Someone Named Eva (10 page)

With brisk efficiency Fräulein Krüger hurried us all toward the bus. I turned one last time to see the woman slowly lifting herself from the ground. The snow around her was blotched with red. The streets were empty.

"Nasty old woman." Franziska appeared beside me in the aisle of the bus, patting my shoulder. "Nasty, nasty woman."

Clucking sympathetically, Fräulein Krüger took out a handkerchief and wiped the side of my face where the old woman had spit. Liesel stood on my other side, patting my back.

"It's nothing to worry over, Eva. She was a crazy old woman," Gerde said as we walked down the aisle.

"She got what she deserved," Siegrid agreed. "Everything is as it should be."

I sat down, surrounded by the murmurs of the girls, and the bus started with a lurch. I felt shaky and cold all over.

"Eva, are you all right?" Franziska chose a seat next to me, suddenly my good friend.

"That woman. That old woman. She thought I was a Nazi," I whispered.

"You are a Nazi," Franziska replied.

I looked at her. I saw her long hair held loosely in a braid and noticed her strong cheekbones. Fräulein Krüger had praised Franziska once for the structure of her face. "A perfect Nazi face," she had said.

"But ... no...,"I began.

"No, Eva. Stop." Franziska covered my hand with her own. "We are all safe."

I turned toward the window and wished I could get back the feeling I'd had on the drive into town. But all that happiness was gone, replaced by the harshness of where I was and whom I was with.

"She looked like my grandmother," I whispered softly, watching the trees and foothills as we drove back to the center.

Something in me changed after that. I felt as though I slipped a little farther away from everyone around me, even Liesel. Our daytime routine remained the same—lessons, Hitler, and Germany, Germany, Germany—and Liesel and I kept up our nighttime visits, but something was different.

I continued to keep my promise,
Milada, Milada, Milada,
and I continued to listen and wait and hope. But there seemed to be a gap between me and the rest of the world, and I didn't know how to cross it.

A few weeks after the trip to town, our early-morning routine was interrupted again.

This time Fräulein Krüger said nothing, offering no hints of surprises or good news. No new clothes awaited us. The only sign that something was different was that Fräulein Krüger wore her formal Nazi uniform. It was decorated with medals and draped with a sash that read
The League of German Girls.

Instead of going to home economics lessons after breakfast, we were taken as a group to the little church that Liesel and I had spent so many nights visiting.

"Do you think we're going back to town?" asked Siegrid, as we were directed into the church.

"Oh, I hope so. I hope we get to stop at the candy stand again," said Gerde.

Liesel walked beside me. "What do you think is going on?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said nervously.

In the daylight I could see that bright white paint covered the walls of the church, and an even larger picture of the Führer had replaced the one that was usually above the altar. A large League of German Girls poster hung where the statue of Mary had been, and small red candles burned brightly everywhere. On either side of the Führer dozens of blood-red roses were arranged in crystal vases.

Liesel slid into the pew, sitting next to me. "It looks different in the day, doesn't it?" she whispered.

I nodded, and she patted my arm and looked toward the front. Whispers and giggles from the other girls filled the church.

"Heil Hitler!" The church fell silent as Fräulein Krüger appeared from a side door with two male Nazi guards I had never seen before. They were dressed in uniforms that were decorated with medals, and they wore polished black boots. A fresh wave of nervousness clenched my stomach.

"Heil Hitler!" I jumped up with everyone in salute.

"You may be seated." Fräulein Krüger approached the podium at the front of the church. Her hair was braided and wound around the back of her head in a way that reminded me of a spiderweb. So much poison under all that beauty.

"Today, German girls, is a most special day," she began.

The war is over.
That was the first wild and hopeful thought that jumped into my head. The war is over and I am going back to Mama and Papa to be called by my real name and have a party with real cake and all of this will be forgotten as if it was a bad dream.

"Today you begin your new lives as official German citizens." She saluted the two male officers in the front row as they stood.

All the feeling drained from my body. The war was not over. The nightmare would continue.

"Your training has been difficult, I know," Fräulein Krüger continued, "but you have become fine young German girls. Girls we are proud to say will one day belong to Hitler's League of German Girls. And today..." She stopped briefly, addressing her smile toward each of us in turn. "Today you will be adopted into your new German families."

For a moment the whole world became nothing but blank, empty space. Everything froze, like a clock that suddenly stops ticking. And just as quickly the church and the pews and Fräulein Krüger's voice started spinning and faded away into soft velvet blackness.

When I opened my eyes, two strangers stood over me. It was quiet. Too quiet. I felt dizzy when I tried to sit up, and a woman's hand gently pushed me down again. I was on my cot in the sleeping room, and a pretty woman I had never seen before was smiling down at me. A man stood near her, frowning and studying me through bushy eyebrows. Fräulein Krüger was off to the side, speaking rapidly.

"...part of the excitement. She is a strong girl, I assure you. She stood up to an attack by a Pole."

The woman stroked my forehead with her hand, the way Mama used to when I was sick, and I closed my eyes again. "Of course. Of course." She had a soft, gentle voice, musical and sweet. "Everything is fine now, Eva. We are ready to welcome you into our family."

***

We pulled away from the center in an official Nazi car. Its black color shone like oil.

Fräulein Krüger stood on the church steps, smiling and waving, as we drove away from the place I had called home for nearly two years. It occurred to me that I had not seen Liesel or any of the other girls before I left. I had not even had a chance to say good-bye.

I was certain Fräulein Krüger would know where Liesel was, and I had to fight the urge to jump out of the car and run back. I had spent two years being afraid of Fräulein Krüger, and now I was genuinely afraid to leave her. But all I could do was watch her grow smaller and smaller through the rear window of the car until we turned a corner and she disappeared altogether.

I was alone with these strangers.

The dense brush of the Polish landscape moved past, slowly at first and then gaining speed as we traveled along the main road. My new parents sat with me in the backseat while their chauffeur drove.

Outside the car, spring was making a full appearance. Tiny buds dotted the trees, looking as if they were ready to burst into bloom. Inside the car, the pretty woman talked nervously. But I kept my gaze fixed out the window, feeling numb and disconnected and not really hearing what she was saying. The man said nothing.

"...so happy to have you with us. We know it must have been traumatic, the air raid and the circumstances that brought you to us. You can call me Mutter."

Her words drifted in and out of my ears.
Milada, Milada, Milada,
I thought.

"And your friend Franziska....Fräulein Krüger told us you were close and that her family was also lost in the air raid. She is being adopted by the Schönfelders, just a darling family. They live in Berlin. You two can certainly write to each other, and we might even be able to arrange a visit."

The trees rushed past, their branches whispering to me:
Milada, Milada, Milada.

"We have a dog, Kaiser. He's the sweetest German shepherd. And you have a little brother, Peter, who is eight. And you will just love Elsbeth. She is fourteen, and she can't wait to have a sister."

"Let her rest, Trude. Let her rest." The father, Hans Werner, stopped her endless chatter. "It's been a long day for everyone."

I looked away from the window and met the woman's eyes briefly. My new mother, Trude Werner, looked at her husband, bit her lip, and stopped talking. She took my hand in hers, and I turned back to the window to watch the scenery pass.

***

As we drove through Berlin, it seemed as if we were in a different world. People were outside, talking with one another, smiling and laughing as if everything was fine and I was not in a car with two complete strangers. Some of the buildings we passed had been damaged by bombs; those that had not stood proudly, old spires gleaming high into the sky.

It seemed as if pictures and posters of Hitler covered every building and house of the city. His cold, hard eyes looked down, assuring us that Germany reigned supreme.

Milada, Milada, Milada.
As we drove, my fingers found the outline of Grandmother's star pin under my skirt.

We continued beyond Berlin, then north to the small town of Fürstenberg and into what looked like a woods. At last the trees gave way to a small clearing, and the car slowed as we turned into a long paved driveway that ended at the top of a hill. There was a sharp, unpleasant smell in the air that began to creep into the car.

A large white house stood before us, resting like a giant island in a sea of green grass. It was three sto
ries tall, with dozens of windows and huge pillars that supported a large porch that wrapped around the house. I was awed and overwhelmed by its size. I had never seen a house so large.

We had come to the Werner residence.

The smell I had noticed at the foot of the driveway grew stronger as we approached the house, and I put a hand to my nose. It was a bitter smell, hanging in the air like a ghost—invisible yet present.

"Don't worry, liebling, you'll get used to the smell." Frau Werner patted my hand. "It's really not so bad," she said with a sigh. "Just the cost of war."

The chauffeur parked at the top of the circular driveway, then got out and opened the doors for us.

"Vater!" A child's high-pitched, delighted scream bounced toward us as we walked to the main entrance of the house. A young boy with short, silky blond hair and emerald-green eyes darted from the front door and jumped straight into Herr Werner's arms.

"Peter!" Herr Werner smiled, twirling his son around like an airplane.

A pretty young girl with bobbed blond hair and dark-blue eyes stood on the porch, smiling shyly. Frau Werner led me to her.

"Elsbeth, this is your new sister, Eva."

The girl smiled at me and touched my arm. "Hello, Eva," she said. I gazed at her in return, saying nothing, then let her take my hand and lead me into the house.

***

I slept in a real bed that night for the first time since I could remember. I wore a new nightdress that had pretty lace trim on its short sleeves, and I lay wrapped in cool, clean sheets. Like Elsbeth and Peter, I had my own bedroom as well as a separate room for a study. The walls in my room were painted pink, with matching lace curtains that puffed gently from the spring breeze coming through the window. It brought with it the sharp smell I had noticed earlier.

"Eva?" Frau Werner stood in the bedroom doorway, her body framed by the light from the hall. I was filled with aching and loneliness. I could not remember any other time when I had wanted my own mama more than at that moment.

"Yes?" I answered, sitting up. My voice sounded strange, almost as if it was coming from someone else. My own mama and papa had not come for me. I was to be Eva, German girl. I was to live with these people and call them Mother and Father and Sister and Brother. I was the new hope for Germany.

Frau Werner sat on my bed and began to stroke my hair and my face. Her hand was soft, her nails shortly trimmed. She started humming, and tears began to fall down my face.

"Shh, Eva, liebling. Shh." She pulled me onto her lap, whispering and rocking me gently. I let her hold me, feeling ashamed. She was a Nazi. She was the enemy. She had invaded my land and taken me from my home. And yet she was a woman, my new mother, there to comfort and hold me. I couldn't help but feel safe and protected in her arms.

Her golden hair was pulled out of its bun and hung long and loose, curling around her arms, brushing my shoulders. It was soft and smelled like flowers, and I ran my fingers through it, pulling apart small strands so they could catch the light from the hall.

"Your hair. It's beautiful," I whispered. She smiled, pulling me from her so she could see my face.

"You have beautiful hair too, Eva. Perfect German hair."

I winced. Nazi hair. Hair that my real mother and grandmother used to brush and braid and weave flowers into.

"We can style your hair," she continued. "Tomorrow if you wish. Oh, Eva, Elsbeth and I have so many things to share. She has been so excited to have a sister. And I to have another daughter."

She stood suddenly, brushing a tear off her cheek. "You must sleep now, precious Eva." She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. Then, turning away, she walked out to the hall, her flowery scent staying behind with me, masking the strong smell coming from outside.

I lay in the dark, tracing Grandmother's pin beneath my nightdress and picturing the faces of Jaro and Anechka, Mama and Papa. A shadowy question was lurking in my mind. I no longer wondered when my family would come for me. For the first time, I began to wonder
if
they would come for me.

Where could they be?

Were they back home in the house I had grown up in, tucked safely into their own beds? Were they in a work camp, waiting to be freed so they could come rescue me? Were they living somewhere else in the world that I didn't even know about? Were they safe? Happy? Did they know I had become a German girl, the enemy? Were they thinking of me or had I been forgotten?