Mrs. Tuesday's Departure: A Historical Novel of World War Two (19 page)

“You were!”

“It was only years later that I realized you were complimenting yourself as much as me!”

Anna giggled, “But it worked!”

“Momma was so proud when we won the blue ribbon.” I leaned over and kissed the air where I saw the faint shimmer of her cheek. I hoped my kiss would bring her as much courage tonight as hers had then.

I thought of her with the German I’d met at the café the night before. I wondered where they’d gone. I hoped that she was safe. She was my other half, without her a part of me was lost, drifting out to sea, listing to the side as her mind descended into madness, fearing what would happen if she capsized.

“Anna come back to me. Or I will come to you.”

The darkness was dappled with shadows as my eyes adjusted. Anna’s curtains stood open, the windows covered only by white lace sheers that let the light come in filtered so that beams of light struggled, strong and weak, fighting to claim dominance over the dark, failing, but beautiful in their sacrifice. I looked down at my toes, ghostly white and speckled in the magical shallows. The boom of a cannon and the answer of machine gun fire shook me, but did not move me from the spot. I was captured by the ordinariness of my feet and the laws of physics that defied mandates of madmen, which allowed light to shine in the darkness.

The knock cam
e
at six a.m. I’d held Mila through the night, unable to sleep, I rested in the meditation of her breaths. How many times had I kissed her brow during the few hours between climbing into bed and this signal that intruded upon our dreams? Mila stirred and turned away from me.

In dawn’s silence, I lifted the covers and slipped from the bed. The hall seemed longer as I walked toward the door. How quickly the time had come for me to release Mila to someone else. Just for a short while. I would join her soon. It was for the best.

I passed the old paintings that lined the hall, my fingers running along the base of their frames conjuring up flashes of memories from my childhood, my marriage, each step lengthening and yet quickening my progress like Alice in Wonderland sliding down the rabbit’s hole in slow motion, grasping for branches to slow her fall into the inevitable. When I opened the door, the events would be set in motion. What if I didn’t open the door?

I stopped. My hand lingered on the lock. I heard Miss Szep’s urgent whispers on the other side. “Natalie, it’s me.”

Of course. Who else would it be? The Nazis? Perhaps. Mrs. Nyugati. We had so many enemies these days. Who knew what they looked like? The best disguise was the friend.

I longed to turn away from the door. To go to the kitchen and make breakfast for Mila to surprise her just as she’d surprised me the other morning, bring breakfast to her in bed. We could share coffee and toast and talk about where we’d go that day. I wanted to take her to the little store where I bought my pens and paper. It was time that she’d started her own journal. I wanted to instruct her in the ways of a writer. She had the talent, the curiosity, and enough experience to fill the blank pages with word that would wrestle her innocence against reality.

The cold steel of the lock was slippery beneath my fingers, but it released its hold on the door. Automatic actions, done more quickly because some subconscious intuition tells us that hesitation will complicate matters. That is what made it easier to accomplish the atrocities. The instinctual trust of the opponent made our destruction effortless.

Miss Szep hurried past me. “Is Mila ready to go? I think it will be better if we have an early start.”

I took her to the kitchen, offered her a seat at the table and put on water for the coffee. “Mila is still sleeping, but I’ll go and wake her and get her ready. Can you manage the coffee? We have bread over there.”

When the doo
r
closed, I stood listening to their footsteps echo down the stairs, holding onto the sound as if it too was a remnant that I could embrace in Mila’s absence. I stood at the door long after the sound of the front door closing downstairs signaled their departure onto the street. I stood there hoping they’d turn around and come back. I stood there because I didn’t know what else to do.

I was lost in the enormity of my loneliness. Snippets of conversations between my mother and father rang in my ears. The squeal of our young voices, Anna and I, running through the house playing a game of hide and seek with our baby sister Ilona. My father choking on a puff from his pipe the first time he met Max and realized just how much older my husband would be. The laughter later, when Max brought out his own pipe after dinner and joined my father in a discussion among sweet smelling smoke and deals made between fathers and their daughter’s suitors. 

I went to my room and climbed into bed. I crawled over to the side of the bed where Mila had slept and clutched her pillow to my face inhaling the faint smell of her. Finally, I wept, the sobs wracking my body.

What was tha
t
rapping sound, a woodpecker? Max and I were having a picnic in a meadow. We sat under the shady arms of a weeping willow tree on a red plaid blanket I’d taken from the closet in the hall. The wicker basket was emptied of it contents. So peaceful, only the song of birds overshadowed the sound of the breeze in the branches above. It was warm, Max was wearing his tan linen suit, and he’d taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. I was wearing a cotton dress with a full skirt; it had a white background with a pattern of bright red cherries that matched the red buttons that ran up the front of the dress. I wore my hair pulled back from my face, the way Max liked it, and tied with a scarf. I’d taken off my shoes and stockings so I could enjoy the feel of the grass and the warm sun against my skin.

Max raised a glass of champagne and toasted our anniversary. “You are more beautiful now,” he said.

“I am so tired.”

“Still beautiful.”

“Not anymore.”

He took a sliver of cheese and held it up to my lips. I took it into my mouth and held it until it melted against my tongue and I swallowed its buttery acid tang. His fingers rested against my cheek and then traced a line down my neck, following the lines to my collarbone and down over my breast.

“I’m sorry that we never had children,” he said. “You are a wonderful mother.”

“Mila is an ideal child,” I said leaning my head against his chest. “I wish she were ours.”

“She is yours isn’t she?”

“I am her caretaker, but her heart still belongs to Ilona.”

“But she loves you,” he said.

“Of course, but not the way she loves her mother. Strange, we always long for the one who doesn’t love us. Like Anna and Deszo.”

“Or are incapable of loving us, like Deszo and you.”

I picked up one of the figs I’d cut and lifted it to his lips. His bite spilled its juice onto my fingers.

“You left me too soon,” I said finishing the sweet remnant he’d left. “This would be so much easier if you were here.”

Max nodded and then took my hand in his. “You are becoming a woman I never saw. I expected you were strong. I am so proud of you.”

I raised his hand to my lips and kissed the soft furrow of skin between his knuckles. “I hope you won’t waste your life waiting for these moments.”

“But they’re all I have!”

“Dreams?” Max shook his head. “I would never have asked that of you.”

“They are enough.”

“No,” he sighed. “Dreams are not meant to supplant life.”

“I don’t want you to leave me, not ever.”

Max leaned forward and kissed me in a soft lingering kiss, the pressure of his lips against mine warmed me and my body ached forward in return. “Deszo is a good man.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“He loves you.”

“I don’t love him.” I pushed myself up and brushed the crumbs off my lap. “You are all I want.”

“Before me, you loved Deszo,” Max said, running his hand down my spine. “I was an interruption. A detour.”

“No!” I pulled away and buried my face in my hands. “You are the only one I wanted.”

“Now it’s time to move on,” Max whispered.

“No! I won’t!”

“I will always be with you, Natalie.” He moved to my side and took me in his arms, leaning me back against his body. He nuzzled his face against my neck and kissed me again. “Our love will never be diminished, but will you spend the rest of your life like Anna, pining for a love that has left?”

“It’s not the same! You were taken from me, Deszo never loved Anna.”

“True, but you both wish for something you can’t have. Neither one of you is willing to let go of the past.”

“But I have Mila now,” I said. I looked out across the meadow and watched five sparrows dive and swoop heavenward again.

“For how long?” Max replied stroking my hair. “And is giving your love to her, while she waits for her mother to return, enough?”

“Will it turn out badly, Max?” I asked, putting his hand in my lap.

His fingers stretched against my thigh and warmed my skin. His eyes drank in my face and he smiled and then looked away.

The woodpecker above our head rattled against the tree again. I looked up and then awoke.

The knock a
t
the door was insistent. I threw the covers I’d wrapped around me to the side and stumbled out of bed. The room was filled with light and I knew that hours had passed since I’d lain down. I threw my robe around my shoulders and went to the front door hoping I’d find Anna on the other side.

I opened the door and saw Jozef. “What are you doing here?”

He walked around me and I closed the door, following him into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and motioned me to join him.

I repeated my question, as I took a seat across from him. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw Mila and your neighbor leave this morning,” he said. “So I followed them. I know where they are staying. So far, they are safe.”

I ignored the implication of blackmail made possible by his knowledge. Alternatively, the real question of why he’d been outside our building at such an early hour. “Were there any problems for them? What’s the place like?”

Jozef got up from the table and rinsed out the cups that were left from the morning. He filled the kettle with water and prepared a new pot of coffee. “Actually your idea was perfect,” he said.

“It wasn’t mine.”

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “You are trusting. Have you known the old woman
for very
long?”

“Yes, my parents knew her. She’s been my neighbor since I was a child.”

“Well
,
Mila and the old woman looked like grandmother and grand-daughter. They’re staying in a small house, fenced yard enough shrubs to hide it from the eyes of s
omeone walking by. The neighbor
s
’
houses are similar so I’m guessing that they keep to themselves. Although they’d know if someone new had entered the street.”

“Miss Szep has the known the woman they’re staying with for years. So her visit shouldn’t be cause for alarm,” I countered.

“Your sister and you will join them?”

I hesitated. Jozef looked at me and then stepped into the hall, “Hello?”

He came back into the kitchen and went to the stove to check the kettle. “Your sister has gone-missing, or is she visiting a friend too?”

I didn’t answer.

“Where was she last seen?”

“At the café, last night.”

There was a knock. I went to the front door and heard Deszo’s voice. I looked back to see Jozef standing in the hall. I opened the door and Deszo entered. His face was pale and haggard from lack of sleep. “They’ve taken Mila.”

“No!” I
cried
. “You’re wrong, Jozef said that they were all right. He said they had gotten to the house safely!”

Deszo spoke to Jozef as if they’d met before. “What are you doing here?”

“
You know eac
h
other.” I looked from one to the other. In our last conversation Jozef behaved as if he knew of Deszo, not that he’d met him. “What is going on here? Tell me!”

“They must have taken her after I left,” Jozef said.

“Or did you tell them where she was?” Deszo’s face contorted with fury. “How much did you get for the capture?”

“They want Natalie,” Jozef said nodding at Deszo. “And you. Not Mila or Anna.”

“What does he want with us?”

“I don’t know why he wants you,” Jozef hesitated and then continued. “But they want to make a deal with Deszo.”

“Why did they take them?” I asked.

“Incentive,” Deszo replied. 

“Where are they being held? Can I see them, are they hurt?”

“I don’t know where they’re holding them, but they told me that they will be taken care of.”

“What if I don’t go to the meeting?” Deszo leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. His face changed, gone was the anger, and in its place was a placid look of disinterest.