Someone Named Eva (16 page)

"Elsbeth! You can't go there. It's not safe. You can't." I thought of the hardness I had seen in the eyes of the Russian soldiers.

"Well, I'm going. You can come or stay."

"Elsbeth," I reasoned, "at least check your vater's office first. There are guns there, remember? I'll go with you to check upstairs."

We got out of bed and bundled into our coats. I looked in on Mutter, who was still sleeping soundly in the small room. Silently we crept up the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. The air was cold, and a delicate layer of frost covered everything in the room. All was quiet and peaceful, the sun almost fully risen. After being in the darkened basement for so long, my eyes took a while to adjust to the light. I stood, blinking and squinting, until I could fully open both eyes without pain.

I had forgotten how reassuring sunlight can feel. As we walked through the kitchen, it streamed through the two shattered windows and touched my face as if to say "Good morning." For a moment, I looked through the cracked panes into the backyard. Everything outside looked the same. A few patches of snow were on the ground, and the trees rose up proudly from the woods at the edge of the yard. The large gardening shed was still there, and the servants' house stood as it always had, almost as if it was mocking the war by remaining the same.

Inside, however, the house was a mess. Elsbeth and I walked through the kitchen and into the main entry hall, where Mutter's beautiful hand-sewn curtains hung in ragged shreds. In other places bits of broken china lay scattered on the floor. Pictures had been ripped off the walls, and the frames had been broken into several pieces. The photographs of Hitler were riddled with bullet holes. The dark wooden banister that ran along the spiral staircase to the second floor was splintered and jagged.

The huge final crash we had heard had been the antique crystal chandelier in the formal dining room. It lay on the floor, a thousand tiny pieces of shattered glass surrounding it as if they had each tried to flee the center of a blast. In the library a kitchen knife stuck out from a small photograph of Hitler, directly between his eyes. Dozens of books had been pulled off the shelves, their pages ripped out and shredded. Their remains littered the floor, looking like dirty clumps of snow.

The door to Herr Werner's office stood at a strange angle. Elsbeth nudged it gently, and it fell off in her hands. She leaned it against the wall, and we stepped inside to find the room empty of nearly everything but furniture.

"It's all gone," Elsbeth said with a frightened look on her face. "Everything," she repeated in disbelief, walking over to an empty gun case in the corner and opening its unlocked door. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"Elsbeth," I said, touching her arm.

She wiped at her eyes with her coat sleeve. Then, straightening, she looked at me and said, "We have to get the gun hidden in the woods, Eva."

"Oh, Elsbeth, it's too dangerous," I argued, thinking of the sounds of the planes and guns coming from outside.

"We'll go this afternoon, when Mutter takes her nap." Elsbeth was determined. "It will be quick, Eva. We'll just get the gun and come back. We can't be left unprotected." Then softly she added, "Please?"

"All right," I said, and she took my hand and squeezed it.

Once Mutter was asleep that afternoon, we slipped on our coats. Elsbeth started up the stairs, but I held back, realizing that we would be going to a place near the camp. Instinctively, I felt for Grandmother's star pin. It was fastened, as always, to the inside of my skirt.

"Come on, Eva," Elsbeth said, stopping to look back. "Hurry."

I turned and followed her upstairs and out into the backyard.

Once again, my eyes shut momentarily from the brightness of the sun. The air held both the bite of winter and the promise of spring, and it felt glorious to be outside again. I stopped and took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. As my eyes adjusted, I opened them more and looked around, feeling a strange kind of freedom in being in a space so much larger than the confines of our small shelter.

I took another deep breath and noticed that the smell was still present. Again I thought of the camp and the women there.

Elsbeth trudged ahead confidently, seemingly unaware of the snow, the freedom, or the smell. She was focused only on finding the clearing and retrieving the gun.

At first I didn't even recognize the clearing. Only one tree still stood, its red bull's-eye glaring at us from the trunk. The other two trees lay in large jagged pieces, victims of either heavy snow or artillery fire. It was nearly impossible to tell where the boulder with the gun hidden under it was.

Frantically, Elsbeth began searching, randomly moving from one spot to the next. "It was here someplace. Perhaps over here," she said, trying to reach under the tangle of fallen trunks and branches. "Eva, help me!" she pleaded.

As I stood looking around the clearing, I realized the search was hopeless. "Elsbeth," I said gently, "the gun is someplace under the branches, and they're too heavy to lift. We can't get to it."

"No!" she said, throwing her whole body against a fallen branch.

"Elsbeth," I repeated.

She sank to her knees, her thick woolen stockings quickly becoming damp from the soft, thawing ground. Tears welled in her eyes. "You're right," she said quietly, shivering.

"Elsbeth. It's cold. You're wet. You're shivering. Start walking back and I'll look a little longer." I suddenly wanted Elsbeth gone. Now that we were so close to the camp, I was longing to go there, and I knew Elsbeth would never allow it if she was with me.

"No, Eva. I'll stay. I'm not that cold, and we need to find the gun."

"Elsbeth, Mutter may be awake. At least one of us should start back. I'll keep looking."

Elsbeth looked at me carefully. "All right. I suppose one of us should be there for Mutter."

I nodded, shooing her away with my hand. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

I watched her leave; then I turned and started walking quickly toward where I had once heard the Czech song, in the direction of the camp.

There had been no sounds of planes or gunfire so far, and this bolstered my confidence. I needed to see the camp again. Perhaps this time I could slip in through the barbed wire. Carefully, I picked my way through the snow and underbrush.

The loud snap of a twig made me stop. I froze. But then from behind a tree stepped Elsbeth, her face hard and cold.

"Elsbeth," I said, relieved. "You startled me. I—"

"I decided to come back. I was worried that you might get scared. But I can see you're not. And I know where you're going," she said, her voice flat, her words accusing. "I told you not to go to that place ever again." She was suddenly inches from my face. "I told you it's a bad place, filled with bad people."

"Elsbeth..." I wanted to explain. I wanted her to understand why I had to go.

"Are you Jewish?" Her question hit me like an invisible fist.

"What?" I could barely speak. "No. I'm not Jewish. What are you talking about?"

"I mean
were
you Jewish? Before you came here? I've heard of that, you know. Of Jews pretending to be true Germans. Is that what's wrong with you?" She spit the words at me like stones, sharp and painful.

Hatred burned in my stomach, its warmth spreading into my arms and legs. She was a Nazi. How could I have forgotten? She was a German who worshiped Hitler and hated all others. She was just like the soldiers who had taken me from my family. Just like Fräulein Krüger, who had sent Heidi and Elsa away. Just like Herr Werner, who was keeping my own people prisoner.

My mouth filled with a bitter, acrid taste. Without thinking, I punched Elsbeth hard in the stomach, then began hitting her over and over again with both fists. At first she tried to return my blows. But if there was one thing I had learned from having an older brother, it was how to fight.

Wanting to hurt her, I knocked her to the ground. I hit and pulled and scratched every part of her that I could, unleashing all my anger and frustration. She scrambled to get away, but I grabbed her foot, and suddenly we were both tumbling down a small embankment. When we reached the bottom, we finally lay separated, panting and staring up at the sky. Elsbeth was crying.

"Eva. I..." she began. Her voice was small and scared, and I was struck by how young she seemed at that moment. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked confused and frightened. She was older than I, but she was a child who knew nothing of the world.

I rolled over and stood up. Walking up the embankment, I grabbed my mittens and put them on. I was wet and cold, and I knew I would have bruises the next day, but at that moment I felt nothing, inside or out. The planes had returned overhead, and I knew it was foolish to try to go to the camp. Instead, I walked back toward the house, ignoring the quiet sobs coming from Elsbeth.

***

I didn't speak to Elsbeth the rest of that day, trying as best I could to avoid her in the small space of the shelter. I was filled with anger, sadness, and confusion about what had happened in the woods, and I wasn't sure what to do with any of these feelings.

Elsbeth, too, stayed away from me as best she could. A sadness that I had never seen before rested in her eyes. Mutter watched us both with concern but said nothing. She was aware that something was wrong but could have no idea what it might be.

It wasn't until that night that I discovered Grandmother's pin was gone. Frantically, I searched everywhere: my pockets, my scarf, my skirt. But it was gone, lost back in the woods where Elsbeth and I had fought. The pin was the only thing I had from home, and I would not leave it, alone and cold, in the woods.

I waited in the darkness until the sounds of Mutter's and Elsbeth's breathing told me they were asleep. Quietly I reached for a flashlight and crept upstairs. I had no fear this time of what might be in the woods. I only wanted the pin back.

As I crossed the kitchen, I heard a creak and turned to see Elsbeth's face appear at the top of the basement staircase.

"Eva?" she called.

I didn't answer.

"Eva. Where are you going? Can I come? Please?"

"I lost something. I need to go back to the woods." My voice was rough.

"I'll help you look, Eva. Please?" She sounded lost and afraid, and I felt myself softening a little.

"Oh, I don't care," I answered, still feeling angry and confused. "Just hurry."

She went downstairs and came back a few minutes later, dressed and with a small flashlight in one hand.

Silently I led us through the woods, holding the light as low as possible to the ground. It was a cloudless night, and the moon provided some additional light along the way.

Near the target range I found the place where Elsbeth and I had fought. I could still see our footprints in the mud. I shone the light around the ground, looking for a glint from the pin. But there was nothing. An enormous sense of loss filled me. Elsbeth swept the ground with her light as well, unaware of what we were looking for but clearly trying to be helpful.

Even at night, the awful smell of this place filled my nose, and it seemed almost as if it was taunting me about the lost pin. I dropped the flashlight, sank to my knees, and let the tears fall. Elsbeth came to kneel next to me.

"Oh, Eva..." she said, putting an arm around my shoulder.

I let Elsbeth hold me and felt my anger at her ease as she rocked me back and forth like a child. I laid my head on her shoulder—the same shoulder I had hit and pushed earlier that day. She was the only family I had left.

When I stopped crying, Elsbeth helped me to my feet. I reached for the flashlight and followed the beam of light. It was pointed at an angle, to the side of the small embankment, and shining on something glittery. My heart raced as I ran over and picked it up. It was Grandmother's pin. The clasp was bent slightly, but all the garnets were still in place. I sighed with relief and clutched it tightly.

"Is that what you were looking for, Eva?" Elsbeth came to my side. "I have not seen it before. Where did you get it?"

I held it up to the moonlight so she could see. "It's my grandmother's pin. It is very special to me. I keep it with me always. I lost it when..." I couldn't say any more. I was still angry, but there was warmth and affection there, too. How could I love Elsbeth when she was a Nazi? And yet she was my adopted sister, and I did love her.

Elsbeth bit her lip and looked down at the ground. "Eva, I'm sorry. I didn't mean ... I mean, I know you're not Jewish and ... I don't know. I don't know anything."

"You're right. You don't know anything about me." I sat down, spreading my coat around me like a blanket. "I have my own mother and father, you know." I had been wanting to say these words out loud for so long. Just saying them made Mama and Papa seem closer and more real. "We live with my grandmother and my baby sister and my big brother."

Elsbeth sat next to me, shivering slightly but saying nothing.

"Someday," I continued, gathering courage to say what I really wanted to say. "Someday I'm going back to them."

"Eva," she said softly, "that's not possible."

"Yes, Elsbeth, it is. Someday I will go back to them."

"But Eva." She shivered again and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't understand."

"No, Elsbeth, you don't."

We sat for a little while, and I scanned the sky for the North Star. Even if Elsbeth didn't understand, I did. I knew who I was, where I had come from, and where I would go someday.

"Elsbeth," I said, breaking the silence and pointing to the sky. "Do you see the star in the north, the one that's so bright?"

She followed where I was pointing. "Oh, the North Star. Yes."

"My grandmother told me once that if you are lost, you can use it to find your way home."

"How can you do that?" Elsbeth asked.

We sat for a while in the darkness while I told Elsbeth about the North Star, just as my grandmother had told me. Flashes of bombs had begun to appear once more in the distance, bright and sudden, and artillery fire had begun to sound. Now that I had the pin, I was again becoming aware of the reality of being outside during a war. It was dangerous. We needed to leave.