The Journey Back (9 page)

“ANYONE ELSE SHOULD BE CONSIDERED DEAD.” Mrs. V s’ the woman with the pretty brown hair, clutched the arm of her daughter. Like the others, they were crying. Slowly the area around the tree emptied out. The farmers who still had flowers left to sell picked them up and put them in their cam-dahlias, chrysanthemums, marigolds, their orange heads barely sticking up over the rims of the pails. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get home before it gets any windier,” the farmers called out to each other. I was going home, too. None of my friends’

names had been on that list either, and not one of Father’s ten brothers and sisters.

H.

Rachel seemed to have changed. In the morning she still enumerated all the chores that had to be done that day: “The windows, the kitchen floor, the living-room chairs.” But she did not mean all day, not any more. Mter a few hours, she’d say, “Let’s take a break,” just like that.

She’d offer me her arm. I’d take it. And off we’d go. Sometimes we visited Maria, at the end of the road. On the way we’d stop and say hello to the neighbors-the Ten Riets, Mulders, and Geerdeses -but we’d hurry past the Droppers. Or, we’d go in the opposite direction-toward town-to Mrs. Menko’s house, and sit by her chair. Had she gained any weight since last week? we’d ask. , “A pound, the doctor told me.”

“Beautiful, Mrs. Menko, but it should be more.” She’d smile, tell Rachel not to worry. “I’m even walking around the house again, and my hair is growing back a little,” she’d say. “Look.” And she’d lift her kerchief, to show us. We were not the only ones who visited her.

Others tiptoed in, too, strangers even, bringin something for her to eat-an egg, a cup of milk, mouthful of meat-the same way Rachel and I did They’d put it down on the tble. “Don’t say no Mrs. Menko. We can spare it,” the,“d say softly, h case her head was hurting again. “Aren’t people wonderful,” she said, wiping he eyes. But carefully, for they hurt, too. We did other things, Rachel and I. We went t, all the stores.

Take today. We had already stood i line for a long time, and not to buy either, just t, look through the openings in the boards. The man nequin in De Wind’s Mode had her sheet off fo the first time.” There were real clothes on her nov -not ordinary boring ones, either. A slip to be: knees, and a bracelet on each wrist. “Isn’t she beautiful Rachel?” I said, straining to stand even highe on my toes. “She could use a tweed suit,” Rachel said, “to g over everything.”

“Yes, with a fur collar.” Definitely, soft on this chin. “And a hat, Annie. One that sits straight on this head.”

“With a ribbon-”

“W! kin shoes-”

“Gloves, Rachel-all the way to the elbow.”

It had been wonderful outfitting her, and having talked so long about clothes had given Rachel an idea. I was going to get a jacket, a maroon one, she decided. No, not from De Wind’s Mode. They had nothing but underwear yet. Rachel was going to make me one out of a drapery. Soon, she said, so I’d have it before the winter and could wear it to school.

“Well.” Rachel laughed. “Have a good time exercising, and I’ll see you in an hour.”

“I will,” I said, laughing, too. Rachel was almost the way she used to be-fun. I skipped down the Misterstraat and into another street where the sidewalk was so narrow that you almost ‘had to be an acrobat not to fall off. There. Perfect. Right up to the masseur’s door.

One thing had not changed, though, about Rachel. Every night she still sat down with the same books-the Bible and those others with the lessons for her baptism. Even ‘now that the library was open again. The praying and the churchgoing, that had not changed, either. A few other Jews in town had come back Christians just as religious as she, but they had already given it up. “Wore off with them after a couple of weeks,”

Father said, and he sounded envious.

IO5 SUMMER

Wasn’t Rachel getting tired of it, too? Should I ask her? Or would she get angry with me, as she had with Father. “Rachel?” Her face became very red, but it was not from anger. “Without the Christian religion I would not have survived the war. And I’m not dropping it simply because that’s over.” I nodded. What did she mean? She said so much that evening, Rachel. “I went to church for the first time during the war.

It was Christmas. That’s a very special day, Annie, which is why the people who hid me wanted me to go with them. Weeks before they told everyone in church that a cousin would be coming to visit for the holidays. I had not left my room for a year. I was so afraid. How would it feel to be outside again? That was all I thought about. And snow was coming down on Christmas day-I walked in it. I thought everyone was looking at me. Not that they could have seen much; my black hair was hidden under a red kerchief. They couldn’t know I was Jewish. So many people were going into the church, it made me dizzy.

Quickly my ‘family’ md I sat down in the back. “The minister talked about the birth of Christ, about his life, and what it meant. I never knew any of that before. Then the organ began to play, Annie. First so softly I could hardly hear it. But then, all around me, there was music.

Louder and louder, until I no longer knew where it came from or where I was.

With one foot in heaven, I thought. It was so beautiful. “When I went back to my room, there was still that music. I never got it out of my head. Almost all year long I could hear it. “They took me again, the next Clugmm. “Remember that cousin from the city?” my ‘family’ told everyone. “She’ll be back for her annual visit. We’ll be bringing her to church.” I was counting the days, Annie. It was the only thing that made staying in the room the rest of the year bearable.” She stopped.

With an embarrassed look, she picked up the Bible again. It was still open to her favorite part, the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. I stuck out my hand to Rachel. After all” what was so bad about it? Why did it make Father so angry? I’d surprise Rachel on Sunday. I’d wait right outside the church door, maybe even take a look inside for myself.. Ask her if she had liked the sermon, walk home with her. I bent my head over my book. We both read. Once in a while we’d stop, look at each other, smile-just for a second, but long enough.

IO7 SUMMER

When we came back on that Sunday afternoon, Father’s bicycle was standing by the house. Funny, he had come home already; it wasn’t even dark yet. But there was a reason. He had something to tell us, he said.

He paced back and forth in the kitchen, taking off his glasses, wiping them on his handkerchief, putt’ rag them on again. Finally, “I want you to meet someone.” Without looking at us, he said, “My wife-to-be.”

“Who?” Maybe I had heard wrong. That could be. But he said them again, the same words, “My wife-to-be.” Then, “Rachel, please be nice. It’s not easy for her,” and bolted out the door. I rubbed my arms. They felt cold. Rachel pulled me onto her lap. Time went by-not much. I heard voices-Father’s and a woman’s. Hers was smooth, kind of sharp, though. I knew it, had heard it before, at the marketplace. Mrs. Vos. She was not alone. The daughter had come, too. Her name was Nel.

As Rachel poured tea, and Father and Mrs. Vos talked, I stared at the daughter. She was older than I was, perhaps five or six years. She looked like her mother. The same brown hair, too. Wavy. I searched Nel’s face. There had to be something about it that was ugly, but where?

I tucked my legs even farther under the chair. Where? I sighed with relief. She had a tiny wart under her chin. “It’s not a bad house,” Mrs.

Vos was admitting to Father. “I must say I’m surprised. It’s bigger inside than it looks.” She turned to Nel. “Don’t you think it’s a little roomier than ours?”

“But it’s so far from town,” Nel comphined. “It might just as well be in Siberia.” That wart wasn’t so little. “There’s not even a streetlight out here. You won’t see a soul this winter-mark my words.” Mrs. Vos nodded pensively. “Yes, you may be right.” She examined the plush chair she was sitting on. “We had much more furniture,” Father apologized. “A table, of course, and”-he pointed to the corner-“bookcases.” He showed Mrs. Vos the other places in the living room where things used to be. ‘% clock, a piano along that wall.” , “Mother used to play the piano all the time,” Rachel said. When no one answered her, she added, “Very well.” I nodded at her. Yes. “You need talent to play,” Mrs. Vos said.

With one eyebrow raised, she looked as if she thought Mother could not possibly have had any. Wasn’t Father going to say anything? No, he was just listening.

“I don’t understan- d how you can have been so dumb, Ies. I got everything back that I stored. You must have left your furniture with very dishonest people. Well,” she said in a comforting tone to Father, “if the other things were like these chairs, it’s just as well. I won’t say anything about the quality, Ies. That’s probably not bad, but how old-fashioned can furniture get? People have not sat on stiff chairs like these for years and years.”

“They certainly haven’t.” Nel laughed, shifting to the edge of hers. “Or if they have, I can see why they stopped.” Big teeth-practically like a beaver’s. Mrs. Vos drank the rest of her tea and handed the cup to Rachel. “You know, Ies,” she concluded, “as hard as I’ve looked, I can’t see much here that will go with what I have.” Father shrugged his shoulders. “Let me try to sell this stuff then,” he suggested. “I don’t care.” That should be easy, Mrs. Vos said immediately. Father knew so many farmers, and for them it would be just fine-exactly their taste.

She got up and walked around, trying to decide where her own furniture would go. “It will make a big difference, you’ll see. This whole place will be transformed into something you won’t recognize.” She smiled at Rachel. She got no response. Anxiously Father wiped his forehead.

“C’mon, Magda, Nel. I’ll take you home before it gets dark.” We shook hands.

She hoped she’d see us again soon In the door sh turned and pinched my cheek

“Goodbye,” I mumbled. Silently Rachel collected the empty teacups, the odds and ends that didn’t even match. Mrs. Vos would not want those either, I guessed. She had her own-beautiful ones, no doubt-porcelain or crystal, for all I knew. From China or wherever crystal came from.

Should I tell Rachel what Mrs. Vos had said about my legs that fane? No, better not. Why hadn’t her husband’s name appeared on any of those lists from Town Hall. Why not? Jakob Vos. She had gotten everything else back.

It was a week later that Rachel left, to live again with the people who had hidden her during the war. “Winterswijk does not have any }oh opportunities, Annie,” she said. “Besides, the trains are running again.

I’d be a fool not to take advantage of that. I haven’t been on one for years! Especially now. The heather’s still in bloom; I’ll be able to see it just by looking out the window!

II1 SUMMER

But I knew better. I’d heard them when I was upstairs and they didn’t know I was listening-Rachel and Father. Rachel must leave, Father had told her. It would never work, he said, she and Mrs. Vos together in the same house. Rachel was only ten years younger-that was why. “You’re twenty-nine years old, and you’ve seen so little of the world. I would have told you that one of these days anyway. It’s not right for you to stay here and take care of Annie and me. You ought to lead your own life with people your own age. Why don’t you go to Amsterdam, The Hague .. or Rotterdam? They’re going to rebuild Rotterdam beautifully, I read. You can get a job. You sfdl have your teacher’s certificate.” He told her to leave. Just like that. But Rachel had not wanted to move to one of those cities where she knew no one. “I’ll go back to my ‘family,”

“she said.

That upset Father. “Don’t, Rachel,” he told her.

“You’ll be taking a step back, not forward. That little town has nothing to offer you. There’s just a church there!” But no matter what Father said, Rachel would not change her mind. She chose to leave on the afternoon train. Father came home early to take her to the station.

Silently we walked down the road, Father in front carrying Rachel’s suitcase with her few clothes and the plaques with the religious sayings.” Coming toward us was Droppers. He was pushing a wheelbarrow.

When he was practically next to us, he looked for a second at the suitcase, then at the three of us. Hopefully, as if he thought we’d all be leaving. When we reached the station, the train was already there.

Rachel rushed right on. She did not look back or come to the window, not even when the train began to go. I wanted to run along the platform, tell her things loudly so she’d hear me. Tell her I knew she had not wanted to leave, that I hated Mrs. Vos-‘and Father-that I was just getting to know her, Rachel. “Come, Annie.” I could still hear the sound of the train. “Let’s not stand around any longer.” Father tried to take my hand. Reluctantly I followed him off the platform. Still, I could hear the train … Father was waiting for me in front of the station.

“The next few days will be difficult, Annie. But remember, we’re beginning a whole new life, you and I.” He looked at me pleadingly. What was wrong with the way it had been?

Nothing. I buttoned my jacket. Rachel had finished

II3 SUMMER

making it right before she left, even though she had been tired. “You need a mother, Annie, not just sisters.” Sini and Rachel had been like mothers, cared about me. Hadn’t Sini always come in to check on me at night even though it was late? And Rachel …“You’ll have no trouble getting along with. Magda,” Father was saying. “She’s a smart woman, and understanding. She had a stepmother herself, so she knows what it’s like. And she’s had experience with girls.” Yes, with her own daughter, not with me. “Come, Annie.” Father held out his bicycle.

“We’ll go to Magda’s house. She can use some help packing.” I shook my head. “Where will you go then?”

“Home,” I said. “You’ll be all right?”

“Sure.” I smiled. I did not need them. “Maybe later then you can help, when we get to the house.” What would I help with? Taking the furniture out of our living room? I did not even answer. I turned around, left him there.

When I got home, I went into the kitchen. In the meadow across the road a couple d sparrows circled around and around a pail, then landed on the edge of it. There had been a sheep in the meadow the first evening, drinking from the same pail. And Father had said, “I’m a happy man,”