From Dust and Ashes (18 page)

Peter’s eyes remained intent on her.

“In the summer of 1941, a section of Bielsko was transformed into a Jewish ghetto. A year later the ghetto was liquidated. Every man, woman, and child was taken to a camp in Auschwitz.”

Tears formed in the corners of Michaela’s eyes. “Despite the law that said anyone caught harboring a Jew would be killed, my parents took in a family with two daughters.”

“Lelia’s family?”

“Yes.” Michaela played with the ends of her short hair. “My father wanted so much to help those girls.”

Peter wrapped an arm around her. “If this is too hard for you, you don’t have to—”

“I need to tell you one more thing.” Michaela rubbed her bare arms. “Just before the war started, I fell in love with a man named Georg. He was like you in many ways. Strong. Brave. Handsome.” She blushed. “I loved him more than I thought was possible. He was killed while working for the Resistance. I need you to know that I will always have a place for him in my heart. I will never forget him.”

“Of course not. I will never ask you to.”

“I guess I shared all that just to say … can we take a few—just small—steps together to see what happens?”

Peter squeezed her tightly. “That’s all I could hope for. And know too that I understand. Sometimes my emotions get so mixed up with all that’s happened with the camp, with you, with Helene. If you’re willing to explore the future—a future of us getting to know each other better—then that’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.”

Michaela rested in his embrace, soaking in his warmth. It felt good to be cared for and protected. She liked Peter. He was a good man.

Georg
, she thought.
Papa, Mama, am I doing the right thing?

Michaela stood before she could change her mind. She took Peter’s hand. “Let’s get back and tell the others.”

He hopped down off the wall and brought her fingers to his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Michaela said, not willing to lose love again.

“All right, then. But I have one condition.”

“What is it?”

“That you share more with me later. I want you to tell me all about your previous life.”

My previous life
. Yes, that’s what it was. It was not her life anymore. She clutched Peter’s hand as they wandered back to the large yellow house.

This man was her future. He would be her life now.

Twenty-One

JULY 20, 1945

M
ichaela and Peter entered the house unnoticed and sneaked into the kitchen. Lelia sat at the table with Anika on her lap. Helene sat across from them, rocking the baby and discussing dresses and hairstyles. Josef stood by the back door with Papa Katz, mug in hand.

The room stilled as they entered. Helene’s eyes widened, and Michaela realized her hand was still enclosed in Peter’s. He noticed too and quickly released it.

Peter strutted across the room and shook hands with Papa Katz. “Good to see you again, sir.” He nodded at Josef. “You’re looking well.”

Helene raised the baby to her shoulder and winked at Lelia. “Go ahead. Tell them.”

The young woman placed Anika on the floor, stood, and embraced Michaela. “Josef and I are getting married!”

Michaela wrapped her arms around her friend.
Married? They’ve hardly been courting for two weeks
.

“Josef, old man, it seems we’ve both found love within these walls,” Peter announced.

Lelia took a step back and gawked at Michaela. “You too?”

“Well, we’re not getting married. Nothing like that,” Michaela responded. “But we have decided to consider getting to know each other as more than friends.”

Lelia grinned and pulled Michaela into another tight hug.

“It looks like a double celebration,” Papa Katz said. “Helene, why don’t you make your famous punch?”

Helene seemed to ignore him, intently rewrapping the baby in his blanket.

“Helene?” her father said again.

She rose from the table. The color drained from her face. “Punch, of course. Let me just get Petar down for his nap. Then we can celebrate.” She scurried to the bedroom.

Anika bounced from person to person, bubbling from the energy in the room. Josef and Peter discussed dates and locations for a wedding. Josef kidded Peter that perhaps he’d be making the same plans before long. The words swirled around Michaela like a dust storm.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” A heaviness settled upon Michaela, and suddenly she wondered why she’d allowed things to go so far.

Michaela followed the path Helene had just taken. She pressed her cheek against the wood of Helene’s door and found it ajar. She knocked gently. “May I come in?” she asked through the crack. Then she entered without waiting for a response.

Helene was sitting on her bed, her back against the wall. Petar lay on her lap, half asleep.

“Are you all right?” Michaela asked.

Helene sniffed softly. “Of course.”

Michaela sat in the chair beside her and patted her leg. “Now, I know better than that.”

Helene tilted her head back. “It’s just that I’m going to lose you both. One of you would be hard enough to bear, but two?”

Helene caressed the baby’s cheek.

“You’re not losing me,” Michaela protested. “Peter and I are still just getting to know each other. There’s no telling what will become of this. Peter is still in the army. Who knows how much we’ll even see each other?”

Helene was quiet as she considered Michaela’s words.

Michaela’s thoughts turned back to Lelia. “Did Josef and Lelia say when they will be married?”

“Next week. Saturday, I believe.”

Michaela bit her lip.
So soon?

Helene handed Petar to Michaela, then moved to her dresser. Michaela lifted the pudgy baby to her face, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

“I want a dozen of these,”
Peter had said. And so did she. But could she conceive a child? She no longer knew if that was possible. The starvation, the beatings, and the unsanitary living conditions in the camp had changed her body into a stranger.

Helene pulled a wedding photo from the bottom drawer. “Besides the births of my children, my wedding was the happiest day of my life.” She handed the photo to Michaela. “Do you like this dress?”

Michaela admired the high waist, the low V-neck, and the delicate flowers embroidered on the bodice and long sleeves. Narrow pleats hugged Helene’s hips and fell to the floor. Helene’s hair touched her shoulders in long blonde waves. Friedrich stood beside her in full uniform.

“It’s beautiful.” Michaela handed the picture back. “You were stunning.”

Helene placed the photo back in the drawer. “I still have the dress. It was one of the things I brought back with me.” She paused, then looked at Michaela. “Someday you might need a wedding dress. Who knows? It might even be with Peter. And if that happens, I’d like you to wear it. It would look gorgeous on you.”

Michaela felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

“I don’t know…”

Helene’s face brightened. “Really, I would like to do this.”

It was all too much for Michaela to comprehend. Just a few months ago she’d wondered if she would even live. She’d longed for any scrap of food. She’d slept in lice and watched those around her killed without reason. In a few months, could she change from wearing a dead man’s shirt to being offered expensive bridal wear?

Michaela pressed her fingers to her temples. “Really, we don’t need to get so carried away. That’s still so far off. Give me, give us some time.”

Helene’s countenance fell. “Oh, I didn’t even consider that you may not want to wear a dress that was used in an SS wedding. I’m sure you and Peter—”

“Nein. It’s not that. I am just … not ready for that yet. I just want to be open to what God wants.”

Helene hugged her friend, careful not to squish the baby on Michaela’s lap. “Of course. What was I thinking?” She leaned back. “I’m just happy that you have someone as wonderful as Peter; I really am.”

Michaela kissed baby Petar’s head. “Ja, so am I.” Her words sounded flat even to herself.

Helene rolled over in her bed for the hundredth time that night. The blankets were too warm, the air too cool. Anika’s gentle snoring, usually a source of joy, seemed loud and obnoxious.
Just like her father
, Helene thought as she flipped the pillow over.

Helene tried counting, but that didn’t help. The lack of sleep reminded her of the long nights she’d waited for Friedrich to come home. Her shoulders tensed, and she tried to push those thoughts away. If only she could find someone like Peter … but she didn’t want to think about that either.

The sound of iron pans clanging together carried in from the kitchen. Someone else was having problems sleeping. Probably Michaela or Lelia, excited about boyfriends, weddings, and new lives in America.

Helene pushed back the covers and stood, the cool floor causing her toes to curl. Careful not to bump the cradle, she grabbed her robe from the chair back and slipped it on. Then she tiptoed into the kitchen.

As she entered, a warm lantern’s glow greeted her, along with her father’s wink. He stood by the stove, stirring a pan of milk with a wooden spoon. Yesterday’s bread waited on the counter.

Helene sat in the rickety old kitchen chair. “I feel ten years old again. How did you know I would need milk toast tonight?”

“You always need it on days like today, whether it be good news or bad.” His voice was soothing. “Remember the time your name was announced as the finalist for the school spelling bee? Or the day we received news that your mother was down to her final days? Milk toast was the only thing that got you to sleep.”

Helene traced the wood grain of the table with her finger. Within minutes, a bowl of bread soaked in warm milk and sprinkled with a hint of sugar was set before her. She took a bite, appreciating the softness and comfort of the food.

“So, which do you think today was?” Helene asked when her bowl was half empty. “Good news or bad?”

“Well, that depends whether we’re considering the future of our friends or ourselves. It seems their joy will ultimately lead to our loss.”

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way until my own children were grown.” Helene swirled the milk toast with her spoon, forming the shape of a heart. “I don’t think they’re ready for serious relationships. They’re just beginning to get well.”

She licked the spoon. “Take Lelia, for example. A month ago she could hardly speak and now she’s to be married? And how long has Josef been coming around? She’s too young, and she doesn’t really know him.”

Helene’s father chuckled, and the realization of her words hit her. Not too many years before he’d felt the same about her. She’d been young. She’d hardly known Friedrich. Yet no one could have told her not to marry him.

Helene considered how difficult it must have been for her father to let her go. Not that he’d had a choice. She had been a determined young woman. Nothing could have stopped her from being with the man she loved.

“The world is changing, my daughter. Good changes and not-so-good. I’ve been to meetings in town, talked to key people. Just when the war is over, it seems we’ll soon be under a new government.”

Helene focused on his face. All humor was gone.

“I didn’t want to ruin the glorious announcements earlier, but U.S. troops will be leaving sooner than I imagined. Austria will again have her own borders, but we will be divided into four occupational zones.”

He swept his hand toward the window. “This whole area, from the river to the northern border, will be Russian territory.”

“The Russians?” Helene had heard rumors of their brutality, especially to anyone associated with the Nazis. Tens of thousands of Russian men had been killed without a trial in the camps near her home. And what of the Americans? She’d found comfort in their presence. The brown jeeps with white stars, the tent hospitals and sprightly nurses, the jazz music and gum-chewing soldiers.

“How many days do the Americans have left?”

“From what I’ve heard, less than a week.”

“And Peter?”

“He hasn’t said. But I imagine that’s why these relationships are moving along so quickly. The men won’t be able to come back after their military forces leave the area.”

“Not ever?”

“Nein.” Her father leaned against the counter. “Not unless they get special permission or come on government business. Courting a young lady won’t fall under those terms.” He paused. “So I’m sure, even now, Peter’s thinking of a way to get Michaela out.”

Helene’s head pounded, and the milk seemed to curdle in her stomach. She pushed the bowl away.

The baby’s cry sounded from the other room. Helene stood, then decided to ask one more question. “How far will the Americans go?”

“To the other side of the river. The banks we can see on the other side will be in the American zone.”

Her heart filled with a grief she’d come to know all too well. “So they’ll be close.”

Her father stroked the white stubble on his chin. A strand of hair as fine as spider’s silk fell across his high forehead. He raked it back with a finger. “Close, but not close enough.”

As Helene returned to her room, the darkness of the situation seemed blacker than the night outside. A wide, watery chasm would soon separate her from those she cared for.

Helene lifted Petar from his cradle. The small wooden bed rocked, but her thoughts seemed to rock with an even greater force. She nestled into her own bed and held the baby to her chest to nurse.

“At least I’ll still have you,” she murmured to the infant. “You and your sister and your grandfather.”

It will be enough
, she decided. It had to be. Helene leaned against the plaster wall. The baby was cradled between her thighs and her chest, protected and loved. Helene rocked back and forth. Not to soothe her infant but to calm the shaking of her shoulders.

Oh, God, will it be enough?