Tension tightened between them as the young man considered his options. Signal for help and risk discipline? Or stand back and make a massive mistake? He was damned either way.
The boy thought. Lifting his chin again, he handed the identification card back through the car window.
“I’ll be making a call at first light to make sure you’ve arrived where you say you’re headed,” he said haughtily, as though the decision to let Gerald pass was his alone.
“You do that, son.”
Gerald grinned as he rolled the window up and flew through the checkpoint, leaving behind a budding Nazi soldier who didn’t realize he’d just been duped.
Twenty-Four
Despite his outward confidence, Doctor Weiss was on edge. He would have been lying if he’d said his heart didn’t beat significantly quicker as he passed into German-occupied Austria. His car window down, the fresh breeze dried the film of sweat on his forehead.
Getting past the guard at the border was one thing. The rest of his agenda was another.
It was pitch black as he navigated the streets toward Salzburg. The road threaded the Alps, and despite the daunting task before him, Gerald felt a sense of ease just knowing he was back on his beloved homeland’s soil. As the city grew near, daylight broke the horizon—the florid orange ball spreading spectacular rays in every direction. Gerald passed a few cars, early-risers starting their day with the sun.
The desire to visit his former home brought a full-body ache. He wished so badly to see the grand green house. Temptation whispered in his ear, but Gerald remained focused. He was there with one goal. No time for distraction.
Gerald shook the mansion’s image from his mind and instead pictured another glorious place. It wasn’t to where Rubin and Erich were—that, he didn’t know. He was driving somewhere else. Somewhere he knew he could seek refuge until more information was available. Until he could determine his final destination.
The car navigated the tight streets of Salzburg until it came around a bend and a familiar crimson dome rose high in the sky. Atop a small crest in the city, the Nonnberg Abbey looked down majestically over the community below. Its exalted presence was a beloved fixture for the people of Salzburg, made only more noticeable by its bells chiming every hour.
At the sight of the ancient Benedictine convent, Gerald found himself lost in nostalgia. One of the most significant times of his life was spent within its walls. His wedding to Marlene—just two years earlier—was held in St. John’s Chapel at the abbey. It was the only logical place Marlene could think to hold such an event. After all, she’d developed a fondness to it, feeling a kinship with the nuns, and especially the Reverend Mother. On her breaks from teaching in the nursery, Marlene often tip-toed into the sanctuary and took in its splendor. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t—on more than one occasion—pictured herself marrying there.
Gerald’s mind wandered deeper. He pictured his wife walking toward him, preceded by his eldest daughter. A vision in white, Marlene captured the attention of everyone in attendance. She’d walked with grace and poise, the cathedral train of her dress trailing behind her along the stone aisle. The ceremony was magical.
It was one of the happiest days of his life.
Coming alongside the abbey, Gerald put the car in park. He looked around. Not a soul in sight. Relieved, he released the tension from his jaw. He’d made good time.
Gerald pulled the brim of his hat low on his forehead, casting a shadow over his eyes. He grabbed his bag and left the car, walking swiftly along the path that took him to the rear of the building. The lesser-used trail offered more coverage. A heavy iron gate at the entrance sealed the outside world from the spiritual realm on the other side.
Gerald tried the gate, but it was locked. Why wouldn’t it be, he told himself. To the side, a teardrop handle on a chain hung at eye level. He pulled down on it, sending a trill through the air. Would anyone come? He guessed the abbey didn’t receive many visitors at five in the morning.
Nervous and impatient, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked to his left and right, then rang the bell again.
From a distance, a figure emerged, small at first, then growing in size as it approached. The nun, he could tell now, was clad in black from head to toe. Her feet were invisible beneath the flowing fabric, making her appear to float rather than walk. She tucked her hands inside her habit, as customary. Her wimple, a tightly creased white wrapping, framed her face so all he could see were her pinched cheeks and pursed lips.
She did not look friendly. Gerald worried he might have drawn the short stick from the nun pool.
“May I help you?” the woman said, prickly, when she reached the gate. She stood perfectly still. Only her lips moved. She didn’t even blink.
Gerald slowly lifted his head to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked. And as he reached up to take off his hat, she gasped.
“Doctor Weiss!” she exclaimed in hushed shock. His was a face she’d never forget. But how could she? Especially after she’d used people she knew from the outside world to help hide the Weisses on their way across the border.
She’d spend the rest of her days repenting.
Before Gerald could say a word, the nun fumbled a large metal keyring from inside her habit. Her hand shook as she slid the brass key into the keyhole on the gate. With a twist, she pulled the heavy passage open. Gerald slipped through sideways. Behind him, the nun locked the gate, then hurried to where he hid in a shadow along the near wall.
“Come. This way.” She didn’t ask the purpose of his visit, but something told her it couldn’t be good.
There was no question of where to take him. A flash of black, the nun nipped along the cobblestones, the fabric of her habit waving with the movement of her body. They moved briskly. Gerald was grateful for her urgency.
At the top of a flight of steps, the two passed along another corridor, and finally reached a small wooden door marked with a large, gold Crucifix.
She knocked gently. After a second, a strong female voice replied. “Come in.”
The nun opened the door and pulled Gerald in behind her, closing it quickly. On the far side of the room, behind a dark cherry desk and silhouetted by the glow from the beveled window, stood another woman. An ornate cross pendant hung from her neck on a gilded chain.
“What is it, my child?”
“Reverend Mother,” the nun said, “we have a visitor.” She stepped aside, revealing Gerald. He gripped the brim of his hat with both hands below his chest and raised his head.
“Doctor Weiss!” The holy woman dropped the Bible from her hands. She strode across the room to see him closer, as if he might be a mirage. Extending her hands to him, Gerald took hers. He noticed the gold band on her right hand—a symbol of her commitment to God.
They stood at arm's length, her mouth agape. The lax skin on her aged face curved into soft lines. He remembered her round cheeks and kind eyes so well.
“Whatever are you doing here?” she said.
“I need your help, Reverend Mother.”
“He was at the back gate,” the younger nun chimed in. “I was just as shocked to see him as you are.”
“Thank you, Sister Birgit.” The Reverend Mother motioned toward the door, excusing her from their company. “Thank you for bringing Gerald to me. Please, let us speak in private.”
Sister Birgit knit her brow, disappointed at being dismissed. “Yes, Reverend Mother.” She bowed her head and left the room in a pout.
When the door clicked shut, Gerald didn’t give the Abbess a chance to speak.
“I need your help.”
“What’s wrong? How did you get here?”
“I snuck in under the cover of darkness. Came straight here. I need somewhere to stay. Hopefully not for long.”
“Of course you may stay here. But Doctor, why? Where is Marlene? Is everything okay?”
“No. I’m afraid everything is not okay.” The intensity in his eyes made her knees go
weak.
Gerald told her everything—about Erich, about their secret, about Lara’s disappearance and subsequent return. She listened without a sound or expression. When he finished, the Reverend Mother stood and walked to the large window behind her desk. Outside, the city below came alive with the activity of morning.
A bell chimed, cutting through the silence. The Reverend Mother studied the marbled windowsill, tracing her finger along the grey veins. Her face was pensive, and Gerald wondered what the woman was thinking. Would such a righteous woman be able to understand the complexities of secular life? Could she accept the choices they’d made?
Maybe, maybe not. But more importantly—regardless of approval—would she be willing to help him?
Gerald waited for her response, arms at his sides as if pleading, Please! I’m in your mercy! Say something! Finally, she spoke.
“You’ve been through a lot.” Then turning back to face him, “You are safe here within our walls. But I cannot protect you out there.”
Relief filled his body, and he let out a sigh. She would help. She would not turn him away.
“I know,” Gerald said. “But I have a plan.”
“What are you going to do?”
He stepped forward with bold conviction. “I need to get word to someone as soon as possible. Today, if possible. Can you send a telegram for me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you.”
“Doctor, where do you think the baby is?” Her tone was one of concern.
“I can’t be sure. But I’m hoping I haven’t burned too many bridges here for help in finding him.”
“This city is a very different place now, I’m afraid. Terrible things are happening every day. Hitler’s regime is unleashing hatred like I’ve never seen before.”
“I know. But the resistance exists. I’m just hoping the sentiments of those people still align with mine.”
They gave each other a knowing nod. The Mother Abbess went back to her desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out a sheet of cream paper.
“Here,” she said. “For your telegram.”
“Thank you.” Gerald perched on the upholstered armchair in front of the desk and leaned over onto its smooth surface. He printed hurriedly.
Markus,
There is an emergency and I need your help. Meet me where my wife once lived. Speak to no one.
Gerald
The message was cryptic enough for Markus to understand, but vague enough for others to disregard. Folding the sheet in half, he addressed the front to his longtime friend, Markus Baumgartner.
“Thank you again,” he said, as he handed it to the Mother Abbess who had, while Gerald wrote, called for a courier. A minute later, the note was whisked away, taking with it Gerald’s sole strategy of recovering his grandson.
With the message in transit, Gerald slouched in the chair. His hands covered his eyes.
Another step closer.
The Reverend Mother regarded his state. “You must be exhausted,” she said. “Let me show you to a room where you can rest.”
He didn’t object.
They left her office and he followed the formidable woman through a foyer to another long hallway lined with doors on either side. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the high ceilings. (Is this what Marlene meant when she described them raising their voices to the Lord?)
As they turned a corner, Gerald noticed two robed figures huddled at a distance. The nuns’ heads nuzzled together and they spoke in a low murmur. At his appearance, they flew toward him.
“Oh, it’s true!” the shorter of the two gasped, clapping her hands together. Her blue eyes stretched with astonishment and a friendly smile spread across her face. Excitement made her practically bounce as she talked. “Sister Birgit said you were here, but I didn’t believe her! How is Marlene? We miss her so. What a dear she was. And those darling chil—.”
“Sister Magda,” the Reverend Mother cut her off, “Gerald is quite tired. Let’s not overwhelm him with questions.”
“Yes, yes of course. Forgive me, Mother.” She stepped back and regained her composure.
“Shouldn’t you two be in morning prayers? Even the most welcome surprises need not lead us astray from our routines.”
Gerald pinched his lips into a small smile, as the women, scolded and embarrassed, floated off in the other direction. He continued to follow the Mother Abbess until they came to a modest room with a single twin-size bed, perfectly made with a plush, fleece blanket tucked into all four corners. A bible, burned with red edges, sat on the nightstand. Above the headboard, a crucifix hung on the wall.
“This room is unoccupied,” she said. “Please, rest. Only sleep can bring a clear mind.”
“Thank you, Reverend Mother.”
With a dip of her head, she left him alone. Gerald took in the sparseness of the space. Marlene had once told him her own bedroom, in a tiny two-bedroom house not far from the convent, was comparable to the nuns’ rooms at the abbey. He pictured her in that room, in a house he never saw with his own eyes. What a wildly stark contrast to their life together!
The bed called to him, and he lowered himself onto the thin mattress. For a while Gerald could do nothing but think. Scenarios scrolled through his mind like the slow, hellish reel of a slideshow, one right after the next. Would he find Rubin and Erich? And if he did, then what? How would he get the boy back? His stomach curled with dread.
A dull ache at his temples told Gerald a headache was looming. The Reverend Mother was right: he needed energy to stay focused.
Lying back onto the stiff surface, he folded his hands on top of his chest. His eyes, the last things to relax, finally closed. Within seconds, Gerald fell into a deep sleep where his dreams centered on the glory days of a country he no longer knew.
Twenty-Five
Asoft knock at the door roused Gerald from sleep. His eyes flew open, as his consciousness remembered where he was before his sight even had a chance. What time was it? How long had he slept? He checked his watch. Eleven o’clock. He’d been asleep for nearly three hours.
Another knock, this time a little louder.
“Yes?” he said, scooching up to sit with his back against the headboard. The door cracked open and a face framed in white appeared around the edge of the door.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I brought you some soup.” It was the same eager nun from earlier, the one who had excitedly asked about Marlene and his family.
“Oh, thank you. Please, come in.”
She carried a tray and placed it on the small side table next to the bed. In the center, a shallow bowl filled with clear broth let off steam that wafted in a visible mist. Accompanying the soup, atop a napkin, sat a hard roll—its crusty surface serving as a shell for the soft interior. Gerald’s mouth watered.
Stepping back from the table, the nun stared at Gerald with an earnest smile that hinted she’d get no greater satisfaction than to watch him eat every single crumb.
“Thank you,” he repeated, unsure of what else to say to fill the awkwardness.
“I’m Sister Magda,” she blurted. “I knew Marlene when she worked here. Such a sweet girl. I always had a feeling she had a bigger future than volunteering at a convent. And sure enough, I was right, wasn’t I?” She laughed and then continued her long-winded declaration. “When she confided to us about her feelings for you, it was clear. And those children! Oh, how dear. I knew Marlene felt a special connection there. Not surprised, really. She has such a wonderful maternal nature. I’m just so delighted that she found her true calling. God always shows the way—He never leads astray.”
Gerald nodded along with her rambling, and when she finally finished, he managed to sneak in a few words.
“That’s very kind of you to say.”
“I sense that you’re not here under joyful circumstances,” she continued, her tone turning sober. She spoke quietly as though they weren’t the only two in the room. “It’s not my place to pry. Jus
t know that we’re happy to have you. And I will pray for whatever trials you may be facing.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
She pressed her palms together and bowed her head, then slipped from the door as quietly as she’d come.
Gerald turned to the lunch before him. Thankful for a warm meal, he ripped a chunk off the bread and dipped it into the broth. The doughy center soaked it up like a wet sponge and it practically melted in his mouth. He took another sip with the spoon. The hot liquid soothed his throat and sent a balmy wave through his body. With each spoonful, he felt the effects of the food entering his bloodstream. It was bland, and a bit on the watery side for his taste, but he was in no position to complain. Hunger does not discriminate against nourishment.
He tipped the bowl to his lips and swallowed the last remaining drops. Refreshed and energized, his thoughts returned to the mission at hand.
There were still so many uncertainties: Did the telegram reach Markus? Would his friend be able to help him? Gerald ran through viable scenarios—best case down to the worst possible outcome. Logically, he considered whether he’d be able to jump through the hurdles he faced. Ease, unfortunately, was not on his side.
The afternoon wore on and Gerald remained in the little room alone. He sat. He paced. At times the minutes crawled impossibly slowly. Gerald’s body fought against the adrenaline fueling him to search for Erich. Other stretches of time flew by in an instant, as he became lost in his thoughts and plans, only to look down at his watch and realize two hours had passed.
The empty bowl on the table taunted him. His stomach gurgled. Feed me! Gerald wasn’t used to such meager portions, especially since Marlene often prepared enough food for an army.
Marlene. He missed her already.
On the floor next to the bed, Gerald noticed the bag he’d brought from home and remembered the food his wife had packed. Grabbing an apple, he wiped the waxy skin against his sleeve, then bit into its juicy flesh.
Being in such a state of limbo was torture. His mind played tricks on him, tempting him into second thoughts. Had he made a mistake by relying on the help of someone else? Was he wasting time waiting around, when he could be out there searching for Erich? He could leave at any time—no one was holding him prisoner.
All That Shines and Whispers Page 17