“Dat boy is sick. He has a cold in his nose,” said Elisabeth, pointing to William.
“No, Elisabeth, I told you he is deaf. When he talks, he sounds a little different. You’ll get used to it.”
“I can not understand him. He talks like his nose is full of yunk. It’s da vorst sound.”
“I can’t understand you, either. You make too many v’s,” William shot back.
Elisabeth snapped her head to look at him. Then a sly smile toasted her face, as if she just decided she might have underestimated William.
“Dad, what does yunk mean?” asked William.
“I think she meant junk.”
“So she doesn’t make j’s either?” William asked me curiously. “Or w’s?”
Elisabeth scowled darkly at him. “I speak da English yust fine,” she announced, which only got Robert and me exchanging a grin. “Vhat?” Elisabeth sputtered for words, temper flaring.
William started to tell her about Dog, and Elisabeth’s eyes grew wide. “I do not like dogs.”
“Why not?” asked William.
She wouldn’t answer.
“I bet you’ll like my dog. He’s big and—”
“He is big?” She looked terrified.
“Yep. He’s big and likes to jump up on you to say hello.”
She crossed her arms tightly and lowered her chin to her chest, obviously troubled.
“Elisabeth, is something wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head but wouldn’t look at me, withdrawing.
I remembered a story Private Wheeler had told me. He had heard it from some friends of his in the military who had liberated Auschwitz, another labor camp. In the evening, the commander would ask for a prisoner to be set free in the yard, and he would set his German Shepherd dogs on him, ripping the prisoner from limb to limb. Just for the sport.
I wondered if she had witnessed similar atrocities. Gazing now at the tension in her face, I knew that she had.
“We won’t let Dog scare you, Elisabeth,” I assured her. “We’ll keep him away from you until you’re ready to make friends with him.” But a part of me felt concerned that she may never be ready. I knew how hard it was to get over some of the atrocities I had witnessed during the war. I still suffered from occasional nightmares, though less and less.
We pulled into the driveway to see a black nose pushed against the large parlor window. Dog was waiting for us. Hurriedly, I tied up Dog on the line out back, trying to avoid the disappointment in Dog’s woeful face. “We all have to make sacrifices, Dog,” I whispered in his ear as I scratched his big neck.
Aunt Martha was in the kitchen making fried chicken and roasted potatoes for a homecoming dinner. I had to look twice at her. Ever since President Roosevelt had died, she had only worn black. Today, though, she had returned to her uniform of a long print dress and sensible brown shoes. Remarkably, she barely registered shock on her face when she saw Elisabeth, though she wasn’t very warm, either. Nor to me, but I was accustomed to that. A good sign, I thought.
Aunt Martha appraised me with critical eyes. “Louisa, I believe you’ve gained some weight on that trip,” she decided. She was right. Just this morning, I hadn’t been able to button the top of my skirt. My skirt felt tight. Very, very tight.
“She has not fat,” announced Elisabeth in a loud voice. “She has baby.” I whipped my head around to look at her, astonished. I had never told her I was pregnant. I hadn’t told anyone! Aunt Martha’s sparse eyebrows flickered up. Slowly, I turned to Robert.
“What? Dad, what? What did she say?” asked William, pulling on Robert’s shirt sleeve, trying to understand what had just transpired.
Cupping her hands around her mouth, like a football coach yelling plays to his team from the sidelines, Elisabeth shouted, “I says she has da baby in her!” She pointed to my tummy.
“Louisa?” asked Robert, with a shy look of delight on his face. “Could this be true?”
Immediately, my face turned red. He came over to me and gave me a bone crushing hug, right in front of everyone, right in the kitchen, a rare display of public affection. Just then, William understood what Elisabeth had announced. He shouted so loudly that he shook the foundations of buildings as far away as Phoenix. Dog started to bark and howl in excitement from his tie-down spot after hearing William’s yelps.
“Dat Dog is too big,” pronounced Elisabeth, peering out the kitchen window to make sure Dog was tied up. “Da dogs in da camp vere big like dat. Dey vould eat me if dey could.”
“Dog doesn’t have a mean bone in his body,” reassured Robert. “He’ll never hurt you.” But Elisabeth remained unconvinced.
Later that evening, after dinner, as she was brushing her teeth, I asked her how she knew that I was pregnant.
She spit out the toothpaste in the sink with a flourish. “Dat nurse on dat ship told me. And I know tings. I vatch. I see you sick.” She made a vomiting sound, clutching her stomach with dramatic flair. “On da ship, I see your stomach get bigger and bigger vhen you change da clothes.” She put her hands out in front of her as if I was enormous.
“I would have liked to have told Robert that news myself.”
“So vhat? Now he knows.”
“But it was my news to tell him.”
“So?”
I sighed.
“Everyting vorks out.”
I found Robert outside on the porch, watching the sky change from lavender to inky black. The stars seemed especially bright tonight. When he saw me, he held out his hand. I smiled and squeezed it.
“So how did it feel to be back in Germany?” he asked.
I leaned against the railing to face him. “Conflicting. I had been so excited to go—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “I know you couldn’t wait to go.”
It was true. I thought I had masked my feelings a little better, but I’ve never been one to hide my emotions. It was one of my worst faults. “But it is a broken land. I can’t even begin to describe some of the sights.”
“I’d like to hear about them.”
“I will. I can’t talk about them right now. Soon, though.”
“Just tell me one thing.” He gave me a straight-in-the-eyes look. “How did you feel about coming back?”
I knew how important this answer was to him. “I felt as if I was finally, really ready to let go of Germany and come home. To my home. To you and William.”
He reached out to draw me close.
“Oh, and Aunt Martha,” I added, over his shoulder.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
I pulled back and looked at him curiously.
“I think there’s more than just a magazine article about Dietrich. I think it could be a book.”
I smiled. “Tell me more.”
“I know it could be a book.”
“I found out more about Dietrich’s imprisonment while I was in Berlin. It was providential, actually. I didn’t have much extra time, but I bumped into one mutual acquaintance with information about his arrest and…execution.” Dietrich’s death, by hanging, was still so hard for my mind to grasp.
“I want to hear everything. When you’re up to it, that is.” He leaned against the porch railing, hands in pockets, and gave me a shy sideways glance. “I’ve already had some interest by a publisher. I have a friend who has a friend…that sort of thing. They want to see the first draft. Soon.”
I looked at him in astonishment. “Robert, I am so proud of you.” I was, too. He kept surprising me.
When I had first arrived in Copper Springs, I would never have expected Robert to be a man who was willing to take such a risk. To even tackle a difficult subject. Certainly not from the pulpit. Yet I’d seen him grow as a minister beyond my expectations. Suddenly I realized this was the man whom Dietrich Bonhoeffer saw, deep inside, when they were at seminary together years ago. Dietrich knew that Robert could be this man. As I looked at Robert’s profile in the twilight, my heart felt full. Lor
d, tonight my cup overfloweth, I prayed silently and happily.
He turned to face me. “So, you wouldn’t mind helping me edit?”
“Of course not!”
“Typing, too.”
Oh no. My hands still ached from the press corps translations. “I can start tonight,” I offered bravely.
“Not tonight,” he said, putting his arms around my waist. “Besides, first thing to work on is just a proposal.” Modestly, he gave a quick glance around the neighborhood to make sure no one was watching us. Then he leaned toward me to kiss me tenderly.
Chapter Six
The next day was Sunday. Sunday was a day apart, a day that felt different. Slower. After church, we sat down to a light lunch. My happiness from the night before carried over as I gazed around the noisy table.
“Dad planted a bodacious smooch on Mom on the front porch last night,” announced William, spreading peanut butter lavishly on a piece of bread.
Robert nearly choked on his coffee. “William, where did you learn that expression?”
“What expression?” he asked, carefully folding his bread in half.
“You know very well what expression I mean, young man,” Robert said sternly, a warning look on his face.
“Ernest said he is going to plant a bodacious smooch on Miss Penelope someday.”
“Didn’t I tell you, Robert? That boy spent too much time at the telegraph office this summer,” scolded Aunt Martha.
Robert ignored her. “William, stop spying on people.”
“But…,” he defended, “it was for my spy log!”
Robert scowled at me as if to say, “See what you started?”
I looked down at my plate. Elisabeth mumbled to William to pass the bread but he didn’t realize that she was talking to him.
“Elisabeth, you need to look directly at William when you speak so that he can read your lips. Use expression,” I pointed out.
She looked at me, puzzled.
“Mit der Gesichtsausdruck.” With facial expression.
“Oh. Okay,” she said earnestly. Then she looked straight at William, and shouted, “Pass dat d--- bread!”
We froze. Aunt Martha gasped, as Robert and I just stared at Elisabeth, stunned.
“What, Dad? What did she say?” asked William, tugging on Robert’s sleeve, aware that something interesting had just transpired.
Quietly, Robert picked up the bread and passed it to her. “I don’t think that’s what Louisa meant by adding expression, Elisabeth.”
To my astonishment, a look of mirth flitted through his eyes. Then he tucked his chin down against his chest, trying to cover a broad grin. He was trying so hard not to laugh that he had tears streaming down his face.
I could count on one hand the number of times I had ever seen Robert laugh with abandon. Once he started laughing, he couldn’t stop himself. Finally, he broke into gales of laughter.
Robert’s amusement with Elisabeth’s faux pas only fueled Aunt Martha’s aggravation. She stood up, glared at him, and marched upstairs. I’d never seen her mad at Robert! Often with me, but never at her beloved nephew. Robert could do no wrong in her eyes. As soon as she was out of hearing range, I started giggling. It felt so good to laugh after the seriousness of the last few weeks. We needed to laugh more often.
Later that evening, I was getting ready for bed and heard mumbled voices down in the kitchen. Mildly ashamed of myself, I unscrewed my radiator cap and listened in. “That child’s language must not be tolerated, Robert! To think that a word like that was uttered at your father’s table.”
“Now, now, Aunt Martha. She’ll learn.”
“You’ve got to nip it in the bud,” countered Aunt Martha. “Soon enough William will be picking those words up, too.”
“Aunt Martha, it’s not as if we haven’t heard cuss words before. I think most of my congregation leaves half of their vocabulary outside the sanctuary before entering on Sunday.”
“Don’t joke about this, Robert. I wouldn’t expect Louisa to do anything…”
Pardon me? What did she mean by that remark?
“…but I would certainly expect you, a minister, to hold to higher standards and not laugh at the child. It only encouraged her!”
I screwed the top back on the radiator pipe, not interested in hearing any more of Aunt Martha’s parenting advice.
* * * *
On Monday morning, I took Elisabeth to Dr. Singleton for a check-up. Peering at the advanced-in-years doctor, Elisabeth asked in an overloud voice, “Yust how old are you?”
Frankly, I had often wondered the same thing because he seemed to be heading into his second or third century. He had more lines on his face than a street map of Tucson. Still, Elisabeth’s bluntness was uncalled for. Just as I started to correct her, Dr. Singleton said, “Old enough, young lady.” He looked her up and down, frowning. “Well, well. This is going to take some work.”
Afterwards, Elisabeth was sent out to the waiting room while the doctor asked to speak with me in his office. “Mrs. Gordon, I’ve never seen anything like this. She’s severely malnourished. Her growth has been stunted. She needs calcium, especially. Her bones, her teeth…well, I just don’t know.”
“But she’ll be all right, won’t she?”
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing you got her out when you did. I’m going to have my nurse draw up a chart that will instruct Martha about how many calories she needs each day. “
“She eats like a horse,” I said, quoting Aunt Martha’s observation of Elisabeth at last night’s dinner.
“Good. Keep her eating. Fatten her up. Lots of bread, cakes and cookies. High calorie food. I’d like to check her again in a month. And she’ll need to see a dentist. Soon. Her teeth are in bad condition.” He snorted. “The Reverend will be making Dr. Klein a rich dentist!”
I failed to see the humor in that remark.
“So, I want to see her again in a month.”
I nodded slowly and started to get up to leave.
The doctor surprised me by saying, “Whoa there, little lady. Not so fast. I understand that you need to have a check-up.”
I looked at him curiously.
“Your husband called me this morning.”
Ah. I was discovering a new side to Robert. In fact, when I came out of the doctor’s examination room, he was waiting, hat in hand, in the doctor’s office.
Robert looked worried. “Is everything all right? Is Louisa all right? I mean, with the sea journey…and…”
“Relax, Reverend. Your wife is fine. Your baby is fine.”
Robert’s face relaxed into a delighted grin. He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Did you hear that, Louisa? Everything is fine.” He was beaming. “So I guess the baby is due around March—”
“January,” the doctor interrupted.
“Excuse me?” Robert leaned forward in his chair. “When did you say this baby was due?”
“Sometime in late January, I would say.”
Robert turned and looked at me curiously. Then he shifted back to the doctor. “Just how far along is Louisa?”
“Four to five months.”
Uh oh. I could see the wheels in Robert’s mind start to spin.
On the way home, Robert faced the road ahead, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. “Louisa, did you know that you were…with child…before you left for Germany?”
“I didn’t know for sure,” I supplied slowly, hoping to ward off follow-up questions. A feeling of dread intensified.
“But you suspected.”
Oh dear. “I might have wondered. Once or twice.” Or thrice.
Then his face fell dark and set. As he pulled into the driveway, Elisabeth jumped out of the car before Robert cut the engine. As I put one hand on the door handle, Robert turned and said, “Wait a minute, Louisa. Were you ever planning to tell me?”
“Yes. Of course. Soon.”
He pierced me with his angry eyes. “This is my baby, too, Louisa. It’s one
thing to risk your own life by returning to Germany—something I was reluctant to let you do—but you also risked my child’s life. You had no right to make a decision like that without me. To not let me know.”
“I wasn’t trying to deceive you, Robert. Please don’t doubt that.”
But he looked at me, and I knew he did. A dark cloud settled between us.
* * * *
Robert had often been irritated with me, quite often, actually, but never angry with me. In fact, I don’t think I had ever seen him truly angry. A man with a great deal of self-control, he usually acted as the peacemaker in any conflict. But finding out I knew I was pregnant before I left for Germany sparked an icy response in him. It was like living with a glacier.
He hardly spoke to me. He hardly looked at me. He slept on the davenport in the parlor. Even Aunt Martha, not known for her sensitive streak, noticed his frosty treatment of me. Nothing I could do seemed to thaw him out. We went on for four more days in a similar manner. It should have been a happy time for us, a wonderful homecoming as it had begun, but instead, we steered clear of each other.
One afternoon, I spilled out the telegrams on my bed that he had sent to me on the trip to Germany. I used to read and re-read his telegrams so often during those weeks. I remembered the joy when a new telegram would arrive. Those telegrams helped me to long for my home and my husband. Those telegrams spurred me home.
Hmmm. I picked up a telegram and turned it over. What if I wrote a letter to him even now? I took a piece of paper and started.
DEAR ROBERT,
I KNOW YOU ARE UPSET WITH ME, BUT I FEEL WE SHOULD TRY AND DISCUSS THIS RATHER THAN IGNORE THE GREAT GULF BETWEEN US. WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO TALK? OR MAYBE TO WRITE TO ME?
LOVE, LOUISA.
I put it on his desk when I knew he was out of the church office.
Later that afternoon, I prepared for a piano lesson with Arthur Hobbs. As Aunt Martha saw me lift the piano lid, she announced, “That Arthur is a hopeless case, I hope you know.”
“No one is a hopeless case, Aunt Martha,” I said with great sincerity. Although privately, I had my doubts about Arthur. He was a music teacher’s greatest challenge. He had absolutely no talent whatsoever, nor any interest in music, but his ambitious mother was convinced he was the world’s next Mozart.
The Copper Series Page 30