Yes, at our home, with our daughters, Deborah and Julia, and in a few weeks our son will be coming home, too. Paul has been in the Pacific, but he recently took some shell fragments around his kneecap, and soon he will be well enough to travel. She didn't tell her about Simon. There was really no point. She simply rambled on happily, telling Ariana about the children, giving the girl time to sort out her own thoughts.
Mrs. Liebman ' Ariana stared at her. I don't know what to say. For a moment she lapsed into German, but Ruth Liebman's knowledge of Yiddish somewhat helped her out.
You don't have to say anything, Ariana. And then suddenly the older women smiled. But if you do, you should try to say it in English, otherwise the girls won't understand.
Did I speak German again? I'm sorry. Ariana blushed and then for the first time in weeks she looked at Ruth Liebman and laughed. Are you really taking me home with you? She looked at her friend in total astonishment, and the two women exchanged a long smile as Ruth nodded and held tightly to the young girl's hands. But why will you do this? For what reason? It's so much trouble for you and your husband. And then suddenly she remembered Max Thomas during the two days he'd stayed with them. He had felt just as she did now ' but that had been different. Max had been an old friend. And her father hadn't offered to house him forever. But as she thought of it, she knew that her father would have. Perhaps this was the same kind of thing.
Ruth was looking at her seriously now. Ariana, we want to do this. Because we're sorry about all that has happened.
Ariana looked at her sadly. But it's not your fault, Mrs. Liebman. It was just ' ' the war' . Ariana seemed so helpless for a moment, and Ruth Liebman put an arm around her shoulders, running a hand over the soft golden hair that hung down her back.
We've felt the teeth of the war, the unfairness, the horror, the anguish, even here. As she said it, she thought of Simon, who had died for his country, but truly for what? But we have never known what you experienced in Europe. Maybe in some way, if we can, we could make up one tiny bit of what happened to you, just so that you can forget for a moment, just so that you get a fresh start. , And then she gazed at the girl gently. Ariana, you're still so very young.
But Ariana shook her head slowly in answer. Not anymore.
Several hours later Sam Liebman's chauffeur-driven Daimler drove Ariana sedately to the Fifth Avenue house. Across the street Central Park beckoned with lush trees and bright flowers, and clipping slowly along the park's paths, Ariana could see hansom cabs and young couples in each other's arms. It was a beautiful spring morning at the end of May. And this was Ariana's first glimpse of New York. She looked like a small child as she sat there, tucked in between Samuel and Ruth.
Sam had left his office to go to the hospital, and he himself had carried Ariana's one pathetic little cardboard suitcase to the car. In it she had once more packed her few treasures, and from it she had planned to pull out whatever she had to wear home when the Liebman's picked her up. But Ruth had stopped briefly at Best & Co. that morning, and the box she proudly handed to Ariana yielded a pretty pale blue summer dress, almost the color of Ariana's eyes, with a tiny gathered waist and a huge softly flowing full skirt. Dressed in it, Ariana looked more than ever like a fairy princess, and Ruth stood back to look at her with a warm smile. She had also brought her white gloves, a sweater, and a pretty little natural straw cloche hat that tilted to one side and showed off Ariana's face. And miraculously, the pumps she had bought fit Ariana's tiny feet. When they emerged from the hospital, she looked like a different girl, and sitting in Sam Liebman's handsome maroon car, looking at her first glimpse of the city, she looked more like a tourist than a refugee.
For an instant Ariana found herself wondering if it could be a game of let's pretend ' if she closed her eyes just for a minute, would it feel as though she were back in Berlin, on her way to the house in Grunewald ' but as in testing a too fresh wound, she found that touching it still brought back waves of unwanted pain. It was easier to keep her eyes open, look around her, and drink it all in. Now and then Sam and Ruth smiled at each other over her head. They were happy with the decision they had made. Fifteen minutes after they had left the hospital, the Daimler drew to a halt and the chauffeur got out and held the door. He was a distinguished-looking, careworn black man in a black uniform, a black cap, white shirt, and bow tie.
He touched his cap as Sam alighted and then offered Ruth his arm. She declined it with a warm glance, looking back over her shoulder at Ariana, and then she gently helped her out herself. Ariana had not yet retrieved all her forces, and despite the pretty hat and dress, she was still looking very pale.
Are you all right, Ariana?
Yes, thank you, I'm fine. But Ruth and Sam watched her with caution. While she had been dressing, she had felt so faint that she had had to sit down, and it was lucky Ruth had been there to help. But it was something else about her that Sam was watching, her finesse, her poise, the calm with which she had moved the moment she got into the car. It was as though she had finally entered a world in which she was entirely at home, and he found himself wanting to ask questions. This was not just a well-brought-up, nicely educated girl; this was a young woman of the uppermost echelons, a diamond of the first water, which made it an even greater tragedy that now she had nothing at all. But she had them now, he consoled himself, as she stood next to Ruth for a moment, looking out at the park with wonder and a long, slow smile. She had been thinking of the Grunewaldsee and the trees and boats. But that might as well have been on another planet as she stood there, feeling far, far from home.
Ready to go home now? Ariana nodded and Ruth led her slowly inside, to the main hall, which rose for two floors above them, draped in rich, gem-colored velvets and filled with antiques they had acquired on trips to Europe before the war. There were medieval paintings, statues of horses, long Persian runners, a small marble fountain, and a grand piano visible in the conservatory at the end of the hall. And in the center of the entrance a stairway that spiraled skyward, on which stood two wide-eyed, gangling, dark-haired girls.
In silence they stared at Ariana, then their mother, then back at Ariana again, waiting for some silent signal, and then suddenly, not seeming to care about what was expected, they tore down the staircase and threw their arms around Ariana, shouting, giggling, jumping up and down, and dancing with glee.
Welcome, Ariana! Welcome home! It was a harmony of shrieking that brought fresh tears to Ruth Liebman's eyes. Gone the solemn moment among the elders the girls had even obscured Ariana's bittersweet moment and turned it into the celebration that it was. They had a cake waiting, and balloons and streamers, and Debbie had cut a huge bouquet of fresh roses from the bushes in the garden. Julia had baked the cake, and together they had gone out that morning and bought Ariana all the things that they felt a young lady of Ariana's advanced years out to require; three deep pink lipsticks, several powders and two huge pink puffs, a jar of rouge, several hair ornaments and tortoiseshell hairpins, and even a funny blue hairnet that Debbie insisted was going to be the rage by the fall. They had gift wrapped each and every item and piled them high on the dressing table of the guest room Ruth had set aside for Ariana the night before.
When Ariana saw the room, she was moved to fresh tears. In some ways it reminded her of her mother's long-closed rooms in Grunewald. This, too, was a paradise of silks and satins done in a spun-candy pink, but this room was even prettier, the bed was larger, and everything was fresh and perfect and cheerful, just as one would have expected a room in America to be. The bed was covered by a huge white organdy canopy, the bedspread a lovely pink and white satin quilt. There were a desk all intricately covered with trompe l'oeil designs and flowers, a huge antique armoire for her clothes, a white marble fireplace topped by a handsome gilt mirror, and an abundance of small, elegantly upholstered chairs covered in pink satin, where the girls could come and sit with Ariana, chatting until the wee hours. Beyond the bedroom was a small dressing room, and beyond tha
t a pink marble bath. And everywhere Ariana looked there were pink roses, and on a table set for five was Julia's cake.
Unable to find the words to thank them, Ariana simply hugged them and continued alternately to laugh and cry. Then she hugged Sam and Ruth again. What miracle was this that now she should wind up in such a home? It was as though she had come full circle, from the house in Grunewald, to the tiny cell where Von Rheinhardt had left her, to the women's barracks, and then to the safety of Manfred's house, and after that out into the world to nothing, and now back into the luxurious comfort of a world she knew, a world she had grown up in, a world of servants and large cars and pink marble bathrooms, like the one she stared at now in disbelief. But the face she glimpsed briefly in the mirror was no longer the face of the young girl she had known. This was a gaunt and tired stranger, someone who did not really belong in this house. Now she belonged nowhere, to no one, and if they wanted to be kind to her for a while, she would let them and be grateful, but she would never count on a world of pink marble bathrooms again.
In solemn celebration, they sat down to eat Julia's elaborately decorated cake. She had written Ariana in pink rose petals in the frosting, and Ariana smiled as she tried to fight the desperate nausea she never seemed able to escape now as they cut her a slice of the cake. She found that she was barely able to eat it, and although the girls were lovely, she was grateful when at last Ruth shooed them out. Sam had to get back to the office, the girls had to visit their grandmother for lunch, and Ruth wanted Ariana to go to bed now. It was time they left her alone to rest She laid out the robe and one of the four nightgowns she had bought for her that morning at Best's, and once again, Ariana stared at the gifts in amazement. White lace and satin ' pink lace ' blue satin ' it was all so wonderfully familiar, and yet now it all seemed so remarkable and so new.
Are you all right, Ariana? Ruth cast her a searching glance as Ariana sank onto the bed.
I'm fine, Mrs. Liebman ' and you've all been so good to me ' I still don't know what to say.
Don't say anything. Just enjoy it. And then, after a moment of pensive silence, she looked at Ariana. In some ways I think it is our way of living with the guilt.
What guilt? Ariana looked at her in confusion.
The guilt that we were all safe here while all of you in Europe ' She paused for a moment. You were no different than we were, yet you all paid the price for being Jews.
In a moment of stunned silence Ariana understood. They thought that she was a Jew. So that was why they had taken her in like one of their own children ' that was why they were so good to her they thought she was a Jew. Bereft and anguished, she stared at Ruth Liebman. She had to tell her. She couldn't let her think ' but what could she tell her? That she was a German ' a real one ' that she was one of the race that had killed those Jews? What would they think then? That she was a Nazi. But she wasn't. Nor had been her father ' nor Gerhard. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of it ' they would never understand it ' never ' they would cast her away from them ' put her on the boat again. A sob broke from her and Ruth Liebman ran to her and held her tightly as they sat side by side on the bed. Oh, my God ' I'm sorry, Ariana ' I'm so sorry. There is no need for us to speak of that now.
But she had to tell her ' had to tell her ' but a little voice inside Ariana silenced her. Not just yet. Once they know you better, then maybe they will understand. And she was too exhausted to argue with the voice any further. She just let Ruth Liebman tuck her into the canopied bed beneath the bedspread of pink satin, and with a long, jagged sigh, after a few moments, Ariana slept.
And when she awoke, she once again sat thinking over her problem. Should she tell them now or wait? But by then Debbie had already written her a poem, and Julia knocked softly on the door to bring her a cup of tea and another slice of the cake. It was impossible to tell them. Already she had been woven in among them. Already it was too late.
Chapter 34
Now what are you three up to? Ruth looked in on the three girls, giggling together in Ariana's bedroom, Ariana had been showing them how to put on rouge. Aha! Painted women! Ruth looked at the three faces and grinned. Ariana looked even sillier than the two others, with her fair cameo beauty and her long blond hair falling over her shoulders childlike; the rouge looked ridiculously out of place on her cheeks.
Can't we take Ariana out tomorrow? Julia looked at her mother pleadingly, a long-legged, sensual colt with huge brown eyes that somehow made her look more than just sixteen. She was fully as tall as her mother, but there was something more delicate about the cast of her face. Ariana thought her very lovely, and somewhat exotic. And she was so wonderfully honest and open, so bright, and she had such a quick wit.
Debbie on the other hand was more gentle, quieter, but very lovely, too. She was still something of a dreamer, and unlike Julia she was not interested in boys at all. She was only interested in her beloved brother, and in another week he was due home. By then, Ruth had promised, Ariana could be out with the girls, every day if she chose. But in the meantime she still wanted her to stay quiet, and she could see, too, that despite Ariana's protests, the girl was often grateful to be left alone to lie down.
Ariana, is it that you feel ill, dear, or only very tired? It still troubled Ruth greatly, and she was growing more afraid daily that Ariana had in some way been marked for life. At times she was very lively and rapidly becoming a part of the family's roughhousing and cavorting on weekends and after meals, but still Ruth could see that the girl was not at all recovered from her ordeal. She had made Ariana promise that they would return to the doctor again if she didn't feel a great deal better by the following week.
I promise you, it's nothing, I'm coaly tired ' I think it was just from being so seasick on the boat. But Ruth knew full well that it wasn't the ocean crossing. It was a sickness of the heart. But Ariana never faltered, never complained. She helped the girls each day with their summer studies, tidied her room, sewed for Ruth, and twice now Ruth had found her downstairs helping their housekeeper to rearrange the linen cupboards, sifting through mountains of sheets and tablecloths and napkins, in an effort to put order in areas where Ruth seldom had the time or interest to interfere. The last time she caught her, Ruth had sent her quickly packing to her room, with orders to go back to rest. But instead she had found her in Paul's room, sewing the new curtains Ruth had started but never had time to finish. It was obvious that Ariana wanted to be part of this homecoming. Everyone else in the house was and she wanted to be, too.
And as Ariana sat quietly in Paul's room, sewing, she wondered what kind of young man he was. She knew how infinitely dear he was to his parents, but she didn't know much more than that, except that he was close to her own age and that the high school pictures that lined the room showed a tall, smiling, athletic-looking boy with broad shoulders and a mischievous light in his eye. She liked the look of him, even before they met, and it wouldn't be long now before she met him. He would be home Saturday and Ariana knew now how desperately they had longed for his return, particularly after the death of their eldest son. Ruth had told her gently about Simon, and of course, Ariana knew the loss of Simon had been a severe blow, which made Paul more precious to them now. But Ariana also knew now that Paul's homecoming was not going to be easy for another reason.
Ruth had told her that when he had left two years before, Paul had wanted to be just like his older brother. Everything he did had to be a mirror image of what his older brother did. And when Simon left, he was engaged. So just before Paul shipped out, he got engaged, too. To a girl he'd known all his life, She's a very sweet girl, Ruth had sighed. But they were both twenty, and in some ways Joan was a lot more mature than Paul. As Ariana watched Ruth's eyes, she suddenly understood. Six months ago Joan married another man. It's not the end of the world, of course, or it shouldn't be, but ' She had looked up in agony at Ariana. She never told Paul. We thought she'd written to him, but finally she told us that she never told him a thing.
He
still doesn't know? Ariana's voice was filled with compassion. Miserably, Ruth shook her head. Oh, my God. And you're going to have to tell him when he comes home?
We are. And I can't think of anything I less want to do.
What about the girl? Do you suppose she'd be willing to come and tell him? She doesn't have to tell him she's married after all. She could just break off the engagement, and then if he found out about it later '
But Ruth smiled ruefully. I'd love it, but she's eight months pregnant. Ariana smiled. I'm afraid it falls back on me and his father.
So that was what they had to look forward to. Ariana couldn't help wondering how he'd take the news. She had already heard from his sisters that he had a ferocious temper and that he was a very intense young man. She worried, too, how he would feel about having a stranger there, in his home, when he returned. To him, after all, she would be a stranger, even though before he even came home, Paul was no stranger to her. She had heard dozens of stories about him, his childhood, his jokes, his mischief. She felt that he was already her friend. But what would he feel about this mysterious German girl who had suddenly appeared in their midst? She couldn't help wondering if he wouldn't be put off by her after viewing Germans as the enemy for so long, or if, like the rest of his family, he would trust and accept her as one of their own.
It was precisely this trust and acceptance that made her not tell them she was not Jewish. After days of silent torment she had made up her mind. She couldn't tell them, it would destroy everything. They would never understand that a non-Jewish German could be a decent human being. They were too blinded by their own pain and revulsion at what the Germans had done. It was simpler to keep quiet and suffer her twinges of guilt. It didn't matter now. The past was dead and gone. And they would never find out the truth. If they knew, it would only hurt them. They would feel they had been betrayed. And they hadn't. Ariana had lost as much as anyone. She needed the Liebmans just as much as they had known she needed them from the first. There was no reason to tell them. And she couldn't now. She couldn't bear to lose this family, too. She only hoped that Paul would accept her, too. Now and then she worried that he might ask too many questions, but she'd just have to wait and see.
The Ring Page 24