her?

A note here says you should contact Dr. Graczyk’s office first.

I hung up, my heart in my throat. I dialed as fast as the rotary phone would let me. Dr. Graczyk’s assistant, Lee, picked up my call. Even over the phone, I imagined her pleasant, round face, always wearing bright pink blush, her brunette hair piled high in a coiffed bun. Lee was the sweetest person to encounter when one was sick. She told me we should meet Dr. Graczyk at the hospital. I was glad to involve our family doctor. The thought of specialists scared me.

When we got to Ellie’s overcrowded floor, I noticed polio patients of all ages in rooms and in beds along the hallway. A fan blowing in the corner had a sign above it:

WANTED: FANS, CRIBS, TABLES. DONATE TODAY!

The epidemic was terrorizing Chicago and beyond. A sense of hopelessness washed over me. Nurses moved pillows around, but there was nothing more they could do. I took a deep breath, grabbed Joe by the sleeve, and dodged supply carts to reach Ellie’s bed. I gently shook her arm to rouse her.

Hi, Mama. Hi, Daddy. Can I go home now? she said, slightly lifting her head. Before we could answer, Dr. Graczyk startled all of us with his booming voice.

Good evening. This precious child has fought off the virus. She’s a champ! Ellie looked pale. I stroked her head, coaxing a faint smile. He put her chart down inside the bed’s footboard holder.

Now, Ellie, are you ready to show us? he said. It was a day to remember. Dr. Graczyk lifted the blanket like a magician revealing a dove. There were Ellie’s precious bare toes on her left foot, wiggling.

Watch this, Ellie said, scrunching five toes while raising her arms over her head. She made her fingers twinkle as she bent them in rolling sequence, and sang in her tiny but perfect voice, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

She always loves to sing, I said, turning to Dr. Graczyk.

Ellie, can you move your toes on the other foot?

No. I am still tired down there.

I contained my shock, not wanting to ruin the positivity. Her right leg endured the polio’s crippling effects. Her left leg is not as bad. With some surgeries and therapy down the road, plus orthopedic braces, we might have her walking in a few months. I will involve Dr. Penfold to make final determinations. He is our best orthopedic specialist.

Might? Did you say might get her walking? Joe asked. As much as Dr. Graczyk tried to buffer the bad news with the good, I couldn’t let Ellie see my distress. I buried my head in her pillow to capture my tears as I leaned down to hug her. Don’t worry, Ellie.

Joe tucked the blanket over Ellie’s legs again. So, what are you telling us, doctor? Is the polio virus dead? She can come home soon? But she won’t be able to walk?

Patients can lead productive lives after polio. After a momentary silence, Dr. Graczyk suggested, Why don’t we move into the hall for a moment?

We’ll be right back, Ellie, I said, brushing my hands over her feet.

We moved past patients in the narrow, dim hall. Dr. Graczyk seemed to close more doors on us than open. Joe looked intense and asked, What’s next, Doc?

Mr. Wozniak, she’ll be here for three to five months. Paralytic polio attacked the nerves in her spinal cord, which controls muscles, causing temporary or permanent paralysis. Sometimes, we see it deform upper limbs. Ellie has it in her lower limbs. I’m telling you this as good news. It could have been much worse. Lucky for her, it didn’t infect her chest muscles, causing breathing issues, which can be fatal, but that’s a different strain.

She can breathe on her own, right?

Yes. The virus attacked her stomach lining before it moved to the brain stem, causing her upset stomach and stiff neck.

Well, how do you know she cannot walk? Joe countered, turning to me. She rode a bike a few weeks ago.

It is hard to accept, I realize. The specialist may recommend a plaster cast to prevent the leg from growing crooked, or intense physical therapy and heat treatments. Perhaps all the above. There was talk of hot massages before or after surgeries. Her body created antibodies to fight the infection. Remarkably, her left leg has muscle control, as you saw from her wiggling toes.

This was the good news we had to accept with the bad. I pinched my palm to stop my tears. Joe absorbed the news in silence. I found my voice. Thank you, doctor. Can we see her again?

Certainly. I’ll be in touch.

Once in the room, Joe gently brushed his hand against Ellie’s cheek and winked. You’ll be all right, kiddo.

Can you stay, Dad? There is no radio here, and I’m so bored.

We’ll stay. Joe, let’s miss the last bus and ask my brother for a ride home. My dad’s not around tonight. I saw a pay phone in the lounge.

Joe looked at me, flaring his nostrils wide. He was averse to asking my brother for favors. Yet more time with Ellie was priceless. He patted her cheek and left the room.

Ellie slowly became alert, blinking her sweet brown eyes she’d inherited from Joe. I pushed her tangled dark hair from her pale face. Tommy had my fair