From Dust and Ashes: A Story of Liberation

by Tricia Goyer

  “Another letter from Peter?” Helene asked. Michaela searched for any sign of disappointment behind her friend’s smile. There was none.

  “Third one this week,” Papa Katz commented, stroking his thin white mustache. A web of lines crinkled around his eyes. “And you should have seen all the attention Josef gave Lelia in town. I think both of our girls have admirers.”

  Lelia glanced up from beneath her dark lashes and blushed.

  “Read it, read it,” Anika chanted.

  Lelia sat down and leaned close as Michaela slid her finger under the flap and tore it open. She pulled out a thin white sheet of paper with words written in German.

  “Dear Michaela and all,” she read out loud. “Another day has passed, and thankfully I found a friend to assist me with my letter writing. I can imagine how troublesome it has been for you to make your way through my many spelling errors. I speak German far better than I write it.

  “First and foremost, I must ask why you haven’t replied. It would bring me so much joy if you did. I hope your health is returning. If I can’t get back before long, I’m going to ask one of my buddies to take a picture of you. I’d like to see the results of Helene’s nursing. I’m sure she’s given you the best care possible.”

  Michaela peeked up at Helene.

  “Well, go on,” Helene said, waving a dirt-encrusted hand at her.

  “During the course of my army career, I’ve never run around as much as I have during the past few days. I’ve been transporting prisoners from all parts of Germany and France. While many of the cities are nothing more than rubble, there are some places the Allied bombers missed. A few cities appear almost normal. I was even able to ride the Metro during a short stay in Paris. It reminded me of the subway in New York. I’ve been to the Big Apple (that’s what they call New York) a few times, and I like it there. But it’s the long dirt roads back home that call to me most often. Sometimes I try to imagine what your response would be to Montana’s gentle people, tall mountains, and the big sky that seems to go on forever. Or I try to guess if you’d favor my sister’s canned raspberry jam or her peach preserves. Perhaps someday I’ll find out.”

  Michaela cleared her throat, then continued reading. “Well, I think I smell dinner cooking in the chow hall. Give my best regards to all, and plant a special kiss on little Annie’s cheek for me. I’m looking forward to a reunion soon. Peter.”

  Michaela refolded the letter and tried to make sense of its words. Why did he write these things? And to her especially? It hardly made sense.

  “He’s looking forward to seeing you again,” Helene said as she plucked a deep-rooted thistle from the earth.

  Michaela examined the envelope. “I’m sure he’s excited to see us all.”

  “Sounds like it will be soon.” Papa Katz hobbled up the porch stairs, favoring his right leg. “I would like to hear more about what he’s seeing out there,” he said as he disappeared into the house.

  Michaela pulled Anika onto her lap and placed a kiss on her petal-soft cheek. “That’s from Peter.”

  Anika giggled. “No, it not, it from you!” She hugged Michaela, then studied Lelia, who sat contentedly beside Michaela. “You want to play doctor?” Anika’s voice was as soft as her smile. “I take care of you.”

  Lelia stretched out her hand. “Ja, I will play.” She strolled into the house with Anika chattering at her side. Michaela smoothed her skirt and tried to think of something to say to Helene. She had to admit Peter’s letter did stir heart-tingling feelings. Emotions she hadn’t felt since Georg.

  Still, the thought of going to America troubled her. She’d never been one for travel. Although she enjoyed reading stories from around the world, she’d always been content to stay at home near the people she loved.

  The blue jay started a song from its new place upon the rooftop. Michaela closed her eyes and pretended she was sitting on her own front porch back home. She thought of the nursery school down the street and the large church next door. Did those places still exist? Did the people? She’d give anything to know.

  Though she was happy here, Michaela couldn’t imagine never returning to Poland. The thought of seeing familiar faces and entering into the house of worship where her father had preached made her heart stir. She fanned her face with the envelope.

  Michaela noticed Helene staring at her with a curious expression.

  “You looked like you were making a wish.” Helene attempted to rise from the ground, with little success.

  Michaela giggled at the clumsiness of her pregnant friend. “Did I? Actually, I was just thinking of someplace special.” She descended from the porch and extended a hand to Helene. Their fingers intertwined.

  With a gentle tug from Michaela, Helene rose to her feet, then attempted to wipe the dirt from her dress.

  “Helene?” Michaela asked.

  Helene stopped her brushing.

  “Would you be interested in walking to the church with me? I’ve been drawn to that steeple for so long. It would feel good to enter a house of worship again.”

  “Tomorrow perhaps.” Helene’s smile disappeared. “I feel like sticking close to home today.”

  Helene plodded up the stairs. “Or perhaps my father could take you. That might be even better,” she said before disappearing into the house.

  “That would be fine,” Michaela said to no one.

  Over the past few weeks she’d prayed with and for Helene. But while their friendship grew, Helene obviously still struggled with Michaela’s faith. She seemed drawn to it and fearful of it at the same time.

  She needs to find forgiveness, Michaela thought as the spring-swept air ruffled her skirt.

  Michaela returned to her seat on the porch and thought about the photos Helene had shown her of Friedrich. In her mind’s eye she could see the two of them posed in their wedding attire, kneeling before the Nazi flag that had been displayed over the podium. Friedrich’s power, strength, and influence over Helene could not be denied.

  A cold chill coursed down Michaela’s spine. That was it. How could Helene get over her own guilt of not doing enough, when she still struggled to get over the man who’d taken her down that path?

  Somehow she knew forgiving Friedrich would be the key to unlocking Helene’s heart.

  Eighteen

  JULY 6, 1945

  The sounds and smells of breakfast cooking drifted in from the kitchen. Helene attempted to roll over to check the time on the clock beside her bed, but the size of her stomach made that small task difficult to accomplish.

  She heard Anika’s singsong voice intermingled with her opa’s low tones. The scent of bacon was strong, and Helene covered her nose. She uttered a low moan.

  Soft footsteps entered the room. “Are you okay?” Michaela placed a cool hand on her forehead.

  Helene hugged her stomach. “I think I’m coming down with something. The smells from the kitchen are making me ill.”

  Michaela opened the window, letting in the fresh morning breeze.

  Helene took a deep breath, expanding her lungs as far as her stomach would allow. “That’s much better, thanks.”

  Michaela poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table and handed it to Helene. “It’s not time for the baby, is it?”

  “Nein.” Helene took a long drink, then handed the glass back to Michaela. “I have a few weeks yet. Besides, this doesn’t feel like it did when I had Anika.”

  Michaela leaned closer. “Perhaps we should have a nurse stop by just in case?”

  “Oh, no.” Helene snuggled back under the covers. The image of the SS doctor came to mind. Just the thought of him made her skin crawl. “I’ll go see my mother’s old friend later. She’s a midwife and has birthed half the babies in town, including me. Right now, I’m just really tired.”

  Michaela’s hand rested on her shoulder. “You sleep. I’ll help your father. He was planning to visit some friends at the evacuation hospital today.”

  Helene’s eyeli
ds felt heavy. “And Anika?”

  “We’ll take her with us. She’s always a welcome visitor there.”

  “Danke,” Helene mumbled, but Michaela was already on her way back to the kitchen. Helene took another deep breath of fresh air, then succumbed to the weariness coursing through her.

  “Stop! No, stop!” Helene begged.

  Friedrich’s face closed in on her. She smelled liquor on his breath and tasted it in his unwelcome kisses. He pressed her body between his chest and the wall.

  “Please, you’re hurting me.” Helene tried to wriggle free from his hold. As she did she felt a warm sensation on her legs. Blood? He had brought home the blood from the camps, and now it was on her.

  “No!”

  Helene opened her eyes. The room was bright. Blankets entangled her arms and a hot tightness stretched across her abdomen. Her inner thighs felt wet.

  Oh, no. Not now. Helene pulled back the blanket. The sheet beneath her was drenched. “My water broke,” she cried out. There was no response.

  Her mind still groggy, she tried to remember what day it was. Wednesday. I wasn’t feeling well, so Michaela went with my father. I have to get help.

  Helene struggled to untangle the covers. She pulled her body into a sitting position. Suddenly she winced in pain, remembering this unique sensation all too well.

  “Why is this happening now?” When the contraction passed, another thought seized her. It’s too early. Something’s wrong. I’m going to lose the baby. Tears welled in her eyes.

  Helene stood, her knees wobbly. She took three steps, then grabbed the chair for support.

  “Help,” she called, feeling the strength in her legs give out. She slumped into the chair. A sob shook her chest. Not only could she not stop this, but she was alone. Alone to face what lay ahead.

  After a minute or two, another contraction mounted. Helene’s hair dangled in her face as she gripped the chair.

  “Oh, God, please. Somebody help me.”

  “Helene?” a voice came from the doorway.

  Helene looked up. “Lelia, thank God.”

  Lelia stumbled into the room. “You need to get in bed.” She placed one hand on Helene’s back and another on her elbow. Helene stood. Fluid dripped down her legs.

  “I can’t believe this. It’s too soon.”

  Lelia stripped the damp sheets and replaced them with a clean blanket. “Here you go.” She helped Helene back into bed. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Helene tried to relax on the bed. But as she did, another contraction hit. The room started spinning. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Lelia rose. “I’ll go get help.”

  “No! Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”

  Lelia remained by her side, holding Helene’s hand, rubbing her back, and offering words of encouragement for what seemed like hours.

  Each contraction demanded all of Helene’s focus. Between contractions she prayed. Simply and honestly like Michaela had taught her. She prayed for strength and for her father to get back soon.

  “Where are they?” Helene cried.

  Lelia rose. “I don’t want to leave you, but the baby’s coming too fast. I have to get help. There are nurses at the camp. I’ll hurry—”

  “No!” Helene felt a strong pressure between her legs. “There’s no time. I can feel the baby coming. You can’t leave now.” Tears filled her eyes, but her hands shook too much to wipe them away.

  Terror filled Lelia’s face.

  “Please stay with me,” Helene begged again. “I can’t bear to be alone right now.” The last word faded as another pain started.

  “Of course I will stay.” Lelia took Helene’s hand. Her gaze took on a look of determination.

  When the contraction passed, Helene studied the girl’s face. Instead of fear, she saw resolve.

  “My aunt had a baby,” Lelia said, as if just remembering. “I watched the birth, and my mother showed me what to do.” Her voice was steady. “I can help you.”

  The contractions continued to mount.

  Lelia wiped Helene’s forehead. “Look at me.” She gripped Helene’s jaw and turned it toward her. “Focus on my face.”

  Helene did as she was told.

  “Everything will be fine. You’re doing very well. We can do this.”

  Helene panted.

  “Now,” Lelia said, patting Helene’s cheek, “I’m going to check the baby, ja?” Lelia examined Helene as if she had done this every day of her life. Then she returned to Helene’s side. “The baby’s close. I need to get some things ready. Whatever you do, don’t push.” Lelia hurried from the room.

  Helene’s fists twisted the bottom blanket. “Oh!” Her cries grew louder as the pain swelled. It felt like small shards of glass ripping her apart in tight, heart-stopping pains. She had to remember to breathe.

  Lelia, her mind screamed, where are you? Helene felt a strong urge to push. Please, God, let this baby be okay. Let my child live.

  Lelia returned, her arms laden with scissors, string, towels, and a bucket of water. Helene clenched the blanket as another pain tightened her abdomen into a fiery ball.

  Lelia set down her items and crouched between Helene’s knees. “The baby’s coming. I can see the head.” Lelia’s voice rose. “Push when you feel the need.”

  Helene grabbed her thighs and pressed her chin to her chest. With each push, Lelia encouraged her on.

  After a few pushes Lelia gasped. “The head is coming.”

  Helene wailed in both joy and pain.

  “The head’s out,” Lelia said. “One more.”

  Finally, the baby slid into the world. “It’s a boy!” Lelia shouted.

  Helene exhaled her breath and waited for a cry. It came. Loud, angry, and beautiful.

  Lelia worked quickly, cutting the umbilical cord, then clearing out the infant’s mouth and nose with a small cloth. “He’s beautiful.”

  Helene leaned up on her elbows, panting, and watched Lelia use a damp towel to wipe her son’s face. Lelia wrapped him in a soft blanket and placed him on his mother’s stomach. Helene began to shake, then cry. “My baby, oh, my baby.”

  The babe puckered his lips and attempted to open his eyes. Tiny strands of blond hair stuck to his head. Helene snuggled him to her chest, then reached out to Lelia. “You saved us. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Lelia blushed, and Helene noticed a transformation in the girl’s face. The silent victim was gone, and Helene caught a glimpse of the young woman hidden inside.

  The front door opened and closed. Lelia covered Helene with a clean blanket, then hurried to the living room.

  Helene heard squeals, then a shout of worry from her father. Three nervous, excited people entered the room. After ensuring that Helene and the baby were fine, Helene’s father went for a nurse. “Just to be safe,” he said, flying out the bedroom door.

  Michaela kissed the baby’s head, then took Lelia into an embrace.

  Anika, who’d stayed by the door, ran up and peeked at her baby brother. “He so little,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Little, but healthy,” Helene said. “Come sit with me.” Anika climbed onto the bed and laid her head on Helene’s chest. The breath of her two children caressed Helene’s skin. Their faces tilted in her direction. She kissed them both, and swore to herself to protect them with all the strength that was in her.

  “Thank you,” she said to Lelia. “Thank you.”

  Lelia sank onto the chair. Her shoulders trembled as if she were just realizing what had happened.

  “I’m so proud of you both.” Michaela crouched by Helene and studyed the baby’s tiny feet.

  Lelia’s smile assured Helene that all would be well.

  Helene contemplated her baby’s perfect face. “Petar,” she murmured.

  “Oh, yes, we must get word to Peter.” Michaela rose. “Perhaps your father can—”

  “No, wait,” Helene said. “That is his name. I will call him
Petar, after our hero.”

  “Baby Petar.” Anika cradled his tiny fist in her palm.

  By the time Helene’s father returned with a nurse, Michaela had cleaned up the mess and Lelia had fallen asleep in the chair. The nurse, who wore an American uniform, examined Helene and the baby, taking time to wash them both thoroughly. Lelia, who had awakened when the nurse arrived, watched closely.

  “Everything’s fine,” the nurse said. “I couldn’t have done a better job myself,” she added with a wink at Lelia.

  “Now you need to rest. I’ll check you again tomorrow.” She patted Helene’s shoulder.

  Lelia showed the nurse to the front door, then went to her room to change clothes and lie down. Helene’s father pulled up a chair by his daughter and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Just look at them.” His gaze was tender as he peered down at his grandchildren. Anika had fallen asleep at her mother’s side. The baby slept too, his soft snore sounding like the purr of a kitten.

  “I can put Anika on my bed,” he whispered. “Then you can rest.” He reached for the girl.

  “No, leave her. Just for a while.”

  He nodded. “A grandson.” He sighed.

  “Friedrich always wanted a son.” Helene’s voice caught in her throat.

  “Let’s not dwell on the past. The time for mourning is past. A time of rejoicing has come.”

  Helene’s lower lip quivered. She let her head sink deeper into the pillow. If only the mourning could truly be over.

  But the more she thought about it, she realized that sometimes good did result from pain. Michaela and Lelia in this home. Being reunited with her father. Two beautiful children. These were the things Helene thought of as she drifted off to sleep.

  Beauty from ashes. Life from pain.

  Nineteen

  JULY 13, 1945

  Every morning during the first week of his life, the baby’s cry had preceded even the neighbor’s rooster in stirring the house to wakefulness.

  “Sh, there’s no need for that.” Helene lifted the small bundle from the cradle her father had found in the attic. In just a few days Petar had regained his birth weight of 2.27 kilograms, or as the American nurse said, 5 pounds. Helene kissed the top of Petar’s soft blond hair, marveling at the scent of him.