by Susan Finlay
Petr told her that the apartment was perfect—walking distance to work and modern—well, more modern than any building he’d ever lived in.
Ilse was also pleased with the arrangement. Working at an office only a few doors down from the factory, soon led to her and Petr eating lunch and spending time together every day.
It was too soon in their relationship except for daydreams, but she hoped one day to share the apartment with Petr and move out of her family’s house. She still hadn’t told Petr about Ron and about her baby. Maybe someday, if they stayed together, she would open up about those past wounds. She might even take him to Biberach and let him meet her aunt and Julian.
For now, she was glad that life in Germany was returning to normal and her family, what was left of it, was together. Well, except for her cousin, Hermann, whom Aunt Karolina had not heard from, and her uncle, Franz, whom Aunt Hanna had not heard from. Ilse prayed that both were alive and would one day return home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lucas Landry, September 2017, Sacramento, California—
THE AIRPORT SHUTTLE delivered Lucas to his house in Roseville, then promptly disappeared down the street. With the computer bag strapped over his shoulder, wheeling his suitcases up the sidewalk to the front door, he pulled out his house key, opened the door and called out, “Tawny, Bianca, I’m home.” No answer. It was a work day but he knew Tawny wouldn’t be at work. If she wasn’t here resting, that meant she was still in the hospital.
So much for not worrying. To be sure, he dashed up the stairs. Nope, not here. Okay, hospital it is. His brain felt fried after a whirlwind train/subway/airplane journey, followed by waiting to go through customs, and picking up luggage, and completed in a shuttle bus, stuck in traffic for over an hour. After a few moments his head cleared. Wow, I think I even remember how to get to the hospital. Maybe jetlag wouldn’t be as bad on the return trip as it had been on his arrival in Germany.
He left his luggage in the foyer, made sure he’d locked the door, then entered the garage from the kitchen. Tawny’s car was in the garage. Huh? Oh, that’s right. Lani took her to the hospital.
Twenty minutes later he rushed into the hospital, stopped at the information desk to ask where the maternity ward was, since he couldn’t remember, then hightailed it up three flights of stairs, not wanting to wait around an elevator.
In the maternity ward, he snagged a nurse and asked for his wife’s room. She gave him the number and pointed him in the right direction.
As he neared the room he heard laughter. He rushed through the open doorway and stopped abruptly, staring. His jaw dropped and he blinked. Tawny was in bed, holding a blue blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Next to the bed Lani, Aunt Anna holding Bianca, and Aunt Elsa stared back at him.
What, no. The baby’s here already? No. Wait. The aunts are here, too. When did the aunts and Tawny meet each other? . . . The baby is here!
“Lucas! You’re here,” Tawny said, her voice full of love. All eyes still staring him, he controlled his urge to panic and slowly back out of the room.
“Yeah, I . . . finally made it. When . . . how . . . did all this happen?”
“After I talked to you last, the pains got worse. I called your aunts and they came right over. Aunt Anna filmed the birth for you. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Uh, I’m confused. I never introduced you and my aunts.”
“You didn’t have to, silly. I called them about a month ago. We’ve been chatting on the telephone ever since. They’re sweet and wonderful. I should be berating you for not introducing us, you know.”
Lucas ran his hand through his uncombed hair. What the hell? They’ve been talking behind my back.
Aunt Anna said, “Why didn’t you introduce us, Lucas? We kept telling you that we wanted to meet your family. You met ours.”
“I . . . .” He stopped talking, the dreaded words sticking in his throat. How could he explain, without insulting anyone? Just because his father and brother were racist, that didn’t mean his aunts were, too. “I’m not sure why, exactly. I guess, well, I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Tawny asked.
Bianca wiggled in Aunt Anna’s arms, attempting to get down, but Anna held her tightly and whispered something to her, something Lucas couldn’t hear.
He tried to focus on Tawny’s question. Why didn’t he introduce them and what was he afraid of? He sighed and sat down on the only empty chair, stalling.
“There’s something I never told you, Tawny. About my father and brother.” He slowly raked his fingers through his messy hair. This is bad timing, really bad. Not the way I wanted it to go. How can I say this without . . . oh, hell, just say it. No mincing words. “They’re racist. Dad didn’t want to even meet you. That’s why he and I went our separate ways.”
Tawny gasped. “Oh my God, Lucas. Why didn’t you tell me? That explains so much.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings?” Tawny said. “That’s adorable, but you must surely know that as a thirty year old black woman I’ve heard mean things all my life. It’s hurtful, but I can’t let that control my life.”
“Wait? You got really upset a few months ago when you lost a patient because he was a racist.”
She looked down at the blanket for a moment. “Oh, that.” She hesitated several moments. “Well, that wasn’t really the problem. I didn’t quite tell you everything. My boss was, I think, using that to intimidate me. He was hitting on me. Had hit on me once before, too.”
“What?” Lucas stood up and started pacing across the room, again raking his hand through his hair, then clenching his fists.
“He said that my pregnancy didn’t bother him, and that it was actually a good thing. Said I could play around without worrying about getting pregnant with another man’s baby. Crazy. And this man was in charge of a mental health clinic.”
“Did you file a complaint against him?” Lucas asked, anger threatening to burst out of his chest.
“Please sit back down. Try to calm yourself. Please.”
Lucas glanced at her, then glanced around, seeing the baby, Bianca, the aunts, and Lani. He strode back over to his chair and plopped down. “Okay. Go on with your story.”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I’m quitting soon anyway. I’ll send resumes out and get a job in Sacramento, like we planned.”
Lucas didn’t know how to respond. A huge part of him wanted to drive over to her clinic and punch out the creep. The logical part of him struggled, telling him to let it go. She wasn’t going back to work there, and someone else would turn the guy in sooner or later.
“Yes, I know, the guy is a jerk. I wanted to punch him out myself. But he didn’t do anything physical. He just shot off his ignorant mouth like some men do. I’m not saying what he did was okay and I’m not letting him off the hook in my mind, but I don’t want to get caught up in a legal battle of ‘he said/she said’. All I really want is to be with my family and to get a better job near our new home.”
“All right. You’re right and it’s your decision to make,” Lucas conceded, “but if this ever happens to you again, please tell me. Then calm me down again,” he smiled sheepishly. “Let’s discuss it and figure out how to handle it. We’re partners, right?”
“Agreed. And you, too. Please tell me when you have a problem with someone and don’t worry about hurting my feelings.”
He nodded.
“Now, don’t you want to see your son?” Tawny said.
Lucas looked straight at Tawny and the blue bundle. His son. All the remaining anger floated away. He rushed over, kissed Tawny, and then looked down at the sleeping baby, his sleeping son!
“He’s adorable, honey.” He wiped at a tear that had slid out of the corner of his eye. “I’m so sorry I missed the birth and everything. I tried as hard as I could to get here in time.”
“It’s okay,” Tawny said. “Really. I’m sure lots of men miss the births
of their children. Didn’t you tell me that Christa’s father missed the birth of his son while he was in the war?”
“Yeah,” Lucas said. “That was sad. But he had a good reason. I didn’t.”
“Don’t you dare beat yourself up over that, do you hear me. You’re a good father and a good husband. If we have another baby, you can be there for that one’s birth. In fact, you can give birth to the next baby,” she teased. “Just enjoy today. You have a new child. Be happy.”
He nodded as she handed him the blue bundle. He knew she was right, that people load guilt onto their own shoulders, even when the people they think they’ve wronged don’t see it that way. He needed to learn to stop loading guilt on himself.
Aunt Elsa said, “I wish our parents were still alive to meet their newest great-grandbaby.”
Lucas thought about that. Their parents—yes, they would have been happy, he felt sure. His own parents were another story—well, his mother would have probably been thrilled, but his father wouldn’t. That much hadn’t changed, even at the end, as far as Lucas knew. Maybe if he’d gotten through to his father and got him off drugs, he might have been able to talk to him about his racist beliefs and could have come to some sort of understanding. If only . . . stop doing that, he told himself. You did the best you could. You promised yourself you wouldn’t load up on guilt.
He sighed. Old habits were hard to break.
Aunt Anna said, “And all their other great-grandchildren and grandchildren. It’s a shame Mom and Dad died in that car accident.”
“Well, it’s good that they didn’t know about Seth and Dad,” Lucas said, thinking out loud. “I can’t imagine they would have been happy with their intolerance.”
Aunt Elsa said, “Lucas, they knew about Joseph, your father. They tried to talk to him. Reached out numerous times over the years. Back when you were small.”
“That’s right,” Anna said. “He was stubborn as hell. Our parents finally gave up, but I think they always felt guilty that he’d turned out the way he did. They thought they should have been able to teach him better about being good to his fellow man.”
Tawny said, “That wasn’t their fault, I’m sure. Look at how you two turned out. You’re both kind and caring and tolerant of others.”
Aunt Anna said, “You’re right about Joseph. They were good parents to him and to us. Joseph was difficult from the beginning, and they did everything they could to steer him on the right path.”
Aunt Elsa nodded.
“When Seth came to our house,” Aunt Anna said, “we had no idea about the things he believed. That’s when we gave him the contact information for our relatives in Germany. The second time he came, he told us about Tawny being black. He also let slip something about Jews. Elsa and I wanted to slap him and tell him the truth, but didn’t dare.”
Elsa said, “I’ve wanted to call him up many times and tell him that we’re Jewish. That he’s got Jewish blood running through his veins. Anna wouldn’t let me.”
Tawny said, “Probably better you didn’t. He might have gone ballistic if you’d told him, and taken out his anger on the two of you. You probably were wise not to tell him.”
Lucas didn’t say anything. Seth was a problem that wasn’t going away, and he wasn’t sure what to do about him. Tawny had a point. The guy could be unstable, especially if he learned the truth before he was ready to accept it.
“When are you going to tell us what you found out in Germany?” Aunt Anna said, changing the subject. “We’ve been dying to hear about your adventures over there. Tawny showed us some of your photos you posted online. Made us want to go back over there for a visit of our own.”
“I’ll tell you all about it, but first I want to hug my girls, kiss them, and tell them I love them. After that, I want to hear all about what I missed while I was gone. The labor, the birth, everything.”
Bianca jumped down from Anna’s lap and rushed over to Lucas, standing beside Tawny’s bed. Lani stood and took the baby from Lucas’s arms, allowing Lucas to reach down, scoop Bianca up into his arms, and smother her with kisses and tickles.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Christa Nagel, Oct. 1947-April 1948, Memmingen, Germany—
CHRISTA EXITED SCHOOL for the last time, ecstatic, milling around with her classmates, smiling, laughing and hugging, excited that they’d graduated in spite of all the time they’d lost while the schools were closed during the war. Now they had their whole lives ahead of them. She congratulated two friends on their being accepted to trade schools and a third on his being accepted into an apprenticeship. Their futures were bright.
Now she needed to figure out what she was going to do with her life. Whatever that was, she hoped she could make something good of herself.
For the few first days after, she languished at home, enjoying her newly found freedom and helping Mutti and Aunt Maria with the younger kids. Her head was still floating in the clouds.
A few days later, Aunt Maria said, “Christa, you need to get a job and help support the family, or move out and get your own place. Right, Hanna?”
Mutti was standing next to Aunt Maria, wringing her hands together, her eyes avoiding Christa’s. “Ja, too many mouths to feed.”
“You are an adult now, Christa,” Aunt Maria added. “You must start acting like an adult, like your cousin, Ilse.”
Christa’s excitement suddenly plunged through the floor of her aunt’s house. Right. I am fourteen and out of school. Get to work, Christa. Take care of the kids, Christa. Do the laundry, Christa. Go find your own place, Christa. When did I ever get to be a kid?
Instead of complaining though, Christa just asked, “How do I get a job?”
Aunt Maria smiled and responded, “Check the bulletin boards, go to the businesses, shops, the factories, and ask if they are hiring. Fill out applications.”
“All right, she nodded, resigned. “I will find a job.”
She spent the next week checking with every business in Memmingen. It seemed no one wanted to hire a young girl who had just finished school. Searching in other nearby towns might be an option, but she needed a job close enough to home, or else she would have to find an apartment. Only who would rent an apartment to someone her age? And she’d heard that there was still a housing shortage, which meant she would have a slim chance of getting a place of her own.
She sighed as she meandered the streets, meekly kicking stones along the road’s edge, trying to decide where else she could look. A group of American soldiers stood outside the café where she’d asked about a job fifteen minutes earlier. That gave her an idea. She could ride her bicycle out to the air base, taking Augsburgerstraβe, and see if they were hiring. Maybe they needed someone to help out in one of the offices. She could answer phones and file papers.
An hour later, after rushing home and getting her bicycle, then riding through the residential part of town and into the countryside, she arrived at the air base and stopped to ask a soldier where she could inquire about a job. The guard sent her to a big building with glass double doors. She entered, looked around, then walked over to a desk, where a middle-aged woman sat, dressed in a business suit.
“Excuse me,” Christa said in German, hoping the woman would understand her. “I was told this was where I should come to check on employment opportunities.”
The woman looked her up and down. “Sorry, we don’t have any jobs for you,” she said in German with a thick American accent. “Did you look at the bulletin board?” She pointed over to the wall, near the door where Christa had entered.
“Look at the bulletin board?” Christa asked, wondering what good it would do to check their bulletin board, considering the woman had just told her they didn’t have any jobs.
“Yes. It’s not for official jobs,” she smiled. “Our soldiers and their families post help-wanted ads on our bulletin board. You might find something there.”
“I will look. Danke.”
She trudged over to the board, her shoulders s
lumping, feeling hopeless and useless. Looking up at the ten or so ads posted, she began reading: Need driver for school aged children. Need handyman for repairs on house. Need math tutor for our teenage son. Need live-in nanny to care for five month old baby. Need . . . wait. Go back. Live-in nanny. She could do that. Mutti wouldn’t like her leaving home, but she would appreciate having extra space in the house that her leaving would give them.
She took out a piece of paper and pencil from her handbag and scribbled the phone number, then went back to the desk. “Is there a telephone around here that I could use?”
The woman glanced around, then gave Christa a long look. “I’m not supposed to do this, but if you make it short and it’s only one phone call, I guess it’ll be all right,” she slid her phone over.
Christa dialed the number, her fingers shaking hard enough that she had to start over three times. The phone finally rang.
A woman answered—in English.
Christa felt panic course through her body and she almost hung up. Then she remembered Mutti and Aunt Maria telling her to find a job. She spoke in German, hoping this woman would also understand her.
“Uh, hello, my name is Christa Nagel. I saw your advertisement about a job. A nanny for a baby. I can do that.”
“How old are you?” she answered in German. “I’m looking for someone with a lot of experience caring for young children.”
“I am fourteen. I finished school early. I am the oldest in my family, and I have six brothers and sisters. I have more experience than you can imagine, changing diapers, feeding, taking care of sick kids, bathing them, everything to help my mother, who had her hands full.” She thought about telling her all she had done taking care of the children on their long walk or in the internment camp, but decided against it. “I . . . I even helped deliver my baby brother.”