“How can I eat when I have no idea if I’ll ever see my father and son again?” She’d cried enough to fill a sea.
“We must keep up our strength,” Marlene gently insisted. “And remember, the Lord only gives us what He knows we can handle.” When Lara didn’t respond, Marlene sulked from the room, defeated, leaving the tray of food, which she’d find again in the morning, untouched. The other children tried their best, but there was an undeniable strain in the house. Each day darkened with ominous uncertainty.
On the fifth morning since her husband left, a sunny Tuesday with warmer-than-usual temperatures, Marlene bustled around the kitchen preparing breakfast for the children.
“Doesn’t this sausage smell delicious?” she asked, hopefully. Her positivity felt forced—even she knew it. It was everything in her power to get out of bed and on with the day each morning. The covers held her tight, begging her not to go. She’d have loved nothing more than to sink into her blankets and her sorrow and stay curled up on her husband’s side. Marlene had been sleeping there—inhaling his scent—since he’d left.
The thought of losing not only her treasured grandson, but also the love of her life, caused a physical ache deep inside her body, which was only intensified by the dark solitude of the evening hours. Every night she buried her face in Gerald’s pillow, letting her tears form a wet and widening circle.
Then the sun would rise again, beckoning for her to summon the strength of another day. She’d put on a happy face, even though it was just a mask to hide her pain. She greeted the children’s faces with a smile and hug, saving her tears for the nights when she was alone in her room. In the mornings, there’d be icy tracks of salt on her cheeks, which she’d wipe away with the pad of her thumb.
Marlene placed breakfast on the table. “Looks glorious, right?” The children nodded quietly, their faces drooped in sadness. Marlene sighed. Her naturally positive disposition couldn’t break their worry. But she certainly tried.
“Where’s Lara?” she asked as she placed a piece of sausage on each child’s plate.
“Maybe she’s not up yet,” Miriam suggested.
Marlene frowned and finished scooping a spoonful of eggs onto their plates. She couldn’t help the apprehension she felt whenever Lara was the only one “missing.” After all, the last time that happened, she really had been gone.
Leaving her dish empty, Marlene wandered through the kitchen toward the stairs and climbed with light feet. At the top, she stopped and listened for any rustling that might suggest Lara was awake. A soft whimper stopped her in her tracks. But the sound wasn’t coming from Lara’s room at the end of the hall. It was closer. It was coming from Marlene’s.
She pushed open the door to see Lara huddled in a ball on the floor near the base of Erich’s crib. Her hand reached up, clutching onto the bottom rung. The rest of her body collapsed in anguish.
“Oh Lara,” Marlene said, kneeling next to her daughter.
“I just can’t forgive myself,” Lara cried. Her shoulders shook and she sniveled against Marlene’s shoulder when the woman pulled her into an embrace. “I miss him so much.”
“Me too, darling. Me too.”
“It’s been five days. Don’t you think we should have heard something by now?”
“I don’t know, Lara.” Marlene’s eyes welled. “But I trust that your father is doing everything he can to bring Erich home. We must stay strong and not lose faith.”
“But it’s so hard.”
“Yes, it is.” A tear rolled down Marlene’s cheek. Being this close to the crib, she caught wisps of the little boy’s scent—a mixture of sweet talcum powder and musky cinnamon.
“How much longer do we wait?” Lara asked. “I mean, at some point, don’t you think people are going to start asking questions? Then what do we do?”
Marlene stared at the girl. Her questions were valid, but not new—Marlene had lay awake for several nights obsessed with the same uncertainties. Now, like all those times alone, she couldn’t offer an answer.
She held Lara’s hands in her own, and the girl laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. Two bowed bodies weighted by the crushing pressure of grief. Their hush left so many things unsaid. But really, what else was there to say?
At once, a door slammed downstairs, making the two women jump.
“FATHER!” a collective outburst echoed from the floor below. Marlene and Lara looked to each other stunned, their eyes expressing the same thought: Gerald? Father? Home?
In disbelief, they clamored to their feet and ran to the door, bounding down the steps and practically tripping over one another. Marlene turned the corner into the kitchen first and let out a gasp.
“Gerald!” Her husband stood in the middle of the room, six children clawing at him with hungry affection. Marlene could barely make out his face among the twist of bodies and limbs. He kissed their hair and hugged their heads into him. Lena’s face was wet with tears. Felix’s chin shook despite his attempt at composure.
When Marlene entered the room, Gerald glanced up. Their eyes met and brightened with relief. All the emotion she’d been restraining for a week poured from her exhausted soul. He was home!
Alive.
Whole.
Safe.
But as she walked toward him, she remembered the reason he’d been gone in the first place.
“Erich?” she asked with hopeful eyes.
The children parted, revealing the little boy in Gerald’s arms. Bettina reached a hand up to stroke Erich’s cheek and he smiled, as if the whole ordeal of the past few days had never happened.
“Erich!” Lara cried, pushing past Marlene and flinging her arms around both her father and son. Gerald passed the boy to Lara and she crumpled to her knees, squeezing her son against her breast. “I’m so sorry, Erich, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” she wept.
The children watched awestruck at the wild abandon with which Lara grieved. They had never witnessed such a display of emotion, and the older ones placed a hand over their mouths to control their own happy tears.
Lara stood without releasing her grip on Erich, and faced her father who had his arms around his wife.
“Thank you, Father,” she cried. She laid her forehead on his shoulder and sobbed. “I owe you everything.”
“Shhh,” he soothed. “We’re home now. Everything is okay.”
“I thought I’d never see you both again.”
“I wasn’t going to give up. Not in a million years.”
“I knew the Lord wouldn’t take you from us,” Marlene said. “Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re safe.”
The rest of the children linked arms and surrounded their parents in embrace. They stood that way for what felt like hours, until an innocent voice broke the silence.
It was Gloria, who tugged on Marlene’s dress with a smile. “Can we finish breakfast now?”
Thirty-Two
The water in the bowl turned a marbled pink. Marlene dipped a rag and wrung out the tepid water before placing it gently on Gerald’s palm. The gash had crusted over, leaving a raised mosaic of deep reds and blacks stretching from his ring finger to the pad of his thumb. It was superficial: not deep enough to need stitches, thankfully.
Marlene dabbed the wet cloth against his skin. He winced. Slowly and with care, she wiped the hardened scab remnants to reveal the wound below.
“It’s a bad cut,” Marlene said. “What happened?”
“Tripped in the middle of the night. Nasty rock broke my fall.” Gerald flinched as she administered rubbing alcohol that Lena had fetched from the medicine cabinet.
“Where were you?”
“Don’t know exactly.” He flinched again. “Somewhere over the Alps.”
“The Alps?” Marlene flung her head up in surprise as she wrapped his hand in a clean bandage.
“Yes. That’s how we got home. Went over the mountains again.”
Marlene gasped. She hadn’t even considered it; she figured he’d come home
in the same way he’d left.
“And the car?”
“Left it. It was the only way.”
The memories of their escape two years prior came rushing back. Marlene pictured the contours of the trails—sometimes tight and winding—and how they’d open up to rolling fields of bright green grass.
“Took us three days,” Gerald continued. “But we had no choice. The borders were on lockdown. We never would have made it through by car.”
“But what about food?”
“I had a few things in my bag. Don’t worry, I made sure Erich ate. The Reverend Mother gave me some fruit and bread to take, too.”
“You were at the abbey?” Marlene exclaimed.
“Yes,” he chuckled, realizing this was all coming at such a surprise. “Oh my love, I have so much to tell you. But first, we need to eat. I’m starved.”
Marlene made a plate for her husband and Erich—there were plenty of sausages left. Gerald ate ravenously, finally able to stomach a full meal. Erich, happily sitting on Lara’s lap, devoured every crumb. Their journey had left them famished. With little food to last the journey, Gerald had given most of it to Erich.
Their plates licked clean, Erich squirmed to be put down, but Lara held tight; she never wanted to let him go again. Only at his fussing did she allow him to shimmy to the floor and toddle to his basket of toys in the living room.
“So resilient,” Marlene said, watching Erich. She interlocked her arm through Gerald’s. “It’s quite amazing what children can withstand.”
“I just pray he won’t remember any of this,” Lara whispered.
“He won’t.”
The little girls, bored already with grown-up talk, retreated to the living room. Cradling and cooing over the dolls in their arms, they already felt a sense of normalcy with the return of their father. Marlene glanced in their direction and watched Karl engaging Erich in a game of peek-a-boo. Her heart nearly burst with happiness.
“I owe you an apology,” Marlene said, reaching for Lara’s hand. “For everything.”
Lara stared, a flush of warmth coming over her.
“We shouldn’t have put you in that position, with Erich I mean. If I hadn’t suggested it, this all never would have happ—.”
“No,” Lara interrupted. “It was my choice to leave, Mother. I was foolish. I’m the one who owes the apology.”
“Well, I can’t help but blame myself for lighting the spark that started us down this path in the first place.”
“We’ve all made mistakes.”
“I suppose you’re right. There’s enough blame to go around.” Marlene squeezed Lara’s hand. The two exchanged a smile of understanding.
Felix and Lena joined the adults at the table, pulling chairs near their father, trying to soak up every drop of him.
“Looks like you’re going to have to learn to eat with your other hand,” Felix said to his father, pointing to Gerald’s bandage.
“Ha! I guess you’re right.” The hearty laugh made him grimace. He brought his fingers to his jawline. The skin was tender to the touch, even through the thick gauze.
“You have bruises all over,” Marlene said. “Gerald, I’m afraid to ask why. This can’t all be from tripping over a rock.” She lightly touched the black and blue marks on his face.
“No.” He cast his eyes downward, miserably remembering the brawl at the apartment. Could he spare them the truth about the tragic outcome?
“Father,” Lara interrupted his thoughts, “I need to know. How did you get Erich away from Rubin?”
He studied Marlene, the grave look in his eyes saying everything—this wasn’t going to be an easy story to tell.
“It’s okay, Father. You can tell me. I can handle it.”
“I don’t want to cause you any more pain, Lara.”
“My heart has changed.” Lara placed her hand on top of her father’s. “I know now that Rubin was never the person I thought he was. I’m ashamed that I let him manipulate me the way he did. Please, tell me.”
He took a breath, held it for a moment, and then released it into the air. He spoke in a low voice, not wanting the younger children to hear. Beginning slowly, he told them about crossing the border and how he’d convinced the guard to let him pass for official military business. He told them about his meeting with Markus at the abbey and the plan they’d conceived.
“Uncle Markus is so clever!” Felix said.
Gerald grinned. “Yes, he’s a schemer all right,” he said. “That’s why I knew I needed his help.”
He continued to explain how Markus conned Hans Rainer into revealing Rubin’s address, and how he himself showed up at the apartment the following day.
“And he just let Erich leave with you?” Lara asked, bewildered.
Gerald paused and looked to his daughter, meeting her eyes with a solemn face. “No, my dear,” he said. And when he didn’t elaborate, the origin of his bruises became clear.
“Oh. I see,” Lara said softly. The guilt returned, heavy as a stone in her stomach. His suffering was her doing—even if it hadn’t been her hands delivering the blow. “But what if he finds us? What if he tries to take Erich back again?” Her voice teetered on the edge of crumbling.
“He won’t be finding us, Lara.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rubin is gone.” Gerald closed his eyes and saw the barrel of the gun aimed straight at his face. The memory was jarring.
Lena gasped. Lara, stunned, was still.
“Gerald, tell me you didn’t!” Marlene said, wide-eyed.
“No,” he quickly assured her. “It wasn’t me.”
“But how?” Lara’s voice shook and her eyes filled.
Gerald thought of his daughter and all she’d been through. Her fragile heart had suffered the pain of deception and betrayal from a man she loved. What good would it do to add another layer of agony with the revelation of Hannah? It would serve nothing more than to add insult to injury.
He wouldn’t do it.
“Some things are better left unsaid,” Gerald said quietly. “Let’s just leave it at that, huh?”
It was more a statement than a question. There would be no elaboration. With those words—plain, yet resolute—the group understood that the details of that day were to remain with Gerald, alone.
***
That evening, as the family settled into the comfort of the den, serenity made its way back into the house. They were together—and that was enough. After a few hours, the past was gone, and only the present mattered.
Miriam, Gloria and Bettina formed a star on the floor with their outstretched legs, the soles of their feet pressed together. In the middle, Erich scampered from girl to girl, kissing their faces and giggling with the glee at their simple game.
The older children burrowed close to their father. Age and maturity gave them the gift of appreciation, and they didn’t want to miss a moment away from him. Marlene, sitting next to Gerald, linked her arm in his. They intertwined their fingers, and she stroked his thumb. Her mind should have been reeling, but it wasn’t. She was calm—filled to the top with gratitude and contentment.
At half past nine, Erich began to fade. He crawled toward Marlene and pulled the hem of her skirt to stand. With a wide yawn, he rubbed his eyes.
“Getting tired, little one?” she said, running her hand across the top of his head. “You’ve been through such an adventure.”
Lara watched from where she sat and felt a twinge of sadness. Was it all for nothing? Would Marlene always be “Mother” to Erich? She was thankful for her son’s safety—something that wouldn’t have happened without her father. Lara was indebted to him. But was this her eternal punishment? Her heavy heart felt as though it would tear at the seams.
On the floor, Miriam turned to Erich, her face eye-level with his. “What a sleepy little boy,” she said, leaning in to rub their noses together. Erich chortled and swatted at her face.
“Mother, are you going to take him to be
d?” she asked Marlene.
Again, Marlene and Gerald glanced at one another, speaking the wordless language only spouses know. The look alone was enough—they both understood. Marlene gave the slightest nod and he reciprocated.
“No, darling,” Marlene said aloud to everyone. “I’m not ‘Mother’ anymore. Not to Erich, I mean.”
The children glanced around, confused. On the far side of the couch, Lara sat upright. She stared at her father. A tear fell and bounced off her cheek.
Was he really going to say it?
“Lara is Erich’s mother,” Gerald said. “And from now on, it’s no longer going to be a secret.”
Euphoric yet with a sense of disbelief, Lara stood, her thin legs trembling beneath her. The children parted, giving Lara a clear path toward her son. She bent and lifted him from the floor. Bringing his tiny face in front of hers, Lara stared into his eyes, blue as the summer sky. Side by side, there was no denying their likeness—Erich was her carbon copy.
Their faces nuzzled together, Lara let out an exhale that had been buried deep within her soul, burning for release.
“Mama loves you,” she whispered. And with that, she turned to take her son to bed.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Lara grabbed the long black case from inside the cedar chest and made her way out of the house into the mid-morning light. Across the gravel driveway, a man swung an axe, splitting a log down the center. She watched as he picked up another piece, placed it on the stump, and swung again, chopping it directly in the middle.
Something about the cracking noise—the metal blade tearing the wood in two, as well as the rhythmic grunt he made with each swing—comforted her. She felt protected, both by the strength of him and the warmth the logs would bring to their home.
All That Shines and Whispers Page 21