The Last Green Valley

by Mark Sullivan

  A poor, lonely woman, she thought. That’s who I am a year later. A poor, lonely woman, who can’t face the fact that she’s probably a poor, lonely widow clinging to false hope. It’s what Lieutenant Gerhardt hints at every time I see her, isn’t it? Emil has died of some disease, and I am forced to spy on everyone. My housemates. My neighbors. The colonel and his men.

  What kind of life is this? And who are Walt and Will becoming? Are they being told at school to spy on their friends? On me?

  It all made her angry, bitter. She wondered what the last two years and nine months were really about. They had survived the Long Trek and the last year of the war, only to be cruelly split apart. She had tried to go as far west as she could, only to not go far enough. She had tried to live her life quietly, keeping her faith in Emil’s return, only to face rapists and secret police who said her faith was foolish and misplaced.

  What have I done to deserve this? Adeline asked herself. Why in God’s name am I being punished like this?

  By the time she reached the central station, Adeline knew she wasn’t being punished in God’s name. She was being punished in Communism’s name, in Joseph Stalin’s name, just as she had been punished in his name when they took her father away nearly two decades before.

  Sent to the East. Thrown to the wind and the wolves. Never to be seen again.

  Like Emil.

  Adeline felt something shift inside and realized sadly that she didn’t have the emotional strength to put a question mark on that last thought. After drinking tea and eating strudel from one of the few vendors already open in the Berlin central station, she set off through the streets toward the officer’s commissary, suddenly missing her mother, Malia, and her brother, Wilhelm.

  What’s become of them? Where are they? In that little town where I left them? Will I ever see or hear from them again? Or are they gone from my life? Never to be seen again. Like . . .

  Adeline stopped herself from using her husband’s name, but she saw Emil clearly in her mind, then, as he was the last time she’d seen him, being led away by the soldiers, and bellowing at her to go as far west as she could and he’d find her. Try as she might, she could not stop herself from bursting into tears. That was probably the last time she’d ever see him. That was the image that would stay with her until she was old, wrinkled, and dying with the question of Emil’s fate still in her heart. Would she ever know what became of him?

  That question drove her deeper into the darkest state of mind she could ever remember, a despair so complete that she barely noticed the familiar soldier at the commissary door.

  He said, “I need chocolate for my lady friend tonight. And any kind of cigarettes.”

  “Chocolate and cigarettes of any kind will get me a visit from the secret police.”

  “I had to talk,” he said. “I told you that. They threatened my sister.”

  “They always threaten someone, don’t they?” she said, and went inside.

  Adeline moved through the shop quickly, knowing exactly what she wanted, and why. When she was finished, the voice in her head she called her safer-self told her to go to the checkout, to pay, and leave. But she got angry at that voice. She’d been listening to it for years. It was the same voice that said she didn’t deserve to eat when she was starving, the same one that blamed her for the first Walt’s death; the one that never failed to remind her that she was a refugee, someone no one wanted; the voice that whispered she was not as good as the people around her; the one that said don’t take chances, go along, protect yourself, protect the boys; the voice that always spoke out of fear.

  Adeline stood there a long time, staring off into the middle distance before she finally asked where that voice had gotten her. Was she any safer than she’d been when she walked away from her mother? Other than the roof over her family’s head, a warm place for them to sleep, and a job that fed them well, she knew the answer was no. As long as she was here, living under the Soviets, dealing with people like Lieutenant Gerhardt, the answer would always be no.

  Deep in her gut, Adeline felt the anger change, become defiance, and defiance felt good, so good she pulled out a pen. She scrawled a few more items on the list, then got them and put them on the counter along with everything Colonel Vasiliev had ordered. She added her money to the total and paid.

  Outside, she handed the guard a chocolate bar. “If you tell the lieutenant about this, I will never buy anything for you again. Merry Christmas.”

  “You can’t say that now.”

  “And yet I did,” she said, and walked off toward the train station.

  Eight hours later, Adeline pulled a roasted capon from the oven in the kitchen off the Soviet officers’ formal mess that she called the “white room” because Colonel Vasiliev had insisted on having white tablecloths to match the walls and floor. She moved the bird to a smaller oven to stay warm along with covered bowls of freshly made egg noodles with onions and two loaves of Russian brown bread freshly baked with little slices of garlic the way the Soviet colonel liked it. She opened the large caviar jar and poured the contents on a plate along with Vasiliev’s favorite crackers and four different kinds of cheese. Two bottles of vodka and three bottles of Riesling wine were already in a washtub out in the white room, packed in ice.

  After setting the long table with fresh linen, silverware, and crystal, Adeline cleaned the kitchen to a shine. When she was finally done, she decided not to think about the things that were wrong with her life. Just for today, she’d go home and make every effort to celebrate the season with Walt and Will. And maybe she would take up Frau Schmidt on her offer to come and spend the holiday evening with her and Herr Schmidt again.

  Thinking how excited the boys would be for their presents and feeling much better than she had all day, Adeline put on her coat, gloves, and scarf and went out into the frigid air. The late-afternoon winter sky had turned a thin blue that spoke of colder temperatures to come. She’d no sooner rounded the corner than the dreaded black sedan pulled up beside her. The rear window was already rolled down.

  “Frau Martel,” Lieutenant Gerhardt said as if they were dear friends. “How lucky for me to catch you. Please get in. I’m sure you have much to tell me after your holiday shopping spree.”

  Adeline had anticipated a visit from the secret police. It was why her canvas bag was empty. It was why she’d left her gifts behind, hidden in a cupboard in the pantry of the Soviet officers’ mess. She climbed in and closed the door. They stayed parked, the engine idling, the same dour driver smoking at the wheel.

  “What’s in your bag?” Lieutenant Gerhardt said.

  Adeline showed her it was empty and then handed her the receipt for all the items she’d purchased earlier in the day.

  Lieutenant Gerhardt studied the list, her jaw stiffening. “The colonel buys all this?”

  “No, there were other requests from at least six of his staff officers in there,” Adeline replied. “They all paid with their own funds. Good vodka mostly.”

  “Name them. Break their purchases down for me.”

  Adeline did, adding one or two of her items to each of the officers’ lists, and waited while Gerhardt scribbled in a brown notebook, then said, “What else?”

  “I cooked, cleaned, and left,” Adeline said. “The officers won’t sit down to eat for at least another hour.”

  Lieutenant Gerhardt continued to write, not looking up at her as she said, “You disappoint me, Adeline. I have asked you repeatedly to stay and listen to the conversations at the table.”

  “And I have,” she said. “Is it my fault they only talk of women, food, drink, and how soon they can all go home to Mother Russia?”

  The secret policewoman raised her head. “Why did you not stay this evening?”

  “It is Christmas—”

  “These feeble customs will no longer be recognized by the party, Adeline.”

  “I got up at three o’clock this morning. I have worked hard for twelve hours, Lieutenant. I am going home
to my sons now, and here’s a secret you won’t have to dig out of someone else: I will follow feeble customs not recognized by the party tonight and tomorrow, which Colonel Vasiliev has given me off for equally feeble reasons.”

  Gerhardt set down her pen and gazed hard at Adeline for several long moments before leaning toward her, murmuring, “Do not mistake my gentle tone for weakness, Adeline. I am the party here, and the party never forgets. That’s how it works.”

  Adeline knew she should shut up at that point, but she stared evenly at the secret policewoman and said, “I think I know that better than you, Lieutenant. I’ve lived under the Soviet system for most of my life. You’re just getting started, which means the file they have on you somewhere is still slim, but growing fatter every day, week upon week, month upon month, year upon year. Until they no longer have use for you.”

  The secret policewoman sat back, studied her in reappraisal.

  “You do not like living here, do you, Adeline?”

  “I like my job. I like cooking. The school is good for my boys.”

  “But things could be better for you, couldn’t they?”

  Adeline felt uncomfortable, as if she sensed a trap of some kind.

  “I have no complaints, Lieutenant,” she said.

  Gerhardt’s smile was thin. “I think not. I think you have many complaints. But you are smart, Adeline. No one ever hears you say them out loud.”

  Adeline said nothing.

  The secret policewoman watched her, smiling as if she could read her thoughts.

  “A warning, Adeline. Every day the border with the West hardens.”

  Adeline frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Towers and fences are being built along the border. They have dogs patrolling in places now, with more being trained. And every day, more and more people trying to run west without permission are being shot. Especially refugees.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  Gerhardt’s smile evaporated. “Think twice before you are tempted, Adeline. I tell you this for your own good, as well as the good of your sons.”

  “I still don’t—”

  “You rarely speak of Frau Schmidt anymore.”

  Adeline felt like she was being jerked in multiple directions. “What’s there to tell? She’s old. Her husband is sick. I go sit with her from time to time.”

  “And the Russian officers who live there?”

  She could see Lieutenant Gerhardt wasn’t going to leave without something to chew on, so she said, “One of them, Captain Kharkov, is a rapist.”

  The secret policewoman’s chin retreated. “A rapist?”

  “He tried to rape me last Christmas Eve in the church where I used to hide on Saturday nights and holidays. I held him off with a butcher knife.”

  Lieutenant Gerhardt’s thin smile returned as she opened her book, saying, “Good for you, Adeline. I’ll make note of that.”

  When the secret police car drove away, leaving her at the curb, Adeline made a show of heading toward home before looping back to the kitchen to retrieve her gifts, which she put in the canvas bag along with whatever other delicacy struck her fancy in the pantry. She left the Soviet officers’ billet for a second time, feeling more than a little rebellious and brazen at the way she’d handled Lieutenant Gerhardt and taken food from the Russians.

  But why the warning about the border hardening? Did the secret policewoman know that Adeline had crossed into the British Zone in Berlin the year before? Or did she just take Adeline’s defiant tone as evidence she was unhappy enough to make a run for it?

  In any case, it didn’t matter. By the time she reached home, the idea that people were being shot every day trying to cross the border was enough to snuff the idea from her mind.

  Her landlord, Frau Holtz, was just leaving with an overnight bag, headed for Berlin to visit relatives with her niece. The Russian soldiers had already gone to the city.

  “Looks like it’s just us for Christmas, Mama,” Walt said.

  “Can we go cut a tree?” Will asked.

  “Our room’s too small for a tree. But no glum faces now. We have been invited to the Schmidts’, just like last year.”

  The boys cheered. Walt said, “Are we getting presents like last year?”

  “Maybe,” she said, and smiled.

  “Can we go sledding?” Walt asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  “At night?”

  “No, there’s no moon tonight. It will be black as ink. But get your things together, and maybe you can sled before it turns dark.”

  Ten minutes later, they were dressed in their warm clothes and out the door, with Adeline’s canvas sack filled with food and gifts. They took the long way around and reached the Schmidts’ farmyard as the sun was dropping toward the hazy horizon, sending slanted light through the leafless trees. Frau Schmidt was thrilled they had come and told the boys they could use the sled until dark. Thankfully, Captain Kharkov and his friends had long since departed. Adeline stayed out with the boys through their first run. Seeing them hike back up the knoll through the snow felt good deep inside her chest. How they’d grown in just a year: Walt was nine now, and Will seven.

  “Mama!” Will cried. “Did you see how fast we went?”

  “A speed record!” she called back. “I am going in with the Schmidts now. Don’t kill yourselves!”

  “We won’t!” Walt yelled back.

  Adeline smiled and walked a few light and unburdened steps. Then the reality that they were spending another Christmas without Emil brought her mood crashing down, just as it had crashed down a thousand times since he was taken. She trudged toward Frau Schmidt’s front door, almost overcome by sadness and gloom, worse than what she’d endured early that morning when depression had seemed like a shroud around her. Her longing for Emil now felt sewn through her, like strings on a marionette she’d once seen. She wanted to stop and pray for her husband’s safe return but did not know if she had the strength.

  Finally, and barely holding back the grief welling up inside her, Adeline stopped walking. She closed her eyes and prayed to God to watch over Emil’s soul and to tell her if he was dead so she could make her peace with the end of him and the perpetual love she’d always feel for him no matter what life had in store for her next.

  Tears dribbled down Adeline’s cheeks as she went up the stairs and inside the Schmidts’ warm and welcoming home. The tree was waiting for the boys to help with its decorating. Herr Schmidt looked better than he had in weeks and was building a fire.

  In the kitchen, Frau Schmidt was working at the oven. When she heard the door shut, she turned, saying, “Adeline, did . . . Are you all right?”

  “I’m trying, Greta!” Adeline said, and then burst into tears.

  As her husband rose in concern, the older woman rushed across the room to Adeline. “My dear, whatever’s the matter?”

  “It’s always hard this time of year, not knowing,” she wept. “And that evil woman Lieutenant Gerhardt told me Emil was put in a camp where disease has killed nearly everyone. He’s been gone since March last year, and I have no word whether he’s dead or alive.”

  Frau Schmidt hugged her, saying, “I can’t imagine. But you have your sons. No matter what, you’ll have Emil’s spirit in them.”

  Remembering that her friends had lost their son in the war, she stopped crying and pulled back to look at the elderly woman, who had a wistfulness about her.

  “Thank you for reminding me how lucky I am, Greta,” Adeline said.

  Will burst into the house. “Mama, come quick. You’ve got to see the sky. It’s so . . . I mean, you won’t believe it!”

  She hesitated, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her coat.

  “Go on,” Frau Schmidt said. “Your sons are giving you a present you won’t believe. Could there be anything better than that?”

  Adeline gazed at her, smiled softly, and shook her head. “Thank you,” she said again.

  Buttoning her coat and
putting her scarf over her head, she went outside where Walt and Will were peering up in awe. She followed their gaze and gasped.

  The sun had almost sunk below the horizon, but its dying light was throwing fire at five clouds stretched out in long, thin spirals, painting them in rich reds, golds, and purples, like so many ribbons festooned in the sky above them, slowly rotating as if blown by a spiraling breeze. Smiling up at the ribbon clouds, Adeline felt her sons come in beside her and wrap their arms around her waist.

  “Merry Christmas from heaven, Mama,” Walt said.

  Adeline felt the tears flow again and hugged both her boys tight, still watching the sky when she heard the door open and footsteps on the porch.

  Frau Schmidt said, “Will you look at that!”

  “Isn’t it incredible?” Adeline said, looking over at her friend and smiling.

  “Peter!” Frau Schmidt called. “Come look before it’s gone!”

  Her husband came out, struggling into his jacket but stopping when he looked up and saw the ribbons. His jaw hung loose a moment. “My God, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

  The colors in the clouds changed with every minute that passed, turning redder and more purple than gold, and then only purple before darkness took the gift of the ribbons in the sky and made them a cherished memory.

  “Did you like your present?” Will said as they walked back toward the farmhouse.

  “One of the best presents ever, thank you,” Adeline said, hugging both boys tight.

  Frau Schmidt was already back puttering in her kitchen when they entered. And Herr Schmidt was still in his heavy coat and winter hat, squatting to light the fire, which began to dance in the stove while Adeline and the boys took off their winter clothes.

  “That will feel good in about fifteen minutes,” Walt said.

  “I just like watching fire,” Will said.

  “Everyone does,” Herr Schmidt said, closing the stove door and tousling Will’s hair before removing his hat and coat. “Would you like to sing some carols?”