All That Shines and Whispers

by Jennifer Craven

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Nothing. No one admits to seeing them.”

  “How are we going to find them, Gerald?”

  The three looked to each other, but no answers came.

  Fifteen

  The minute they crossed the imaginary line separating Switzerland and Austria, Lara felt lighter.

  Home. Home!

  Perhaps it was her imagination, but Lara swore the sky looked clearer. Certainly the air smelled fresher. Was that the shape of a heart she saw in the cloud formations above? She told herself yes, yes it was.

  Everything would be better now. She was back in the country she loved, the place she had missed for two years. And she was with the father of her child. The three of them would finally be a family. Her spirits were so high she thought she might float right out of the car in a miraculous act of levitation.

  As they drove, Lara peppered Rubin with questions: What had he been doing since they’d last been together? How was Salzburg? Had he thought of her as much as she’d thought of him? The need to make up for lost time consumed her, and Lara wanted to know every little detail. Before he’d get a few words out, she was already hurtling the next question his way. She was frenzied with hunger for him: a rabid animal foaming at the mouth.

  Rubin found Lara’s rambling amusing. He answered her questions with short responses: The city she knew was no longer—Gestapo patrolled the streets and many families lived in fear. Gone were the days of frolicking in the parks and strolling the sidewalks for leisure.

  She should have been nervous about this revelation—she was about to enter a hostile zone—but irreverence pushed those worries to the back of her mind. They were above all that. Rubin would keep her safe. She felt invincible, in a way, the euphoria of being together feeling like a shield of armor.

  “So what have you been doing?” she asked again, realizing he hadn’t answered.

  “Oh you know, odd jobs here and there.”

  “Such as…?” She was genuinely curious.

  “Oh just boring things. Labor. Transportation. Nothing that would interest you, really.” Was he blushing? “Forget about me, let’s talk about Erich. I want to get to know him. Tell me everything!”

  “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “Well, what about his temperament? He seems like such a good baby.”

  “Oh yes. He is. Really only fusses when he’s hungry.”

  “How often is he hungry?”

  Lara giggled. Rubin really knew nothing about babies. “I suppose he gets hungry just like you and I, silly.” She playfully smacked Rubin’s arm. His response was not one of amusement. Brow furrowed, his eyes grew dark.

  “I’m just teasing,” Lara said.

  “And I’m just trying to learn what it’s like to be a father.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have poked fun. I’m so happy you’re taking such an interest in Erich.” Then, to stroke his visibly-fragile ego, “I just know you’re going to be a great father.”

  He softened at her comment. They rode quietly for another minute until Rubin continued his string of parenting questions.

  “What does he like?”

  “Well, he loves his toys—balls and little wooden cars. He’ll sit and play with them for hours. We have blocks that he likes to stack too. That is, until he decides it’s more fun to knock them down. It’s really so cute, Rubin. It’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning—always learning new things. Oh, and he loves strawberries. Especially the tiny ones that are super sweet. But he’s not a fan of having his diaper changed. Too squirmy, too curious. He doesn’t want to stop what he’s doing to get cleaned up.”

  Lara was rambling again. She could talk about Erich all day. And why not? She knew him better than anyone in the world—the way he smelled right after a bath, the way his little feet turned in when he tried to walk, and how he rubbed his earlobe when he was tired. There were no secrets between them—except the freedom to live openly.

  But that was over now.

  “What about when he cries? How do you comfort him?”

  What a thoughtful question, Lara thought. She momentarily pictured Rubin soothing an inconsolable Erich, the boy calming instantly in his arms. Father and son, connected through nurture and nature.

  “I usually rock him. Or rub his back.”

  “Okay, good to know.”

  As they neared Salzburg, familiar sights—the landmarks of home—came into view. It had only been two years, but the city felt like a distant memory from her childhood—as if time and events transformed her into a new person.

  Up ahead, Lara saw the fractured structure of a tall, white building. Stone crumbled at its base, leaving behind the remnants of what was once an impressive work of architecture. It looked like a bomb had exploded. As they got closer, she realized what it was: the Jewish synagogue.

  “What happened?” Lara gawked at the destruction pushed into piles off the street. Passersby navigated around the rubble without a second thought.

  “Kristallnacht,” Rubin said. “You were already gone when it happened.”

  “Who did this?”

  “Nazis. Took out thousands of Jewish establishments.”

  “But that’s awful!” How had she not known? Did her parents really shelter her that much from the harsh realities happening in Austria?

  Rubin didn’t respond.

  Despite the dim light of early morning, Lara made out many places she’d once frequented. Shops, markets, and schools glided by outside her window. But then another storefront with smashed windows, boarded up with wood covered in offensive slurs. The sign on the awning burned to an ashy skeleton.

  Again, Lara felt the twist of revulsion deep in her gut. These were someone’s livelihoods. Gone.

  They passed St. Peter’s Abbey and the domed marble Cathedral. High on a hilltop she saw Hohensalzburg, the famed 11th-century fortress looming above the city. Her father had once taken her and her siblings there to tour the grounds.

  The areas of carnage made her uneasy, but not enough to outweigh her elation at being back in the country she loved. Lara closed her eyes and whispered, “There’s no place like home.”

  Home. The word struck her.

  “Can we drive past my family’s house?” she asked Rubin.

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  “Yes. I would love to see it again.”

  “Okay then.” He turned the steering wheel and navigated in the opposite direction.

  They drove outside the center of the city, taking less-traveled country roads lined with faintly greening trees. After a while, a stucco wall the shade of fresh sage grew along the side of the street. Lara perked up in her seat, stretching her neck to see beyond it. The wall marked the beginning of her family’s estate.

  They moved forward. When the green wall turned into a stone pillar and then a magnificent swirling gate, Rubin stopped the car in front.

  Lara stared through the wrought iron rods to the regal house that stood behind the wide, circular drive. Impressive in size and grandeur, the three-story mansion had never lacked splendor.

  Lara regarded her childhood home—Oh, how she’d taken it for granted! A lump formed in her throat.

  The pistachio exterior looked the same, yet something was different about the home she once loved. It was sad, worn. Time and neglect were not kind to the estate which had, at one time, boasted opulent landscaping and an aura of perfection. Now, moss grew along cracks in the walls, and most of the bushes were overgrown. Lara’s heart sank to devastating depths at the sight of her beloved home in such a state of disarray.

  “It’s been empty since your family left,” Rubin said, reading her mind.

  She closed her eyes and pictured the open foyer and grand staircase. Lara had marched up and down those stairs more times than she could count, and she could still feel the smoothness of the banister under her fingers. She envisioned the ballroom, framed in artwork and gilded mirrors, where her father hosted parti
es complete with dancing and women in elbow length white gloves. Guests at the Weiss home were always dripping in luxury.

  “I have so many memories here,” Lara said, her voice trembling with nostalgia. “We left so abruptly; I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

  Erich fidgeted in Lara’s lap. She stood him up on her thighs so his hands were pressed against the cool glass of the car window.

  “You see, Erich? Such a beautiful home, isn’t it? That’s where your Mama grew up.”

  The boy tapped the glass with his fingers, then plopped back down onto her lap. He was getting squirmy, his little legs tired of sitting and aching to move. Lara tried to stand him up again, but he whined. A pang of desperation shot through her body.

  She wanted to scream, Look! This is important! Don’t you understand what this place means?

  But he was just a baby. A baby whose home was another country, and to whom this house meant nothing.

  After a few more moments without speaking, Rubin cleared his throat.

  “We should probably be going,” he said.

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” she replied, stealing one last glance at the spot where she’d spent most of her life. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  As the car pulled away, Lara fought back tears and pushed the memories of the house from her mind. Looking forward, she tried to convince herself there was a new home that awaited her—a new future with Rubin and their child that would be just as blissful.

  ***

  Rubin pulled the car into a private lot next to a tall brick building. Lara counted the columns of windows, stacked identically on top of one another: six stories. A handful of other cars parked haphazardly along the gravel.

  “Here we are!” Rubin said brightly.

  “Where?” Lara looked out the window, confused. She wasn’t expecting to stop anywhere before going to Rubin’s house.

  “My apartment.” He pointed to the building. “This is where I live.”

  Here? She wanted to say. Instead, the corners of her mouth turned down in mild revulsion.

  Feeling embarrassed for her reaction, Lara tried to conceal her surprise. What did she expect? She was stupid to have assumed Rubin owned a large home.

  Lara pinched the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger as a distraction. Stop acting so entitled! Of course he had an apartment. He was young and single—it made sense.

  As she exited the car, holding Erich close to her side, Lara adjusted her expectations of what their home would look like. She erased the vision of a chandelier hanging in the foyer and lots of space for Erich to eventually run. In her mind, the image of a house morphed and shrank to a small apartment.

  That’s okay, she convinced herself, perhaps this is just for the time being. We have the rest of our lives to grow together—including getting a bigger house.

  The main door sat atop three steps, framed with a wobbly metal railing. It was cherry red, and Lara noted that at least the door seemed cheerful.

  Rubin led them up several flights of stairs to the third level. Doors lined the narrow hallway. The carpet on the floor was stained and threadbare down the middle from years of foot traffic. Lara felt dirty walking on top of it, even with shoes on.

  She carried both bags and Erich, surprised that Rubin didn’t offer to help. He walked slowly, glancing at each door they passed. Finally, they came to a solid brown door—the last on the left—marked “15” in tarnished brass. Rubin pulled a small, gold key from his pocket and inserted it into the slot. It fit, but when he tried to twist, it wouldn’t turn. With one hand on the key and the other on the knob, he jiggled it and tried again.

  Lara watched, perplexed. Gosh, he must be nervous, she thought. Finally, after removing and reinserting the key twice more, all the while looking more and more embarrassed, Rubin turned the key in the opposite direction. The door flew open.

  “Ah, there we go,” he said, looking flustered. “Darn key.” Then, putting on a smile, he ushered her through the doorway. “Home sweet home.”

  Odd, Lara thought, that he didn’t know the proper way to unlock his door. She followed him, carrying her two bags with one arm, her son with the other.

  The tiny apartment entered into a small kitchen with a sink, range, and slim refrigerator. A stain the color of cinnamon tinted the sink basin like a mudslide in summer. Lara wondered when the last time it had received a good scrub.

  She took in the space. The walls were bare, and she noticed a strip of wallpaper peeling near the cabinets. With no windows, the room had a dark feel to it despite the light cast by the floor lamp on the far side of the living room.

  Lara looked around. To the right of the kitchen, the apartment opened up into a modest living room with a boxy couch, chair and two end tables. It was tight and cramped, furniture covering every available inch. A musky smell wafted in the air, and she so wished there was a window to open to let in a fresh breeze. Lara guessed she could cross the entirety of both spaces—if you could even call them two separate rooms—in a total of six steps.

  “It’s not much, I’m sorry,” Rubin said. “But it’s a nice place, nice neighbors.”

  She swallowed her presumptions. “It’s just right,” Lara assured him. Now was not the time to be unappreciative.

  Rubin led her through another doorway, to the back of the apartment where she found one bedroom and a small bathroom with a stall shower. Taking in the close quarters, she pretended not to see the patch of disintegrating ceiling where water had filtered through the plaster. She imagined it falling on her head the first time she went to wash herself.

  “You can put your bag here,” Rubin gestured to a petite dresser next to the bed.

  Lara lowered Erich to the floor, but when she let go he started to cry and clung to her like lint on wool trousers. So she picked him back up and slung him on her hip. Her arms ached from carrying him through the night.

  “Thanks. I’ll unpack later.”

  She imagined hanging her items in the closet amongst his, the fabric of their clothes brushing against each other in such an intimate way. How unusual it felt to be in the home of a man—a home that was now hers, as well. The apartment was a stark contrast to the grand surroundings of her father’s old house just minutes away, but she willed herself to find happiness just being in Rubin’s presence.

  Nothing else mattered so long as they were together. Things were just things. Real wealth was measured in love.

  In the living room, Lara sat on the edge of the couch and let Erich climb on her lap for a few minutes before he felt comfortable enough to be put down. She and Rubin exchanged awkward glances as Erich crawled around the floor near their feet. They’d once been so close, but now he felt like a stranger. Something about Erich’s presence changed things.

  “He’s so curious,” Rubin said, watching his son explore the room.

  “Yes, he’s a very smart little boy.”

  “He’s my son, of course he’s smart!”

  Lara chuckled. Rubin’s eyes were transfixed on the boy. His pride was palpable and her heart was happy seeing them together.

  She licked her lips and felt the parched, taut skin of her mouth. Thinking back, she realized she hadn’t drank any of the water from her father’s flask. Her throat begged for relief—and the staleness of the air in the room didn’t help.

  “Can I have a glass of water?” she asked. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Rubin stood and was in the tiny kitchen within three strides. He paused. His back to her, she saw his head swivel back and forth between the cabinets. He reached for the door on the right and opened it to reveal a stack of plates next to three nested bowls. Realizing his mistake, he swiftly shut the door and spun around to see if Lara was watching. She was.

  “Oops, wrong cabinet,” he said.

  Nervous laughter followed, as he moved to the other cabinet and opened just a sliver before—happy with his choice—flinging it open the rest of the way and reaching
for a drinking glass. He filled it with water from the tap and handed it to Lara.

  “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.” She guzzled the entire glass without taking a breath, and then let out a sigh. “Much better,” she said.

  She brushed off his clumsiness, attributing it to him being flustered to have them in his apartment, especially after living alone for the past few years. It was sweet, really. Hooked by the lovesick pull of a teenager, she found his nuances endearing.

  They spent the rest of the day inside the apartment and Lara even took a midday nap on the couch with Erich. Her body was drained, both physically and emotionally, from the past twenty-four hours. Had it been less than a day since she was bidding her parents a final farewell? In her dream, she saw Felix’s face, desolate, begging her not to leave.

  She woke up in a cold sweat.

  Lara tried to stay in the present—imagining her place in this new little life—but her mind continued to drift to her family. Whenever it did, she quickly tried to distract herself—from the pain of missing them, and from the guilt which lingered like a festering wound.

  You’re in Austria now. With Rubin. And your son. This was what you wanted.

  Nearing five o’clock, Erich started to fuss.

  “Getting hungry,” Lara said.

  Rubin went to the refrigerator and removed a piece of ham wrapped in butcher paper. He searched the rest of the drawers and then awkwardly turned to Lara.

  “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t have time to get anything before you came.”

  “Oh,” she said, startled at the meager piece of meat on the table. Was this really all he had to eat? She was famished. How would this feed all three of them?

  Lara was annoyed. They’d planned her arrival for weeks. Why hadn’t he prepared more? She took a deep breath and counted to ten. Resigned to make the best of it, and fighting through gritted teeth to keep up the positive outlook she learned from her mother, she returned his stare with a smile.

  “Well, that’s alright,” she said. “Here, I actually have some bread and cheese I brought from home—er, I mean, from Switzerland.” She dashed to the bedroom where she’d put her bags and brought back the half-eaten loaf of bread and block of cheese. Setting them on the table with the ham, the two of them stood back and looked at the underwhelming meal before them.