From Dust and Ashes (16 page)

Eighteen

JULY 6, 1945

T
he sounds and smells of breakfast cooking drifted in from the kitchen. Helene attempted to roll over to check the time on the clock beside her bed, but the size of her stomach made that small task difficult to accomplish.

She heard Anika’s singsong voice intermingled with her opa’s low tones. The scent of bacon was strong, and Helene covered her nose. She uttered a low moan.

Soft footsteps entered the room. “Are you okay?” Michaela placed a cool hand on her forehead.

Helene hugged her stomach. “I think I’m coming down with something. The smells from the kitchen are making me ill.”

Michaela opened the window, letting in the fresh morning breeze.

Helene took a deep breath, expanding her lungs as far as her stomach would allow. “That’s much better, thanks.”

Michaela poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table and handed it to Helene. “It’s not time for the baby, is it?”

“Nein.” Helene took a long drink, then handed the glass back to Michaela. “I have a few weeks yet. Besides, this doesn’t feel like it did when I had Anika.”

Michaela leaned closer. “Perhaps we should have a nurse stop by just in case?”

“Oh, no.” Helene snuggled back under the covers. The image of the SS doctor came to mind. Just the thought of him made her skin crawl. “I’ll go see my mother’s old friend later. She’s a midwife and has birthed half the babies in town, including me. Right now, I’m just really tired.”

Michaela’s hand rested on her shoulder. “You sleep. I’ll help your father. He was planning to visit some friends at the evacuation hospital today.”

Helene’s eyelids felt heavy. “And Anika?”

“We’ll take her with us. She’s always a welcome visitor there.”

“Danke,” Helene mumbled, but Michaela was already on her way back to the kitchen. Helene took another deep breath of fresh air, then succumbed to the weariness coursing through her.

“Stop! No, stop!” Helene begged.

Friedrich’s face closed in on her. She smelled liquor on his breath and tasted it in his unwelcome kisses. He pressed her body between his chest and the wall.

“Please, you’re hurting me.” Helene tried to wriggle free from his hold. As she did she felt a warm sensation on her legs.
Blood?
He had brought home the blood from the camps, and now it was on her.

“No!”

Helene opened her eyes. The room was bright. Blankets entangled her arms and a hot tightness stretched across her abdomen. Her inner thighs felt wet.

Oh, no. Not now
. Helene pulled back the blanket. The sheet beneath her was drenched. “My water broke,” she cried out. There was no response.

Her mind still groggy, she tried to remember what day it was.
Wednesday. I wasn’t feeling well, so Michaela went with my father. I have to get help
.

Helene struggled to untangle the covers. She pulled her body into a sitting position. Suddenly she winced in pain, remembering this unique sensation all too well.

“Why is this happening now?” When the contraction passed, another thought seized her.
It’s too early. Something’s wrong. I’m going to lose the baby
. Tears welled in her eyes.

Helene stood, her knees wobbly. She took three steps, then grabbed the chair for support.

“Help,” she called, feeling the strength in her legs give out. She slumped into the chair. A sob shook her chest. Not only could she not stop this, but she was alone. Alone to face what lay ahead.

After a minute or two, another contraction mounted. Helene’s hair dangled in her face as she gripped the chair.

“Oh, God, please. Somebody help me.”

“Helene?” a voice came from the doorway.

Helene looked up. “Lelia, thank God.”

Lelia stumbled into the room. “You need to get in bed.” She placed one hand on Helene’s back and another on her elbow. Helene stood. Fluid dripped down her legs.

“I can’t believe this. It’s too soon.”

Lelia stripped the damp sheets and replaced them with a clean blanket. “Here you go.” She helped Helene back into bed. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Helene tried to relax on the bed. But as she did, another contraction hit. The room started spinning. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Lelia rose. “I’ll go get help.”

“No! Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”

Lelia remained by her side, holding Helene’s hand, rubbing her back, and offering words of encouragement for what seemed like hours.

Each contraction demanded all of Helene’s focus. Between contractions she prayed. Simply and honestly like Michaela had taught her. She prayed for strength and for her father to get back soon.

“Where are they?” Helene cried.

Lelia rose. “I don’t want to leave you, but the baby’s coming too fast. I have to get help. There are nurses at the camp. I’ll hurry—”

“No!” Helene felt a strong pressure between her legs. “There’s no time. I can feel the baby coming. You can’t leave now.” Tears filled her eyes, but her hands shook too much to wipe them away.

Terror filled Lelia’s face.

“Please stay with me,” Helene begged again. “I can’t bear to be alone right now.” The last word faded as another pain started.

“Of course I will stay.” Lelia took Helene’s hand. Her gaze took on a look of determination.

When the contraction passed, Helene studied the girl’s face. Instead of fear, she saw resolve.

“My aunt had a baby,” Lelia said, as if just remembering. “I watched the birth, and my mother showed me what to do.” Her voice was steady. “I can help you.”

The contractions continued to mount.

Lelia wiped Helene’s forehead. “Look at me.” She gripped Helene’s jaw and turned it toward her. “Focus on my face.”

Helene did as she was told.

“Everything will be fine. You’re doing very well. We can do this.”

Helene panted.

“Now,” Lelia said, patting Helene’s cheek, “I’m going to check the baby, ja?” Lelia examined Helene as if she had done this every day of her life. Then she returned to Helene’s side. “The baby’s close. I need to get some things ready. Whatever you do, don’t push.” Lelia hurried from the room.

Helene’s fists twisted the bottom blanket. “Oh!” Her cries grew louder as the pain swelled. It felt like small shards of glass ripping her apart in tight, heart-stopping pains. She had to remember to breathe.

Lelia
, her mind screamed,
where are you?
Helene felt a strong urge to push.
Please, God, let this baby be okay. Let my child live
.

Lelia returned, her arms laden with scissors, string, towels, and a bucket of water. Helene clenched the blanket as another pain tightened her abdomen into a fiery ball.

Lelia set down her items and crouched between Helene’s knees. “The baby’s coming. I can see the head.” Lelia’s voice rose. “Push when you feel the need.”

Helene grabbed her thighs and pressed her chin to her chest. With each push, Lelia encouraged her on.

After a few pushes Lelia gasped. “The head is coming.”

Helene wailed in both joy and pain.

“The head’s out,” Lelia said. “One more.”

Finally, the baby slid into the world. “It’s a boy!” Lelia shouted.

Helene exhaled her breath and waited for a cry. It came. Loud, angry, and beautiful.

Lelia worked quickly, cutting the umbilical cord, then clearing out the infant’s mouth and nose with a small cloth. “He’s beautiful.”

Helene leaned up on her elbows, panting, and watched Lelia use a damp towel to wipe her son’s face. Lelia wrapped him in a soft blanket and placed him on his mother’s stomach. Helene began to shake, then cry. “My baby, oh, my baby.”

The babe puckered his lips and attempted to open his eyes. Tiny strands of blond hair stuck to his head. Helene snuggled him to her chest, then reached out to Lelia. “You saved us. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Lelia blushed, and Helene noticed a transformation in the girl’s face. The silent victim was gone, and Helene caught a glimpse of the young woman hidden inside.

The front door opened and closed. Lelia covered Helene with a clean blanket, then hurried to the living room.

Helene heard squeals, then a shout of worry from her father. Three nervous, excited people entered the room. After ensuring that Helene and the baby were fine, Helene’s father went for a nurse. “Just to be safe,” he said, flying out the bedroom door.

Michaela kissed the baby’s head, then took Lelia into an embrace.

Anika, who’d stayed by the door, ran up and peeked at her baby brother. “He so little,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Little, but healthy,” Helene said. “Come sit with me.” Anika climbed onto the bed and laid her head on Helene’s chest. The breath of her two children caressed Helene’s skin. Their faces tilted in her direction. She kissed them both, and swore to herself to protect them with all the strength that was in her.

“Thank you,” she said to Lelia. “Thank you.”

Lelia sank onto the chair. Her shoulders trembled as if she were just realizing what had happened.

“I’m so proud of you both.” Michaela crouched by Helene and studyed the baby’s tiny feet.

Lelia’s smile assured Helene that all would be well.

Helene contemplated her baby’s perfect face. “Petar,” she murmured.

“Oh, yes, we must get word to Peter.” Michaela rose. “Perhaps your father can—”

“No, wait,” Helene said. “That is his name. I will call him Petar, after our hero.”

“Baby Petar.” Anika cradled his tiny fist in her palm.

By the time Helene’s father returned with a nurse, Michaela had cleaned up the mess and Lelia had fallen asleep in the chair. The nurse, who wore an American uniform, examined Helene and the baby, taking time to wash them both thoroughly. Lelia, who had awakened when the nurse arrived, watched closely.

“Everything’s fine,” the nurse said. “I couldn’t have done a better job myself,” she added with a wink at Lelia.

“Now you need to rest. I’ll check you again tomorrow.” She patted Helene’s shoulder.

Lelia showed the nurse to the front door, then went to her room to change clothes and lie down. Helene’s father pulled up a chair by his daughter and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Just look at them.” His gaze was tender as he peered down at his grandchildren. Anika had fallen asleep at her mother’s side. The baby slept too, his soft snore sounding like the purr of a kitten.

“I can put Anika on my bed,” he whispered. “Then you can rest.” He reached for the girl.

“No, leave her. Just for a while.”

He nodded. “A grandson.” He sighed.

“Friedrich always wanted a son.” Helene’s voice caught in her throat.

“Let’s not dwell on the past. The time for mourning is past. A time of rejoicing has come.”

Helene’s lower lip quivered. She let her head sink deeper into the pillow.
If only the mourning could truly be over
.

But the more she thought about it, she realized that sometimes good did result from pain. Michaela and Lelia in this home. Being reunited with her father. Two beautiful children. These were the things Helene thought of as she drifted off to sleep.

Beauty from ashes. Life from pain
.

Nineteen

JULY 13, 1945

E
very morning during the first week of his life, the baby’s cry had preceded even the neighbor’s rooster in stirring the house to wakefulness.

“Sh, there’s no need for that.” Helene lifted the small bundle from the cradle her father had found in the attic. In just a few days Petar had regained his birth weight of 2.27 kilograms, or as the American nurse said, 5 pounds. Helene kissed the top of Petar’s soft blond hair, marveling at the scent of him.

The baby rooted his head toward his mother’s breast and settled as she brought him close to nurse. Helene studied him in the dim light, noticing how his miniature earlobe perfectly matched his sister’s.

At a gentle tap on the door, Helene lifted her head. “Come in,” she said just above a whisper.

Lelia, still in her nightdress, poked her head around the doorframe. A few black curls peeked out from under a scarf. “I can take him when he’s through,” she said shyly.

“I’d like that.” Helene yawned. “I promised Anika we’d bake a cake to celebrate Petar’s birth. A few more hours of sleep would be nice before I have to start the day.”

Lelia padded into the room and sat down in the chair.

“I just can’t believe he’s here.” Helene wrapped her son’s fingers around her own. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Lelia stared at her hands in her lap. “I did what I could.”

“No, really, you have a gift, Lelia. I nearly fainted when I saw all the blood, but it didn’t even faze you. Perhaps you should consider becoming a nurse.”

Lelia beamed. “I will think about that.”

When Petar finished nursing, Helene lifted him to her shoulder and burped him, then passed him to Lelia. She pulled him close, kissing his button nose.

Helene snuggled back under her quilt. “I hope he didn’t wake you.” She yawned again.

Lelia wrapped a blanket around the baby. “He did wake me, but not in the way you think.” She paused and stared at him a moment. “When I came here I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to be alive.” Her eyes looked past Petar and far away. “So many people were gone. My family—”

Helene leaned up on one arm. Petar opened his eyes as if he too were listening.

“Then he came. You needed me. I felt alive again.” Her voice faded. She patted Helene’s arm. “Now, you get some sleep, and don’t worry about him.” She caressed Petar’s cheek, then carried him out of the room, letting the door close softly behind her.

Helene wanted to say something more than thank you, but words didn’t seem to be enough. So Helene just lay there, in awe of the miracles taking place around her.

After a few minutes, she closed her eyes.
Thank you, God, for giving me Petar. And for giving us Lelia back too
.

And as she considered what else to pray, it seemed that her words to God never said quite enough either.

Helene felt better after a few hours of sleep. She was busy helping Anika with the cake when a loud knock at the door startled her. She handed the wooden spoon to Anika and wiped her hands on her apron. “Keep scooping batter into the pan.”

“I keep going.” Anika licked the spoon once before sticking it back into the batter. Helene chuckled quietly.

The knocking sounded again, and Lelia and Michaela approached the door as well.

Upon opening the front screen, Helene saw a huge bunch of wildflowers and a package wrapped in glossy blue paper, tied with a white satin bow. The face behind them wasn’t distinguishable, but she could make out an American army uniform. She moved her hand to her chest and was about to call out Peter’s name when a face moved from behind the flowers. It was a face she recognized—one of Peter’s friends. But not Peter.

“Please come in,” Helene said, willing her heart to cease its wild beating. She hoped her smile hid her disappointment.

“I come bearing gifts from Peter,” the GI said. “He’s sorry he can’t be here himself.”

Helene stepped out of the way so he could enter. After taking a long sniff of the flowers, she placed them on a side table. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember …”

“My name?” He grinned. “Clifton. Corporal Dan Clifton, at your service.” He bowed, then looked around. “Well, where’s that new baby? I have direct orders to check out the little guy.”

They all tiptoed to Helene’s room and peeked into the cradle. Petar was asleep, his tiny fist curled next to his cheek.

“What did you name him?” Clifton asked when they returned to the living room.

“Petar,” Anika announced.

Clifton folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Now, that’s something I’d love to report.” He pointed at the gift. “Well, are you going to open it?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Helene smelled the flowers one more time, then picked up the rectangular box.

“The flowers are from several of us guys.” Clifton ran a finger around his belt buckle. “We sure got plenty of ribbing for picking wildflowers.”

Helene sat on the sofa and untied the white satin bow. Then she worked on the shiny blue paper.

“That’s from Peter,” Clifton said. “I have no idea what it is, but it was quite a task transporting it from Germany without mussing it up.”

“Is Peter doing well?” Michaela asked.

“Oh, yeah. I only got to see him for a few minutes, but he did seem to have a spring in his step.”

“I wanna help!” Anika grabbed one end of the paper and pulled. With a swift jerk, the lid came open, revealing a wooden train set.

“Wundervoll!
Wonderful!” Anika cried, grabbing the caboose.

“Anika,” Helene said sternly, “that’s for your brother.”

“But I tell him to share,” Anika answered in a serious tone.

The four adults couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay,” Helene conceded. “He can share.”

Within minutes, Michaela and Anika had the train put together and were pulling it around the room by its long yellow string.

“What a special gift.” Helene folded the wrapping paper and placed it on the table. “I’ll have to write Peter a thank-you note.”

“Or tell him yourself. He should be here within the week.”

Baby Petar cried from the other room. Lelia started to rise, but Helene waved her away. “No, you sit and visit. I’ll attend to him.”

A week
, Helene thought as she hurried to the bedroom.
What will it be like to see Peter again? And what will happen between him and Michaela?

“Let’s just take one day at a time,” she whispered to Petar as she picked him up from his cradle.

After Petar finished nursing, Helene returned to the living room, where she found Clifton on the floor with Anika. The girl pulled the train around the room and quietly hummed a tune. Michaela and Lelia watched from the couch.

Clifton looked up as Helene entered, then cocked his head. “Anika, that’s a lovely song you’re humming. Can you hum it a little louder?”

Anika stood straight and tall and did as she was asked. Helene’s eyebrows furrowed as she sank into a chair. It was the tune Friedrich had taught her.

“Do you know what that is?” Clifton asked.

Anika shook her head.

“It’s ‘The Bridal Chorus’ by Richard Wagner. It comes from one of his operas.” Clifton sat up straighter. “Haven’t you heard of it? It’s very popular in the States. There we call it ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ I’m partial to Wagner’s title myself.”

“I’m familiar with Wagner,” Helene said.

“How do you know so much about music?” Michaela asked their visitor.

Clifton tried to hide a grin. “In my prewar days I majored in music at Chico State University. I actually joined the service hoping to visit the countries of some of my favorite musicians.” He laughed.

“So have you seen anything memorable?” Michaela asked.

“I saw Wagner’s Concert Hall in Bayreuth. The guys gave me a hard time for that, Wagner being Hitler’s favorite composer and all.”

Helene smiled, but her mind hardly comprehended what Clifton was saying. Instead, she patted her baby’s back and wondered why Friedrich had chosen to teach Anika that tune. She knew Friedrich liked Wagner, but why “The Bridal Chorus,” of all things? Then Clifton said something that caught her attention.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Helene asked.

“I was just saying that soon I’m going to be transferred to Füssen, Germany. While I’m there I hope to see—”

“Füssen?” Helene asked, recognizing the name of her husband’s hometown. “Someone I once knew was raised in Füssen.”

“Really?” Clifton sat a little straighter. “Then you must know about Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau, King Ludwig’s castles. You can see both from Füssen. That crazy king was devoted to Wagner’s work. So much, in fact, that the rooms of Neuschwanstein were built to be stages for Wagner’s operas.”

Clifton continued on, giving Michaela and Lelia a music history lesson. But Helene’s thoughts drifted. She handed the baby to Lelia and excused herself. Slipping into her bedroom, Helene shuffled through the papers and photos she’d taken from her home.

“Here we are,” Helene said, finding the photo she was looking for. She tilted the black-and-white picture toward the light coming in through the window. She studied the image of the small boy and the cottage, then examined the rolling hills and the castle huddled into the folds of the mountain behind. Was that one of the castles Clifton spoke of?

Helene took the photo into the other room and handed it to Clifton. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but can you take a look at this?”

Clifton took the photo. “It’s Neuschwanstein. Amazing. You can’t see it from this view, but just a few kilometers away is Hohenschwangau.” He studied the photo more closely. “Who is the boy?”

“That was my husband when he was a boy,” Helene said, sitting back in the chair. “His mother still lives there. Interesting … I never realized the connection between Wagner and those castles.”

Clifton handed the photo back and stood. “I’m afraid I need to be going now. But it certainly was a pleasure meeting you ladies.”

After Clifton left, Anika started softly humming the tune again.

“Anika,” Helene asked, “why did your father teach you that song? Is there a story behind it?”

The cord to the train she’d been pulling dropped to the ground. “I not tell.” She placed a finger over her lips. “I promised.”

Later that day, Michaela sat at the table in her room, fidgeting with the piece of writing paper as she tried to think of how to sign the letter.

“‘With love’ would be good,” Lelia urged from her place on the bed.

“I don’t know. It sounds too forward.” Michaela bit her lip and twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. She felt twelve again, awkward and uncertain.

Helene entered the room with the baby in her arms. “Lelia, would you mind changing him? Clouds are building, and I’m afraid it will rain on the laundry if I don’t bring it in right away.”

Lelia stood and took the baby. Helene started for the door, then stopped when she noticed Michaela brooding. “What are you writing?”

She sighed. “A letter to Peter.”

Helene sat in a chair beside the desk. “What did you say?”

Michaela shrugged. “I just told him about daily life around here. How your father is always busy helping the townspeople. Anika’s humorous antics. About you and baby Petar, and Josef’s dates with Lelia.”

Lelia swatted Michaela’s arm as she juggled the baby. “They’re not dates.”

Michaela grinned. “Well, if you don’t call three walks in three days
dates
, I don’t know what they are.” She looked at Helene. “I’m just not sure how to end the letter.”

Helene scooted closer, craning her neck to get a better view of the paper. “How you end it depends on how you feel. How do you feel?”

Michaela sensed warmth spreading through her. “Strange. I mean, I don’t even know if Peter’s interested in me.”

Helene and Lelia both gave vigorous nods.

“Well, then, I do care for him.” She lowered her head. “Not the way I did for Georg, though. With him, it seemed our lives were entwined into a single cord. I thought of him every minute of the day. I never could understand why God would take him when we had so much love between us.”

“Would you marry Peter if he asked?” Helene questioned.