by Alisha Paige
Ten
May 27, 1963
Dear Annalisa and Dianna,
How are my two precious daughters?
Annalisa, I received your latest article in the post. Your father was very impressed with the research that went into your story about the civil rights movement. We spoke to Grandpa on the phone and he said that you have true talent. We are ever so proud of you, darling and your father brags on you each and every chance he gets.
Dianna, how is school going? I sincerely hate not being there for your prom night, but Grandma and Grandpa have promised to take a hundred pictures for me. Grandpa said he plans to fly with you to Harvard this weekend to give it a good look see. I do want you to pick the best university, suiting your needs and your tastes, dear, but I will miss you ever so much. I whole heartedly hope that you give Southern Methodist University more thought. But, of course, the decision is yours alone and your high marks will allow you to attend either institution of higher learning. Your father and I are still puzzled as to how you gained such an interest in geology, but you yourself have caused my curiosity to rise on the subject. I would have never thought the study of the earth and rocks would be so engaging.
Girls, you would have been so proud of your father yesterday. He spoke at the commencement ceremonies for the University of Vienna. It was a wonderful speech, full of courage and hope. He told the story of his youth and his struggles through the Great Depression as well as his adventures as a journalist. Ironically, he had visited that very campus, one day before his capture back in 1938 and yes, he told of his darkest days in Sachsenhausen. The crowd cheered when he spoke of liberation day and I witnessed people crying when he spoke of the loveliness of that slice of cake, given to him by an SS guard. He told the story of the wooden nickel and how much it had meant to him, when he had no hope left. In closing, he asked that all the graduates concentrate on their own inner happiness and if they’re unable to find it, to concentrate on something that reminds them of it until the day their happiness arrives. It was simply beautiful and I’m so proud to tell you, he received a standing ovation. How I wish you were both here to witness it.
Two days into our trip, we visited Sachsenhausen. It was a very emotional day. I have to confess that I was extremely worried about your father shortly after our entrance into the death camp. I had reservations about us going at all, but your father insisted, saying he needed some closure. He asked to be alone in the crematorium and it seemed to me that he spent entirely too much time in there thinking and remembering the horrible deeds that had passed there. He emerged tired looking and a little frail, but surprisingly cleansed. He has been reflecting quite a bit on his past these days, but I believe it’s necessary and aids in his healing. Upon visiting the camp, my mind cannot comprehend the atrocities that took place there. It’s unimaginable to me and to think that your father was kept there for nearly seven years is horrendous. That he survived at all is a miracle and we should thank God every day for his safe return.
Tomorrow we will ride the rails to Paris, where we will finally get to take our honeymoon! Your father jokes that it was twenty-five years in the making, but I don’t mind. We are so blessed to have each other and both of you, my beautiful, beautiful girls!
We will be home near the middle of June. Take care of one another and give Grandma and Grandpa our love. Shall we have a magnificent party when we arrive home? Let’s do!
All of my love,
Mother
~ * ~
“I see. The wooden nickel reminds you of Poppy, right?” Eric asked, as he ran his tiny finger over the buffalo.
“That’s right, honey,” Louise answered as she sewed another stitch into a pair of gardening pants.
“But you said after Poppy died, you lost it?”
“I sure did. I was just heartbroken.”
“I bet you were so sad, since it helps you remember Poppy and all.”
“Oh, I could never forget your Poppy, but it was something that had meant so much to me over the years.”
“Well, how did you lose it?”
“Poppy had been gone for about a year and a terrible storm came,” Louise explained as she rethreaded her needle.
“What kind of a storm?” Eric asked, wide eyed.
“A terrible tornado.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No, thank goodness. I was able to run to the storm shelter in time.”
“Wow! A real tornado?”
“Yes and it was a doozy, I say.”
“Did it pull any trees out of the ground?”
“Yes, siree and more than that. It took our whole house away.”
Eric sat up tall on his knees as he knelt by Louise’s feet. “The whole house?”
Louise nodded, remembering that terrible day. “Oh, it was awful, Eric. Everything was gone. Everything.”
“Wow.”
“I couldn’t believe it. Within minutes, it was just gone. Just like that.”
Eric mocked his grandmother, shaking his head as she shook hers. “I bet you were almost too sad to cry. I’ve been that sad before, like I can’t feel nothing at all. Is that how you felt, Grandma?”
“Almost exactly. I was stunned. There was nothing left. Just nothing at all, except the concrete where the house once stood.”
“Whoa! What did you do?”
“I went to live with your parents until my house was rebuilt.”
“I don’t remember that. How come? It would have been fun for you to live with us! How long did you stay?”
“Oh, about six months and you don’t remember it, because you weren’t even born yet, silly.”
“Oh, darn it. How long is that exactly?” Eric asked, crinkling up his nose.
“About half a year.”
“Oh. That’s kind of a long time. So, how did the wooden nickel come back to you?”
A smile crossed Louise’s face as she told her grandson how the wooden nickel found its way back home.
~ * ~
February 14, 1988
My Dearest Cliff,
I thought of writing in my diary today, but decided to write you a letter instead. Oh how I wish heaven had a postal address, but I’m hoping you can read this. A part of me believes that you can. It’s been three years since your passing and it hasn’t gotten any easier. I know it sounds silly, but I just wish I could talk to you, one last time and see your face. We never truly got to say goodbye and I suspect that is what bothers me the most.
Next week would have been our fiftieth wedding anniversary. I shall celebrate the day by looking at old photographs of you and of us and reading all your letters. I only wish I had the wooden nickel to hold in my hand. It would make it far easier to recall that blissful day when we met in 1933 in the bread line. My, you were smart looking! You were the finest boy I’d ever seen and I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you! Oh, I miss you my darling and I can’t even listen to the music box you sent me from Germany. It too was lost in the tornado.
Hank and Lily have invited me to their ranch to stay next month. Lily knows what a hard time I’ve had and perhaps visiting with them will take my mind off of you for the time being, though my heart never leaves you darling. It will help to be around family for a while and the grandkids will all be staying over spring break.
I love and miss you, my darling husband.
Love,
Louise
P.S. I shall put this letter under your pillow tonight in hopes that you read it! I love you.
~ * ~
Louise began stripping the sheets off the bed. Sunday was laundry day and she usually washed the sheets first so she could hang them to dry out back. Cliff always loved the smell of sunshine on his sheets and she continued to launder them in that fashion long after his death. She tossed the sheets in the laundry basket and then stopped suddenly, staring blinding at the bare mattress.
Like a mad woman, she pulled the dirty sheets back out of the basket and shook them open. The pillow cases lay on the fl
oor and she peered into each one, but there was nothing there. She scanned the room and breathed deeply. A strong scent of roses suddenly filled the air and she closed her eyes. He was here, in the room with her. She knew it. She could practically feel his arms around her.
Why hadn’t she thought of it before? He had taken her letter. She was sure of it as gusts of rose wind played with her hair. A slow tickle danced within her. Tossing her head back, she twirled about the bedroom with new giddiness. She felt twenty-five again. Something or someone was leading her around the room as the radio clicked on. Louise’s eyes snapped open as the big band music from the forties blared from the ancient radio that she and Cliff had danced to so many years ago. Softly, her arms rose. First one arm, then the other and then she felt a crushing sensation in her chest, almost as if the wind had been knocked from her. Was that a palm on her back? And then she began to move, swaying slowly at first, then stepping lightly to one side.
She watched her reflection and knew it was crazy. Was she dancing with a ghost? Something was guiding her, leading her as her hair blew softly. The rose scent grew stronger and stronger. Was she dreaming or had she died? She sighed, exhaling slowly, letting the music take her back to half a century before. Black and white photos in her mind slowly bled into bright hues as she stood again in the bread line. My, it was a dusty day and when she turned to face the boy behind her, she practically fell over. He had the most amazing smile she’d ever seen. His teeth practically sparkled and his copper eyes blazed in the sun.
“Who are you?” Louise asked, staring at the dirty boy with the striking grin.
“Don’t be silly, Louise. It’s me, Cliff, your husband.”
Louise stared at the filthy boy. Something didn’t seem right. Was she still dreaming? Did she really know this boy? Husband? Eleven year olds don’t get married.
“Louise, you aren’t really eleven. You’re nearly seventy and we’re dancing together in our bedroom at home.”
Did he just read her mind? How did he know she was eleven? How did he know what she was thinking? Louise looked at Ida and Ida shrugged her shoulders before pulling on Louise’s arm to whisper something in her ear. “Stay away from him, Louise. He’s a crazy boy.”
Louise nodded and turned back around, giving him a nice view of her backside in answer. Cliff tapped on her back with one finger again as Hank howled with laughter. Louise finally turned around; feeling as if she had been in this bread line before and with this dirty boy, too.
“Open your eyes, Louise,” Cliff said.
“My eyes are open, you silly boy,” Louise replied, turning back around.
“No, they aren’t. You just think they’re open,” the boy explained and for a second Louise didn’t think he sounded like a boy at all.
The voice coming from his mouth sounded much older. Why, for heaven’s sake, he sounded as old as her father. Louise snapped her eyes shut and reopened them slowly. Everything seemed so white and clean and what was that whirring noise? She looked up and saw the ceiling fan above her head. Why was she was still dancing? A large hand splayed across the middle of her back guiding her around the room as the sweet scent of fresh cut roses flowered the room with old memories.
All at once, the radio cut off and the big band music stopped. Louise felt as if she was caught in a vacuum and the very life was being sucked from her. She nearly toppled over as the hand left her back, leaving her to dance alone. Stunned and wondering what had just happened, Louise spun around. It was as if she awoke from a dream, only she wasn’t in bed and it was far too real.
Breathing deeply, she walked, sniffing the air. She knew she’d smelled roses. It couldn’t have been a dream. The roses had been too potent, but the scent was gone. Louise sighed and sat on the edge of the naked bed. Hanging her head, she buried her face in her hands. Louise shot up like a rocket and smelled her hands again. Cliff! She could smell him, she was sure of it! She planted her nose over her palms and inhaled again, smiling knowingly. Ah, that familiar scent of leather, aftershave and pipe tobacco mingled with the unmistakable scent that only Louise knew. She glanced down at the laundry strewn about the floor and remembered now that she had been stripping the sheets to launder.
Yes, and his letter was gone.
He read it and then he came back to her. Cliff had just danced with her and even taken her back in time for a moment. She wanted to go back again and relive everything with him. She crossed the room and flicked on the radio, but the forties music had been replaced with her favorite country station. She went to the closet and grabbed one of his shirts off a hanger and held it to her heart.
“Come back to me, Cliff!” Louise cried.
She closed her eyes and waited.
Nothing.
She began dancing with the shirt, holding the sleeve out and folding one sleeve over her shoulder.
Nothing.
He was gone. Louise sighed and sat down on the bed. But he was here, if only for a moment. He had danced with her and his letter was missing. She wanted to call her daughters, but thought better of it. Surely, they’d have her committed to the nut house. She’d better keep this to herself.
“Cliff, if you can hear me, I love you. I love you, darling and you can visit whenever you like. I promise not to be afraid.”
Louise thought she smelled the faintest hint of a rose and the radio crackled, but that was all. She stood, picking up the sheets and shutting the door behind her. As she loaded the washer, she found herself humming an old tune, one that hadn’t crossed her mind in nearly fifty years. A song that had been recorded near the end of the war. One that always reminded her of Cliff, because it had been playing in the cab en route to the hospital in Berlin.
How odd.
~ * ~
Louise was in the garden out back when she heard the kitchen phone ringing. She snipped another ivory colored rose and ran inside, slipping her gardening gloves off as she rushed up the back steps.
“Hello?” Louise said, grabbing the receiver.
“Mom? You sound out of breath,” Annalisa said, sounding as if she were in a train station or something equally as noisy.
“I was out back, cutting some roses,” Louise explained. “Where are you? My, it’s noisy.”
“I’m at the printing press. Have you looked at the front page today, Mom?”
“No, it’s still on the lawn? Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, I just sort of have a surprise for you, that’s all,” Annalisa hollered from the other end, amidst the clattering of the printing press.
“Well, stay on the line. I’ll go fetch it.”
“Okay,” Annalisa replied with a shaking voice. She hoped it wouldn’t upset her mother, but she couldn’t think of a more fitting tribute on her parent’s fiftieth anniversary.
Louise laid the phone down on the counter and ran outside into the brilliant sunshine. The paper was near the edge of the porch and as she picked it up. Her eyes caught the corner of a photo on the front page, but it was curled. Louise took the rubber band off and unfurled the paper. She cried out. There in magnificent color was a photo of her and Cliff on their wedding day, underneath a caption that read, “One Wooden Nickel For Her Love”. There were other photos surrounding the article, of Louise holding Annalisa as a baby and then the four of them in a family snap shot. There was a photo of Louise leaning over Cliff’s bed in Berlin and my, they looked so young back then. Oh, no. She had nearly forgotten! Annalisa was still on the phone. She ran inside, slamming the screen door behind her.
She picked the receiver up with shaking hands, “Oh, darling, its lovely. Thank you so much. Your father would have been so proud.”
“Do you really like it, Mom?” Annalisa asked as tears streamed down her face.
“Don’t cry, sugar and yes, I absolutely love it. I can’t wait to read the story.”
“Happy Anniversary, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart. Has Dianna seen it yet?”
“Yes, I spoke to he
r early this morning. She cried more than I did.”
Louise laughed. “I didn’t know that was possible, dear.”
“I didn’t either.”
“Is she teaching today?” Louise asked.
Dianna had taken after her mother, becoming a teacher, but no one understood how she had come to love rocks so much.
“Yes, she’s on a rock dig today with her students at the old creek.”
“The old creek?”
“Yeah, she said they’re gonna take samples and log every type of rock in the creek. Did you know that there’s a lot of limestone in that creek?”
“I had no idea,” Louise answered, still puzzled as to how her youngest could have such a passion for such an odd subject.
“Dianna said that it had come as a complete surprise to her, so she’s taken her class to investigate further.”
“Sounds interesting,” Louise lied.
Annalisa let out a roar. “You’re a bad liar, mother. Where did she get such a strange hobby?”
“I don’t know dear, but she seems to love it and it’s not a hobby. It’s her livelihood. Don’t make fun of your sister,” Louise reprimanded, all the while laughing herself.