The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Michael was more surprised than he should have been to receive his “railroad tracks.”

              “Hey, Gunderson,” Sam called out, “I hear you made captain!  Congratulations.”

             
“Thanks.  Have you heard yet?”

             
Sam shook his head, “I think I'm getting passed over this time.”

             
Michael couldn't understand why they would.  If anyone had deserved a promotion it was Sam Dixon. He was a smart, hardworking man. He was also tough as nails. There was nothing to say or do about it, though, so Michael kept silent.

             
“Are you moving on?” Sam folded the letter he was writing to his father.

             
“I don't know yet.”

             
“Hope not.”

             
“Me too.”

             
The Gunderson family was happy to hear of the promotion and not nearly as surprised as Michael.  Sara took it in stride as Harry had recently been made a corporal in the Army.

             
“I just don't understand why Michael didn't write to me about it,” Melba complained to Sara later that day when she went to visit and make care packages.

             
Sara consoled her friend, “Maybe he did, but it hasn't gotten to you yet. We haven't had word from him – only the official letter.”

             
Melba seemed pleased with this, “I suppose we can hope to hear how he feels about it soon then.”

             
“Let me know when you get something. He doesn't write much to us.”

             
“I thought your mom said she got a lot of mail.”

             
Sara was working on a knot in the sock she was knitting, “Oh we do, but he doesn't say much.  Except to Karlijna,” Sara huffed, “He has plenty to say to her.”

             
Melba's hands stopped their motion, “The German girl?”

             
Sara looked up at Melba's tone, “I didn't mean it like it sounded, Melba. The letters are pretty much the same every time. They send Bible verses back and forth to each other. His letters must not be too private because she reads them to all of us.”

             
Melba hadn't cared one way or another about the refugee the Gundersons had taken in until that moment. How dare a foreigner come in and try to seduce away her boyfriend. Melba was not about to admit that she hadn't received a single letter from Michael since that girl had come around – since a quick one in November, actually, telling her he didn't think it was a good idea for them to correspond anymore.  Even Sara didn't know the letters Melba was always reading were the ones he had written the year before.

             
“Are you sure it is a good idea for her to be living with your family, Sara?  Ellie has always been so impressionable.”

             
Sara held out the sock to examine her work, “I was a little skeptical at first, but Ellie seems to be doing fine. In fact, Dad says her grades have improved.”

             
Melba managed a tight smile, “That's good.”

* * *

              Along with his promotion, Michael got a short leave. He decided to spend a little time with his uncle.

             
“Michael, my boy,” Leif greeted him, “it has been a while.”

             
“Only about a month,” he reminded him.

             
“I think it is more like two,” Ingrid commented as she gave him a hug.  “You were last here the beginning of February. But you are a busy man with a war to fight.”  She looked at her husband pointedly, “We will not hold you to a time schedule.”

             
Michael smiled, “I think I smell cookies.”             

             
Ingrid's pleased grin covered her face, “I must have sensed you were coming. I'll go put on the coffee while you men finish up here.”

             
“So,” Leif cut to the heart of the matter, “how is Karlijna?”

             
Michael picked up a broom and began to sweep the floor, “She seems like she is doing well. My mom writes that she is more sure of herself than she was when she arrived.”

             
“That's good,” Leif opened his till and counted the money.  “Does she write to you herself or is all your information from others?”

             
“She writes more often than the others.”

             
“That's good too. When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

             
“I don't know if I should.”

             
“Why not?”

             
“I started writing letters to another lady who said she was interested only in friendship.  Then, last fall, she said something about expecting our relationship to change once I got home.”

             
“What did you do?”

             
“I wrote back saying I wasn't interested and I thought we should quit writing.”

             
“Did she stop writing?”

             
“Her next letter was an apology saying she shouldn't have burdened me with that and she had been having a bad day, it wasn't really how she felt, she was lonely for her brother.”

             
“So?”

             
“I didn't write again. I was very clear going into the exchange, and I never said anything that should make her think otherwise. She has still been writing about once a month.”

             
“So you're the town heartbreaker.”

             
“No, I'm not,” Michael was annoyed at the implication that he had welcomed Melba's attentions.

             
“Fine,” Leif led him to the living quarters, “I still don't see what this has to do with Karlijna.”

             
Michael stopped before Leif could open the door, “I don't want to do to her what that girl did to me. Change the rules.”

             
Leif tapped his chin and nodded, “I see your point,” he opened the door, “but your situation is a little different.”

             
Michael nodded, “I know that, but she doesn’t. I’d rather wait until I get home so I can woo her in person.”

             
Leif chuckled.

             
The men ate their cookies while Ingrid questioned him about his duties.

             
“And how is Karlijna?” she asked as she took a pan from the oven.

             
“You remember she is in Minnesota, don't you?”

             
Ingrid quickly lifted the items from the pan before replacing them with new dough, “Of course, but I assumed the two of you would keep in contact.”

             
“We do,” Michael admitted, not looking at his uncle. “I write to my parents and sisters as well.”

             
“Have you told her yet?”

             
“Told her?”

             
Ingrid put the cookie sheet back in the oven and sat down across from her nephew, “Have you told her how you feel? She's pretty humble, and I don't think she is going to assume you love her just because you write to her.”

             
Michael shot Leif an accusing look. Leif shrugged, “I didn't say a thing. I didn't even know she knew anything.”

             
“Of course I know,” Ingrid laughed.  “Everybody knows.”

             
“Except Karlijna,” Leif reminded her.

             
Michael was only at the Andersons’ house for a day before he had to return to duty. He left with much to think about, though.

* * *

              “Do you have any pictures of your family, Karli?”  Ellie asked her as they were gluing photographs in a photo album.

             
Karlijna took the scissors and trimmed the edge of one that was too wide for the remaining space, “I did, but it got lost.”

             
“Were they in the luggage you brought with you from Belgium?”

             
“At first I think my mother stored them there, but when it became obvious we were not going to be able to keep anything, my mother began storing them in her shoes.”

             
Ellie sighed, “Then when she died you lost them?”

             
“No, a lady who worked with the dead bodies brought them to me because she knew I would want them.”

             
Ellie put down the book she was holding, “Was it terrible? At the prison?  Were the guards very unkind?”

             
Karlijna took her friends hand, “It was like a piece of hell. It was difficult at the first camp – we were there for about two weeks, I think. But it was nothing like the second. While we were at the first camp our family stayed together. There was hope we might survive. 

             
“Then we were told we were leaving, but we were not allowed to bring any of our belongings – except Mama managed to wrap Veronike in a blanket and bring that along. Then we realized Benard and Father were being taken to a different train. A woman at the depot told us they were going to Dachau.     

             
“Mama told us girls to be strong – that we would see them again. I do not know if she believed it would be in this world or the next.

             
“We did not hope the camp would be an improvement over the first, but we did not think it could be so much worse. We got to Auschwitz in the early light of morning. Over the gate were the words, 'Work makes you free.'  There was plenty of work, but nobody expected to ever go free again.

             
“The door to the cattle car we rode in was opened, and we were told to get out. A young lady had died while we were on the trip. We got out and the guard became angry that nobody had dragged the body out. She beat a woman for it and told another to haul the body to the back of a building. The rest of us were told to stand in straight lines while she sorted us.”

             
Ellie was crying, and Karlijna felt it was time to stop speaking, “I will stop now, Ellie. You have heard enough.”

             
“How have you survived?”  Ellie sobbed into her hands, “How are you so. . .normal?”

             
Karlijna felt her own tears rising to the surface, “I do not know why I survived, Ellie. Especially not when so many people have died.  I think, sometimes, it would have been easier to die and not face the grief of my loss.”

             
Karlijna felt a hand on her shoulder, Sig had come into the room unheard by the girls, “We are glad you did not die, Karlijna. We are glad God has a greater purpose for you.”

             
Ellie nodded but could not speak.

             
Sig knelt down beside her daughter, “You must believe, my little one, that God will prevail – that He has prevailed – even in this. He brought Karlijna to us.”

             
Ellie shuddered. Karlijna went to sit next to her, “Do not cry over this, Ellie. I have had so much grief over it, but you do not have to grieve.”

             
“Then why do you tell me?” Ellie sounded as she was accusing her friend.

             
“I do not have to tell you if you don't want. It is not a story I will tell to many people, but if it helps people understand who God is, I will tell my story. If it helps people understand that we only have today to tell people about Jesus,” Karlijna was having trouble speaking, “I would rather tell this story a thousand times than have people think that we can wait to tell the world about Jesus. We may never have another chance to tell our friend or neighbor that Jesus is our only way to God.”

             
“Please tell me,” Ellie seemed to understand what Karlijna was saying, “what happened when you got to the camp.”

             
“We stood in line for a long time. I do not know how long because the sky was always gray there and we could not use the sun to tell the time. It was a very cold day, and many had no coats. My mother gave hers away. Another guard told us to undress and walk single file toward a table. We did so – most had no shoes, but the guard let my mother keep hers on which is how she was able to save the pictures of her children and a letter. The children were not undressed or sent through the line.

             
“When we got to the table, we were directed to go into one line or another.  My mother and I were sent to the same line and told to get dressed.  Our clothes were nowhere to be seen, so the guard told us to put on anything we could find. We did so as quickly as possible and then we were taken inside.”