A Flicker of Light (6 page)

“It was delicious, as always, my dear.” Then, draping the heavy gray wool scarf that
Siegland
had knitted for him
around his thick neck, Klaus pulled his winter coat down from the hook and shoved his bulky arms though the sleeves. He buttoned the garment and placed his hat on his head and gloves on his hands as he prepared to go out and milk the cow. As soon as he finished
the
milking, he would collect the eggs from the chicken coop and bring them back to the house. From beneath the table, an old black and white mutt stretched as she came to life. The dog waited patiently, as she had done for years, until the couple finished breakfast. She knew from experience that leftovers would be coming her way, and as soon as Klaus left for the barn she would be fed a feast, courtesy of her beloved
Siegland
.

“Come on
,
Daisy,”
Sie
gland
said to the dog,
“I will give you some bacon.
” A bark of recognition and love sprung from the animal’s lips as her tail wagged in joyous anticipation of the coming treat.

Klaus walked slowly through the snow.  Winter was always an unproductive period on the farm
,
and during the cold months he
always
long
ed
for planting and harvest season. Every spring as the ground thawed
,
he felt a burst of new life and energy. It seemed to him that
M
other
N
ature rewarded him
each year
with a temporary rejuvenation of youth.  A sentimental old fool, he called
himself, for he had
even
given the barn animals names. The cow he called Freda and the horse he had named
Gurta
. At least he
had not named the chickens!
Siegland
had forbidden it. “Just in case we decide to eat one, at least we won’t have given it a name, which would just make it so much more like a pet or a friend. And who could eat a
friend?”
Sie
gland
had
said.

He had agreed, and so the chickens remained just birds. The crisp ivory s
now crunched beneath his feet and
the icy winter wind stung his face while Klaus trudged through the yard on his way to the barn.

When he approached
,
he saw the bar missing from the door. He assumed he had left it off when he put the animals to bed for the night. As he had done for more years than he could remember, he entered, and then turned to close
the door behind him as the snow-
laced wind blew back at him flying up into his face.

“Good morning, ladies,” he spoke to the cow and the horse. “And a fine day it is, even if it is a bit cold, eh?”

As he filled
Gurta’s
feed bucket with hay and grain, Klaus glanced over and saw that she had thrown her blanket off again. With just a quick look he could not see where the old horse had flung her coverlet, but he hoped
that it had not been in a pile of manure. The farmer smiled and shook his head as he patted the horse’s neck with affection, like an old friend. First he would milk the cow, and then he would look for the blanket. With experienced hands he hung
Gurta’s
feed bucket on the inside bar on the wall of her stall. Then as he app
roached the cow, he saw Petra
. Shocked to see this
young
blonde
woman wrapped in the
horse
’s
blanket asleep on a hay stack in his barn, he quietly walked over to get a better look. She was clearly pregnant; of that, he had no doubt. Having much experience with animals, he guessed about six or seven months along. In silence, he approached to observe her more closely. His eyes stud
ied the caked blood on her hand.
Who could she be? Where had she come from? What had brought her here? It was obvious to him that she’d been hurt. Klaus put the pail down on the ground and headed back to the house to find his wife.
Siegland
would know what to do.

Pulling the door open, Klaus burst into the farmhouse, alarming Daisy, who barked wildly in protection of her home until she saw that the intruder was her master.
Then the old dog lay back down,
resting her head on her front paws.

“
Siegland
, come quickly!
”

“What is it
,
Klaus?” She put the dish she’d been washing back into the sink and wiped her hands on her plaid apron. When she saw the distress on his face, she hurried to his side.

“Klaus, what
is it
?” Her heart began to pound. “What? Do you feel sick? Are you all right? Come, sit. Sit.” She guided him to a chair and began loosening the scarf around his neck. She reached up to his face with a practiced hand. His skin was a deep burgundy color and felt very hot.

“You’re ill. My God, Klaus - here let me take your coat off.” Her own heart was drumming in her chest. Could her beloved be ill?

Gently, he took her hands in his and stopped her. “Listen…” Out of breath with excitement and worry, he tried
to calm her so he could explain,
“
Siegland
, please...for a minute, sit. Listen, please.” He motioned to the chair.

“What Klaus? What?” She sat on the edge of the chair, wringing the fabric of her apron between her hands, impatient with nervous concern.

Gasping, he attempted to catch his breath. Then he struggled to make himself clear to her. “In the barn - a girl
is in the barn, a young girl. She’s pregnant. It looks like she’s been hurt - maybe an accident. I don’t know. My guess is she’s probably cold and hungry, too. What should we do,
Siegland
? I don’t know. I mean, I have no idea where she came from, and we don’t need any trouble with the autho
rities. What if she is a criminal?
We can’t risk getting involved.”

Without a word,
Siegland
reached for her coat, and replacing her head scarf with a wool hat, she headed out to the barn with her husband close behind her. As she looked down on the seventeen-year-old child, hurt, vulnerable and pregnant, asleep in her barn, something stirred deep within
Siegland
Bruchmeier
. Her empty womb cried out with the need to protect and nurture this poor, defenseless creature.

“We must wake her. It’s too cold for her to sleep out here.”

Never doubting his wife’s judgment, Klaus nodded in agreement as he watched
Siegland’s
maternal instincts overtake her. Oh, he had seen her care for sick animals with gentle compassion, but the look that emerged on her face as she studied the young girl gave her the appearance of a Madonna.

Ever so gently, and careful not to startle the young woman,
Siegland
bent to kneel beside her. Ignoring the gout pain that shot up through her legs,
Siegland
softly touched the girl’s shoulder. Startled, Petra sprang to life, sitting up straight. “Please! I beg you! Let me go! Don’t turn me in!”

Shocked and troubled, Klaus looked at the girl whose blonde curls now fell in ringlets about her head. “Turn you in? What did you do that I should turn you in?”

“Never mind that now, Klaus,”
Siegland
glared at him, and then turning to Petra, said, “Don’t worry, child, nobody is going to turn you in, and certainly no one will hurt you here. You are not a prisoner. You can go whenever you wish. But I would like so much if you would stay and have some breakfast. Please?”

“Oh, ma’am, that is so very kind of you. Yes, I would love some food. Thank you.” Petra was famished. The thought of going back outside and walking aimlessly in the frigid weather terrified her. If she could just have something to eat
,
maybe she would feel stronger. Although she was skeptical
,
she felt she had no choice but to put her trust in these people.

“Come
,
then, to the house. It’s too cold out here. I have a nice fire going, and we’ll see just what we can scrounge up for you to eat, eh?”

Siegland
placed her thick, strong arm around Petra’s shoulder and helped her back to the farm house as Klaus quietly followed behind. Nervous, but touched, Klaus watched helplessly as his wife directed the girl into a soft easy chair in front of the fire. Surprisingly, Daisy walked over to sniff the visitor, but she never let out a single bark.

“This dog over here, her name is Daisy. I’m
Siegland
and my husband is Klaus. We are the
Bruchmeiers
.”

Petra petted the old dog gently
,
and Daisy lay down at her feet.

“My name is Petra.”

The love Klaus saw in
Siegland’s
gentle heart had always been magical to him. Now, watching her so overflowing with gladness, he realized the girl could serve an important purpose in their lives. With her long, curly blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, he felt sure that she could not be a Jew, not that he
really
cared. In truth
,
he had never even seen a Jew, only heard about them. What he had heard had not been pleasant. But living his life as a farmer, he had seen too much to be quick to judge. Still
,
common
knowledge assured him that harboring a Jew would surely be an offense punishable by death. He preferred to avoid such a mess, if at all possible. If not guilty of being a Jew, he wondered what crime she had committed. Could it be murder? This young girl did not look capable of such a misdeed, but one never knew. A shudder ran through him, and since he had lost control of the situation
,
he put the possibilities out of his mind, at least for the moment. Perhaps they could find a way to help her.

Aromas of fresh-cooked food soon spread through the air, and Petra felt her salivary glands respond in kind. She smelled the savory ham frying slowly in the pan and the sweet aroma of bread as it warmed in the ove
n. Her stomach made little hung
r
y
noises
,
bringing on thoughts of the baby. She knew she must eat
,
if not for her own sake
,
then for the child.  Tenderly, Petra whispered, so that no one would hear, to the little one inside of her, “We will have some food very soon. Be patient.”

“I insist that you sta
y close to the fire and warm up,
”
Siegland
said as she brought Petra a tray with a full breakfast. Freshly-baked bread, ham, cheese, and boiled eggs crowded in abundance on the plate. She brought a small bowl of churned butter and another of strawberry jam, accompanied by a tall glass of milk. Even though she
was consumed with hunger, Petra forced herself to eat slowly, remembering the manners her mother had always insisted upon.

She placed her napkin carefully on her lap. Then
she
carefully cut each piece and placed her knife and fork down between bites. It was difficult because she would have liked to devour the entire contents of the plate in minutes. The taste of the foo
d was scrumptious, and the over
powering feeling of her hunger only served to intensify the pleasure. The strawberry jam tantalized her senses with sweet delight while the cheese made her mouth
want to sing a chorus of
H
allelujah
. She ate until her stom
ach swelled and bloated
. Then Petra, exhausted and spent, basked in the warmth of the fire.

“How do you feel?”
Sie
gland
asked
,
her voice soft
,
almost a whisper.

“Very well, ma’am, thank you. God bless you and thank you so very much. I am so very grateful to you and to your husband for everything you have done.”

“Oh, no need to thank me, child. It is my pleasure, but those cuts on your knee and your hand look like they coul
d do with a little clean-
up.
”

“Yes, I guess they could.” Petra looked at the dried blood. “But please, ma’am, you have done enough already. I don’t want to be a bother. I will be on my way.”

“Nonsense - you are not a bother to me. I am glad for the company. Out here on a farm you only see the same folks over and over. It’s good sometimes to see
a new face.
”

Petra smiled. The woman’s kindness radiated from her like warmth from the sun
, and for some inexplicable
reason
,
Petra trusted her completely.

“How would you li
ke to take a nice hot bath?
While you soak, I’ll have Klaus go and get your bag from the barn. That way you’ll have clean clothes when you come out
.
”