Forbidden Love

by Mary Hagen

  A tired appearing woman with a wrinkled skin and dark hair streaked with gray, opened the door. Her apron covered a worn, flowered dress.

  “Yes?” she questioned, her eyes full of apprehension.

  “My name is Hannah Dresser,” she answered.

  The woman’s eyes turned hard and the color drained from her face. “This property was given to us by the . . .” she didn’t add, “the Nazis,” but silently started to close the door.

  “Please,” Hannah said, “I don’t wish to claim the house, but I would like to retrieve something in my room. Then, I’ll be gone from here.”

  “That’s all you want? If it’s worth anything, you’ll need to pay me for keeping it for you.” Her voice was suspicious.

  “Yes. I live in England.”

  Cautiously, she opened the door. “Hurry, then.”

  “It’s in the attic and won’t take long.”

  As Hannah ran up the flights of stairs, she paused on each floor to look around her. The house had an unkempt, stale smell. The rooms were shabby but the beds were covered with spreads she remembered, now worn and dirty. Her room in the attic was unused and dusty, her clothes removed from the closet. She pushed open the panel that led to her hiding place should the Nazis arrive at her home. The menorah was as she had left it, wrapped in a towel. With a deep sigh, she picked up her mother’s treasure relieved she could return it to her. She did not tarry. The room held no happy memories for her, and she hurried down the stairs not pausing to look at her room she’d had to give up when forced to move to the attic.

  The woman met her at the bottom. Strange, she thought, she had not given her name and she had not asked

  “I need to see what you’re taking from my house,” she said in an unpleasant tone.

  Hannah removed the covering and showed her the antique silver menorah.

  “Jew,” the woman spit out the words in contempt. “I knew. Well, it appears made of silver. You’ll need to pay me.”

  “You have no right to my home. Perhaps I’ll ask for its return to me.” Hannah watched the color drain from the woman’s face. Good, she knows she will lose it. Let her stew.

  Without another word, the woman opened the door and Hannah left.

  As Hannah walked down the walk, she realized she could reclaim what belonged to her, but she had no desire to do so.

  Her last visit was to the Schwartz home to inquire about Penn with the hope his mother had some word of him. Their home appeared as shabby as her former house. The trees needed trimming, the grass mowing, and the house painting. Their former prosperous lives had been replaced by poverty with Mr. Schwartz about to go on trial for using slave labor in his plant.

  She raised her hand to ring the bell, but the door was opened by Lisa. “You’re alive. We thought you had been taken by . . .” She stopped before saying the Gestapo. “What do you want of us? Get out of here. You’ll upset Mamma, you Jew. You’ve ruined us. Look at what you’ve done.”

  “Who’s at the door?” Mrs. Schwartz called.

  “No one of importance.” Lisa started to close the door, but Hannah stopped her with her forearm. “I have a question and then I’ll leave,” Hannah said. “I need to know about Penn. Have you heard anything? Where he is?”

  “If I did, I would never tell you. Now leave us alone. Get off our property and don’t come back.” Lisa forced the door closed, pushing Hannah backward. She stumbled and fell, glanced at the door, pushed herself onto her feet, and brushed the dirt from her coat.

  They had no word of Penn, she was certain. She choked away the sob in her throat. Penn is dead. He can’t be. He belonged with her, and she would find him.

  Chapter 21

  Hannah left Germany with sharp reminders of her terrors of the past and her regrets of the present. Penn missing. No marker of Papa’s burial. Samuel’s mother dead. With a heavy heart, she carried the burden of news to her loved ones. At least, she had retrieved her mamma’s menorah. That would bring some joy to her homecoming.

  If only she could have located Penn. Missing in action gave her some hope he still lived even if in a Russian prisoner of war camp in Siberia. She toyed with the idea of asking for a visa to visit Siberia, thinking she might try to find him. The thought quickly died. The Russians would never allow it.

  When she arrived in London, she called her mamma with the news of the menorah. “I’ll bring it to you soon. I need to return to work immediately. I overstayed my time in Germany and so must fill my shift for the week.”

  Her statement was not entirely true. Even though she did have an extra shift to catch up at the hospital, she had time left to visit them, but first, she had to plan what to tactfully say to her mother and Samuel. At work, she threw herself into her duties, working extra hours, striving to put the trip out of her mind. Dr. Jeffery Smith seemed to sense her depression and asked several times if she needed to talk. She smiled and shook her head. She did not want to talk about her trip.

  More than once, Jeffery had asked her to marry him. She turned him down telling him of her love for Penn.

  “He may be dead. Missing in Action often means he’s no longer living,” he’d said at the end of her shift. Hannah shook her head in agreement, but inwardly she would never give up hope. She doubted she would ever say “yes” to his proposal.

  After leaving work, Hannah stopped for tea at her favorite tea shop. She stared out the window. Her tea grew cold. Her mind wandered. Construction occurred on every street as the many bombed buildings were repaired and rebuilt. People’s faces reflected new hopes and ambitions, free of the threats of war. She wanted to see Penn striding down the street toward her, but her heart sank. Such a futile wish.

  The young waitress replaced her cold cup with a hot cup of her favorite brew without making a comment. That morning, Jeff had asked her to marry him again. She told him she would think about it. His expression registered his hope.

  At thirty-one, she was not married and had no children to call her own. She knew she had to decide soon if she was ever to have a family, but facing life without Penn left doubt in her mind. Perhaps, she thought, she was destined to remain single for the rest of her life. A man deserved the love of the woman he married, and she could not give love to Jeff.

  Please, God, help me find Penn. What a foolish request. Why did she bother? God had disappeared from her life. From the lives of so many. He had done nothing but punish her people. She had seen too much tragedy to have any faith left. How could any Jew think God knew best anymore? He had betrayed them, good people, and abandoned them to unbelievable terrors. Her emotions spiraled out of control, down and down without end. If she was wrong and God existed, couldn’t he grant her one small prayer?

  She shuddered with a deep silent sob as guilt rattled her. There was no answer, no way of understanding. She squeezed away her tears and gazed out the window. Her dreams had been shredded and blown away like the leaves of fall. Tomorrow, she would celebrate the Sabbath with her mother, Samuel, and Ethel, and eat matzo ball soup. She didn’t expect answers, but she might reach some peace.

  Lost in self-pity, she almost missed seeing the tall man dodging in and out of the people walking on the other side of the street from the tea room. The figure was slightly familiar. Penn? No, it couldn’t be Penn. The man held his shoulders like Penn. His hair was cut short and the same color. He swung his arms in the same way and he walked in the same purposeful way.

  She stood so suddenly, she knocked over her chair and spilled her tea. Penn! Without grabbing her coat, her purse, or paying her bill, she rushed out of the tea room. Dodging traffic, she ran, bumping into peoples’ shoulders, apologizing, but never slowing her pace.

  She stumbled. A man caught her before she hit the cement. “Watch your step, lady,” he said as she regained her feet and resumed her search for Penn.

 
; He was gone. She glanced in every direction trying to pick out the tall man who she might have mistaken for Penn. Her legs buckled, and she sagged against a brick wall. If only she hadn’t tripped. As she righted herself and straightened her skirt, she caught sight of the man again entering a tall nondescript rebuilt red brick building with several others. She forced herself through the traffic, ran up five wide steps, and burst through the doors just in time to see the man enter a lift. As the door closed, he turned. “Penn,” she called, but no sound came from her.

  Hannah backed into a bench and collapsed, happy tears trickling down her cheeks. She swept them away with the back of her hand and watched the lift stop at floor two, three, five, seven, and twelve. It was him. He was alive. Joy replaced giddiness. He had to come back to the lobby. She would wait. She would watch until he returned to her.

  “Miss Dresser.” A young voice broke into her thoughts. “Mr. Stanton asked me to follow you with your coat and purse. You left them and he said you might need them.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she wrestled her mind into focus. “I didn’t pay my bill.

  “You can pay the next time you come in. Mr. Stanton doesn’t mind.” His voice changed pitch from that of a child to that of an adult. He coughed as his face turned red.

  She fumbled in her purse for a tip. Thanking him again, she folded her coat over her lap, and set her purse next to her. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  When the first lift descended to the lobby, the original lift that had carried Penn away from her, she rushed to it, and waited for it to empty, studying every person who exited.

  “Going up?” the operator asked.

  “No. I’m looking for the tall man who rode with you last trip. He was taller than everyone else. Did you notice which floor he exited?”

  The operator, a small man with narrow bored eyes and thin hair spread carefully over balding spots, peered at her as though she might be out of her mind.

  “Lady, I transport so many people, men, women, tall, short, fat, skinny, I don’t notice anymore.”

  The lift filled. “In or out?”

  Finding a spot on the crowded bench, she sat and faced the lifts. She would wait until the building closed for the night and then she would sit on the steps until he came out. Penn couldn’t remain in the building forever.

  Minutes ticked by. Big Ben rang out. Time crept rivaling the slowness of a slug crawling through a garden. She shuffled her feet, hugged her coat against her chest, and moved her purse from one side to the other. She never took her eyes from the elevators that ran up and down the landings, depositing and loading men and women. She sat on the bench, watched the elevators, and waited for Penn.

  Big Ben struck five, and then six. The doors of the lifts slid open and closed. The fourth lift filled, deposited individuals at each floor, and returned from six without pausing. Hannah stood on tiptoes to see over the heads of the crowd. One last occupant stepped out. Her mouth opened to call out, but as before, no words came forth. Her heart pounded in her ears and her legs threatened to buckle. He headed for the exit, paused, turned, and looked at her. Astonishment registered on his face. His eyes widen as he recognized her. He rushed toward her, mouthing, “Hannah.”

  She forced one leg to move and then the other as she moved toward him. Seconds later, they were face to face. Penn reached out and touched her cheek. “It’s you,” he said in a whisper. “I’ve tried to find you.”

  Hannah’s voice deserted her once again. She took in a deep breath to recover it. “Yes. Are you real?” She ran her hand over his face. He’s real.

  He smiled, his face the one she remembered. “I’m real.”

  “It's been so long,” Penn said.

  “We have so much to catch up on,” Hannah said.

  “Are you married?” he asked.

  “I've waited for you. And you?”

  “Thoughts of you kept me alive.”

  “I tried to find you.”

  “I escaped from the Russians on my way to Siberia.”

  For a moment they stood, studying one another, saying nothing more. Then he took her in his arms. With one hand he cupped her chin and tipped her head upward. Her lips parted and she felt his kiss as warmth encircled her heart. The kiss was of such magnitude she never wanted it to end, and she would never forget how she felt at that moment. They were together. Everything would work out and nothing would separate them again.

  Also from Soul Mate Publishing and Mary Hagen

  THE CHASE

  Four women leave on a backpacking trip in a Colorado Mountain Wilderness area as a farewell to one of them. September weather threatens their safety, but they decide the weather will improve. On the first night out, they are attacked by four escaped convicts using the same route as the women in the hopes of avoiding the law. The men threaten the safety of the women and threaten to kill them. One woman is knocked unconscious, two are tied to trees, and one is tortured by the men.

  Knowing she must free herself, Tanya Hudson struggles to release her hands from the rope bindings and help the other three women, Rebecca, Cindy, and Julie get free. Her hopes become pinned on her miniature poodle to alert her fiancé, Greg, that the women are in trouble. It’s a race against time in this survival thriller.

  Available now on Amazon: THE CHASE