From Dust and Ashes (26 page)

“Should I change?” As soon as she said it, Helene chastened herself. She had brought only three dresses with her. One she wore, one was filthy from traveling, and the other would need to stay clean for tomorrow’s meeting.

He smiled. “You’re perfect just the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Helene felt heat rise to her cheeks.

Peter walked her and the children to his house, where they dropped off the children with a few buddies of his. After promising to be back before Petar’s next feeding, the two headed toward the center of the old city.

“See that building with the dome?” Helene said, pointing. “It’s the Palais Kaufmännischer Verein, where congresses, fairs, and balls are held.”

“Of course.” Peter dug his hands into his trouser pockets. “I should have known you’ve been here before.”

Helene twisted a blonde curl around her finger. “Many times. I was dragged to Nazi parties and forced to mingle with people I had no desire to know. I had to act interested in their families, their landholdings, and their travels. I’m sure many thought less of me because I was a simple peasant from St. Georgen.”

Peter seemed intrigued. “Perhaps you should be giving me the tour.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen everything before. But there is something I’d like to show you. It’s my favorite.” Helene led him onto a side street, down an alley, and into an open courtyard. “This is Linz’s main city square, Hauptplatz. Those pastel-colored buildings are from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. And see that large pillar? It’s beautiful close up.”

They quickened their steps and soon reached it. It stood taller than the surrounding buildings. A gold sun and cross graced the top.

Peter tipped his head back. “It’s massive.”

“That’s the Dreifaltigkeitssäule, or Trinity Pillar. It was built in 1723. The people of the town built it in gratitude for salvation from war, plague, and fire. It had been a bad few years.”

“Kind of a gaudy thing, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s a beautiful symbol.”

Peter looked at her, rubbing his neck. “Well, I’m so happy the war in Europe’s over I could build a pillar too.”

“Oh? And what type of pillar would you create?”

“It would be a statue of a beautiful woman. The saint of Camp Gusen.”

Helene stared at the white marble. “Michaela would be honored.”

Peter touched the base of the pillar, his fingers tracing the delicate design. “I was talking about you.”

Helene took a step back, nearly bumping into someone passing by. “Me? A saint? Far from it.” She shook her head and began walking again. “Truly, Peter, you shouldn’t tease.”

He caught up to her and matched her pace. “You don’t think the army would let you stay here if they didn’t think your help was special, do you? Saving the lives of many people is nothing to be humble about.”

Helene stopped. “But I was weak. My help came too late for many.”

A group of soldiers passed by, casting her appreciative glances. Helene lowered her voice. “Besides, it was I who received so much. My whole life is different because of Michaela.”

They resumed walking, their arms touching every now and again. In their closeness Helene caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne. It reminded her of pine trees after the rain.

“You got my letter, didn’t you?” she finally asked. “And what I wrote about my newfound faith?”

“Yes.” Peter dug his hands into his pockets again. “And I’m happy for you.”

They strolled past the Old Cathedral. Music poured from its doors.

“Do you believe in God, Peter?”

His brow furrowed. “I did before the war. I guess I do now too. It’s just so confusing. Too many questions. Like, why am I still here and so many others aren’t? Why does my best friend still fight for his life in a German hospital? Why do people like Michaela end up in death camps?”

“I wish there were easy answers.”

They meandered down a narrow street that was a strange mix of bombed buildings and unscathed ones. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestone. The street ended at a park. Lamps had been lit along its borders, and crickets could be heard from the river beyond. Up on the hillside a castle hovered over the town like a hen over her chicks. It reminded her of the castles near Friedrich’s childhood home.

“We should get back,” she said finally. “I’m sure my children are tired, and I’d hate for your friends to have to deal with that.”

Peter chuckled. “Oh, they’d love that.” They headed toward the army base. When they were nearly there, Peter stopped. “I almost forgot.” He pulled a folded piece of fabric from his shirt pocket. Unwrapping it, he took out a delicate silver watch and held it out to Helene. “For you.”

She was enchanted by the intricate band and tiny face. “It’s beautiful.”

“My orders,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, but I never expected—” She took it from him and attempted to place it on her wrist. The clasp slipped from her fingers.

“Here, let me help.” Peter took the watch. Helene held up her arm, and he carefully fastened the clasp. Then he gently took her hand and held it up. “Just how I imagined it.”

Helene pulled her hand from his grasp, and they continued on to his house, where her children awaited their return.

After talking with his friends for a few minutes, Peter followed Helene and her children to the door. “Are you sure I can’t escort you back?”

Helene kissed the top of Petar’s sleepy head. “I can see my building from here. There’s no need.”

Peter gave her a tender smile. “Thank you for the tour. See you in the morning?”

“In the morning.”

Helene glided across the compound, the cool night air caressing her skin. Anika hummed a tune that Helene identified as American jazz.

A few scraggly trees lined the sidewalks, reminding her of the oaks back home in her father’s yard. As she passed one, a stirring in the leaves caused her to look up. She thought she saw legs dangling from a branch. Before she could run or cry out, the figure jerked, hurling something at her.

Helene bent to protect Petar, and a hard object struck the side of her face. She stumbled, almost losing her grip on the baby. Pain stung her face.

Suddenly a jagged rock crashed into the sidewalk in front of Anika’s feet. “Mutti!” she screamed, tugging on Helene’s arm.

Petar wailed.

“Mutti, carry me!”

“No, Anika, run!” Helene darted toward her housing unit, her vision blurred. Something else struck the sidewalk behind them.

Anika’s screams intensified as Helene dragged her along. “Mutti, my arm!” Helene noticed blood on her daughter’s sleeve. She grabbed the girl’s hand, clutching Petar even tighter, and ran.

When they finally reached the building, Helene released Anika’s hand and grasped the doorknob. It was locked. She pounded against the metal door. Her knuckles stung from the impact. “Let us in!” She looked back over her shoulder, expecting to see her attacker right behind her. Instead he dashed across the lawn away from her.

The door opened. Helene pushed past a soldier, her body trembling under heavy sobs. She scrambled to her room, hearing shouts but couldn’t understand the words. She released Anika’s hand and opened the door to her room.

As Helene laid little Petar on the cot, she noticed blood on his shoulder. She gasped and searched for the wound. Not finding anything, she touched the side of her head. Blood soaked her fingers. Anika screamed.

The soldier who’d let them into the building appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right?”

She begged him to get a doctor, then pulled Anika to her and collapsed on the cot next to Petar. Within minutes a medic with a white armband came in. He checked the cut on her head, cleaned it, and placed a cloth over the wound. Then he took her hand and placed it over the cloth. Although she couldn’t understand his words, she knew he was telling her to keep pressure on it.

Just as the medic left, Peter burst through the door, his eyes wild. “Are you okay?” He knelt beside her cot. “This is my fault. I should have walked you back.”

The baby had fallen into a fitful sleep on the cot. Anika stood beside the cot, her breath coming in gulps. “Somebody threw stuff at us.”

Peter held out his hand. In it was a broken piece of brick. “We found this outside. Someone knows you’re here. I’d just like to know how he got onto the base.”

Helene stared at the brick. On it tiny words were written in white. Her name, Friedrich’s, Anika’s, Petar’s, and her father’s. On the other side it read,
Open your mouth and you will lose them
.

Helene didn’t understand. Friedrich was already dead. Her father was still in the Russian zone. “Why would anyone do this?” Helene sobbed. “Is it because my husband was a Nazi? Because my children are the babies of a Nazi?”

A haughty face popped in her mind.
Arno
. The one person who knew where she was. The only man who was with Friedrich at his death. She opened her mouth to tell Peter of her suspicions, when he cut in.

“We have to relocate you,” Peter said.

“What should I do?” She rubbed Anika’s back, trying to calm her daughter and herself.

“Nothing tonight. I’ll talk to Captain Standart first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll make sure guards are stationed by your door and window.”

“Thank you.” Helene’s head throbbed and her eyelids felt heavy. She thought again about telling Peter about Arno, but decided it could wait until morning. It would be too much to try to explain with her head aching so.

Peter crossed to the door. Helene couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, couldn’t help but realize how much she needed him.

“You’re a strong woman, Helene. I’m proud of you.” Then he left without another word.

Helene succumbed to the urge to sleep. When Petar awoke during the night, she could hardly stay awake. As he nursed, she touched the bandage on her forehead.

Why is this happening, Lord?
Since confessing her faith in Him, it seemed her life had become even more difficult than before. Wasn’t everything supposed to turn out all right for God’s children?

But even as Helene thought that, she knew it wasn’t true. Michaela was a strong believer, and look at the hardships she had faced.

And perhaps was still facing.

Michaela tied the red scarf around her hair. “Thank you, Marek. It’s perfect.”

“I thought it would protect your head from the hot sun.” He picked up his walking stick. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

She glanced down at her sturdy shoes and examined the trail before them. “Tak jest, of course. I used to hike this in ten minutes.”

Marek frowned. “You are not as healthy as you were then. Besides, I wasn’t talking about the walk. Are you ready in your heart?”

Michaela pressed her fingers to her temples. Many times she had imagined the day she’d visit Georg’s final resting place. Over the years she’d composed various eulogies, things she would like to say, emotions she’d share. Now the time had come. “I’m ready,” she said solemnly, taking the lead.

They had only been on the woodsy trail a few minutes when Marek grabbed her arm. She’d been so taken by the dark green branches shading their journey and the numerous birds chattering among the trees, she hadn’t noticed a man approaching. She recognized him immediately, though he was older and sadder than the last time she’d seen him.

“Filip,” she called. It was Jacek and Lidia’s neighbor who had been so nice to her and Lelia long ago. She started to wave, but Marek caught her arm.

“No, Michaela, you will regret it. Let’s leave.”

“What are you talking about? It’s Filip.” Her smile faded as she noticed the scowl on Marek’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you know?” He released her arm. “He is the one who reported your family, turned in you and Lelia.”

Michaela felt the strength drain from her limbs. “No.” She glanced back to where Filip had been standing, but he was no longer there. Confusion and anger surged inside her.

Marek took her hand. “Come. We will do this another day.”

Michaela followed, but now a new conversation played in her head. The peaceful thoughts of the moment before were replaced with seething words. Anger she hadn’t experienced since the camps pumped through her. The next time she saw that man, she’d be prepared. She’d let him know exactly how she felt about his betrayal.

Michaela ripped the scarf from her head, trudging back the way she’d come.

Thirty-One

AUGUST 4, 1945

Y
ou’ll be moving to a town called Gmunden,” Peter told Helene the next day, lightly touching the bandage on her face.

The name sounded familiar. “Isn’t that by Lake Traun?”

“Yes. An American headquarters has been established there. It’s a nice place.” He grasped her hand. “We’re taking you there tonight. The army was foolish to think they’d suppressed all Nazi supporters. You and I should never have walked so openly in town.”

“I should have known better,” Helene admitted.

“I’ll be back for you tonight. Until then, there are many arrangements to make.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Come in, Sergeant,” Captain Standart called from behind his desk.

Peter entered the dimly lit room. “Captain.” He saluted.

“At ease.” Captain Standart pointed to the chair, and Peter sat. “I heard about the incident last night. We should have known there’d be some who wouldn’t want that young lady to open her mouth.” He leaned forward. “What do you propose we do? Gmunden will work for a while, but we need a more permanent solution.”

Peter cleared his throat. “I think the only way she’ll really be safe is to leave the country altogether. Perhaps, after Helene’s given us the information we need, she could be moved to France or Great Britain.”

“Maybe even leave the continent?” Captain Standart raised an eyebrow.

“Sir?” Peter asked.

“How about I put in a request for a United States visa? The quota is filling fast, but it’s worth a try.”

The thought of Helene moving to the States made Peter’s head spin.

“I’ll file the papers today. We should have an answer in a few weeks.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peter rose, holding back his elation. He turned to leave.

“One more thing,” the captain called to his back.

Peter did an about-face. “Sir?”

“Don’t mention it to her yet. I can’t make any promises.”

“Yes, sir.” With a parting salute, Peter left the room.

The day passed slowly. Army personnel brought meals to Helene and her children. The food tasted good, and she appreciated the personal attention, but it hardly compensated for being caged within four bare walls.

Anika was in a difficult mood. Nothing pleased the girl—not stories, songs, or the few meager items Helene had found for her to play with.

Helene’s head ached. Every time she moved, a throbbing pain shot through her temple. “Please just leave me alone,” she begged Anika when the girl insisted on climbing over her. Helene found the Raggedy Ann doll and gave it to her daughter. “Here. Go play over there.”

“Over there” consisted of a bare corner of the room. Anika’s lip trembled, and then her chin jutted out in defiance. Helene recognized that expression all too well. The thought of her daughter picking up Friedrich’s bad habits made Helene’s head pound even more.

Anika plopped down facing the wall, her doll tucked under her arm.

Helene rifled through the satchel. She had to do something to make herself useful. She decided to make a list of the items she needed to acquire in Gmunden. She’d need soap. There was laundry to do—especially Petar’s diapers. She glanced at their clothes, some of which had been torn during their escape. She needed thread for mending.

Before she could find pen and paper, Helene’s thoughts were interrupted by Anika’s clamor in the corner. The girl threw Raggedy Ann against the wall. “Undress! Line up. Filthy vermin.”

Helene’s heartbeat quickened. She knew where her daughter had heard those words. They’d blared from the camp loudspeakers day and night when they’d lived with Friedrich. During quiet nights, the shouting filtered into the house, even with the windows closed.

Anika picked up her doll and shook it hard.

Helene lunged from the cot. “No!” She lifted Anika to her feet. “What are you doing? What are you saying?” Helene’s grip tightened around Anika’s arms. Anger and horror surged through her. Anika winced, then began to cry.

Helene let out a guttural moan and released her grip. Anika sank to the ground and glared at her mother, then curled in a ball against the wall.

“I’m sorry.” Helene slumped to the ground and stroked her daughter’s head. Although the crying stopped, Helene’s chest felt heavy.
What have we become?

Anika cautiously climbed into her mother’s lap. Helene clung to her daughter and rocked her gently on the cold, hard floor.

“Please don’t say those things ever again,” she whispered in Anika’s ear. “Those are bad things. We must forget.” Even as she said it, Helene knew forgetting was impossible.

Peter came in. He undoubtedly noticed their somber mood, but didn’t ask. “Is this all you have?” He gingerly lifted the satchel.

Helene rose from the ground and hoisted the baby to her shoulder. “Ja,” she said, feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed.

“We’ll have to do something about that later,” he said as he led her and the children down the hall.

Helene didn’t argue. She was just happy to be leaving this place.

The few hours’ drive to Gmunden was beautiful, lifting Helene’s mood. The summer air felt warm, even with the gentle wind of a topless jeep. A golden moon clung to the dark sky and reflected light against the sharp slopes and deep crags of the mountainside. Peter drove in silence, and Helene wondered if he was thinking about the view around him. Or, like her, was he attempting to keep his thoughts and fears unspoken?

Her children slept to the lull of the engine and the creaks of the vehicle. What would happen to them? Where would they all be a year from now?

She glanced at the man beside her, wondering again what part he would play in her new life. Helene knew she couldn’t depend on his help forever. There would be a time when she’d have to face the hardships of this world alone. Peter, after all, was not her source of protection.

Peter broke the silence with talk about the war. “Our division, the Eleventh Armored, has been alerted for shipment to the South Pacific. They’re sending our equipment ahead, which can only mean one thing. The invasion of Japan.”

Helene’s heart raced. “You might be returning to the battlefield?”

He glanced her way, and she caught a look of apprehension. The wind picked up slightly, the jeep slowed, and a river roared as they passed over a small bridge. “Looks like it.”

Helene couldn’t bear the thought. It would be difficult enough to lose Peter if he returned to the States, but to lose him in another war?

They passed the Gmunden sign and entered the village, which rested comfortably by a lake so wide she couldn’t see the other side. The black waters tumbled in slow motion. Shadowed flowers nodded in the breeze. Light shone from the windows of a few buildings, but for the most part, the town slept.

“This is a beautiful place,” Helene said.

Peter pulled up in front of a small cottage near the edge of the water. “You need to stay inside as much as possible. There’s a tall fence in the backyard that will keep you out of view. No one should bother you here.” He stepped out of the jeep and came around to her side. “I’ll pick you up in a couple of days, and then you’ll meet with the person who will take the information from you.” He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It will be over soon.”

“And you?” Helene cradled Petar against her chest. “Will you let me know if you have to leave … for the States … or the Pacific?”

He grinned and hoisted a groggy Anika into his arms. “That won’t be happening quite yet. The captain pulled some strings. I have two weeks here—unless the invasion of Japan moves forward sooner than we expect.”

Helene felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Together they carried the children and her few meager possessions inside.

The house was sparse but clean. The living area and kitchen comprised one room. A small bedroom held two beds. Helene laid Anika on the one farthest from the door. The baby would sleep with her.

When both children were settled, she returned to the living room where Peter waited. He looked especially tall under the low ceiling. Tall and strong. Peter rubbed his chin, a gesture that reminded Helene of her father.

Helene sank onto the old sofa. If only she knew her father was all right. If only she knew things would work out for her and for Peter. She didn’t want to think of him fighting his way through Japan. Her head ached beneath the bandage.

After a moment, Peter sat beside her and flipped one of her blonde curls back over her shoulder. More than anything, she wanted to lean into his embrace. But too many things clouded her thinking. Her previous bad choices. Michaela.

Peter pulled his hand away and stood. “I need to get going. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so I won’t be around, but someone will be by with food for you. I’ll be back on Monday.”

Helene followed him to the door. She heard the lake lapping against the shore. A distant train whistle called from a mountain pass.

“Get some sleep,” Peter suggested.

Helene shrank back inside the door. “Danke.” The simple thanks seemed insufficient. She soberly waved as he drove away.

The room was stuffy when she finally climbed into bed, but Helene couldn’t bring herself to crack open a window. The sound of her children’s breathing was her only comfort.

I’m safe
, Helene tried to convince herself. Still her mind would not rest. She jumped at every sound. She thought again of Michaela and wondered if she was doing well in Poland.

Would anything ever be right again?

Peter made the long drive back to Linz feeling like a puppet being yanked by its strings as he served his country and also tried to protect those he cared for. When he entered the army housing late that night, jovial cheers greeted him.

“New York City, here I come,” Jackson yelled. “Bright lights, big city, beautiful girls.”

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, catching a copy of
Stars and Stripes
that was tossed to him.

“You know anything about atomic bombs?” one soldier asked.

“A little. Why?”

“Well, one’s been dropped on mainland Japan. Wiped out a whole city. You can bet the Japs will surrender now.”

“And if they do,” Jackson exclaimed, “we go home.”

“Oh, yeah, smarty?” another guy called. “What about occupational forces? Some of us will be around here for a while. And they’ll need troops in Japan too.”

Boos erupted throughout the room. Someone tossed a pillow, nailing the doomsayer in the head.

The door opened and a soldier Peter didn’t recognize staggered into the room. “What are you sitting around here for?” he asked with slurred speech. “The Austrian gals are dancing in the streets!”

The room cleared out within minutes, and Peter moaned at the mess left behind. Empty cognac and champagne bottles littered the floor. How had they even managed to find the alcohol?

A few hours later, when the sun was just beginning to rise, Peter had the common area pretty much straightened up. He’d attempted to sleep, but the noise from the celebrating troops had kept him awake. That and the questions that continually plagued his thoughts. Was the end of the war really right around the corner? Would he be returning home? How would things play out with Helene? Would she too become just a distant memory?