Daisies Are Forever (31 page)

Another loud explosion rocked the building. Gisela shielded the children with her body as limestone dust showered them from the arched ceiling above.

As the ground stilled, she looked Mitch’s way. He sat on the second bed beside the Holtzmann sisters, holding their hands, reassuring them that this was not the end of the world.

Or was it?

“Oh, dearie, dearie,” Bettina chanted.

Katya gave her own plaintive wail. “Sister, my sister.”

For a moment, the fighting subsided. Mitch slipped to Gisela’s side. Kurt narrowed his eyes. He had been sullen and angry the past couple of days.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She nodded and smiled for the kinder’s sake. They were frightened enough.

“You’re as white as my mum’s roses.”

“That sound.”

“The music of Stalin’s army.”

Exhausted after countless nights of little sleep, she rested her head on his shoulder. “What will happen to us when they arrive?”

“We won’t worry about that now. God will take care of us.”

“Shouldn’t we be prepared? I heard some of the women in the bread queue talking the other day. If you are dirty and old, the Russians won’t want you.”

He gave a quiet little laugh. “You are neither dirty nor old.”

“They said to put coal on your face and flour in your hair. Don’t comb it or bathe.”

“Not now. When the time comes.”

His presence warmed her and the quiet lulled her to sleep.

She had just nodded off when the terrible screech of the Stalinorgel let loose once more.

Oh God, why not one quiet day? Why not one peaceful night?

Machine-gun fire punctuated the brief intermissions between the rounds of the rocket launchers.

She rose from among the kinder and peered through the narrow window above them. Wehrmacht boots and black SS boots dashed past. One shiny pair came to a sudden stop in front of the window, then lurched forward as a Soviet bullet met its mark.

Gisela turned away, unable to watch more. Kurt stood right behind her and she couldn’t but help fall into his arms. “Come and sit. This is too much for you.”

She trembled and allowed him to lead her to the cream-and-green davenport they had pushed against the far wall. He knelt in front of her. “There is nothing to worry about. I won’t allow you to come to any harm.”

“You can’t say that. We’re helpless against this assault.”

“I won’t leave your side.”

She tried to take comfort in his words.

The gunfire ramped up once more, as did the howling squeal of the Stalinorgel, driving away the warmth in her limbs, chilling her all over.

Annelies covered her ears, missing most of the tale Mitch wove about princesses and castles, dragons and knights in shining armor. Even the beauty of his words could not overcome the ugliness on their doorstep.

Day turned into night. Neither the gunfire nor the Stalinorgel music stopped for a breath. Those dragons breathed fire and ravaged the decimated city.

At last, Renate and Annelies and the Holtzmann sisters gave in to their exhaustion and fell asleep on the bed. Gisela knew she would never rest while those monsters stood on the doorstep.

The thought of a good cry held some appeal.

She needed a break—a break from the boredom, the anticipation, the dread. She had to see something other than passing shoes—the tall, black boots of German officers, the midcalf brown boots of the field soldiers, the serviceable brown-and-white pumps of women scurrying to stock up on the necessities before the Russians arrived. She slipped from the shelter on the pretense of using the restroom and climbed the steps to the almost-empty second-floor bedroom that faced east.

Rocket fire colored the horizon blood red. A cacophony of shells and bombs and machine guns composed the strangest music. Explosions, like fireworks, lit up the heavens.

In a way, she believed this had to be a dream. Events like this didn’t happen to average people. They lived happy lives with family around the table, plenty to eat, and the basics of existence. Not like clay pigeons, targets for whatever aircraft flew in the air. Not like sleepwalkers, passing the dead and bloated bodies of their school pals, neighbors, and family. Not like hungry baby birds, waiting with mouths open for the next morsel that might drop their way.

She pressed her nose to the glass, surprised that it bore no cracks or bullet holes. She closed her eyes, blocking out the nightmare.

A tap on her shoulder and she jumped as high as the Eiffel Tower. Clutching her chest, she turned to find Mitch behind her.

“I’m sorry. I tried to make noise”—he studied his stockinged feet—“but you were in a far-off place.”

She touched his face, his beard coarse and bristly. “A place where this is nothing but a bad dream. A place where I will awake and find myself in my rose-papered bedroom in California, Margot asleep in the bed beside me.”

“I have dreams too.”

“Of flying?”

He nodded. He understood.

“Why did you come after me?” He should be with Audra, comforting her.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“What did you mean when you spoke about Audra and me getting married?”

“Just what I said. It’s a plan you two have, but one that may never be a reality.”

“I haven’t any desire to marry Audra.”

She dared to look into his chocolate eyes. They were soft, kind. Perhaps loving. “Not now you don’t want to marry her. When this tragedy finally ends.”

“Never.”

Could it be that the love she saw in his eyes was for her?

“I love another.”

That, she couldn’t bear. For half a second, she’d had hope. “Let’s count to three and resolve to wake up.” She closed her eyes. “One . . .”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“In case this is a nightmare and we wake up an ocean and a continent apart from each other, I want you to know I love you. That has been the sweetest part of this dream. The part I don’t want to wake from.”

He loved her? “Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

“I do too.” Her heart dreamed along with his. “I’ll be sorry to wake up and find you gone. Promise me you will try to locate me in California.” Her heart pained her.

“I will. I promise. Will you slap me again if I kiss you?”

Part of her still didn’t believe she had done such a thing. She shook her head. He leaned in for a kiss that she couldn’t refuse. His lips came to rest on hers, the pressure gentle, soothing. Yet a fire raced through her and she pulled him closer. He held the back of her neck, his probing fingers pulling out her hairpins.

The passion intensified and he pressed his lips tighter to hers. The breath she drew wasn’t sufficient. His heart beat over hers, their tempos in unison.

Mitch took her head in his hands and pulled away, his eyes intent on her. “You are the most incredible, beautiful woman I have ever met.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because if the kiss had gone on longer, I’d not have been able to control it. You fill me, complete me. I want you to be mine. I fought for you.”

This had to be real. “You fought Kurt.”

“He swung at me. I defended myself. Fought for you. He wants you as much as I do.”

“No one has ever fought for me.” That only happened at the cinema. It made her dizzy to think about. At the same time, anger surged in her toward Kurt. Didn’t he understand she wasn’t going to be his? Ever? “No wonder you don’t want to be near him. I’d throw him out on the street if it wouldn’t be his death sentence. But he won’t get me. I love another.”

His smile, his dimples, his love left her woozy.

He brushed his hand over her lids and she closed her eyes. “You have been the most beautiful dream. One, two . . .”

THIRTY-THREE

N
o. Wait.” Gisela broke off counting, pink rising in her pale, sunken cheeks.

He held her close in the freezing bedroom even as artillery fire screamed around them. The kiss had warmed him through and through. Almost too much. “Don’t you want to wake up?”

“No, I don’t.” She slid from his embrace and held his hands, her touch light. “Even if I have to suffer through this nightmare of hunger and fright and death, it’s worth it to be with you. I don’t want to leave you.”

A shell exploded nearby and the wood floors shook beneath them. Yet another shower of plaster rained on their heads. Mitch had enjoyed their game, but reality intruded. “We don’t have to wake up. Because we aren’t dreaming.”

“I know.”

“When the war is over . . .”

He wanted to commit to her, but she hushed him with a finger on his lips. “If I have learned nothing else from this horror, I have learned not to think about tomorrow. First, we have to survive today. So many don’t have a future.”

“But a pledge between us will keep us going until freedom comes.”

“I don’t want to break your heart. You don’t want to break mine. Let’s get through today, then the next and the next. Whatever that may hold for us.”

He struggled to understand her resistance. Perhaps he had read her wrong. “Do you love me? Be truthful.”

Her eyes sparkled. “If not for this war, things would be so very different.”

“Why not take advantage of every moment we have, no matter how few or how many are left? Because of the uncertainty of war, we should grab each second and live as if every tick of the clock was our last.”

She stepped to the other window on the wall and stared at the carnage on the streets. A large fissure ran the length of the pane. “It’s dangerous to love me.”

He went to her and massaged her shoulders, whispering into her ear, “Dangerous to my heart, yes. I’ve lost it to you.”

She leaned into him. “I would fail you.”

“Never.”

“Why did I run from Heide and Lotta? Why did I value my life more than theirs?”

“You were frightened and acted on instinct. There’s no shame in that.”

“I knew better. All my life, my parents had trained me to put others ahead of myself, but I didn’t do it that night. Even when I heard their screams, I kept running.” She shivered.

For a few minutes, he allowed silence to invade them. Just a bit. Gisela relaxed as she rested on his chest, her back to him. Explosions burst in the air along with the constant firing of machine guns.

“What could you have done to save your cousins? You told me yourself that there was no escape for all of you.”

“Then why did I go first? Why didn’t I push them ahead of me?”

“Did they push and shove to get ahead of you? Did you knock them out of the way?”

Her breathing rate increased and he knew she had traveled to that ghastly night. “I can’t remember. Maybe I did push them out of the way. Maybe, because I went first, they didn’t have a chance. I don’t know.”

He wrapped his arms around her and grasped her hands. “What happened after you opened the window? Relax and think.”

Gisela had heard the heavy Russian boots enter the parlor that night. They shouted, “
Uri,
uri,” wanting the watches. Glass broke on the floor. Tante Sonje would have bent to clean up whatever had shattered.

Gisela huddled with Heide and Lotta in the corner of the bedroom, behind the bed. She prayed, her lips moving, no sound emanating from her. The Soviets shouted in Russian. What were they demanding now?

She heard a thud, then Tante Sonje screamed.

“My aunt screeched and screeched. ‘Get out. Get out.’ ” Gisela shuddered.

Mitch’s whisper came from behind her, the edges of his voice softened by her vision. “Keep going. To the part where you opened the window.”

“We didn’t move at that time. More screaming. Crying. Then shots.” She couldn’t block out the sound of her aunt’s body hitting the floor.

Mitch rubbed her arm.

“They would come for us. We had to get out, so we opened the window and held it in place with a board my cousins kept in the room for that very purpose.” She paused as the scene played
in front of her eyes. She looked across the bedroom at the large featherbed she and her younger cousins occupied. Heide and Lotta’s dolls lay scattered across the pink-and-green rag rug on the floor.

Her attention returned to the matter at hand. Boots clunked on the stairs. If the soldiers found them, they would kill them too, like Tante Sonje.

Her heart raced as she knew they had very little time to escape.

She jolted back to reality and spun to face Mitch. “I remember. Oh, I remember.” Emotions almost cut off her breathing.

“What is it? What happened that night?”

“I tried to get my cousins to go out that window. I pulled them and tugged on them. Neither would cooperate.” A sensation of frustration overcame her. “Why wouldn’t they go out that window? Their mother was dead, their father out fighting. But they wouldn’t budge.”

“You did all you could. You offered them a means of escape, but they chose not to take it.”

“They told me to get out, to leave. That they would be fine. As they closed the window behind me, the Russians burst into the room.” Her knees went weak. In her head, she heard the Soviets shouting at her cousins. Even when she ran, the sound of those soldiers rang in her ears. “Maybe I should have stayed with them.”

“So you could be a victim too?”

“Family doesn’t leave family.” She had left so much family.

Mitch scrubbed his face. “What else could you have done?”

She thought and thought. They were determined not to go. They told her to take the only way out. She hadn’t decided for them. They had decided for themselves.

She left his side and paced the room. “I could have grabbed
them and pushed them out of the window like they pushed me. And I never bolted that bedroom door. If we had locked it and pushed the wardrobe against it, that would have bought us time. Time for me to convince my cousins to run.”

“You could have moved a wardrobe?” One corner of his mouth turned up.

“Why not? The three of us would have been able to do it.”

Mitch folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “And then what? Supposing you could have moved the wardrobe.”

“There were a hundred other things I could have said to make them leave. I was an adult. They should have listened to me.”