The children stifled a laugh. Poor Karl always got the brunt of their jokes.
“What shall we do today?” Marlene changed the subject. She rounded the table until she stood behind Gloria. The girl’s long, golden hair flowed over her nightgown in perfect tendrils past the middle rung of the chair. Marlene fingered the soft locks, then began to braid them into a thick plait down Gloria’s back, tying it with a ribbon.
“Let’s hike in the hills!” Miriam exclaimed.
“Or ride our bikes through town,” Bettina added.
Gloria nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Can we, Mother? I miss our old adventures.”
It was true, the family routines transformed when Marlene came into their lives. She loved taking the children out of the house to discover the city and find joy in the smallest things. The world was her playground, and Marlene intended to explore every inch.
Since establishing themselves in Switzerland though, and especially with Erich still being so young, they’d had fewer opportunities to go roaming. Marlene could sense the children’s restlessness.
“Those all sound like wonderful ideas,” she said. “But—”
The close of a door interrupted the conversation, as Karl slunk into the room and collapsed into a chair at the head of the table. His shirt had come untucked from his knee-length shorts. One suspender hung on the edge of his shoulder. His cheeks were flushed from obvious exertion.
Marlene chuckled. “Tired?”
“Exhausted,” he said, extending his legs out and sinking down into the chair like a wet noodle. “Feels like my route gets longer every day.”
Bettina rolled her eyes.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, straightening up again. “Before I left the post office I grabbed our mail.” He pulled a stack of envelopes from his bag, tied together by a rough piece of twine. “There’s something for you, Lara.” He extended a small, white envelope to her.
Who could possibly be writing to her? Marlene wondered.
***
Lara’s stomach dropped. Her fingers tingled as she took the letter from her brother. Act normal, she told herself. Feigning indifference, she discreetly slipped it into the hip pocket of her robe before excusing herself from the table.
The letter—no heavier than a feather—held enormous weight. In the safety of her room, she tore open the envelope and removed a thin piece of paper. Unfolding it, she was struck by the severity of his angular penmanship—so opposite from her smooth strokes. Her eyes devoured the page.
Dear Lara,
I must admit I was stunned to receive your letter, assuming I would never see you again after you left Austria. Your words brought me to my knees. A son! What a blessing that could only have come from God. It’s true, Lara, that I made many mistakes in recent years, choices I’m not proud of. But since you’ve been away, I’ve changed. I’m no longer conspiring in favor of Hitler’s agenda. Austria is my home, and I’ve decided to be faithful to serving and protecting my birthplace.
Oh Lara, how I miss your beautiful face and sweet innocence. You are right: What we had was real, and our dear Erich is proof. If only we could be together again. I would vow to love and protect you and our son for as long as I live. Regret fills my heart and I wish I could go back and change what happened.
What the future holds, I cannot say. But I hope you receive this letter so you at least can go on with the peace of knowing the magnitude to which you capture my heart.
Yours,
Rubin
Lara dropped the paper to her lap, as her chest constricted with sharp, tight breaths. Her instinct was right—he did love her. And he wanted to be together. Tears sprang to her eyes at the possibility.
Her first impulse told her to march down to her father’s office and pour her heart out onto another piece of stationery, but her second knew that this was impossible, considering the busy constraints of her family home. She’d have to wait until tomorrow when her parents were out. Instead, with shaky hands, she folded the letter and placed it within the creamy pages of a book on her nightstand where she was sure no one would find it.
She smiled, dizzy.
Not wanting to cause suspicion, Lara made her way back downstairs where her family sat finishing breakfast. She felt flushed. She hoped her neck wasn’t blotchy.
Marlene eyed Lara curiously, and the girl put on her best blank face.
Please don’t ask about the letter. Please don’t ask, she thought. She didn’t want to lie again—although she’d become quite good at it.
The children were still formulating their plan for the day when Felix meandered in, his nightshirt wrinkled from the deep sleep of a teenage boy and his rumpled hair sticking out to the side.
“Well good morning, sleepy head,” Marlene said. “I thought you’d never wake up. It’s nearly ten!”
Felix grinned and sat beside his mother, putting his head on her shoulder. Even as a boy on the cusp of manhood, he’d formed a soft spot for Marlene. She wrapped her arm under his chin and patted her hand on his cheek.
“Let’s do Rieter Park today,” Marlene said. “Sound good?” The children whooped in agreement.
“Mother, would you like me to fetch the groceries today while you’re all out?” Lara asked with unusual enthusiasm.
“You don’t want to come with us?” Marlene replied, disappointed.
“No, I’m afraid I have to catch up on my schoolwork. But I’d be happy to run to the store to save you a trip later.”
“That’s thoughtful, Lara. Thank you.”
The children cheered at the prospect of a full day of adventure with their mother. Her spontaneity had always been one of the traits that drew the children into her sunny orbit. Marlene smiled at them, all the while keeping a skeptical eye on Lara.
Something changed, she thought.
Grabbing her purse from the kitchen counter, Marlene pulled twenty francs from her wallet and handed them to Lara. The gold coins were cool to the touch and they jingled as Lara put them in her pocket.
“Just get all the usual things.”
“I will.”
Lara smiled, revealing a deep dimple in her right cheek. Was she coming across as natural? She hadn’t offered to do much over the past year. Would Marlene see through her? Quickly breaking eye contact with her mother, she went upstairs to dress, while the rest of the family dispersed for their various outdoor activities.
Alone in the house once more, Lara took the opportunity to draft another letter to Rubin. She signed it “affectionately,” and dropped it in the mail slot on her way to the market.
Plop! As simple as that, their correspondence began. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? Could she have saved herself a whole year of heartache?
Lara walked the rest of the way to the grocers with a spring in her step. Her mind was busy, her world re-opened, and she felt a purpose had returned to her life. The fresh air brushed away all of the cobwebs that had formed in her mind over the past twelve months.
Things were finally falling into place.
At the market, Lara filled a basket with the essentials to feed a family of ten. In addition to the staple items, she grabbed an extra bag of flour, chocolate morsels and confectioner’s sugar. Her mood called for celebration. Placing the items on the counter, the woman behind the register smiled knowingly.
“Let me guess,” she said. “A cake?”
“Yes, actually,” Lara replied sheepishly. “My birthday is this week.”
“Oh, lovely. How old?”
“I’ll be eighteen.” She stood a bit taller at the sound of her words. Eighteen—such a milestone—once seemed so far away, and yet here it was. What should have been a time to celebrate impending womanhood, now felt silly given all she’d been through. Surely conducting a secret pregnancy, bringing a child into the world, and then living a devastating lie matured her more than any birthday could.
Eighteen was once something she wished for, but she never thought it would look quite like this.<
br />
“A big one!” the woman replied. “Officially an adult. How exciting. Well, I hope you have a lovely birthday, dear.”
“Thank you.”
Lara paid for the groceries. At home in her room, she emptied the change into the glass mason jar under her bed. It was half full now. A jumble of bronze and silver of varying sizes layered two inches from the bottom. Lara hadn’t counted it for a while, but she knew she was getting close. With a twist of the lid, she pushed the jar back beneath the shelter of her mattress.
From there, twice weekly grocery shopping became a new chore, one she willingly agreed to, for reasons only she knew.
Eleven
“Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, dear Lara
Happy birthday to you!”
Their voices rose in harmony, led by Marlene and her natural gift for song. Lara smiled, perhaps more genuinely than she had in years. The family gathered around the dining room table. From the kitchen, Gerald emerged, gingerly carrying a cake topped with candles with wobbling flames.
Lara sat at the head of the table—a birthday tradition—and grinned as her father placed the cake in front of her. Buttercream frosting smothered the double-layer confection, dripping with yumminess over the edges down to the silver platter.
“Make a wish!” Miriam yelled.
Lara closed her eyes and paused, thinking. Then, with a deep inhale, she leaned forward and blew out each candle in a single breath. Everyone clapped and the children cheered, much to the delight of Erich, who banged on the table excitedly.
“What did you wish for?” Miriam asked.
“I can’t tell! Or else it won’t come true.” Lara pinched her sister’s cheek.
She’s in an awfully pleasant mood today, Marlene thought. Then again, she never got her hopes too high, as Lara’s good humor was typically short-lived.
The family savored the rich, vanilla dessert. Marlene was proud of the result, and the family’s approval pleased her. She’d become quite a skilled baker, always scouring cookbooks for new recipes. When the pantry didn’t have exactly what she needed, she experimented with ingredients, often coming up with something unexpectedly delicious.
“Seconds?” Karl asked, hopeful.
Marlene gave the boy a sideways glance and shook her head.
“Heavenly, Marlene,” Gerald said, using his fork to get every last crumb.
“Yes, thank you, Mother,” Lara echoed.
Marlene nodded, delighted with their satisfaction. She carried the leftover cake to the kitchen where she placed it under a glass cover. Plenty left for tomorrow. She returned to the table with a wet washcloth for Erich whose face was covered in a thick layer of icing.
“You sure got Father’s sweet tooth,” Bettina said. Erich grunted and swatted at Marlene’s hand as she gave him a thorough wiping. His fair skin turned rosy from the rag’s roughness.
Gerald, who had disappeared briefly after the cake, reappeared a moment later. His right hand was behind his back, hiding something, and the children studied him, waiting for the reveal. Gerald turned to Lara and unveiled a deep green bottle of champagne. It was embossed with a fancy label and had gold foil covering the top.
“I was saving this for your mother’s and my anniversary next month,” he said, holding up the bottle, “but I think my oldest daughter’s eighteenth birthday calls for a special celebration.”
Lara’s eyes lit up. Her father had never let her taste champagne before. He extended the bottle and used his thumbs to pop the cork. The little girls jumped, then giggled when an ivory foam flowed from its mouth. Gerald filled a small, crystal glass and held it out to his daughter. Lara felt very poised with it in her hand.
“May I have some, too?” Lena asked.
“I don’t think so,” he replied, giving her a wink. Then to the group, “Cheers to Lara. Your mother and I are proud to call you our daughter.”
Lara brought the flute to her lips. The clear liquid sparkled on the surface and she felt little bubbles tickle her nose. Tasting her first champagne, she was surprised by its sweetness.
“You like?” Gerald asked.
“Yes, very much.” Her cheeks flushed. By the time her glass emptied, she felt an all-over lightness—she couldn’t remember a time she felt more uninhibited. The effects of the alcohol not only relaxed her mind but eased the pain she’d felt since Erich’s birth.
So this is why people drink, she thought.
Lara went to bed that night a day older yet no different. Aside from a glass of champagne, her birthday had been an average day filled with average events. Still, she knew this milestone was a significant one.
Things were changing—or at least they were going to soon if she had her way.
Lena slept soundly nearby, only a lamp atop a small nightstand separating their beds. Reaching for her book, Lara rolled over to make sure Lena was still asleep. The girl breathed deeply. Facing the wall, Lara cracked open her book. Three sheets of folded paper tumbled out onto her quilt: the first correspondence from Rubin along with the two additional letters she’d received over the past three weeks.
She reread each one, word for word, savoring his sweet prose. Each letter concluded with a declaration of love. Yours forever. Devotedly. More than words. He signed his name in the same slanted font.
Rubin—the man she loved, and the man her father hated.
How could her father despise someone who had given them such a beloved child? Surely, she thought, he’d come to accept Rubin. Deep in fantasy, she imagined running into Rubin’s arms and being swept away to a place where they could live happily together. She’d be mama hen to a handful of little chicks—she wanted at least five—who’d follow her around their sprawling home. She and Rubin would throw glorious parties and spend their evenings strolling their grounds, hand in hand.
Lena stirred. Lara quickly shoved the letters back into the center of the book and replaced it in the nightstand drawer. She could not risk the letters being found.
Laying her head back on her pillow, she pulled the covers to her chin and closed her eyes, summoning the daydream back into focus.
Soon, she thought. Very soon.
Twelve
“We’ll be at the little tavern on the corner.” Marlene dusted her cheeks with a coral-colored rouge as she spoke. A cloud of dust puffed into the air each time the wand bristles met her skin.
“Be sure to get the little ones to bed on time. And don’t let them talk you into more than three stories—you know how they get.”
Marlene gave Lara a wink. She smiled and shut the powder compact, placing it back on the porcelain dish atop her vanity with the rest of her cosmetics. Marlene didn’t wear much makeup—she preferred a natural look—but liked to toss on a bit of mascara and lipstick on special occasions such as this. A little color only enhanced her already stunning complexion.
“You know,” Marlene said, “it’s nice to be together like this—here in this room—under good terms. I miss our long talks. Hopefully we can get back to that place—someday.”
Lara nodded with a slight smile, but secretly wondered if their choices had already set them on a trajectory of distance.
She watched Marlene brush her chin-length hair. The golden blonde locks were longer than she’d always kept them, having grown from the cropped pageboy cut of her adolescence. Marlene, whose carefree spirit and youthfulness once considered appearances the least of her concerns, now made an effort to look nice. She knew she’d never fit the mold of the glamorous women with whom her husband used to associate, but that didn’t bother her. Gerald fell in love with a clumsy tomboy. With him, she’d come into her own as a woman, growing in grace and femininity. Their connection was strong, whether or not she was dolled up—she knew she could always be herself and he’d love her just the same.
Marlene turned. “How do I look?”
The hem of her emerald chiffon dress skimmed the floor. Covered buttons formed a pe
rfect line up the center of the bodice, stopping at the hollow of her neck. Modest with a quiet air of sophistication, sheer sleeves gave the piece just the right amount of allure. Functional refinement, she liked to refer to her style.
“Beautiful,” Lara replied honestly.
A gift from Gerald to mark their first year as husband and wife, the dress was the fanciest Marlene owned. When she’d opened it and parted the layers of tissue paper, she’d gasped at its beauty—the elegant silhouette, the soft-as-silk fabric. Can I even pull off such a look? she’d thought. For the longest time, the gown remained in her closet—not quite a practical choice for a busy mother of seven—but she had made a plan to pull it out each year on their anniversary, much to Gerald’s pleasure.
“What about this belt on top?” Marlene held up a shiny, woven sash with a wide buckle.
Lara nodded. “The perfect finishing touch.”
Marlene wrapped the brocade belt around her waist, fastening it at the center. She’d seen it on display in the window of a shop in town. The metallic glint caught her eye, and she’d almost walked right past before doing a double take. Curious, she’d tried to picture herself in such a flashy accessory. What would it feel like to have such fine fabrics against her skin?
The shop girl’s compliments boosted Marlene’s confidence, even if the oohs and aahs were a little overdone. In the end, she bought the belt. But like the green dress, it remained largely untouched, a symbol of a life she couldn’t quite decide whether she wanted. Was one’s outward style a true representation of their inner self? Could she still be the same uncomplicated person if she also indulged in frills from time to time?
Above all else, Marlene insisted on staying true to herself, even despite all the rather dramatic turns her life had taken. Such as marrying one of Austria’s most esteemed physicians.
Some of the handmade clothes she’d brought from her past life still hung in her closet—what few things they could grab and take with them. But occasionally Marlene would reach for the belt and wrap it around her slender waist. A reminder of the joy that could be found in life’s little luxuries.
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