Christmastime 1943

by Linda Mahkovec

  “She’s not as ugly as your sister,” Rossi countered.

  The two men escalated their insults, to the amusement of the others.

  Remling leaned against the desk and pointed to the men. “Can’t you see? We’re tired of drawing each other. Don’t you have a friend you could bring in?”

  Lillian understood what he was getting at and smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’m sure the boys’ babysitter would be happy to come in and model for you.”

  Remling leaned over to Tommy and whispered. “How old is she?”

  Tommy thought about it. “I’m not sure, but she has white hair.”

  Remling and the others groaned in exaggerated despair, holding their heads.

  “Hey, Mom,” said Gabriel. “How about Izzy?” He turned to some of the patients. “She’s real pretty and has red hair.”

  “And a nice figure?” asked Vinnie.

  Gabriel shrugged. “I guess so.”

  Vinnie caught Lillian’s warning look and held up his hands in apology.

  “We promise to mind our manners,” said Remling, smacking Vinnie on the shoulder.

  “Best behavior and all that,” added Rossi, his hands clasped in prayer.

  “I’m inspired just by the thought,” said Bushwick.

  Lillian looked out at the room of hopeful faces. “Well,” she said, “I suppose you have a point. I certainly don’t want to be held responsible for unflattering family portraits. Perhaps I can persuade her to come in one night.”

  She laughed at the cheers. “I can’t make any promises.”

  When the class finished, she instructed Tommy and Gabriel to help Mrs. Coppel set up for the next class, while she went upstairs to the bedridden patients.

  “Tommy, Gabriel – half an hour,” she called from the door.

  But they barely took note of her departure. They sat in the middle of the men, immersed in a story involving a camp commander, and were laughing at Vinnie’s imitation of him.

  Lillian didn’t allow Tommy and Gabriel to attend the private lesson upstairs. She was afraid it would be too upsetting for them. Some of the men were pretty bad – disfigured, and dejected.

  She had worked with a few different patients in the ward, but lately two men in particular showed some real interest – Mr. Carmichael, an older man, who had taken art classes years ago, and Ernest Weiss, a very young man with longing in his eyes, who always talked to Lillian about his family.

  After spending some time with Mr. Carmichael, she went to Ernest’s bedside. His face lit up and he showed her his recent sketches – some were of other patients, while others depicted memories from home. After spending about fifteen minutes with him, encouraging him on his progress and making a few suggestions, she got up to leave.

  He reached out and took her hand. “Please. Stay a little longer.”

  Lillian tried to read his expression. Loneliness. Poor boy, she thought. He was from a large family and was utterly homesick.

  “I was hoping we could start working with color,” he said.

  Lillian smiled and patted his hand. “All right,” she said, reaching for her oil crayons. “Let’s start with these.”

  He lifted his eyes, and carefully watched her as she explained how to layer and shade.

  Chapter 8

  *

  Ursula felt blown by raw, wild impulses. And she couldn’t still the storm long enough to look at it carefully – to analyze it and take some disciplined action against it. The fears and worries that daily and nightly twisted inside her were beginning to wear her down. It was becoming work to try to avoid him. He would appear in her dreams, and she would awake with a start – and then try to quickly fall back asleep in hope that the dream would continue. And no matter the outcome, she awoke in the morning, torn between disappointment and guilt.

  She had kept up the denial of her feelings, until the day she had tried to teach him how to milk the cow – and then, unexpectedly, the tightly closed box of the October day had sprung open, unfurling her heart all over again. Over and over she replayed that day in the barn, and, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame him for anything. It was she who had gone into the barn. She who had placed her hands over his.

  Ursula hated herself for thinking about him, for seeking him out. She told herself it was because she detested him and was watching for signs of Nazi treachery. But the pretense was beginning to wear thin.

  She stayed away from him, watching him from the upstairs window. Sometimes she would see him stand and gaze out over the fields, and she sensed a look of sadness in his face, in the way he stood. On two occasions, she saw him pull a photo from his pocket, and she felt a stab of heat shoot through her. A photo of his wife? His fiancée?

  Driven by a host of unanswered questions, she took to asking Ed about him, careful to include questions about the other prisoners, as well. Were they all married? What else did he know about them? She always concluded her questioning by expressing her displeasure: “I know they’re helping. I can see that. I just wish they weren’t German.”

  Ursula grew more desperate, and try as she might to find something she could fault Friedrich with, he gave her nothing to fuel her fire. He was kind and generous, sensitive and hard-working. And though she hated to admit it, he was beautiful – in a way that spoke to her, as it had that day in October. A beauty that spoke of hidden depths. She wished he were unappealing and dull. But there was intelligence in his eyes, suppressed emotion. He was strong and angular, yet there was tenderness in his ways. She had seen it again and again – almost a protectiveness of the others. Always taking the heavier jobs, always showing a respectful manner towards Ed and Otto, towards her mother. And like the others, he was good-natured. He smiled to everyone – but her. And also like the others, he sang while he worked – beautifully. She had heard him on several occasions, his voice rich and –

  A surge of anger welled up in her – what was she thinking? He was the enemy. He was a Nazi. She had to keep that thought foremost in her mind. It was a betrayal to see the kindness in him, to admire him in any way. Though it went against her nature, she would learn how to hate, or at least how to sharpen her faculties for disdain.

  It didn’t help that everyone seemed to be softening towards the POWs. Her mother and sister were growing friendlier with them, Ed and Otto seemed to enjoy their company – what was wrong with everyone?

  And yet, here on the farm, working with them almost every day, it was hard not to see them as individuals, and understand that they all missed their homes, their loved ones. Again, she remembered how Friedrich had looked at the photograph. She imagined a beautiful German girl, waiting for him. Waiting to be back in his arms – waiting to feel the heat and strength of his embrace, his lips touching –

  She strode out of her room, furious that she couldn’t keep her mind fixed. He was turning into something other than the enemy. They all were. They were becoming familiar, God curse them all. How could she and the others forget that these men belonged to the army that killed Francis?

  And now they were sharing their kitchen with them?! Ursula had pleaded with her mother, and at first Kate had agreed to feed them out on the enclosed back porch. But over the past few days, the temperature had dropped and Kate insisted to Otto that they all eat inside. Otto was grateful, but said that the men were hesitant.

  So far Ursula had avoided the kitchen when the POWs were there. But today, she wanted to see them to let them know that they were prisoners and not favored guests.

  She went downstairs, angry at the cheerful voices and laughter flowing from the kitchen. It was Saturday, and Shirley was over again. She had been spending more and more time at the house, telling Jessica how nice it was that her POWs were young and handsome. And she took pleasure in practicing the few German words she had learned. But today, her playful voice grated on Ursula. They were all losing sight of the real nature of the situation.

  From the living room, she saw that Jessica and Shirley were serving the fo
od, and they had the audacity to giggle at Karl who was trying to make sense of a ridiculous song playing on the radio.

  He listened intently to the song, turning his face to one side, then the other, as if to better catch the words – but he remained puzzled. “Is English?”

  Otto tried to explain that it was a nonsense song. “Mairzy Doats.” He tried to break it down for Karl, in long, loud syllables. “Mares. Mares, eat, oats.” When Karl still showed no comprehension, Otto mimed a horse being fed.

  Karl’s face lit up in sudden understanding. “Ah! Is about a horse!”

  Which sent Jessica and Shirley into peals of laughter. Even Kate and Ed joined in. Ursula saw Friedrich’s face softening at the merriment.

  It was too much for her. She stomped into the kitchen.

  “Jessica!” she snapped.

  Jessica raised her head at the rebuke, and left the room with Shirley, their suppressed giggles trailing behind them.

  Kate threw Ursula a sharp look. But Ed wore a curious expression, as if seeing something else – and when their eyes met, Ursula felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Soon Friedrich and the two other prisoners stood, thanked Kate, and left the kitchen to go back outside.

  Ed pushed himself up from the table, and took his hat from the coat-rack. “I’ll be out in the barn.”

  Kate began clearing the table, banging the dishes. Ursula stood with her arms crossed, wondering if she had gone too far – and wondering why she was becoming more and more impulsive.

  Kate turned to her. “There’s enough tension in our lives without you adding to it. Why do you begrudge the girls a little happiness? Why hurt these three men who are so far from home? Put yourself in their place.”

  Ursula went back upstairs and shut her bedroom door. Then, parting the curtain, she watched the men from her window. Gustav and Karl were laughing as they loaded up the wagon. Friedrich took out the photo, looked at it, and then slipped it back into his shirt pocket, before following the others into the barn. A flash of anger shot through Ursula – she wanted to rip the photo in two.

  Instead, she went to the mirror and studied her reflection.

  “I’m just a farm girl,” she said. She compared herself to the imagined beautiful and cultured German girl in the photo.

  With one hand, she twisted her hair up and raised her chin to better see her amethysts – but her earrings seemed a mockery. She dropped her hand in disappointment. There was a time, not so long ago, when she had been proud of her appearance. When she had brushed her chestnut-colored hair until it gleamed like buckeyes. When she had dressed up for the dances, her trim figure set off by a pretty dress, and was secretly gratified by the admiring glances.

  But she no longer cared about all that. She even wondered if those days were gone. If she had already lost her looks. Dungarees and overalls, her brothers’ shirts, heavy work shoes – that was her look nowadays.

  In rebellion against that image, she stripped off her work clothes, opened the closet, and pulled out the blue satin dress that best brought out the deep blue of her eyes and showed her figure. She stepped into the dress, and brushed her hair. Even went so far as to put on stockings and her good shoes.

  Then she looked into the mirror, and tried a smile. Thank God. A hint of prettiness was still there – if she smiled. That’s what was missing – the softness that a smile brought. She had a hard look these days. She smiled again, and brought it back. Then frowned. She hated vanity in other girls – and yet, as she studied her silhouette, her face, she was glad that whatever beauty she had was still there. It wasn’t vanity, was it? To want to feel pretty, in the way a summer day could be pretty, or the night sky? To want to be a part of life, instead of feeling like she was stuck out on the edges, watching the world pass by. Soon she would be eighteen. Then nineteen. Then –

  She heard a truck outside, went to the window, and groaned. There was Joe Madden, calling on her again. She thought he had gotten the message and would leave her alone, and move on to Sue Ellen.

  Ed walked out of the barn and went over to greet him, while Otto and the prisoners looked on.

  The contrariness that her mother always accused her of now stubbornly rose up inside Ursula. She ran downstairs, past her astonished mother, sister, and Shirley, and opened the door to the brisk December day.

  Joe was just coming up to the house. Ursula stood on the porch and waited for him, aware of the breeze fluttering her dress, aware of the eyes on her.

  “Well, look at that!” remarked Shirley, with her hands on her hips.

  Jessica shook her head. “She goes from one extreme to the other!”

  Kate exchanged a glance with Jessica, and then went onto the porch where Ursula and Joe stood talking.

  “Afternoon, Joe!” called Kate. “Come inside where it’s warm.” She gave Ursula a look of reprimand as Joe stepped inside.

  “Jessica, fix Joe a slice of that pie and a cup of hot coffee – since your sister seems to have lost her good mind.”

  Jessica stared at Ursula, dressed up in the middle of the work day. “What are you all dolled up for?”

  Ursula frowned at Jessica’s choice of words. “Hardly all dolled up. Just seeing if I had anything to wear to the dance.”

  “So you’re going?” asked Joe, his face brightening. “That’s what I came to ask you about.”

  “I – I haven’t decided yet,” said Ursula, already regretting her folly.

  “Sue Ellen said she wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Shirley. “Everyone is going to be there.”

  The hope in Joe’s earnest face filled Ursula with shame.

  “I’ll be right back.” She ran upstairs, baffling everyone, and changed back into her dungarees and flannel work shirt. She parted the lace curtains at her window and glanced down at the barn; Friedrich had his eyes fixed on the farmhouse door.

  Ursula clomped downstairs in her heavy shoes, transformed back into homespun farmhand, and joined the others at the table.

  “How’ve you been faring, Joe?” she asked. “How’s your mother?”

  A conversation followed about the Christmas preparations for the USO in town and the upcoming Christmas dance at the town hall. Ursula listened politely, but she let Jessica and Shirley do most of the talking.

  Kate gave Jessica a discreet nod, and got up from the table. “Jessica, Shirley, come help me bring the rest of that pie out to the others. And some coffee.”

  Ursula understood the intention of leaving her and Joe alone and resented it. She wished she had never indulged in such impulsive behavior. There was good-hearted Joe getting his hopes up for nothing. It was wrong of her. It was beneath her – and so unfair to Joe.

  In the middle of his talking about some of their classmates who would be at the dance, Ursula suddenly interrupted him.

  “I’m sorry, Joe. I – I don’t think I’ll be going to the dance, after all.”

  Crestfallen, he turned a perplexed gaze to Ursula, as if he couldn’t keep up with all her twists and turns.

  He was too honest and good-natured to play with. “I don’t feel much like dancing these days,” Ursula explained. “Why don’t you ask Sue Ellen? Everyone knows she’s fond of you.”

  Joe nodded, understanding everything in those words. He took a sip of coffee and set his cup down.

  “Perhaps I will. I guess there comes a point where a fella has to accept things and move on.” He tapped his stiff leg. “That’s one thing I learned from this. But will you save me a dance if you decide to go?”

  “I can’t promise that – you’ll be in high demand, Joe. There won’t be many handsome young men for the girls to dance with – and a hero at that.”

  Joe grinned at the compliment. And they soon slipped into a relaxed conversation, more in the vein of the old friendship they had always enjoyed.

  They then walked back to the porch, and said their goodbyes. As Ursula watched him walk with the war limp he would always have, she hoped that he would find what that they were all in s
earch of. Love. Tenderness. Someone who answered the deep yearning inside and who made the world a lovely place.

  Shirley ran up to him, seeing an opportunity to further her sister’s cause. “Leaving Joe? Can you give me a lift home? I know Sue Ellen would be happy to see you.”

  “Sure. Hop on in.” He said goodbye to the others, nodded at Ursula, and drove off.

  Ursula stood on the porch and waved goodbye to him. When she looked over towards the barn, she saw Friedrich turn away and enter the barn. Ashamed of herself on account of both men, Ursula spun around, and went back inside.

  Out in the barn, Otto poured himself another cup of coffee. “And who was that handsome young buck calling at the house?”

  “That was Joe Madden,” answered Kate. “You remember him, don’t you?”

  “Haven’t seen him in years. Isn’t he the one who – ”

  Ed nodded. “Wounded at Guadalcanal, after bringing several men to safety. Been sweet on Ursula for years. Come to ask her to the dance.”

  “He’s just wasting his time,” said Jessica.

  “You don’t know that,” said Kate, though she was afraid it was true. Yet she hoped that the dress and brightness in Ursula’s face were signs of a return to happiness – a kind of happiness anyway.

  “You know it’s true, Mom. She won’t go with him.”

  Kate shook her head. “Well, I don’t know what she’s waiting for. Joe’s a good, honest farmer. She could do no better.”

  “It’s always been that way,” said Jessica. “Sue Ellen says Ursula could have any boy she wants, but she never cares about them. She said it’s because Ursula thinks she’s better than them.”

  Ed saw a flash of anger surface in Kate. “Well, Ursula’s particular, is all,” he said. “No rush.”

  “But it’s always like that,” said Jessica. “The boys fall in love with her, and she just ignores them. It’s not fair.”

  “And just what is she supposed to do?” asked Kate. “Court them all? Encourage them all? That’s not her way. Unlike Sue Ellen – always angling for attention.”