by Maria Kiely
“May I offer you and your children some tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” my mother says. “We’d all love some tea.”
The officer nods to a young soldier standing at the door, and he hurries to get it.
The German officer is very kind to us and not at all like the Nazi soldiers from during the war. He tells us that we can spend the night in a nearby hotel and then tomorrow they’ll take us to the refugee camp in Regensburg.
Then the officer turns to my mother. “I would like to speak with you in my office, madam. I would like to know more about your journey. It is very lucky that you decided to take that road and that the American soldiers found you.”
The officer takes Mama and the American soldiers into his office, leaving Honza, Ruzena, and I alone with our tea. I sit in silence for a while, but then I can’t hold back.
“I wonder why the guide told us to go the wrong way. Do you think he made a mistake? Or do you think we made the mistake by taking the road instead?”
“He may have sent us the wrong way on purpose,” Ruzena says. “He seemed nervous when he left us.”
“I hope our guide was an honest man,” Honza says, “and wasn’t trying to send us into a trap. But either way, I’m sure glad the Americans found us.”
I like that Honza wants to keep the peace and make the best out of our situation. I like to think the best of people, too, but these days it is not so easy.
* * *
Finally, Mama’s done talking to the officers. It’s getting dark out, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. Private Mayfield goes to get the jeep so he can drive us to the hotel in a nearby town called Zwiesel.
My body feels like it is made of lead, and it takes all my strength to walk to the jeep. Honza can see how exhausted I am, so he reaches over to carry my bag, and for the first time, I let him.
When we arrive, Private Mayfield parks the jeep, but instead of getting out, he turns and addresses Mama. “I hope it’s not too impolite to ask this, ma’am, but do you have any money? The hotel is connected to our post, so it’s free of charge tonight, but you will need some money when you get to Regensburg.”
Mama nods. “I have plenty of German marks,” she says. Then she does something very unexpected. She takes off her suit jacket and removes the shoulder pads. From each shoulder pad, she produces a thick stack of bills and shows them to Private Mayfield.
Private Mayfield shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that won’t do you any good. The German mark was devalued this morning. That money isn’t worth anything now. Do you have any other currency?”
“I have a few American dollars,” Mama replies, “but I gave all my Czech crowns to our guide. I don’t think Czech money would have helped us anyway.”
“Don’t worry. I can help you,” says Private Mayfield, taking out his wallet. He pulls out a few soft green bills and hands them to Mama. “I’d like you to have this to help take care of your girls.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I cannot possibly accept it,” Mama replies, holding the money out to him.
“Please take it. I want you to have it.”
Mama nods and closes her hand over the money. “Thank you, Private Mayfield. We are so grateful for your help. I promise I will pay you back. Please tell me where I can send the money.”
Private Mayfield looks at my mother for a long time. I think he is wondering if he should refuse to let her pay him back. She stares at him in the dark. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small notebook and pencil. He scribbles something on one of the pages, tears it out, and hands it to Mama. She takes it and nods in thanks.
Private Mayfield ushers us out of the jeep and helps Honza carry our bags into the lobby. He shakes Mama’s hand and bids her farewell, and then he turns to me, Ruzena, and Honza, places his hand to his forehead in a sharp salute, and says, “It was a real pleasure to have met y’all. I wish you a safe journey.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a new pack of gum and hands it to me. I thank him, and before he leaves, he tells me, “Thanks for telling me about your farm. It reminded me of home.”
Chapter 23
WHICH WAY IS HOME?
THE HOTEL IS quiet and dark when we enter it except for one low lamp burning in the lobby. A kind woman in a dressing gown leads us up a flight of stairs and shows us to two rooms next to each other. Mama thanks her, and Honza puts our bags down in the bigger room and bids us good night.
I don’t have the energy to change into my nightgown, but Mama helps me, gently pulling off my uniform and slipping my soft white nightgown over my head. There is only one large bed in our room, but I don’t mind. I want to be close to Mama—and Ruzena seems to feel the same way. The three of us snuggle close together under the comforter and fall fast asleep.
* * *
When I wake up, a warm ray of sunshine is streaming in through a pair of glass doors that are open onto a small balcony filled with beautiful flower boxes. Mama is standing over the sink in the room, washing our underclothes. She wrings the water out and hangs them to dry beside the open window.
I roll over under the covers. I no longer feel sleepy, but my body still feels very tired. After a few minutes, I am drawn out of bed by the warm breeze blowing in through the door, and I long to feel the sun on my face. Ruzena is already on the balcony, leaning against the railing and looking out over the beautiful forest of pine trees surrounding the hotel. I stand next to her for a moment, enjoying the stillness and warmth.
“Which way is home?” I ask.
With a sharp intake of breath, Ruzena pushes away from the railing and points just north of the rising sun. “That way,” she says softly, “and we’re never going back there again.”
I don’t know if it would have been better if she had spoken sternly or even yelled at me, but the softness in her tone as she says the words breaks something inside of me. Tears come harder and faster than they ever have before. I run back into the hotel room and collapse on the bed next to Mama. She pulls me onto her lap and lets me cry, rocking me gently and kissing my hair.
Ruzena comes and sits next to us on the bed. I know none of this is her fault, but I can’t bring myself to look at her even when she takes my hand. She hasn’t held my hand since I was very little.
Eventually, my sobs subside, and Mama puts her own hand over Ruzena’s hand that is still holding mine and says, “I know this has been a difficult journey, but you girls have both been so brave. I’m very proud of you, and I know Papa will be too. Today I am going to send him a telegram telling him that we’ll be at the refugee camp in Regensburg. He will come get us in a few days, and then we will all be together again and everything will be all right. You just have to be brave for a little while longer, for Papa.”
I look at Mama and realize how hard this is for her too. She’s been brave for us for so long, and now I must also be brave for her. But I still have so many questions.
“But what about Babicka and Pavel and Maruska? Will they be okay? Will we ever see them again?”
“I hope so, my darling.”
“Will they escape and come to us, or will we go home someday?”
“I don’t know the answer to that now, but I have to believe they’ll be all right and we’ll see them again.”
I must believe that, too, or I won’t be able to go on. I wipe my eyes with the handkerchief that Ruzena hands me.
Chapter 24
SENDING A TELEGRAM
HONZA MEETS US in the hotel lobby on our way out.
“May I join you on your walk into town?” he asks.
“Of course!” I say, skipping along beside him. It’s hard to believe that I have only known him since yesterday—already Honza seems like a big brother to me, and I feel safer when he’s with us. Ruzena is trying not to show it, but I know she’s pleased he’s coming with us.
Zwi
esel looks like a picture from one of my storybooks. Small white houses with brown and red roofs line the streets, and a red stone church with a tall steeple stands in the center of town. Green mountains rise up just beyond the buildings. As we walk to the center of town, we see that a celebration is underway. “Look at all the flowers and ribbons on the buildings!” I exclaim. “I know the pink ones are roses, but what are the yellow ones called?”
“They’re called arnica. You can press them and use the juices to relieve sores and bruises,” Honza replies.
“You really are a proper Boy Scout,” Ruzena teases, and Honza looks pleased.
“Mmmm, it all smells delicious.” I inhale deeply as we pass a stall selling freshly baked sweet buns, braided loaves of bread, and sizzling sausages.
“They must be celebrating a feast day in honor of the Virgin Mary,” says Mama, pointing to a large banner featuring a picture of Mary holding baby Jesus. When we reach the town square, a brass band is playing and a large crowd has gathered around, clapping, singing, and enjoying themselves.
“There’s the post office,” I say, pointing to the other side of the square. Ruzena isn’t paying attention. She’s watching the band and swaying to the music.
“Would you like to go closer and listen to the band with me?” Honza asks her.
“Oh yes!” she replies.
“You may go, but stay together and don’t leave the square. We’ll come find you after we send the telegram,” says Mama.
I am about to say that I want to go with them, too, but then I see the look in my sister’s eye and keep silent. I watch Honza and Ruzena walk in the direction of the music. They look so happy together—and I feel a strange mixture of joy and sadness I don’t quite understand. Then I turn and hurry along with Mama.
When we reach the post office, it is empty except for two clerks behind the counter. They are talking and laughing together and give us a friendly greeting when we approach them.
“What can I help you with today, madam?” one of the clerks asks.
Mama’s German is very good and she answers him easily, explaining that she needs to send a telegram to Innsbruck.
“What do you think?” he says, turning to his colleague.
“Sure! I mean, you never know with telegrams these days, but it should be fine! We’re happy to send it,” the other man replies, handing her a form to fill out and a pen.
“Are you planning to go enjoy the celebration?” the first clerk asks me while Mama writes.
Even though I took German in school and I can understand most everything that’s being said, my spoken German is not very good. But I smile at him and say, “Yes. It looks fun.”
“We’re going to join the party just as soon as we close up here,” he tells me, nodding over at the other clerk. “You made it just in time. We’re closing in a few minutes.”
When Mama is finished, she pays the clerk with some American money. As we leave, he tells her, “Thank you, madam. I’ll send the telegram now. I hope you and your daughter enjoy the feast.”
Mama thanks him, and we head back out into the bright sunshine. It feels like our luck is changing for the better now—from Privates Mayfield and Babbit to the men at the post office, we’ve met such nice and helpful people. Mama takes my hand and swings it gently as we walk. We both feel lighter and happier now that Papa will know where we are.
When we reach the town square, a new band is playing and many couples are swooping around to a jaunty waltz. I scan the crowd for Ruzena and Honza and spot them almost immediately. They move perfectly in time with the music, spinning lightly past other couples in their path. When the song ends, Mama and I wave to them, and they walk toward us hand in hand with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes.
“Did you send the telegram?” Ruzena asks Mama.
“Yes. All done,” Mama replies.
Ruzena breathes a sigh of relief and Honza smiles.
“I’m so glad. Can we stay and dance a little more?” she asks.
“Yes, can we? Please!” I beg.
“All right, for a little while,” Mama tells us, “but then we must go back to the hotel. The car taking us to Regensburg will be here soon.”
Honza bows to me and offers me his hand. “May I have this dance, miss?”
I smile and grab his hand, delighted that he asked me, and we are off in a wild polka—spinning so rapidly that the world blurs around us. We all take turns dancing with each other, and after almost an hour, we are out of breath and laughing.
It feels wonderful to have fun.
Mama looks up at the clock on the town hall. “All right, you two, it’s time to go,” she calls to Ruzena and Honza over the music. They leave the dance floor reluctantly and follow Mama and me back to the hotel.
When I look at them over my shoulder, I see that they are still holding hands.
Chapter 25
ARRIVING IN REGENSBURG
AS WE DRIVE into Regensburg, we cross a wide bridge, and Mama tells me the river is called the Danube.
“Like the waltz! The Blue Danube!” I hum a little of the tune.
“Exactly,” Mama says.
Regensburg is much bigger than Zwiesel and looks a little like Prague. The buildings are cream, yellow, and orange, and there is a church with a double spire just like in the Old Town Square in Prague. Seeing it makes me feel extra homesick. When we arrive at the refugee camp, I see that it’s actually a four-story yellow school building that has been taken over by the American soldiers for the summer. The classrooms are lined with cots so people can sleep, and the cafeteria is packed with tables and chairs. Hundreds of people are crammed together, smoking, talking, and playing cards.
Honza, Ruzena, and I find a spot on a small bench to squeeze onto while we wait for Mama, who’s gone to talk to the people in charge to find out what to do next.
“Honza! Honza, is it really you?” A young man in the same Boy Scout uniform as Honza appears from the crowd, beaming at us.
Honza leaps up from the bench to greet his friend.
“Jan! I can’t believe it! I thought I’d never see you again! Are you all here?” The two Boy Scouts shake hands vigorously and clap each other on the back.
“Yes! Scoutmaster Spivek and his wife and Jiri and Tomas. We all made it. We were so worried when you didn’t show up. We were praying you would find another way out, but I never thought it would be so soon! You have to come see everyone. They’ll be so happy you’re okay. We have a few cots in one of the classrooms. You can stay with us.” Jan is clearly so excited to see Honza that he has not noticed Ruzena or me.
“Yes, of course,” Honza replies. “I can’t wait to see them, but first, let me introduce you to Ruzena and Anna. I traveled here with them and their mother. Ruzena, Anna—may I introduce my good friend Jan?”
Jan turns to us and smiles. “I’m pleased to meet you both and am very grateful that my friend could travel with you.”
Jan is slightly shorter than Honza, with warm brown eyes and dark hair. Ruzena and I both smile and tell Jan that we’re happy to meet him too. Jan wants Honza to come with him right away, but Honza hesitates, looking down at me and Ruzena. Obviously Honza is not going to come with us when we find Papa, but we are connected now and it seems strange that he would leave us. I open my mouth to tell him not to go, but Ruzena stands up and speaks first.
“Go see your friends,” she says, laying her hand on his arm with a confident smile. “I’m sure they’re anxious to see that you’re okay. We’ll find you when Mama comes back and let you know what we’re going to do next.”
Honza smiles back at her. “Okay, but promise you’ll come find me?”
“I promise,” Ruzena replies. Her hand lingers on his arm for a moment longer, and when she pulls away, Honza and Jan disappear into the crowd.
Chapter 26
THE REFUGEE CAMP
AFTER A FEW minutes, Mama returns and tells us that we must speak with the commander in charge. We collect our bags and follow Mama out of the noisy cafeteria and up three flights of stairs.
Mama knocks on the door at the top of the stairs, and an American officer with short gray hair and round glasses opens it and ushers us in. It’s a cramped room that looks like it might be a teacher’s office during the school year, with two large desks pushed together in front of a window. A younger officer is sitting at a typewriter, tapping quickly on the keys.
The older officer invites us to sit down, and Mama introduces us. She explains how we just sent a telegram to Papa, who is in Innsbruck, and need a place to sleep for a night or two until Papa gets word and comes to get us.
The officer listens and shakes his head when Mama is through.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, ma’am, but I doubt your husband will get that telegram. You see, since the war, all the territory recovered from the Nazis has been split into four parts: one occupied by the Americans, one by the English, one by the Soviets, and one by the French. Communication between the areas is almost nonexistent. If your husband is in Innsbruck, he’s in a region of Austria that is controlled by the French. And as you know, the Americans are in charge in Zwiesel.”
My mother looks stunned, but she will not give up. “But the German man at the post office said it was fine to send a telegram to Innsbruck. He said he would put it right through.”
“Well, I’m sure he wanted to help, and he probably tried, but I haven’t heard of a single telegram going through between the French and American territories. I would doubt that your husband received the message.”