From Dust and Ashes: A Story of Liberation

by Tricia Goyer

  “It’s not the latest style, but the color does compliment your eyes.” Helene removed the last pin from the waistband of the simple, short-sleeved frock that buttoned all the way down to the hemline. “There.” She stood back for a better view. “I think that will do just fine.”

  A knock sounded at the door and both women jumped.

  “He’s here,” Michaela heard herself saying. Anika’s voice cried out the same from the other room. Michaela glanced at the stack of letters that sat on the bedside table, a testament to the recent correspondence between her and Peter. What will it be like to see him after two months?

  Helene hurried to the door, then stopped. “You should answer it. I’ll go get the baby.”

  Michaela twisted the knob. Anika hopped in anticipation beside her. She opened the door. “Peter,” she said as he pulled her into a hug.

  Michaela pressed her cheek into his uniform shirt. With a deep breath, she took in the scents of soap, cologne, and summer sun.

  Peter held her at arm’s length. “Let me get a good look at you.” He smiled, then noticed Anika at her side.

  “Little Annie!” The young girl jumped into his arms. Balancing her on the crook of his right arm, he pulled a chocolate bar from his left pocket. “For you,” he said with a wink.

  Michaela took a step back. “Please come in. Lelia is with Josef. Helene’s gone for—”

  Before the words were out of her mouth, Helene entered the room with a sleeping bundle in her arms. A blond baby head and a tiny fist poked out from the blanket.

  “The baby,” Peter exclaimed, setting Anika down. His booted footsteps crossed the room, and he peered down at the little face.

  “That little Petar,” Anika said as she struggled to remove the wrapper from her chocolate bar.

  “Petar,” he said. The name seemed to catch in his throat.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Helene motioned to the living room.

  “Would I ever,” Peter said. “Michaela’s written all about the little guy, but he’s even more …” Peter sat on the couch. “Well, more than I imagined.”

  Anika stood at Peter’s side, and Helene placed the baby in his arms.

  Peter glanced at Helene. “I’d love a dozen of these,” he said, trying various ways to hold the child.

  “Sit here, Michaela,” Helene suggested. “Next to Peter.”

  Michaela settled onto the cushion beside him. She watched Peter’s hands as they cradled the infant, amazed someone so strong could also be so tender. She remembered those hands cradling her when she’d been so close to death. He would be a good father someday.

  The baby opened his squinty eyes. Peter laughed. “Why, just look at him, would you?” Little Petar let out a cry. Peter bounced him, but the crying only increased.

  “I believe he’s hungry.” Helene lifted the baby, and he quieted. “I’ll go feed him. Anika, can you come get a clean diaper for me?” They left the two alone in the room.

  Peter searched Michaela’s face. “I was hoping to take you out for some fresh air,” he said softly. He rose from the couch and extended the crook of his arm.

  Michaela stood and put her arm in his. “I would like that.”

  “That’s a lovely dress,” he said, opening the door for her.

  “It was Helene’s. We had to make a few alterations, but it works.”

  “Works? It’s fantastic.”

  They strolled quietly down the street toward the little white church with the large bell tower and steeple. Michaela had often viewed it from a distance and even visited a few times with Papa Katz.

  A low stone wall surrounded the church and outer buildings. Peter sat on it and pulled Michaela in front of him. He looked so handsome in his uniform. His hair seemed lighter than it had that spring. His smile more brilliant. He gazed admiringly at her.

  “I’ve enjoyed your letters,” he said.

  “I’ve enjoyed yours too.”

  “You might have guessed something by now.”

  She gazed into his green eyes.

  “My thoughts are continually drawn back to this place. To the three remarkable women in that house. I have feelings for you, Michaela. I want nothing more than to spend more time with you. There’s something about you … I guess I’m just trying to say I think you’re pretty special.”

  The leaves above them rustled as a warm breeze blew. A warm wind also stirred in Michaela’s heart.

  “I was going to wait until we had spent more time together,” he said. “But I can’t wait. I’ve never been good at waiting.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “There’s a song I want to sing to you, but the words are in English. It’s by a guy named Bing Crosby. I don’t know all the lyrics, but the chorus is something like, ‘All day long I’ll be saying your name, and then for forever I’ll be doing the same.’ Something like that.” He hummed a few bars. “Anyway, I’ve only known you a short time, but what do you think the chances are for two people like us?”

  “What are you asking?” Michaela pressed the palm of her hand to her neck.

  Peter’s eyes seemed to dance. “I know we come from two different worlds, but I’d like you to consider thinking of me as more than a friend.” He slipped off the wall and faced her. “Michaela, is that too much for me to ask?”

  Michaela felt a stirring inside her chest. Yet it wasn’t light and happy as she had expected. Something inside told her to wait. To give it time. She felt unsteady and unsure.

  Michaela gazed into his eyes, so full of tenderness. How could this not be the right thing?

  “I’m honored, Peter,” she said, “That sounds nice.”

  Peter grinned and pulled her into a big hug. Michaela laughed and pressed her face into his neck. A man rode by on a bicycle and cheered.

  Yet even as Peter released her, she felt the world spinning too fast. She pushed herself back.

  “But wait.” She sat on the wall again. “I answered too soon. I must talk to you first. I don’t know what the future holds. For so long I didn’t even know if I’d have a future. I think it’s only fair that I tell you a little of my past. You need to know …” Michaela thought of Georg. His face. His tender kisses. Perhaps the love she still had for him was the reason for these feelings of uncertainty.

  Peter caressed her hand. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. I know horrible things happened during the war.”

  “It’s not that. There are other things. Good things.”

  He settled beside her.

  “It’s about Georg.”

  Peter’s boyish grin disappeared. “Is he still alive? Could he be out there somewhere? I’ve seen many reunions. I—”

  Michaela shook her head. “No, he’s not alive. But before we become any more serious, I have to tell you what he meant to me.”

  “I should have known there’d been someone else. A girl like you, someone so special … of course.”

  Michaela fiddled with the buttons on her dress. She pictured Georg’s face. She thought of the way his hand had caressed her cheek, her neck. She remembered the feeling of her fingers in his thick, dark hair.

  “I will start by telling you of my home. I have mentioned some of it in my letters. But not enough.”

  Peter leaned in close, his face inches from hers. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked more. I’ve just been thinking about myself.”

  Michaela covered his mouth with her finger. “I will tell you about my life. As a start, you must know who I was and where I came from.” She took a deep breath. As the air escaped, so did the words she’d been holding for so long. “I was born into a Christian, middle-class family in Bielsko. Bielsko is noted for its textile industry. They have an abundance of sheep, and electric power from the mountain streams.”

  “I remember the first time I walked to the market with my mother. The large buildings with their domes and towers seemed enormous. A three-story courthouse is not that tall, but to a child it’s like a castle.”

>   Peter laughed. Michaela noticed the shadow of the steeple falling across them.

  “My father’s church was much like this one.”

  “He was a minister?”

  “Yes, and a great one.” Michaela smiled, but the happy memory faded quickly. “That was before the war, of course.” She was quiet for a few minutes, wondering if her father’s church still stood. Oh, how she would love to walk through its doors again.

  “I remember picnics to the countryside. Rolling hills. Clusters of leafy trees and lush grass. And I’ll never forget the autumns. In late September, the trees replace their green leaves with crowns of gold.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “It was. The people were all friendly and outspoken,” she rattled on. “Each neighbor was a friend, especially those from my father’s church. We were often invited to dinners. Barszcz, beet soup, for Christmas. Pierogi with meat and cabbage.”

  Peter wrinkled his nose and Michaela laughed. He took her hand. “And what were your favorite things to do?”

  Michaela lifted her face to the warm breeze. “I loved reading romantic poetry. My favorite poet was Adam Michiewicz. But my father said I shouldn’t only read Polish writers, so he picked up foreign books for me when he traveled, including fairy tales.”

  “Cinderella, yes, I remember now.”

  “I loved going to the theater. That was before 1939.” She shook her head. “On September 1, I was returning from my friend Gerda’s birthday party when German fighter planes appeared overhead. Two days later, on Sunday, they began bombing. Many people fled the city that horrible night. My family hid in our basement through the intense shelling. Many people we knew did not make it. In fact, Georg’s older sister was killed when the building she was in collapsed.”

  Michaela shivered with the memory. “After they found her body, I went to the family’s home to comfort Georg. The house was filled with mourners. Suddenly we heard a tremendous roar. Two German soldiers raced down the street on a motorcycle crying ‘Heil Hitler.’ A red, black, and white flag fluttered from the window ledge of the theater down the street. I swore to myself I would never enter that place again. And I never did.”

  Peter’s eyes remained intent on her.

  “In the summer of 1941, a section of Bielsko was transformed into a Jewish ghetto. A year later the ghetto was liquidated. Every man, woman, and child was taken to a camp in Auschwitz.”

  Tears formed in the corners of Michaela’s eyes. “Despite the law that said anyone caught harboring a Jew would be killed, my parents took in a family with two daughters.”

  “Lelia’s family?”

  “Yes.” Michaela played with the ends of her short hair. “My father wanted so much to help those girls.”

  Peter wrapped an arm around her. “If this is too hard for you, you don’t have to—”

  “I need to tell you one more thing.” Michaela rubbed her bare arms. “Just before the war started, I fell in love with a man named Georg. He was like you in many ways. Strong. Brave. Handsome.” She blushed. “I loved him more than I thought was possible. He was killed while working for the Resistance. I need you to know that I will always have a place for him in my heart. I will never forget him.”

  “Of course not. I will never ask you to.”

  “I guess I shared all that just to say … can we take a few—just small—steps together to see what happens?”

  Peter squeezed her tightly. “That’s all I could hope for. And know too that I understand. Sometimes my emotions get so mixed up with all that’s happened with the camp, with you, with Helene. If you’re willing to explore the future—a future of us getting to know each other better—then that’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.”

  Michaela rested in his embrace, soaking in his warmth. It felt good to be cared for and protected. She liked Peter. He was a good man.

  Georg, she thought. Papa, Mama, am I doing the right thing?

  Michaela stood before she could change her mind. She took Peter’s hand. “Let’s get back and tell the others.”

  He hopped down off the wall and brought her fingers to his lips. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Michaela said, not willing to lose love again.

  “All right, then. But I have one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  “That you share more with me later. I want you to tell me all about your previous life.”

  My previous life. Yes, that’s what it was. It was not her life anymore. She clutched Peter’s hand as they wandered back to the large yellow house.

  This man was her future. He would be her life now.

  Twenty-One

  JULY 20, 1945

  Michaela and Peter entered the house unnoticed and sneaked into the kitchen. Lelia sat at the table with Anika on her lap. Helene sat across from them, rocking the baby and discussing dresses and hairstyles. Josef stood by the back door with Papa Katz, mug in hand.

  The room stilled as they entered. Helene’s eyes widened, and Michaela realized her hand was still enclosed in Peter’s. He noticed too and quickly released it.

  Peter strutted across the room and shook hands with Papa Katz. “Good to see you again, sir.” He nodded at Josef. “You’re looking well.”

  Helene raised the baby to her shoulder and winked at Lelia. “Go ahead. Tell them.”

  The young woman placed Anika on the floor, stood, and embraced Michaela. “Josef and I are getting married!”

  Michaela wrapped her arms around her friend. Married? They’ve hardly been courting for two weeks.

  “Josef, old man, it seems we’ve both found love within these walls,” Peter announced.

  Lelia took a step back and gawked at Michaela. “You too?”

  “Well, we’re not getting married. Nothing like that,” Michaela responded. “But we have decided to consider getting to know each other as more than friends.”

  Lelia grinned and pulled Michaela into another tight hug.

  “It looks like a double celebration,” Papa Katz said. “Helene, why don’t you make your famous punch?”

  Helene seemed to ignore him, intently rewrapping the baby in his blanket.

  “Helene?” her father said again.

  She rose from the table. The color drained from her face. “Punch, of course. Let me just get Petar down for his nap. Then we can celebrate.” She scurried to the bedroom.

  Anika bounced from person to person, bubbling from the energy in the room. Josef and Peter discussed dates and locations for a wedding. Josef kidded Peter that perhaps he’d be making the same plans before long. The words swirled around Michaela like a dust storm.

  “Will you excuse me for a moment?” A heaviness settled upon Michaela, and suddenly she wondered why she’d allowed things to go so far.

  Michaela followed the path Helene had just taken. She pressed her cheek against the wood of Helene’s door and found it ajar. She knocked gently. “May I come in?” she asked through the crack. Then she entered without waiting for a response.

  Helene was sitting on her bed, her back against the wall. Petar lay on her lap, half asleep.

  “Are you all right?” Michaela asked.

  Helene sniffed softly. “Of course.”

  Michaela sat in the chair beside her and patted her leg. “Now, I know better than that.”

  Helene tilted her head back. “It’s just that I’m going to lose you both. One of you would be hard enough to bear, but two?”

  Helene caressed the baby’s cheek.

  “You’re not losing me,” Michaela protested. “Peter and I are still just getting to know each other. There’s no telling what will become of this. Peter is still in the army. Who knows how much we’ll even see each other?”

  Helene was quiet as she considered Michaela’s words.

  Michaela’s thoughts turned back to Lelia. “Did Josef and Lelia say when they will be married?”

  “Next week. Saturday, I believe.”

  Michaela bit her lip. So soon? />
  Helene handed Petar to Michaela, then moved to her dresser. Michaela lifted the pudgy baby to her face, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

  “I want a dozen of these,” Peter had said. And so did she. But could she conceive a child? She no longer knew if that was possible. The starvation, the beatings, and the unsanitary living conditions in the camp had changed her body into a stranger.

  Helene pulled a wedding photo from the bottom drawer. “Besides the births of my children, my wedding was the happiest day of my life.” She handed the photo to Michaela. “Do you like this dress?”

  Michaela admired the high waist, the low V-neck, and the delicate flowers embroidered on the bodice and long sleeves. Narrow pleats hugged Helene’s hips and fell to the floor. Helene’s hair touched her shoulders in long blonde waves. Friedrich stood beside her in full uniform.

  “It’s beautiful.” Michaela handed the picture back. “You were stunning.”

  Helene placed the photo back in the drawer. “I still have the dress. It was one of the things I brought back with me.” She paused, then looked at Michaela. “Someday you might need a wedding dress. Who knows? It might even be with Peter. And if that happens, I’d like you to wear it. It would look gorgeous on you.”

  Michaela felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

  “I don’t know…”

  Helene’s face brightened. “Really, I would like to do this.”

  It was all too much for Michaela to comprehend. Just a few months ago she’d wondered if she would even live. She’d longed for any scrap of food. She’d slept in lice and watched those around her killed without reason. In a few months, could she change from wearing a dead man’s shirt to being offered expensive bridal wear?

  Michaela pressed her fingers to her temples. “Really, we don’t need to get so carried away. That’s still so far off. Give me, give us some time.”

  Helene’s countenance fell. “Oh, I didn’t even consider that you may not want to wear a dress that was used in an SS wedding. I’m sure you and Peter—”

  “Nein. It’s not that. I am just … not ready for that yet. I just want to be open to what God wants.”