Léon stared at her, dumfounded that Esther had the nerve to not immediately provide what he demanded. Then he snorted and, with a smirk exposing gray and yellowing teeth, said ominously, “Klar, Schätzchen—einen Bonus. Sure, sweetheart—a bonus. I’ll take a bonus. Now go pack. Schnell! Quickly!
“Only take what you and the kid will really need. It is nearly six hundred and fifty kilometers to our destination. About twenty kilometers of that we must walk. It may not seem like much, but we’ll be walking in snow. Und es gibt keinen Pfad. And there is no path.”
Léon glanced down at Esther’s feet, inspecting the well-worn lace-up shoes with low wedge heels she had not changed in two years.
“Are they warm?” he asked.
“They will do” was Esther’s retort.
At last, Léon turned his attention to Zami. “And what about him? Does he have to be carried?”
“He can walk. He is strong,” Esther stressed.
Léon said, “Well, he better be quiet. That’s what I really care about. We can’t have a screaming kid with us. That would nail us completely. Wir wären erledigt. We’d be goners.”
“Er ist kein Grund zur Sorge. He is nothing to worry about,” Esther said. “He is always quiet.”
Quiet … yes … on the exterior …
What takes place within is not revealed … unless one listens closely … or accepts what they know to be true …
Along the way, every now and again, Esther caught glimpses of Léon watching her at the train stations. He would stand a good distance away, attempting to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. But there was no doubt he observed her every action.
Certainly he wants to make sure I won’t get away and then not give him the rest of the money, Esther imagined. But, of course, that is ludicrous. Where would I go? How would I have any notion how to get across the border? Ach! It feels so close to the ending of this vileness, but there is more to come. Of this I am certain. There is more to come.
Intuition is a gift that is not often listened to … nor acted upon.
The journey, thus far, had been mostly fortuitous and free of grave incident. On each train Esther’s documents were scrutinized no less than twice, by the conductor and then by a member of the Wehrmacht. Sometimes more. Wearing meticulous dark green uniforms and carrying standard issue Karabiner 98 Kurz rifles, these Nazi officers, all barely out of their teenage years, tried hard to rouse anxiety and fear from the passengers. In these circumstances, Esther regained her imperviousness to any emotions. Still, the officers’ youth and fervor did produce curiosity—why were they doing this? Why were these young men invested in carrying out this horror? What was the attraction? The need? Had they no compunction? Esther’s face reflected none of the thoughts within.
She was never singled out. The immaculately rendered papers she possessed were always returned without an extraordinary depth of probing—at least nothing out of the ordinary, given the times.
Esther’s gratitude to Frau Göttlieb never lapsed.
I know someday she would be grateful for me … too …
Zami seemed unperturbed by the activities taking place in the train car. He spent much of the journey staring out the window or sleeping. The ever-changing, fast-moving landscape mesmerized him. Now and again he would look up at Esther and point to something outside. He did not use words, merely twisting around on her lap to get her attention. Esther would nod, acknowledging what he was showing her. Or attempting to show her, for both hands remained wrapped around his train. He held it close against his chest, caressing it as one would a baby.
It had been anticipated that connections would be delayed, and they were. The Lyon to Chambéry train was two hours late, taking nine hours instead of the anticipated four, and the one to Annecy, which had moved at the speed of a slow turtle, added more hours to the journey than she could count. Now the wait at Annecy was extending past ten hours. Unfortunately, the outpost was uncomfortable and grim.
An incidental town, its station did not provide a wide selection of amenities for travelers. There was a café bar—with three tall stools—that offered coffee and teas and simple fare like cheese sandwiches and biscuits. Some pieces of bruised fruit were available.
Esther and Zami had their share while waiting, and she purchased a few more sandwiches for later. And the one remaining apple. They had been forced to leave Paris so quickly she’d had little time to gather supplies. Esther had not known what would be needed. Léon was not forthcoming with information, only commanding she hurry to meet the Paris train.
Throughout the journey, Esther did her best to ignore Léon’s presence. This man did not emit support and comfort. Maintaining as much of a distance as possible for as long as possible seemed the right thing to do.
It was while seated at the café that she saw two gendarmes approach Léon. As they were on the other end of the platform, Esther could not hear the words exchanged. But she took note the officers spent more than one hour speaking to him and closely scrutinized his documents. No doubt questioning him. About what she could not know, although Léon did, indeed, look suspect. Esther would have assumed for someone doing this type of work, he would want to make himself look presentable, less scruffy. Endeavor to blend in with the other travelers. More inconspicuous.
She could tell Léon was arguing with the gendarmes. Resisting whatever they were saying. He shook his head vehemently.
What if Léon is arrested? Esther considered. Then what would I do? What options would I have?
This would not be a concern she must respond to.
Yet … there would be other … issues … that must be grappled with … and triumphed over.
As it turned out, she did not have to reflect on this possibility long, for the train to Cluses chugged its way into the station and came to a stop. At that moment one of the officers waved his hand, signaling for Léon to be on his way.
Esther gathered up Zami and her few purchases of food and drink and headed toward the first-class compartment and their last train ride.
Cluses was shades of gray, ash, and gloom. The town was layered in deep snow. Weeks- and days-old snow, newly arrived snow. Unplowed snow. Streets and buildings were only distinguishable by dark outlines against slightly less dark sky. Diffused rays of light from a handful of windows scattered against the background completed the mise en scène.
When the train pulled into their final stop, it was nearly nine thirty in the evening, and the town was dormant.
Léon was waiting for her as she stepped onto the platform, carrying a sleeping Zami. Rushing up to her, he whispered sternly, “Nicht Deutsch sprechen—Don’t speak German. Don’t even open your mouth. I’ll do any necessary talking in French. We must get a room for the night. One room, two beds.”
Esther looked horrified at this prospect.
Léon, snorting in reaction to the expression on her face, continued, “They have to believe we’re a couple. You can sleep with the kid in the second bed. We’ll need to leave before dawn, so there won’t be much time for sleep regardless. We’ll head into the mountains before the sun comes up. I’m sure we won’t be able to walk for long each day, not with the kid. It will be safer if we’re not seen. We must avoid people as much as possible.
“Folgen Sie mir. Follow me,” he ordered. “There’s an inn across the street.”
The aged innkeeper barely gave them a glance through his thick, dark-framed glasses when they passed through the double-paned front door, more interested in his book than customers. From the reception area’s neglected state, this place appeared lacking in visitors, paying or otherwise. It was evident availability would not be an issue. Esther’s one function during the brief interchange was to provide payment when nudged by Léon.
The room they were led to was no more appealing than the entryway. At least it was sizable, and the two beds, covered in heavy handmade quilts, were one and a half meters apart. Esther lay claim to the one against the wall, at the farthest end of the roo
m, for her and Zami.
Other than removing their coats, Esther decided both would sleep in their clothes. Just as she settled Zami in and was about to get under the covers herself, Léon appeared above her, hand outstretched with one word formed on his mouth: “Geld. Money.”
Yes, they had successfully reached another target in their crossing. And, as promised, additional funds were now due. Esther went into the bag she had slipped under her pillow and counted out another wad of bills.
Léon grabbed Esther’s hand a little too tightly, and for a little too long, as the money was exchanged.
Exhaustion took hold. Léon’s snores emulated the sound of a continuously revving engine rebounding against walls, ceiling, and floor. Zami, too, slept deeply, oblivious to the surroundings and concerns of what had passed and what may lie ahead.
Regrettably, rest was not to come for Esther. She could not relax. The approaching day—more likely days—were sure to be arduous and test her intrepidness.
She had grave misgivings—about Léon and about the crossing.
Esther understood the final leg of this journey to the border was only twenty kilometers, a full day’s hike under good conditions. She and Zami had walked nearly that distance on a few occasions during their sojourn in Paris.
But these were in no way ideal circumstances.
The extent of snow Esther observed in the short distance between the train station and the inn shocked her. She had never seen anything like it. And this was inside a town. She knew they would be climbing higher. No doubt much higher. To what elevation she could not possibly fathom.
Esther knew nothing about this sort of environment. Knew nothing much about snow. And knew nothing at all about mountains.
Mountains … where the Heavens … meet the Earth … Where the Gods reside …
And where humans … oft times … amidst strife and difficulty and asperity … ascend …
To encounter themselves.
With her mind still racing, Esther closed her eyes and by some means was able to drift off. It seemed only a fragment of time had passed when she found Léon leaning over her with pungent breath, hissing loudly, “Zeit zu gehen. Time to go. Jetzt! Now!”
The next ten minutes were a haze of disorientation. The room had been swallowed by a darkness that provided no sense of space, dimension, or perception. Léon refused to allow the light turned on or to use his flashlight. Zami, not easily roused, was uncharacteristically fidgety and whiny. Léon snarled at them both. After a struggle that startled her, Esther got Zami into his coat and put on her own.
Then, accompanied only by the sound of groaning floorboards in their room, the hall, and the entryway—and with the front door clicking shut with finality behind them—Léon, Esther, and Zami headed off in a northerly direction guided by a pocket compass.
They were greeted by frigidity with a deceptively gentle wind that sliced through their padded layers without effort. The rise of the sun one and a half hours later did nothing to abate the intensity of the environment. Still, they knew they were fortunate there was no falling snow or rain with which to contend.
Their movements were slow and tedious. There was no path and seemingly no direction, except the fact that every step climbed upward.
I must have faith Léon knows where we’re heading, Esther thought. There are no other options. Not here.
They did not encounter another person. There was only snow and trees and rocks and more snow. So much more snow.
Sometimes the snowdrifts were as high as Zami’s waist.
Twice, Esther had to carry him for an extended distance, his added weight sinking her deeper into the snow with each step. Her shoes, adequate for city walking, were in all respects unsuited for these conditions. In short order her feet were soaking wet. Then they began to freeze like icicles. Esther became anxious. She did not know if this was possible. Humanly possible.
“How long?” Esther asked.
“Zwei Tage. Two days. If we’re lucky” was Léon’s curt response.
No more conversation. All focus was on keeping warm and heading upward. Léon, moving slowly but with a determined gait, led the way. He turned around to check they were close behind every five minutes or so. Esther noticed he mumbled to himself. She didn’t understand what he was saying, only that he appeared discontent. She was sure he was swearing often.
After four hours they came upon a hut, almost certainly used by the shepherds who in warmer months would populate the area. Léon said, “Wir werden—We’ll stay here for the night.”
Esther was relieved to stop. But after this morning’s trials, she was apprehensive that they would not be able to reach the border. Their trek had been grueling. Torturous in some areas. Although they had only walked for a few hours, it did not seem as though a great distance had been traversed, and Léon appeared frustrated and angry. He, too, had not anticipated such deep snow.
To her relief, the hut seemed to be an arranged stop, for there were a long pallet and a stack of old blankets. Soft cotton-filled bags that could be used as pillows were found in one corner. A compact metal furnace was pushed into another corner with bundles of wood by its side.
Although the inside of the makeshift structure, with its thin walls, did not provide much warmth or protection, Léon refused to build a fire. He was adamant about not doing anything that could attract attention.
Esther sat on a section of the pallet, took off her shoes and socks, and briskly rubbed her feet to bring back feeling. She did the same for Zami, who thought it a game and smiled a bit. She then wrapped their feet in blankets. From her bag, she took out one of the remaining and now precious sandwiches and gave Zami half. Fortunately, Léon had carried his own supply of food and left them alone. Esther did not ask questions, and he did not volunteer any insight on the next plan of action. He paced back and forth. He swore. He rubbed his chin. He grunted. He pulled on his hair. He shook his head. He swore again.
Other than Léon’s intermittent rumbles, they spent the rest of the day’s light in silence. Zami was content to play with his train. Esther stared out the shed’s window, striving to clear her still jumbled mind.
As soon as the sun set off in the far distance, sleep became their one agreed upon action, critical to renew their energies and resolve in anticipation of the next day’s walk.
But the next day it snowed without stop, as it did the day following that.
Too dangerous to venture on, they waited. Many times throughout the day, Léon went outside to assess the situation. Coming back inside, his few words—more to himself than Esther—were: “Bad! Really, really bad!”
Then he would swear and go back out again. With gloved hands, he scooped the ever-rising snow as best he could away from the door. But the snow kept falling. Once he had to crawl through the high, narrow window because heavy snow blocked the door entirely.
Esther passed the period when there was light by expertly pulling threads from the edges of the frayed wool blankets. Using her fingers as needles, she patiently wove, filling the blankets’ many moth holes. Zami alternated between playing with his train and watching the blizzard through the window. Esther rationed her remaining food, allowing herself and Zami only one small bite every few hours. There was no way to anticipate how long their confinement would last. Luckily, fresh water was plentiful.
She did not speak to Léon. Waiting for the weather to turn more amenable was the issue. There was nothing else to talk about. So much, for so long—for far too long—had been about waiting. And still, everything hinged on waiting. Under these circumstances, stoicism once again served her well.
Every so often, Esther found Léon staring at her. What manner of nonsense could possibly be going through his head? she wondered. She did her best to not think about it, as his looks were disconcerting. His strangeness compounded an already unsettling situation.
Fortunately, each night, even with the uncomfortable conditions and the dull ache of a never easing empty stomach, Esther’s
weariness took command. Her sleep came fast and deep, more so than could be recalled in memory. And she would remain fast asleep until the morning’s sunrays shone through the window.
Except—in the middle of the fourth night, Esther awoke abruptly.
To discover the full weight of Léon on top of her.
Her arms were pinned back, clothes pulled up, cotton knickers pulled down. The revulsion of this most personal of invasions froze her mute.
Léon’s actions were fierce, his guttural grunts and painful thrusts sharp and forceful.
For Esther—time stopped.
Sound stopped.
The whole sucked into hollowness.
Still … she did not submit surrender of her self … of her being.
When finished, Léon took in an extended breath, forcefully shoved her over on one side, and said, laughing loudly, “Thanks sweetheart—Danke Schätzchen, das ist mein Bonus—that was my bonus!”
He snorted stridently, swiftly grabbed the remaining food and the small handbag where he knew Esther kept her money—
Ah … not all of it …
—and said, “This isn’t going to work. I’ve got to save my own skin.”
Then he strolled out the shed door, no thought or care to what would become of his two charges.
They were not alone … would never be alone …
Esther was revulsed but shed not one tear. Limbs or thoughts could not move.
Zami had watched the scene from the corner of the shed, where he had escaped to when Léon had jumped on their pallet, jumped on his mama. Not comprehending, he was certain that whatever was taking place was wrong. Very wrong. After Léon left, Zami went to Esther, placed one of his short arms around either side of her neck, and hugged her tight. Astonished, at first Esther tried to push him away, but Zami refused to let go. Finally relenting, she held him tenderly. The first time in his young life that she had ever done so. That he had ever done so. They spent the remainder of the night clasped together.
Guesthouse for Ganesha Page 23