A Letter From Munich

by Meg Lelvis

  “Yeah, Ma, I’m sure.” He opened the dishwasher, loaded his plate, and placed the wine glass by the sink. Anything to avoid her eyes.

  “You know, when he had his nightmares? He’d call out sometimes.” She ran water in the sink. “Names.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “That right? Guess it’s typical for soldiers after wartime.”

  “Names I never heard before. German words.” Maureen rinsed the other plates and put them in the dishwasher. “I always meant to write down what they sounded like, but would forget in the morning.”

  “Oh. Well, just normal. He was around German words all the time, after the war especially.” Jack wiped his brow, shuffled his feet. “Thanks for the lunch and—”

  “He picked up some German when he was in Munich.” She wiped her hands. “Ah yes. I remember my friends’ husbands and sweethearts coming back the summer it all ended. The summer of forty-five. I didn’t understand why your father—” her voice trailed off.

  “I’m sure the waiting was hard, but at least you were convinced he was safe, right?”

  “Oh yes, and he wrote letters home too. I wonder what ever happened to them.” She turned, looked at Jack. “They must’ve gotten lost in the shuffle years ago. So much stuff in this house, with all you kids.” She stopped. “Oh, not that I’m complaining. Not about you kids.” She tittered.

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, right.” Not sure, but water under the bridge. He headed out of the kitchen. “See you soon, Ma. You haven’t lost your touch at the cookstove.”

  “And another thing,” she called after him. “I’ve always had a vague memory of a letter coming that summer. After he got back. It was from Munich, a woman’s name on the envelope in the corner.”

  Jack froze. He reached the door. “Oh yeah?”

  “When I gave it to your father, he said it was from some old woman who owned the house he and his buddies roomed at for awhile. She wanted to see how he was doing back home in the States.”

  Jack turned to face his mother; it would’ve seemed strange not to. “Okay. Sounds reasonable.” He reached for the doorknob. She’d never mentioned the damn letter before. How could she know anything?

  She raised her penciled-on eyebrows. “Hmmm. Good thing I wasn’t the suspicious type.” She chuckled and gave Jack a quick hug, her familiar gardenia scent drifting about. “Talk soon, Jacky.”

  “Bye, Ma.” He opened the door and escaped into warm sunshine, down the porch past the lilac bushes, happy to be in fresh air, free from skeletons hidden in cupboards and diaries.

  Chapter 36

  Several days later, as rain spit from the sky, Jack set plates of smoked Gouda cheese and Club crackers on the kitchen table. He’d sliced the cheese without slicing a finger and patted himself on the back for his choice of low-fat crackers. Guess Sherk was rubbing off on him.

  After dumping a bag of Doritos into a large wooden bowl, he retrieved a carton of chunky salsa from the fridge and put it next to the orange chips. He surveyed the spread and looked at Boone. “As good as it gets. I’ll just add a few napkins I swiped from Hans Biergarten, and we’re all set.”

  Jenny and Tommy had planned to stop in for pre-dinner drinks after work, before heading to their respective houses. The occasion was the big reveal. Jack and his brother would tell their sister about their newly-discovered half-sister from Stuttgart. Although curious to see Jenny’s reaction, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the impending conversation. Would she be upset? Another brother, Andy, was out of town, so Jack would inform him later. Mike, the youngest, lived in Denver supposedly; hard to tell when he would be available, if ever.

  Jack had decided to let Jenny take the journal home and read it alone, but he’d tell her the general content, and Jack would show her the long-ago letter and snapshot first. Even though he enjoyed their company, he hoped she and Tommy wouldn’t stay too long. Still not big on social occasions. Besides, the final season of Breaking Bad was now available for streaming. Another advantage of returning to Chicago.

  Rain still pelted the windowpanes, and gloom edged its way through the blinds when the doorbell rang. Boone jumped into his usual frenzy as the door opened and Jenny walked inside.

  “Honey, I’m home,” she called out.

  Jack met her in the entry. “Just leave the umbrella on the floor here.”

  “Got it. Hey, Boone.” Jenny smoothed her damp wavy dark hair and set the umbrella down. “Damn, thought the rain would quit by now.” She wiped her feet on the small area rug.

  Jack took her shoulders and pressed her against him in a hug. “How’s my favorite sister?”

  She stepped back and looked at him, eyebrows pursed. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

  “Always the comedian. Come on in and have some gourmet appetizers and a drink.” He led her into the kitchen.

  Jenny looked at the table. “I’m impressed, Jack. Who arranged the cheese slices?” She turned to open a cabinet door and took out three small plates.

  “Oh yeah, forgot those. Can’t remember everything.” He opened the fridge and reached for a Sam Adams and a coke. He filled a glass with ice, then added the soda, and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” Jenny took a plate and selected several cheese slices and crackers. “I’ll leave the chips and dip for you and Tommy.”

  They settled in the living room with plates on the coffee table, drinks in hand. Jenny straightened the scarf around her neck, its red print contrasting with her black top and pants. A trim woman, whose sapphire eyes matched Jack’s, she was six years younger than him, and had been the baby sister to three older brothers until Mike was born two years later. Yes, a typical Irish Catholic family, at least from the outside.

  “Mom mentioned you had a nice lunch with her the other day.” Jenny sipped her soda.

  “Yeah, the usual meal fit for twenty people. The old gal seems as feisty as ever.”

  Jenny chuckled. “I didn’t tell her I was coming here tonight. I just said I’d call you soon about Germany. I assumed she wasn’t included.”

  “Right. Just a young kids’ night.”

  “So, how was the trip?”

  Jack took a drink. “Lots of history to take in. Nice digs at Sherk’s summer house.”

  “Okay. What else? What about Dachau? Mom wanted you to—”

  “I’ll wait for Tommy. He knows some of it, but—”

  As if on cue, the doorbell chimed; Boone barked and jumped at the door, greeting Tommy as he ambled in. “Well, the gang’s all here.” He bent down and tousled the big dog’s furry neck.

  Jenny finished chewing a cracker. “Go get your beer and snacks. Jack, or at least some gourmet imposter posing as Jack, spent all day preparing them.”

  “Grrr,” came from Jack.

  Tommy did as he was told and joined them in the living room. Jack noticed he glanced at Jenny’s glass beside her. Apparently, she noticed too.

  She took her glass, held it up. “Here, do you wanna sniff? It’s coca cola, Tommy. Not dark beer.”

  “Sorry, Jen. Didn’t mean to—”

  “Right.” She put the glass down. “It’s just I’ve been doing so well, going to meetings, but I guess I’m supposed to appreciate your concern.”

  “Well, sorry anyway.” Tommy leaned back. “Change of subject. Okay, what has Jack told you so far about Deutschland?”

  “Nothing. For some odd reason he wanted to wait for you.” She looked from one brother to the other. “What’s the deal? Did you visit Dachau? Find out something about Dad?”

  Jack shrugged and glanced at Tommy. “Where to begin?”

  “Gradually,�
� Tommy said.

  “You’re scaring me, guys.” Jenny straightened. “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry,” Jack said. “No need to be scared. First off, we tracked down a woman who met Pa during the war. More like the end of the war. But first you need to see the letter.” He leaned over and opened a drawer of a nearby end table, then reached for a small envelope. Slowly removing the letter inside, he explained how he and Tommy had uncovered it in their father’s box of war memorabilia.

  Jenny’s eyes widened as she stared at Jack, listening to the message in the letter.

  “My God, Dad had a wartime romance. What about Mom? Did she ever know?” She brushed her hair back.

  Tommy took a chip and dipped it in spicy red salsa. “Nah, I doubt it.”

  Jack said, “I thought that too until she said she remembered the letter and Pa telling her it was from an old German woman who owned his boarding house.”

  “You also told me on the phone she talked more about Pa’s nightmares, how he called out names,” Tommy added.

  Jack coughed. “Anyway, Jenny, we’re sure Ma’s in the dark. So, it was Sherk who did the grunt work locating Ariana Gunther’s nursing home in Weimar.” Jack explained their trip to see Ariana, meeting her sister Renate instead, and listening to the family’s story leading to the war years.

  “Then we found out first hand how Pa met her.” Jack retrieved the journal from the drawer and handed it to Jenny.

  Tears welled up in her eyes as her hands caressed the leather cover. She opened it to the first page. “This is Daddy’s handwriting, I can tell.” She looked up at Jack. “When can I read it?”

  Jack extended a paper napkin to Jenny, which prompted a surprised look from his sister before she took it and used it to dab a tear. Jack watched her and realized, perhaps for the first time, she had never completely understood the angst he and his brothers had harbored towards their father. After all, Jenny, who was younger and blessed with female blamelessness, had never borne the brunt of John Bailey’s temper.

  “You can take it home.” Jack gently laid his hand on her arm. “But if the kids or Bob see it, tell ‘em mum’s the word. Gotta keep it from Ma.”

  “There are a few pages at the end Ariana wrote, in German of course,” Tommy said. “Sometime Sherk can translate for you.” He turned to Jack. “But, Jack, you remember the gist of it, right?”

  Jack nodded before turning to open the drawer again. “Almost forgot. A picture of the two of them.” He held out the worn snapshot to Jenny.

  Gazing at the image of her father and Ariana, she placed her hand on her heart. “Wow. She was beautiful. Looked like a movie star from the old days.”

  “Ingrid Bergman?” Tommy said.

  Jenny looked at him. “Yes, yes, she’s the one.” She handed the photo to Jack. “Can’t absorb all this. Surreal.”

  Jack glanced at Tommy. “Now, is she ready for the next episode?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Now or never.”

  “What the hell? There’s more?” Jenny looked puzzled; eyebrows raised.

  “I’ll plunge right in.” Jack took a swig. “Remember how you always begged Ma for a sister? Not fair you only had brothers?”

  “Jack,” Tommy said.

  Jenny looked from one to the other. “What the fu—”

  “Language.” Jack’s eyebrows met, forming a mock frown.

  “Turns out you—we all have a half sister.”

  Jenny’s mouth dropped. “What?” The word seemed to catch in her throat before escaping.

  Jack leaned closer. “You’re sitting there in shock, but yeah, Pa and Ariana. The girl was born after Pa came home. He never found out about her.”

  Jenny stood and aimlessly wandered to the kitchen table and back. “You mean, she—”

  “Ariana married an old flame of hers who said he’d raise the girl as his own. Her name is Monika. We met her at Renate’s when she stopped in to visit Ariana. She doesn’t know about Pa at all.”

  Jenny sat on the sofa and furiously swatted invisible crumbs from her sleeve. She listened while Jack described the details, translations, and Monika herself. Of course, he left out the part about his initial attraction to Monika. This, he determined, was one secret only Sherk would ever be privy to.

  “No picture of her?” Jenny looked hopeful.

  “Sorry, no. But her profile looks like yours.” Jack placed his hand on Jenny’s chin, gently shifting its trajectory. “Same nose and chin.”

  “Jeez, really? I’d love to meet her. Oh, guys, maybe we can look her up some day?”

  “Not gonna happen, Jen,” Jack said. “She doesn’t know Pa was her biological father. Renate doesn’t wanna tell her.”

  “Why not?” A change came over Jenny. She stood, infuriated, her eyes darting between Jack and Tommy. “She has a right to know who her real father… What about her medical records? Lots of people are starting to search for their ancestors through DNA and—.”

  Tommy stood and eased his sister back into her seat. “We can’t tell anything, Jen. It’s up to Renate to tell her.”

  “Why? She’s only her aunt. Her mother isn’t capable of it, but still.” Hand trembling, Jenny drained her glass. Jack bet she wished for a vodka on ice about now.

  He wiped his forehead. “I thought that way at first too, but it’s Renate’s place to tell her. We have no right horning in.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, Jack’s and Tommy’s eyes remaining on their sister as her breathing calmed. She fiddled with her hair. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. Having a sister across the world. I could try and talk Bob into a trip to Germany in a couple years when we’ve paid off more of the kids’ college loans.”

  Jack hadn’t told his family, other than Tommy, about his windfall a few months ago. One of these days he would, and offer to help Jenny and the other kids with college funds. Meanwhile, he balked at the idea of Jenny traipsing off to Germany and hunting down Monika Gunther or whatever her name might be.

  Tommy said, “Let it settle, Jen. See how you feel in a few days.” Then, as though speaking to a child, “I think you should stay away from Ma for a week so you don’t slip and bring up anything.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes. “Christ, Tom, gimme a little credit. I’m not gonna blab to anyone.” She turned to Jack. “But how ‘bout Andy and Mike? Are you gonna tell them?”

  “Sometime,” Jack said. “Andy soon. Mike? Who cares?” The black sheep of the Bailey family, Mike hadn’t communicated in years and lived in Denver, Pittsburgh, or Timbuktu as far as they knew.

  Glancing at her watch, Jenny picked up her plate and glass and made her way into the kitchen.

  “Gotta run. I’ll take the diary, read it tonight.” She gathered her purse and journal together while Jack folded her umbrella and handed it to her. Again, she looked at him as though he’d dropped from outer space. “I must admit, Jack, you seem different somehow. Who are you?”

  “What do you mean? I’m not an asshole anymore?”

  Jenny squinted at him. “Not as big a one. Just a little softer.”

  “Hell, not me. Never happen.” But Jack recognized his Germany experience had changed him. Apparently, others would see it too. A strange warmth rose within him. What was it? Benevolence? Compassion? Jack tried to fight the emotions, but his efforts were thwarted by his sister’s curious expression.

  Jack avoided her eyes. “At least it quit raining,” he said, glancing at Tommy. “Wanna stay?”

  Tommy stood. “Thanks, but I need to run too.”

  The three half-hugged one another, and said their goodbyes, promising to get together soon. Woul
d Jenny forget her desire to meet Monika? He would check with her in a few days.

  Meanwhile, Jack needed to get in gear and follow up on plans. Plans for the rest of his life.

  Chapter 37

  Five weeks later

  The party was in full swing when Jack arrived at Tommy’s house on a warm, humid afternoon in August. Not as bad as Texas, but Chicago had its share of summer heat. Tommy lived in Oak Forest, twenty miles south of Bridgeport, in a two-story red brick house with a spacious front yard surrounded by trees from next-door yards. Thick, overhanging branches provided a sense of privacy and woodsy seclusion.

  Until now, Jack had viewed his mother’s birthday celebration as a dreaded duty. Gathering at her house or Tommy’s to grill outdoors in the August heat, kids and grandkids running around, yammering away, not fun. Especially Jenny’s daughter, Cate, born a few months earlier than his Elizabeth. Seeing Cate through the years had pierced his heart like a knife. Elizabeth would now be making college plans if only—. But today was different somehow. Driving the fifteen minutes from his house, he actually looked forward to Ma’s birthday event. Well, not exactly, but at least he was fine with the idea. Perhaps Jenny was right; could he be getting soft?

  Several parked cars packed the driveway, so he slid the Beemer along Le Claire Avenue across from thick trees and high bushes on the other side of the street.

  He walked up the driveway. A short sidewalk curved its way to the porch lined with black iron urns spilling over with red geraniums with trailing vines. They reminded Jack of the anemones in German gardens.

  He walked in the front door, sounds of laughter and chatter ringing in the air. A scent of smoked beef wafted through the room.

  “Hey, where’s the food?” Jack called as heads turned towards him. An appropriate way to announce my arrival, he thought.

  Erica, Sherk’s wife, sat on the sofa talking to Jenny. Jack strolled towards them. “Erica, good to see you. How are you?” Not a question for a cancer patient, but he hoped she wouldn’t take offense. Hopefully, she’d cut him some slack.