by Tricia Goyer
Helene smiled weakly, but she didn’t commit to anything. This was her place until God chose to release her.
“Can I walk you home?” Peter asked.
Helene faced the large windows. She could barely make out the backs of the defendants. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Peter glanced that way too. His shoulders sagged. “I’ll be around, off and on, if you need me.” He shuffled back to the door. “Just call Captain Standart, and he’ll get in touch with me.”
“Danke,” Helene mouthed, but no sound came out. I’m so sorry, she wanted to add. But before she could, Peter had walked away.
Forty-One
MAY 2, 1946
No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, Helene couldn’t make herself go back to the hearings. Over a month passed, and she occupied her time with her children, her work, and finding a hundred and one ways to cook potatoes.
Many times during those long days, Helene considered taking Peter up on his offer. She thought of his kind, caring heart. How he’d come to the trial to support her. She wondered what it would be like to have such a man for her own. Perhaps she should leave. She wasn’t even attending the hearings.
Yet in the still of the morning during her quiet prayers, Helene knew she couldn’t go. No matter how useless she’d become, or how hopeless she felt, Helene knew God hadn’t freed her from this place, or her husband. Until she learned of Friedrich’s fate, she was bound to remain for the trial. Depending on his sentence, maybe even after.
Anika often asked about her father. Helene tried to explain that he was still in prison. Anika also asked why her papi did bad things—why he’d hurt so many people. Helene had no answer. How could she explain what she didn’t understand herself?
One day, as Helene was putting her children down for an afternoon nap, she heard a knock at the door.
“I hear they’re ready to give the verdict,” the next-door neighbor said.
“But my children—”
“You go. I’ll stay with them. Hurry, now.”
Helene ran all the way to the prison, then burst into the courtroom. Several eyes turned toward her as she entered. Then the room quieted as an American officer stood.
Helene made eye contact with Friedrich as she slid into an open seat. His jaw tensed as he and the others rose to hear their fate.
The officer in charge read in a flat tone, void of any emotion. “The Court finds that the conditions and the nature of Concentration Camp Mauthausen, combined with any and all of its subcamps, were of such a criminal nature as to cause every official, whether he be a member of the Waffen SS, Allgemeine SS, guard, or civilian, to be culpably and criminally responsible.”
Helene held her breath.
“The Court further finds that the irrefutable record of deaths by shooting, gassing, hanging, regulated starvation, and other heinous methods of killing were brought about through the deliberate conspiracy and planning of Reich officials.”
Helene struggled to comprehend his words.
“The Court therefore declares that any official—governmental, military, or civil—is guilty of a crime against the recognized laws, customs, and practices of civilized nations, and by reason thereof is to be punished.”
Helene leaned forward in suspense. Names of the accused were called out one by one. Of the sixty-one men, fifty-eight received the death sentence. The three others, Arno included, were given life in prison.
As the court adjourned, a wave of voices filled the air. Most shouted with joy. A few cried. All Helene could think about were the words swirling through her mind: “Friedrich Völkner, death by hanging.”
MAY 27, 1946
There was one stop between the verdict and death: Landsberg. Friedrich had been brought there upon his capture. And there he, along with many others, would breathe his last.
Helene had contacted Captain Standart. Not to reach Peter, but to see if a visa was still available. As soon as the verdict of Friedrich’s death reached her ears, Helene knew her freedom would soon follow. But moving on was something she had to do on her own, with God. No matter how much she desired Peter’s strong arms around her, she must depend on God alone. It was Him she must trust.
Helene packed the last of Petar’s small clothes. All they owned in the world fit into three satchels.
Anika ran up beside her. Petar, ten-and-a-half months old, crawled up behind Anika. “Tell me again about the big buildings in America,” she said. “And the people that live close together like bees in a hive.”
Helene paused from her packing and pulled the young girl onto her lap. Gone were the fat cheeks and innocent eyes. This girl seemed much older, wiser. Her hair was plaited in two long braids, one of them already half undone.
“Remember our trip to Munich, with the streetcars and people everywhere?”
“Ja.”
“New York is like that, only ten or twenty times bigger.”
“Do they talk like us there?” Anika asked.
“I’m sure some people speak German, but we must learn English. Remember the English words I’ve been teaching you?”
“Only a little,” Anika said. Petar chattered on the floor as if already practicing.
Helene quickly unbraided Anika’s hair and twisted it again. “Don’t worry. We have a long boat ride on which to practice.”
Anika ran to the front door the second she heard the knock and swung the door open. Outside stood Captain Standart, hat in hand. The mood in the room instantly sobered.
“Your ride to Landsberg is ready, ma’am,” he said.
Helene checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. She scooped Petar into her arms and smiled weakly at the captain.
Helene was nearly out the door when she realized she had almost forgotten the most important thing. Racing back in, she picked up her Bible from the table.
The occupants of the jeep were silent during the hour-long drive to the prison. Anika seemed to sense her mother’s mood and sat motionless in the backseat.
When they neared the large building, her steps slowed. “Papi’s in there?” she asked, staring up at the gray fortress.
Helene straightened the young girl’s hair again. “Make sure you tell Papi you love him,” she said, trying to keep her roiling emotions inside.
“I will, Mutti.”
Helene took her hand. The baby rested in the crook of her arm. “Thank you again,” she said to the captain as he led the way. “I know you’re not supposed to—”
A wave of his hand silenced her. “Five minutes. That’s all you have.” He pointed to the second door on the left, a solid wooden door with iron hinges. A guard opened it for her.
As the trio entered the stark room, Helene saw Friedrich in the corner. He was a broken man. His long hair hung over one eye. He brushed it away and opened his arms to them.
“My family.” His words were a sigh.
Helene moved into his embrace. He smelled like sweat, cigarettes, and steak. He’d apparently already partaken of his last meal.
“It’s a miracle you’ve come.” He held Helene at arm’s length. His shoulders shook, and she had to look away.
“Beautiful one.” He lifted Anika into his arms and breathed deeply of her sweet hair.
“I love you, Papi,” she said, then looked to Helene for approval. Helene smiled and nodded.
Placing Anika on the floor, Friedrich took Petar from Helene’s arms. “Grow strong, my son.” He pressed the baby’s face to his cheek. Petar squirmed, but Friedrich refused to let go. “Grow strong.”
“Friedrich, there is something I must tell you.”
He stared at Helene with a confused, haunted expression. Then he tucked the baby into one arm and caressed Helene’s face with his free hand. “You are so beautiful.” He leaned forward to kiss her. She tilted her head, and his lips grazed her cheek.
Unable to speak, she held her precious Bible out to him.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you going to prea
ch to me, woman? I have one minute left with my family, and you preach?”
Helene took a step back, refusing to be silenced. “God will forgive you, Friedrich.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
It was as if she was at home again, confronting him, trying to talk some sense into him. Only this time she was not going to back down.
“Jesus loves you. Yes, you. He died for every horrible thing you have done. He will take away all of your sins, Friedrich, if you give your life to Him.”
“My life?” he shouted. “What life? I’m dead in the morning.”
Anika flinched. Petar squirmed and reached out to his mother.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Helene said. “There isn’t much time.”
Friedrich handed the baby back to Helene, his eyes reflecting his torment.
“Remember your mother’s prayers?” she asked. “She prayed for a son who would love God. It’s not too late for those prayers to be answered.”
Friedrich faced the wall, trying to ignore her. Trying to escape her words. Helene heard footsteps in the hallway, and she knew her time was almost up. She had to find a way to get through to him.
She placed the Bible on the rumpled cot, then touched his shoulder. “I forgive you,” she said, her voice strong. “And I love you.”
He turned. His eyes, welling with tears, exuded a quiet wonder.
The cell door opened behind them. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s time to go.”
Helene caressed Friedrich’s rough face, then placed a soft kiss on his scratchy cheek. She stepped from the room, holding Petar, Anika at her side. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.
“Wait.” She moved back into the room and picked up the Bible, placing it into his hands. He looked down at it, then up at her again.
She left the room. The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding thud.
“Just a few more minutes, please,” she heard Friedrich cry, pounding his fist against the wooden door.
“This way, ma’am.” The soldier pointed down the hall. Friedrich’s sobs quieted as Helene and the children were led to the front doors.
Helene did not dare think about what would happen in the morning. An image of a hangman’s noose flashed through her thoughts, and she pushed it away.
Captain Standart was waiting outside. While he drove them away from the prison, she prayed that somehow, during the night, Friedrich would find the only truth that could bring liberation to his soul.
When they arrived back at the small apartment, Helene addressed the captain. “Would you mind driving us to the train station? I’m already packed. I only have to grab my things.”
“Right now?” he asked.
“The sooner the better. I cannot stay here while—” She did not finish. “Perhaps the children will ride better on the train at night.”
Captain Standart didn’t argue. He loaded her things into the jeep, drove her to the train station, and helped her board the train. “You’ve become my pet project,” he said. “Europe will be boring without you.”
She gave him a hug good-bye.
“Oh, the bank found three rightful owners of those accounts. They’re still searching for the others, but at least those families can begin rebuilding their lives.”
Helene smiled, silently thanking God that He had used her in that way. When the captain was gone, Helene examined the temporary visa papers and notes he had given her. Her hands trembled as she considered what starting a new life would mean.
“Take the train to Paris,” he had written. “From there you will be hooked up with a group of civilians emigrating to New York. The rest of the paperwork will be in order, waiting for you.” She studied the visa and other forms, then paused on his handwritten note on the last page.
Peter Scott
P.O. Box 3470
Columbia Falls, MT
… Just in case.
Shadows spread with the fading sunlight. Though she could not see them, Helene imagined the mountains beyond. And her father’s little home in St. Georgen. North of her, in Poland, a dear friend was also attempting to reconstruct her life.
As the train lurched forward, Helene realized she was leaving behind everything she once loved. “Goodbye, Friedrich,” she said, her voice hoarse, as she pressed her fingers against the glass. “I hope you find the truth before it’s too late.”
Helene pulled a thin, torn piece of paper from her pocket. She had removed it from her Bible just that morning.
To Helene,
To help you on your journey of faith.
Love,
Peter Scott
She held it to her chest, beginning to realize just how much faith this journey would require.
Before an hour passed, the children were asleep on her lap. Helene watched the lights from homes and automobiles flicker past until she too finally fell asleep. And as she slept, she dreamt that the swaying of the train was a thousand prayers rocking them as they made their final escape from the dust and ashes into the sky beyond.
When Helene woke, the sun was rising over the farms and meadows. She sat up with a start and checked her watch. She had missed it. She’d planned to pray for Friedrich during his final minutes, but it was too late. He was already gone.
Helene leaned back in the chair in stunned silence. Friedrich’s body would be taken to the small cemetery near the prison. But his soul? Only in eternity would she learn his fate.
The conductor’s voice sounded through the car, announcing their next stop. Helene realized that this was happening. Friedrich was dead. Her father far, far away. She would soon be in New York, alone with two children to raise.
Suddenly, Helene couldn’t hold back the emotions any longer. A cry burst from her—and she tried to muffle its sound with her trembling hand. Through her sobs she was aware of Anika awaking, and then Petar. She knew other passengers gathered around, attempting to calm her. But the flow of tears could not be dammed.
Her mind spun back to four years ago. When Friedrich had promised her the world. With his position, they’d have status and money, he’d said. But the only thing his position had brought in the end was heartache. Heartache for her, her father, her children. Even for Peter.
“Oh, God,” she sobbed. “You are all I have left. You’re all my children and I have left.”
She had no choice He had to be enough.
Michaela assessed the small group of people gathered around her. Kasia sat beside Marek in the shade of a large oak. Pawel and Rozalia tossed a large ball with Sabine. Even Filip had found a place among them after Michaela had approached him, offering her forgiveness.
Michaela smiled, realizing how much turning his acts of betrayal over to God had healed her own heart.
“Marek, can you please recite verses three and four of Galatians chapter one for us?” Michaela asked, running her fingers over the lush grass.
Marek cleared his throat. “Grace be to you and peace from God the Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this present evil world, according to the will of God and our Father.” He paused, glancing at something behind her.
Michaela followed his gaze. Two men approached—the mayor from their town and another man, dressed in a dark suit and wearing a Red Cross armband.
“Michaela Perl?” the Red Cross worker asked, stopping before them.
“Yes?” Michaela stood. Had something happened to Helene, to Peter or Lelia? Or were they doing something wrong by meeting here?
The Red Cross worker gave her a firm handshake. “Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but Captain Standart of the United States Army has brought to our attention that your father’s church building was lost in the war. Our organization is looking at the land, and we believe your property would be a perfect location for our new building. We would only need it during the week, and you could—”
“Are you saying you would build a church for us, at no charge?”
> The man’s eyes brightened. “Of course, we’d have to clear the former structure first, but building could begin in a couple of months.”
Michaela covered her mouth with her hands. Her friends stood around her, asking a dozen questions all at once.
Marek placed a hand on Michaela’s shoulder. “Someone has friends in high places,” he muttered.
“The highest.” Michaela took a deep breath, inhaling the Polish spring air.
Tears streamed down Kasia’s cheeks as she lifted her hands in thanksgiving to God. “Just imagine,” she said, “a church rising from the ash.”
Michaela raised her hands as well, reveling in the Lord’s goodness and mercy. She felt her Shepherd’s hand upon her, upon all of them.
“Yes,” she said. “Just imagine.”
Peter wiped a stream of sweat from his brow. He gingerly lifted the canteen from the holder on his waist and took a long drink. Carefully returning the canteen, he took a deep breath of the thin, cold air. He readjusted his feet into his toehold on the marred rock face and clasped his gloved hands tighter around the rope that supported his weight.
“Are you ready to move on?” the voice above him called.
“Just one more minute,” Peter answered. His feet dug even deeper into the wall, and a few pebbles bounced free from the rock, tumbling down the 200-foot drop. Peter turned his head, taking in the feel of the strong mountain wind against his face.
Scanning the peaks that surrounded him, Peter was again awed by the wonder of God’s creation.
He looked up. His eyes glanced over the obstacles that remained, and then he saw it. Just above his guide, Peter spotted a low bush that seemed to grow straight from the barren rock.
“How amazing You are,” Peter whispered to God. Peter had come here for her, but he had been surprised at how much God had for him on this journey.