by Lorna Lee
§
Meri woke to the sound of Germans yelling. The moment Herr Freels awoke, she assumed he reached for his attaché next to his bed only to discover it missing. The hunt ensued for the missing case with its secret and valuable contents.
For the second time in as many hours, Meri looked at her clock: 5:03 a.m. Her unsuccessful attempts at getting back to sleep after her early morning antics left her exhausted and with frayed nerves. She wrapped her dressing gown around her and met the frantic group of Germans and Monsieur in the hallway. “What’s the matter? Can I help?” She wore the most confused look she could muster.
Only the Dorvals understood, so Madame responded. “Go down to the servants’ quarters and get everyone up here. Now!”
Meri curtsied and then she ran.
Meri and the staff appeared, ready for any and every instruction. The chaos Meri described to them, however, had subsided. Karla cried in the arms of her mother as they sat among several crumpled rugs in the little girl’s bedroom. From the noises in the various bedrooms, Meri supposed the Germans prepared their departure. Since only Karla’s bedroom door remained open, Meri peeked in and said, “The staff is here.”
Madame Freels looked up. “We have no need for you. My little girl, it seems, was busy last night and took something not belonging to her. All is well, though, right, Liebling? Just a silly girl’s prank.” She patted Karla’s back and turned away. Dismissed.
Before she turned to leave, Meri caught Karla’s how-dare-you glare at her.
Chapter 18: Victory
“Victory belongs to the most persevering.”
Napoleon Bonaparte
Paris was liberated on August 25, 1944, not quite two years after the night Karla brought her father’s attaché into Meri’s bedroom. Karla did not tell anyone about Meri’s involvement in her “silly girl’s prank”—at least not that Meri knew of. Was the incident a dream…or a nightmare? Non. Herr Freels carried plans for some kind of secret flying weapon and, with it, a great deal of money. Could either of the Dorvals knowingly be involved in a plot to help to bring down their own country and her allies? Money, even for her employers, seemed in short supply. I refuse to believe Michel would take German money. Madame, on the other hand, considers helping the Germans her patriotic duty. Making money in the process might put a smile on her sour face and crack it.
Meri wanted to quit on that December morning two years ago when she saw Karla stare right through her. That once sweet girl has developed an icy cold heart. With one word, she could have me killed. Meri stayed because she had no choice. She waited. Madame did not fire her or change her sour disposition toward her. An escort of German or French police never came to arrest her.
§
Little girls control my life, Meri thought as she attacked the wilted carrots with a cleaver. Philippe braised a suspicious looking small cut of meat for a stew of mostly vegetables. Traditional meat, nearly impossible to find even for the most privileged families in Paris, Meri wondered what the Dorvals and Freels would be eating tonight. It was March, 1944. The little bits of news Meri heard about the war were not good for anyone, especially the failing German army. If Meri needed confirmation, she saw defeat in Madame’s and Herr Freels’ faces. Although their severe expressions always frightened Meri, their current pinched and pensive appearance relieved her. If they are worried about bigger troubles than me, then I’m safe for now. Michel’s mood lifted, too. He hasn’t smiled so much since before the Freels moved in. Paris is in a shambles, and Michel is humming happy tunes. War is confusing on many levels.
“The Germans are weakening, Meri. The bloody war will be over soon and we will rebuild our country.” He smiled broadly and swung her around, something he only dared do in his fashion house office—the one without prying eyes and ears. She worried about discretion even more as the Nazi war machine crumbled. The Germans suffered failure upon failure in their battles, which increased their vindictiveness toward the enemy.
“I hope you’re right, Michel. Paris is no longer the beautiful city I remember. The people I pass when I go on errands…they’re all suffering so much. How do we recover?”
“We will recover. We are stronger and more resilient than the Germans give us credit for.”
Meri nodded.
“Speaking of errands and people, how is our Jeannine? It has been a long while since I inquired.”
Meri waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re busy repairing German uniforms. Please don’t apologize. You help pay for her tuition, so you do think of her every week…in a way.”
He laughed. “As long as the money comes—with or without people at their Sunday services—the nuns seem happy.”
“The nuns, Jeannine tells me, are quite…budget-conscious.” Meri tried to be diplomatic. She had long ago given up bringing special treats to her daughter. Even if I could find something from the kitchen I could give to Jeannine, the nuns would enjoy it, not Jeannine. Meri did not tell Michel. He had enough on his mind. “Jeannine is doing very well. She’s going to be eleven in July.”
Michel shook his head and smiled. “Eleven, already?”
“She still insists on becoming a nun when she grows up. A girl crazy for the movies wants to be a nun! After we see a movie, all she talks about is meeting a famous, beautiful actress someday.” Meri smiled and rolled her eyes.
“She seems like a normal girl, which is amazing, Meri. Jeannine is a normal child having grown up in very abnormal circumstances. She must be a very strong, special girl. Like you.” He looked directly into Meri’s gray eyes, and then suddenly diverted his gaze to the ceiling.
Meri blushed. They had many conversations and private moments over the years; this one seemed the most intimate. I haven’t been with a man in a sexual way since Amiel. Eleven years. Mon Dieu! This isn’t the man to start up with. There’s too much to risk. Too much uncertainty. His wife would kill me…maybe him, too. He might offer me a job in his fashion house after the war and it’s no good sleeping with the boss. Meri, keep your head and your heart in your pocket. Your boots are too full already! “If she’s going to be a nun, she must be strong.” Keep the conversation focused on anything but me.
“I suppose you are right.” Michel’s looked down at some papers on his desk.
Meri wondered if she offended him. Her life depended on being in his good graces. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us. I’m no one, a domestic servant, and you’ve been so kind and so generous.”
He looked at her with gentle, compassionate eyes.
Good job keeping the conversation away from me. Stupid!
“Meri, I cannot tell you why. From the first day we met in my shop—when you showed me your dress with the lace work—I felt something very special about you. I never forgot you. I wanted to help you…even protect you. I never had such a reaction to another person…woman…before. Not even Greta—especially not Greta who needs no protection. Perhaps that is it. I want to protect you from this harsh world.” He gently laid his hand on one side of her face. Behind the sincerity in his eyes was something Meri had seen before—hunger.
Meri shifted her balance from one leg to the other. She reached up and covered his long hand with her shorter one. “Michel. I—”
He gently kissed her. “Please do not say what I think we both know. I want our feelings to remain unspoken. We should leave things the way they are because anything else at this, ah, delicate time in Paris, my family, with Jeannine is too complicated and dangerous. Agreed?”
Meri nodded, dazed from the tenderness of his kiss. Are we thinking the same thing? I’ll never know.
“Good. Perhaps I’m odd. I would rather live the rest of my life with the fantasy of you forever in my arms than risk the consequences of caving into my weakness for your touch. My fantasies about you help me cope with the dark reality I live in.”
“I understand completely.” We are thinking the same thing.
They stood in awkward silence for a
few seconds. She felt the heat radiating from his body and savored the fresh scent of his crisply starched shirt. What’s that sound? Mon Dieu! It’s my heart pounding in my ears! Meri moved her hand from his and, before she knew what happened, they were in a tight embrace, kissing passionately.
Brrriiing, brrriiing. Brrriiing, brrriiing.
The telephone broke the spell. The call and their impossible romance went unanswered.
§
If the chaos in Europe was anything like what took place inside the Dorval residence on May 9, 1945—VE Day—then recovery would be a complicated and tenuous venture. The world struggled to restore normalcy while the people within the Dorval residence grappled with the definition of normal. The turmoil started with the liberation of Paris in August, 1944 and continued beyond the official end of the war.
Days after the liberation, Herr Freels received secret reassignment orders. Madame was nearly as distraught as her sister. Since Madame spoke primarily in German now, even in her husband’s presence, Meri had difficulty understanding what was happening. I can’t ask my snippy mistress to tell me, so they must expect me to guess about my future.
The household boiled over in emotional turmoil. Meri thought it only fair that someone inform the staff about the current (and future) situation. The only person she could approach, of course, was Michel. He must know something.
She went to him and asked him to speak to the staff about the changes in the household after Herr Freels left. It was the beginning of September, 1944.
Uncharacteristically cautious and formal, he told Meri he would discuss it with Madame and, “If we decide there is something the staff needs to be aware of, we will inform all of you at the appropriate time. Is there anything else? I have other matters to attend to.”
Meri was surprised at how distantly he treated her. She cocked her head and offered him a sweet smile. He turned away. She frowned, curtsied and left. Changes are everywhere….
Approximately one month passed before the Dorvals gathered the staff in Madame’s study. She sat at her desk. Monsieur stood behind her. Madame took charge of the affair.
“The war has taken a turn and France is a free country once again.” She executed her words with painful precision. Madame sat stiffly behind her desk—her spine so erect it did not touch the back of her chair and her hands clenched in front of her as if praying angrily. “Our guest and family member, Herr Freels, has been reassigned and will, very likely, not return to our home to stay for any length of time. My sister and niece, however, are welcome to stay for as long as they wish. I expect all of you to treat them with the utmost of respect as long as they are with us as guests.”
The staff nodded in unison.
“I foresee no changes in staffing for the immediate future. I cannot predict the new French government’s plans for the reconstruction of our economy and mending the wounds created by this war.”
The staff looked at each other with the same mixture of relief and confusion. What does she mean, “the wounds created by this war?” Even when the woman speaks French, I can’t understand her!
“That is all for now.” She gave a slight nod of her head, which all the staff knew meant “Dismissed.” Monsieur never said a word. He never even looked at us, Meri thought as she walked away. I wonder if more changed than the liberation of Paris. Has she found out about “us?” How? Will he want me as an employee in his fashion house? Two kisses, a free France, and my whole world has changed! Mon Dieu!
§
Routine visits to the convent to see Jeannine became much easier once the streets no longer posed a threat from patrolling Germans. But Meri still found strolling around Paris unpleasant. Reminders of the war and its carnage were everywhere. Mother and daughter often stayed in the confines of the convent, which were relatively untouched by the war.
“Mamma, the American soldiers come here and give us chocolate and gum. They’re so nice. The nuns think they’re a bad influence. I think they’re funny.” Jeannine chose not to see the dark side of life. Where does she get her happy disposition from? She has no reason to be happy and yet she finds reasons to smile. Is this the Jewish part of her?
“Do the nuns let you keep some of the chocolate?”
“Oui! They must! The Americans stand around and watch us eat it. It tastes so good, Mamma. They even offered some to the nuns. They just frowned and shook their heads.”
Meri smiled. “Good for the Americans. Good for you.” She patted Jeannine’s flat stomach.
Jeannine looked at her mother. “The war’s over, Mamma. Can I come live with you now? Some children are leaving with their parents.” Jeannine fiddled with the hem of her uniform. Meri noticed and smiled. Is this the Finnish side of you?
Meri sighed. “The war is not over yet, cocotte, even if Paris is free. My job is the same. Oui, you’re older now and can be left alone, but the Dorvalas wouldn’t allow me to keep you with me. Until Paris becomes a real city again and I can find a different job and our own apartment, this is the safest and best place for you.”
Jeannine bowed her head. “Oui, Mamma.” Then she lifted her head. “In America, everyone has a house and a job and a family. Can we go to America, Mamma? Maybe that’s the place we can be together after the war.”
“How do you know about America?”
“One of my friends understands some English, and she talked to an American Soldier when the nuns weren’t looking.”
Meri scowled. “Jeannine, Paris is our home, even in ruins. I promise I’ll find a different job and a new home for us.”
“Oui, Mamma, that’s what you keep telling me. I better go now. Some of my friends are going to see a movie. I want to go with them. Can you give me some money?”
“Jeannine! We go to the movies together….” Meri’s shoulders slumped.
“I know, Mamma. I’m grown up now and shouldn’t do everything with my mother. Maybe next time we’ll go?” Jeannine gave her mother a kiss on both cheeks. Meri searched her purse for a few coins and then kissed her daughter. The girl left Meri sitting in the visitor area of the convent. She’s grown up while I’ve raised another woman’s children. I’m more of a stranger than a mother to my daughter. She loves me because I’m her mother, not because I’m me. We must be together before it’s too late. Perhaps it’s already too late. Why do I even care so much? I didn’t want to have a child and she’s complicated my life in more ways than I can count. Still, my duty is to her and I’ll be a better mother than my Mamma was to me, at least once we’re together.
Meri got up from the bench and walked home. The streets of Paris and the sickly, starving, amazingly animated people she passed both disgusted her and gave her hope. This is not the Paris of my childhood dreams; it’s dirty and smells of rotting things. I’m working as a domestic, not in a fashion house. The chance of any part of my dream coming true now is doubtful with Michel acting so odd towards me. A gust of wind blew and the air became translucent with the dust and particles that were once part of pristine Parisian buildings. Meri coughed. She rubbed her eyes and then watched the debris swirl, settling onto any surface it found. My dream is just like the dust all around me—shattered, scattered, unrecognizable, and at the whim of the prevailing winds. I’m thirty-nine years old. Is this what victory looks and smells like?
§
“I am not sure I can do anything for you.”
Meri could tell Michel had difficulty telling her this; he did not look at her and he shuffled the papers on his office desk.
“This is a difficult thing for me to ask of you, Monsieur. Please consider my request.” Meri had been thinking about her future since the Saturday at the convent when Jeannine went the movies without her. She had visited with her daughter several times since then, and everything was normal, but that day shook Meri.
Meri had been weighing her options for about three months. New and more settled routines had established themselves at the Dorval residence. Paris inched along in its recovery from the war under Gen
eral Charles de Gaulle’s leadership, which emphasized looking forward, not back. French citizens who sympathized with the Germans considered this policy a pardon. Unless directly involved in egregious war crimes, de Gaulle’s philosophy to forgive and unify France elated many French citizens. The Dorval household, once again, reflected the mood of the country—Madame and Monsieur were unified and moving forward, accepting Ilsa and Karla as French guests who simply had heavy German accents.
Meri continued. “The household gets along perfectly well without me. Karla certainly doesn’t need me to look after her. In fact, she resents having a nanny. She’s a young woman now. Trust me, Jeannine feels the same way. Girls of eleven think they’re able to make their own decisions.” She pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling, remembering feeling the same way so long ago.
“Your duties are mainly in the kitchen. Philippe is not getting any younger, and we rely on you for serving and cleaning up after meals.” Monsieur’s face remained neutral but his voice quickened.
“Philippe’s age makes him more determined to prove he can run his kitchen as he wishes. I don’t think he will slow down for many years. As for serving and cleaning, Monsieur, please forgive me, but anyone could do those tasks. My only special skills were handling dear old Soldat and my willingness to give up my girl to take care of your sister-in-law’s children. Those skills are no longer necessary.” My words are bold, especially since Michel has been so cool with me. What do I care? She wanted a job in Michel’s fashion house or she would find work elsewhere. My mind is made up. There’s no turning back.
Monsieur’s eyes widened. “What has gotten into you, Meri? Have you forgotten all the times I came to your aide over these many years?”
“Absolutely not! Indeed, quite the opposite. I come to you with the same hope in your generosity—here in your office, not in your study at your home. You said you still remember the first time I came through these doors. I’ve worked for you mending German uniforms, sewing garments, and running errands. Never have I failed you, have I? I’m the same person I’ve always been. You know my skills as a seamstress and my dream to work in a fashion house—your fashion house.” She stopped and looked down. When she continued to speak, she spoke into her lap, not at Michel. “I’ll take any job you have to offer, as long as I’m using my skills as a seamstress. Mending? Ordering fabrics and other items? Taking measurements of customers? I simply don’t want to be a domestic worker for your wife and her sister, living under their rules. Jeannine is eleven years old and has never known what it feels like to live with her own mother. I can’t wait to fulfill a promise I keep making and breaking since she was a little girl. She needs to live with her Mamma.” Meri tilted her head up at him when she spoke the last sentence.