by Susan Finlay
“Ah, you are up,” Ilse said, ambling toward him with a platter of fresh bread in her hand. “Did you sleep well?”
“Sure did. Mmm, everything looks and smells great.” He poured a cup of coffee, which also had become routine. It had taken him a couple days to adjust to the reality of meeting Ilse Seidel and to discovering that she had married Petr, the writer of the Slavic diaries he’d found in the attic. He was still waiting to broach the subject of how she’d met Petr. All week, family members had shuttled him all over the countryside for sightseeing and meeting people. He’d loved all of that, but it had left him precious little time to sit and really talk with the one person he longed to talk to. Ilse.
“You must eat quickly. Milo and his father will be picking you up in fifteen minutes to take you down to Memmingen. You’ll like it, I’m sure.”
“You aren’t going with us?” Lucas asked, disappointed that yet another opportunity to talk would be lost.
“Nein. My arthritis is acting up. At my age, I spend most days around home. I am no good for traveling anymore. I would only slow you men down.”
“I’m sorry you cannot come with, but I understand. I hope you feel better soon.”
He studied her slightly wrinkled face with faded blue eyes and a pleasant grandmotherly smile. She wore her silver hair in a bun, kept a slender physique, and had a decent amount of energy. At eighty-nine years old she still looked pretty spry, he thought. She’d kept up with the five younger people when they’d all gone sightseeing together here in Biberach three days ago. Not too shabby for almost ninety.
“I could stay here today,” Lucas said. “It would give us a chance to talk more. Get to know each other better. And I have so many questions that I haven’t had a chance to ask.”
“Nein. You should go to Memmingen. People waiting to meet you there. You will get far more answers you are looking for there than you will from me.”
Lucas frowned, still anxious to ask questions, but the doorbell rang, and Ilse rose and left to answer the door. Sitting alone in the kitchen he thought about the people he’d met—mostly Ilse’s kids and grandkids—when he first arrived here. They had taken him to visit many people, supposedly all related to Lucas in one way or another and in ways that caused his head to reel. It didn’t help that many of the people here spoke a Bavarian dialect difficult for non-native-speakers to understand.
He’d tried making notes in his little pocket notepad, hoping to update his family tree drawings and details on his laptop in the evenings before he went to bed. That was not to be. By the time he got to his bedroom each night, he was wiped-out. They walked every day, thousands of steps according to his Fitbit, seeming like half of those were either up or down stairs to various trains and subways or up or down stairs in some castle, museum, city wall, you name it, they had climbed it. Good grief, how could anyone in this country become overweight, he’d wondered at first. But after eating some of the best food he’d ever tasted, meal after meal, every day, he revised the thought. Oh, and let’s not forget the beer, a national treasure in itself. Generously served with almost every meal.
Ilse’s grandson, Milo, and his father, Jacob, strode into the kitchen, Jacob bellowing as usual, “Guten morgen, Lucas.” He walked over and patted Lucas on the back. “We’ve come to take you to Memmingen. Are you ready?”
Lucas nodded as he chewed his last bite of buttered bread and chugged the rest of his coffee. When he’d swallowed his bread and coffee, he said, “Just need to grab my jacket and notebook from upstairs. I’ll be back in a minute.”
In his room he searched for his cell phone. Ah, there it is on the desk where I set it down. God, I hope I remembered to charge it. Taking more than three hundred photos in the first week, he had given his phone camera a real workout.
“You might want to bring an overnight bag,” Jacob yelled from downstairs. “Mutter says she thinks you’ll want to stay a couple of days in Memmingen.”
“All right,” he yelled out. Hmm. What’s so special in Memmingen? The place wasn’t even in any of his Germany tour guide books, though it did sound somehow familiar. The cities he’d seen so far were large, with subways, fast trains, modern businesses, yet held onto their old-time charm: replete with medieval castles, palaces, baroque churches with tall spires or onion domes, and wattle-and-daub houses and half-timbered houses. Why go to a small town that had none of these things? Almost the moment he thought that, he remembered. It was the city where Ilse had grown up and where her parents had lived. And that’s where U.S. combat planes had gotten into a major battle with German fighter planes above the city and the airport. Now he was excited.
As he came down the stairs and stopped in the kitchen, Lucas said, “I’m looking forward to seeing Memmingen. I’ve heard a bit about it in some old diaries I read. Ilse, are you sure you don’t want to come with us? We’ll have fun and talk about the old days.”
She smiled. “Well, ja, perhaps it might be fun. As long as I can limit my walking. Let me quickly pull a few things together into my overnight bag. I will not be more than ten minutes. Is that okay, Milo?”
“Of course, Mutter. We’re in no rush. I’m driving instead of taking the train so there is no time schedule to follow.”
Lucas smiled, happy that Ilse was coming along. Based on her reaction, he gathered she really did want to come but had held back because she’d been worried she would be slowing them down. What a sweet woman.
Tawny Landry, Sacramento, California, September 2017—
“YOU HAVE TO call Lucas,” Tawny’s mother, Lani, said. She was sitting beside Tawny’s hospital bed, holding Bianca on her lap to keep her from running around the room and making noise.
“I can’t do that to him,” Tawny said. “He’s only been in Germany a little over a week. It would ruin everything.”
“He should have a choice. You don’t really think he would forgive himself if you have this baby without him, do you?”
“Now you’re being overly dramatic, Mom. I’m not having it without him. I called his aunts. They’ll come here when it’s time for the baby, and one of them will film the delivery. The aunt said she’s done it before, with her grandchildren. The other aunt said she’d sit with Bianca in the waiting room. Lucas will be able to see the whole birth, whether he’s here or not.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it. Why do you always have to be so damned stubborn?”
“Don’t talk to me that way, especially not in front of Bianca.” Another cramp made her wince. Stay in there a few days longer, little one. Please, for Mommy’s and Daddy’s sakes.
Lani picked up Tawny’s cell phone from the nightstand. “Call him. At least let him know what’s going on. It’s the right thing to do, and you know it.”
She grabbed the phone out of her mother’s hand. “Oh, all right.”
The phone rang several times before Lucas answered.
“Oh, hi, sweetie,” he said before she could say anything. “I’ve been meaning to call you. How are you and Bianca doing?”
“We’re okay. Bianca is sitting on Mom’s lap right now.” She hesitated, wondering how to tell him without making him flip out. “How is your trip going? I love all the photos. Seems like you’ve been very busy.”
Her mother mouthed the words: “You’re stalling. Tell him.”
Tawny waved her hand at her mother, then turned her back to her.
“Yeah, been super busy. I’m in Memmingen. Been here two days. I have so much to tell you. But I guess I’d rather tell you in person, when I can see your reaction.”
She didn’t respond.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Uh, well, not exactly. Before you freak out, listen, okay. I’m in the hospital. The doctor admitted me just as a precaution. I might be in labor. Been having cramps off and on for almost a week now, only now they’ve gotten stronger.”
“You’re in labor? Oh, my God! I’ll be there on the next flight out of Munich. Hang in there.”
&nb
sp; “No. Listen to me. You don’t have to cut your trip short. I’ve been through this before. I know what to expect. Besides, I might not even be in labor. It’s still early.”
“Yeah, well, Bianca came early, too. Remember?”
“Of course I remember, I was kinda there,” she snapped, not really meaning to sound so snotty. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a bit cranky.”
“That’s understandable,” Lucas said. “I would be, too. I’m coming home. I hope I can get there before the baby comes. I’ll have to go back to Biberach, get my things, then take the train to Munich. From there, I’ll catch a flight. I’ll make the reservation as soon as I can figure out timing.”
“Lucas, no. Please don’t ruin your trip,” Tawny said. “I can manage here. As I said, I might not even be in labor yet. You could come home and then have to sit around waiting another few weeks for the baby to get here.”
“Calm down. Rest. Follow your doctor’s orders. I’ll be there as soon as I can. No argument. It’s my turn to be bossy.”
She sighed and mumbled half under her breath, “All right, but don’t blame your ruined trip on me. I didn’t want to call and make you feel like you had to come home. Mom made me call.”
“I know,” Lucas said.
His voice sounded almost cheerful. What the hell was with that?
“Tawny, I don’t blame you. I’m excited about our baby coming. Can’t wait to see him! See you soon.”
She hung up the phone and closed her eyes. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. She’d imagined a leisurely Fall day—on the exact date the baby was due—and then her water breaking and her realizing she was in labor. She and Lucas would drop off Bianca at Mom’s house, and they would arrive at the hospital, where after a few hours of labor, with Lucas as her coach, she would deliver their baby.
She gnashed her teeth, pain gripping her again. Think about the phone call, not the pain. Lucas sounded okay. Happy even. So why did she feel guilty? Seems like I can’t do anything right these days. Can’t even carry a baby to full-term. What the hell is wrong with me?
“What did he say?” Her mother asked. “Is he coming home?”
She sighed, gritted her teeth, and turned around to face her mother.
“Daddy’s coming home?” Bianca said, her big brown eyes filled with anticipation.
All the anger suddenly left her body. How could anyone stay angry when looking into that little girl’s eyes? Tawny looked at Bianca’s grandmother, too. Nothing but concern and love in Lani’s eyes.
“I’m sorry for being so grumpy,” Tawny said. “He’s coming home as soon as he can. I’m not sure he’ll get here in time for the birth, though. I think I should call his aunts again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Christa Nagel, July 1945, Sudetenland—
THE TRAIN CAME to a stop, brakes screeching like a banshee, Christa covering her ears with her hands to muffle the sound. Her skin itched, as if something was crawling all over her body, but no amount of scratching helped. If anything, it somehow made it worse. Someone began a coughing fit on the other side of the car. Christa was sitting on the floor with her family, her legs folded under her body, in a most uncomfortable position. At least she no longer had to stand all the time. Everyone could sit in here, just not lie down. That they had room to sit almost brought her to tears again. Every few days the train stopped for restocking, and who knew what else. The doors would be opened and the dead bodies would be removed and discarded like so much garbage. So far, no one in her family had died, but it could happen. Frau Engelmann and her little girl had both died two days ago.
When the bodies were removed, an extra few feet of space would be gained. The only good thing that came with the stops, was that guards would bring them bread and water. Horrible tasting, but sustenance, all the same.
The doors now opened and she shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight, wondering who else had died, who else would be tossed out of their car.
“Time to get off the train,” someone proclaimed. She couldn’t see his face because of the bright sun, but she recognized the voice. Petr. Their Petr, as they’d come to think of him. Theirs because he had spent time with them in the internment camp, bringing them all extra pieces of bread, when he could, and talking with them, telling stories to the children, and giving them a modicum of hope.
Christa tried to pry her numb legs out from under her body. Pain coursed through her knees and legs. Her limbs had turned into pretzels after days of being crammed into this tight space. She finally peeled them out from under her and stretched them. When the pain eased and she thought they were steady enough to support her weight, she stood up and tested them. Wobbly, but she didn’t fall over. Reaching down, she pulled Mutti’s arm, helping her stand, amid a field of moans and groans. Christa wasn’t sure how many of those were coming from her mother and how many were coming from the other people in the car. Between Christa, Mutti, and Ernst, they got all the children up, handing them one at a time down to Petr.
Once everyone had jumped, slid, or had been helped down from that cattle car, Petr left to go to attend to the next car in line behind them. Christa watched him for a few minutes, feeling as though they’d lost their lifeline. They were on their own.
“What do we do now?” Mutti asked. “Are we in Germany?”
“I donot know,” Christa said. She gazed around the crowded train station and finally spotted a sign. They were indeed in Germany. The sign listed several other train stops: Bayreuth, Hof, Erlangen, Würzburg, and Nürnberg. All were city names she recognized from her geography lessons in school. The air smelled different here in the bigger city. More fumes from cars and trucks. No chickens. No cows. No manure. She missed the smell of farms and open land.
Several soldiers started yelling and rushing around, pointing guns and shooing them back onto the train.
Panic ensued and the Sudeten Germans frantically climbed back onto the train. Christa wasn’t sure which car was theirs. It didn’t matter.
A few minutes later, Petr appeared, helping the children and elderly mount the cattle car, and said, “The authorities refuse accept the train here. We must leave.” With that, he closed the door.
The train car lurched, then started up again, the engine blowing its whistle loudly.
Christa attempted to sleep, but her mind wouldn’t allow it. It seemed nobody wanted them. All those months in the internment camp, she’d tried to tell herself that it was only the Czechs in the CSR, the Czech-Slovak Republic, who didn’t want them. The Germans would accept them, if they ever got that far. But now? They were outsiders. Worse than outsiders, they were dirt, homes for lice and fleas. Christa worried they might continue riding on the train until each of them died. Even if they did find a German city that would accept them, then what? Where would they go? They had no home anymore, they had nothing. How would they survive?
The train chugged along forever, it seemed. Between the wooden slats, Christa could catch glimpses of green grass and now could smell manure and farm animals. At least something felt like home.
At last the train’s brakes screeched again, announcing another arrival. After several minutes, she expected the doors to open as they had earlier, but nothing happened.
Time passed, but how much time, she had no way of knowing. All she knew was that it was getting dark outside.
No one said a word, probably because they were all straining to hear something from outside to give them an idea of what was happening.
Finally the doors opened and there was Petr. She could see him clearly in the shadows of the sunset.
Petr said, “This city decided to accept the train. You can get out now. Everyone must go into the building and get processed. After that, you will be free to go wherever you want.”
“Processed?” Mutti asked. “What does that mean?”
“I am not sure,” Petr said. “That is what we were told.”
They all exited the car as they had the last time. Christa searched
for station signs as she had previously done. The sign she saw this time listed different train stops: Regensberg, Ingolstadt, Landshut, München, and Augsburg. These were Bavarian cities she recognized from her geography lessons in school. And at least here it smelled more like home. She took a deep breath, and quickly blew it out, then rushed to catch up with her family. Guards were herding them away from the train platform, up a steep flight of stairs, across a bridge that went over the train tracks, and then into an enormous building.
Inside, the noise was deafening. People everywhere, talking, and music playing a song Christa didn’t recognize. Everyone had to line up and wait their turn, not knowing would happen here.
When it was the Nagel family’s turn, Mutti gave the clerk each person’s name and handed over ragged identity cards. The man didn’t give them back to her, and she started shaking, tears threatening to come.
“We need our papers back,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Not here,” he said. “Later. Move forward.”
After that, guards separated them into two groups, male and female. One guard took the males away; another guard took Mutti, Christa, Julia, and Giselle to another room. They were told to undress and go to the showers. Christa felt panic rise up in her throat. This was like when they’d arrived in Theresienstadt. Not exactly the same, but too similar.
Arguing or refusing would do them no good, Christa knew. They’d been taught well in the internment camp and that would forever stay with them.
She and the rest of the females obeyed.
When they were clean, they were sent naked to a ‘health station’ where someone sprayed them with something which they called DDT. “It won’t harm you,” the woman in guard uniform said. “We must ensure you don’t bring any diseases or insects into our country.”
Another person shuttled them to an area where they were allowed to pick out something to wear, including coats and jackets. That task took time, because Christa had to not only find something for herself and get dressed, but also had to help Giselle, while Mutti helped Julia.