She shook her head in disgust. “Even less helpful. Just tell me how long until we’re there.”
“Well, we’ll have half an hour’s wait in Murnau, and then Oberammergau is about half an hour after that.”
One hand shot up and touched her hair. “Oh, dear. I must be a fright.” She started to get up. “I need to comb my hair and freshen up. Oh, and put on my new dress.”
“Emilee,” Hans said, laying a hand on her arm. “We’ll have half an hour in Murnau. The bathrooms in the Bahnhof will be much better than the one on the train. You’ll have plenty of time to get yourself fixed up.”
She pulled an arm away from his touch. “Don’t be so smug. Just because all you have to do is run your fingers through your hair.” She looked out the window again. “How long was I asleep?”
“About three hours. You slept right through Munich.”
She started for a moment but then slapped his arm. “I did not. I remember changing trains there.”
“Gut. I nearly had to hire a porter to put you on a cart and wheel you onto the train.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Let me warn you, Herr Eckhardt,” she said tartly, “if something ever does come of this turbulent relationship of ours, you should know that teasing me right after I wake up could put your life in extreme danger.”
“Ah, I see,” he replied gravely. “And how long does that condition last?”
“About an hour and a half. And that’s assuming I get an injection of coffee immediately upon awakening.”
He laughed. “Duly noted.” Then he grew serious. “You were tired. I’m glad you got some rest. This has been a rough few days for you.”
“Not really. Other than wondering every minute if you were dead or alive, drunk or sober, a child who needed spanking or the man I had agreed to marry.” She slid in closer to him, smiling softly now. “It was exhausting. Did you sleep at all?”
Hans shook his head as he put his arm around her. “Not really.”
“So, what have you been thinking?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. About life, I guess. About us, of course.”
“Hans, I. . . .”
“I know, Emilee. I’m not assuming anything. You have every right to wonder whether this is going to work.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult, Hans. I just. . . .” Her voice trailed off again and she laid her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “But I am very excited to meet your mother. I’m surprised how close we’ve grown over these past few weeks.”
“No surprise. You’re both worrying about the same little boy.”
Laughing softly, she nodded. “Yes, we are.”
They were silent for a while, and then Hans stirred. “Emilee, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She immediately sat up. “Oh no,” she said, only half teasing, “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Before I ever knew that you and Dr. Schnebling were in Berlin, I made up my mind that the only way I could make up to you all that I had done was to be completely honest with you about what happened.”
“It’s a good thing you did, or I wouldn’t be here now. Wait! Are you saying there’s more?”
Hans nodded.
The corners of her mouth tightened. “And you’ve waited until now to say it?”
He couldn’t help it. “It’s nothing bad, but maybe I should get you a cup of coffee first.”
“Don’t joke about this, Hans. Tell me.”
He took a deep breath. “All right. Remember when you asked me why I decided to return the money to Frau von Schiller, and I told you that it was because I felt guilty?” Emilee nodded slowly. “Well, that’s true, but it’s not the whole story.”
“I’m listening.”
And so, in a low voice so he wouldn’t be overheard by the other passengers, Hans began. He started with the conversation he’d had with his mother about lying and how she had told him the story about the Dutch boy with his finger in the dike. “So,” he said when Emilee just nodded, “here’s what I didn’t tell you. As I was walking away from Frau von Schiller as fast as I could—or hobbling away is a better description—I . . .” He looked away. “I heard a voice.”
That brought Emilee’s head up with a jerk.
“Well,” he hurried on. “I’m not sure that I heard it. It was more like I felt it.”
“And it told you to give the money back?”
“No. It only spoke one word. It said, ‘Peter.’”
“Peter? I don’t get it. Why Peter?”
“That’s exactly what I thought at first. And then it hit me. Mama thought the boy’s name in the story was Peter. I told her it wasn’t. That it had been added into the story later. That irritated her. She knew what I was doing, which was dodging the point she was trying to make. She was telling me that something little, like a small lie, was like the crack in the dike, and that if I didn’t stop now, the whole structural integrity of the ‘dike’—meaning my life—would be compromised.”
“How ironic,” Emilee murmured. “And this was before you came back to Berlin?”
“Yes. Little did I know that the dike was about to bust wide open and I’d be drowning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”
“Because, I . . . I don’t know. It’s just so weird. Hearing voices? At first I thought it might be delerium tremens. That’s when you—”
She jabbed him with her elbow. “I’m a nurse, Hans. I know what DTs are.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Now, I wonder if it wasn’t just a combination of the pain, the hunger—”
“Anything but inspiration, right?” she cut in.
“I knew you’d say that. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
For a long moment her eyes searched his, but then she slowly nodded. “I understand.”
“And that’s all you’ve got to say?”
“You didn’t tell me,” she snapped right back at him, “so I assume that means you didn’t want to hear what I would say.”
“I don’t think it was an answer to prayer, or from God, or some angel or something. Not some grand miracle.” He threw up his hands. “To be honest, I don’t know what it was.”
“Nor do I,” she said. “But I do know what it wasn’t. It wasn’t DTs or mental exhaustion or hunger. It was from your mother.”
“It wasn’t her voice.”
“It was from your mother,” she said more forcefully. “In answer to her prayers. And mine. I know how you feel about God and all that, but how can you not see it, Hans? If that voice hadn’t spoken to you, you would very likely be in prison now.”
“Von Schiller said that if I hadn’t brought the money back, he would have had me shot.”
“So you’d be dead!” she cried. “And instead, you got food, medical treatment, a shower and shave, a job with a bonus, a commission as a lieutenant, and . . . and. . . .”
“And I came within an inch of being shot twice in the police headquarters.”
“Call it whatever you want, Hans—good luck, fate, Providence, God, an angel—but at least acknowledge there was some higher power in all of this. That can’t all be just pure coincidence.”
“I suppose.”
“Then thank Him for it.”
“What if it’s not God?” Hans shot right back. “What if there is another explanation for it?”
“You thanked Dr. Schnebling for all he did for you and me. And you thanked Colonel von Schiller for giving you another chance. And you thanked me for coming and agreeing to listen to you. And I’m guessing you’ll thank your mother for not giving up on you. So why do you find it so repugnant to lift your eyes to heaven and say, ‘Thank you, God?’”
Hans exhaled slowly. “Don’t get me wrong, Emilee. I am very grateful for what has happened to me these past few days. I know that I don’t deserve any of it. But I just can’t believe that there’s someone up there in the heavens manipulating things on my behalf. So, I am thankful. I just don’t know who or what
to thank.”
Emilee said nothing, just stared out the window.
“That’s not helping my case, is it?” he asked after a moment.
She didn’t answer him.
8:13 p.m.—Murnau am Staffelsee Railway Station, Bavaria
Hans gave a low whistle as Emilee came out into the main hallway again. Then he walked swiftly over to her. “Excuse me, Fräulein, but have we met before?”
She laughed, pleased at his reaction.
“Wow! That dress is lovely.” He touched her arm. “And so are you, Emilee. You look exquisite.”
She took a little bow. “Exquisite, I can live with.” Then she noticed he had something tucked under one arm. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.
“I bought a newspaper while I was waiting.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They finally caught Liebknecht and Luxemburg.”
“Who?”
“The two leaders of the Spartacan revolt, the two who were the most responsible for the last week of violence and murder.”
“And they’ll put them on trial?”
He shook his head. “Their captors didn’t wait for that. They made Liebknecht kneel down and shot him in the back of the head. Rosa Luxemburg’s captors beat her with the butt of their rifles, then shot her, and then dumped her body in a canal somewhere in—”
“Don’t, Hans!” Emilee exclaimed.
Surprised, he stopped. “What?”
“I don’t want that in my head right now,” she said.
“Oh. It’s just that these were the two that—”
“I know. But not tonight, okay?”
“Sorry.” Feeling stupid and embarrassed, Hans stepped over to a trash bin and tossed the paper into it. “They’re boarding now,” he said glumly. “We can get on if you’re ready.”
Emilee came over and took his hand. “Go over your family with me again, but slowly this time. Do you think they’ll all come to the station? It will be almost nine o’clock by the time we get there.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, squeezing her hand. “And definitely all of Graswang with them. And probably half of Oberammergau as well. And they’re not coming to see me, that’s for sure.”
8:55 p.m.—Oberammergau Railway Station, Bavaria
An interesting thing happened at the train station after their arrival. Emilee and Hans hadn’t said much on the ride to Oberammergau. She could tell that her reaction to the news story had hurt him. She would talk to him about it later, she decided.
In spite of Hans’s predictions, the family members were the only ones there to meet them, though every single member of the family was there. Hans first introduced his parents to her and then stood back with his father as Emilee and his mother clung together for a long time, tears of joy falling freely. Inga had only managed to choke out one sentence. “Thank you for bringing our son home.”
First, Inga introduced her daughters and their husbands and children in order from oldest to youngest. Ilse and Karl, Heidi and Klaus, Anna and Rudi. The children’s names were mostly lost in a bewildering whirl, but before morning Emilee would review the sheet Hans had written up for her. Only then did Inga give permission to the children to greet their Onkel Hans.
Emilee watched in wonder as they swarmed around him. Little Miki shot out of her father’s arms, nearly bowling Hans over. She hugged him tightly as she planted kiss after kiss on his cheeks, chattering away as fast as her little tongue could move. The older ones were no less enthusiastic, talking all at once, asking him questions, telling him about some new event in their lives, asking him how long he was going to stay this time.
Gradually they calmed down, and Hans huddled them up in a circle with his arms around them all. He began to talk to them in a low voice. When they began to giggle and kept stealing glances at her, Emilee realized he was telling them about her. Smiling, she started over to join them, but Hans waved her away. “Sorry,” he called, “local Bavarians only. East Prussians not allowed.”
Inga and the others came over and stood beside Emilee, watching with affection. “He’s one of them,” Anna observed. “That’s why they love him so much.”
And just like that, Emilee knew. Even as the answer came to her, it left a thousand questions tumbling in her head. But that was all right. She had never expected to have all of her questions answered. Just the one.
“Stay here,” she whispered to Inga and the others, and then she walked over to the circle.
Miki gave a squeal. “Here she comes!”
“No Pasewalkians allowed,” Hans exclaimed, turning to face her.
She walked right up to him and jerked her thumb in the direction of the other adults. “Out!” she growled. Trying not to laugh, Hans meekly bowed his head and backed away.
“Okay, gather in,” Emilee commanded the children. She went down on one knee, gathered Miki into her arms, directed Annaliese and Kristen to come in on her left side, and told Klaus Jr. and Gerhardt to stand on her left. She motioned them to bend down, and then she began to talk.
Hans watched, smiling at this sudden conspiratorial togetherness. “She’s wonderful, Hans,” Ilse said.
“Delightful,” Heidi agreed.
“Absolutely,” Anna chimed in.
Now the giggles were coming nonstop. Miki was listening, her eyes growing wider and wider, and suddenly Emilee whispered something in her ear and Miki clapped her hand over her mouth and doubled over with peals of giggles.
Finally, Emilee stood up. She stood Miki directly in front of her. Annaliese and Kristen stood on her left, the boys on her right. “We have an announcement,” Emilee called. “Come in closer.”
The family moved in. Emilee laid a hand on Miki’s shoulders. “You first, Miki.”
She stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her, as if she were in church. She glanced back at Emilee, who nodded to her. She turned back, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m the flower girl.”
Inga gasped, and her hand shot to her mouth. Hans was dumbstruck. There were cries from the others. Emilee motioned to the two girls. Annaliese was fifteen, Kristen, thirteen. They were holding hands. They looked at each other, nodded, and then in perfect unison said, “And we’re the maids of honor.”
Hans started forward, and then Emilee waved him back. “Boys?”
“And we’re the groomsmen,” Gerhardt blurted.
Smiling mischievously, Emilee came forward and took both of Hans’s hands. “Sorry to box you into a corner, Herr Eckhardt, but I’m afraid you have no choice now. So down on your knee.”
Hans dropped instantly to one knee. He didn’t need to be told what to do. “Emilee Greta Fromme, will you—”
She threw back her head and shouted it at the sky. “Yes!”
The family burst into applause. Everyone else on the platform turned and looked, and, not sure exactly what was going on, they started to applaud too.
January 25, 1919, 11:10 a.m.—Eckhardt dairy farm, Graswang, Bavaria
Hans stopped at the door to the kitchen, his face softening. Emilee was at the stove with his mother. She was stirring a pot of pork stew while his mother added a dash of seasoning. They were talking quietly. His mother said something and Emilee laughed. It was a sound of pleasure and contentment, and it made him smile.
Hans was pleased with how the whole family had taken to Emilee, but her relationship with her future mother-in-law was especially satisfying. Inga had already told Hans that she thought of Emilee as one of her own daughters.
His mother leaned in toward Emilee and spoke again, this time loudly enough for Hans to overhear. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but there’s some strange man at the door watching us. Do you think he’s here for you or for me?”
Hans laughed and walked into the room. Both women turned around and smiled at him. He went up and took Emilee in his arms and kissed her lightly. “Smells good,” he said.
“Yes, your mother makes the best stew ever.”
He smiled. “Yes, that sme
lls good too.” Emilee blushed as Hans turned to his mother. “Can I steal Emilee for a while? What time is lunch?”
“This needs to simmer for another hour or so. We’ll eat at one.”
“Good.” He turned back to Emilee. “Let’s go for a walk.”
11:20 a.m.—Graswang Valley
They walked slowly, following the path that wound along the banks of the Lech River. There had been a light snow yesterday, but now there were only some scattered clouds scudding across the sky and the temperature was a little above freezing. Emilee and Hans were holding hands, and their shoulders were touching. She looked up at him. “You really are spoiled, you know.”
He shot her a dirty look. “Have you been talking to my mother?”
She laughed. “No, I mean that you’re spoiled getting to live in this place.” She looked around. Except for a few patches, the snow was gone from the valley, which was framed in on all sides by pine-covered hills. Beyond them, here and there, the towering peaks of the Bavarian and Austrian Alps could be seen. After the bleak flatlands of northern Germany, this was breathtaking to Emilee. “It really is incredibly beautiful, and you just take it for granted,” she added.
“Actually, I don’t,” Hans said over the sound of the gurgling water. “I love this place.”
“Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for letting me meet your family. They really are quite wonderful.”
“You say that only because they treat you like visiting royalty,” he teased.
“Yes,” she shot right back. “But I deserve it, don’t you think?”
He nodded soberly. “Yes, your majesty.”
They walked on for several more minutes without speaking, and then Hans said, “I’d like to talk to you about our marriage, Emilee.”
She stopped dead. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
He took her elbow, chuckling. “Our marriage ceremony, I mean. Okay?”
She didn’t move. “What about it?”
“I want to ask you a question, but I need you to be really honest with me, all right?”
“Of course.”
Fire and Steel, Volume 2 Page 41