Staff Nurse in the Tyrol (4 page)

Sonia studied his expression. There was no mockery in it now. “My parents didn’t want me to be a nurse,” she said slowly. “They wanted me to stay at home, have a good time, go to parties, meet the right men—their idea of the right men—and to make a suitable marri
a
ge.” Her tone echoed his own earlier bitterness.

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted to do something useful.” She braced herself for his scathing comment.

He didn’t disappoint her. “A sugar-coated Florence Nightingale, eh?”

She rose to the bait. “Florence Nightingale wasn’t like that at all. She had to fight for everything she achieved. She was a rebel, too.”

His tone was musing. “So you call yourself a rebel. I suppose there can be all kinds, but this is the first time I’ve met a silver spoon one. And why didn’t you make a suitable marriage, or is that an impertinent question?”

The color rose up into her face but she met his eyes bravely enough. “I’ve never been in love, so the question hasn’t arisen.”

His eyes opened widely. “What! Never?”

A procession of all the men she had known seemed to troop silently by: the boys her sisters had brought home, the young men her father had brought from the office, the sons of their friends that her mother had invited so hopefully to the parties she gave for her, the doctors at the hospitals where she had worked. Had they all meant nothing? She could scarcely recall what they had looked like ... a smile, a gesture, an occasional phrase that had held her attention ... nothing else.

“No, never,” she said quietly.

He looked at her gravely. “You’re still very young. There’s plenty of time.”

She searched his face for mockery, but there was none. “Thank you.”

He stood up and bowed. “It’s I who should thank you for listening to my moanings.” Then with a sudden change of mood, he shook a warning finger at her. “But beware of the young men of this country in which you have chosen to work. They laugh, but not with their hearts. Inside they are bitter and hopeless. They speak of a brave new world and how tomorrow everything will be better, but most of them expect it will be handed to them on a platter. They forget their parents and their grandparents worked and fought for their world.”

“But they lost, so what difference did it make ... their working and fighting, I mean?” Sonia was almost as astonished as he was.

“You learn fast, don’t you? But as long as you don’t lose your heart to one of these young rebels you’ll be all right.”

“And what if I do? Is it any business of yours?” Why was her heart pounding in this slow, sickening fashion?

He shrugged his shoulders. “None, of course, but don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.”

Sonia’s eyes sparkled with anger. “And why should I want your help in the remote possibility of my falling in love with an Austrian?”

There was a puzzled note in his laughter. “You make me wonder. I can only add that an Austrian is a man just as much as anyone else, and remember this is a very romantic country. You have been warned. Well, I must be off. Who knows? We may bump into one another this evening.”

“Would you like that?” The words came out almost without her own volition.

He had started to go, but he turned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Would it matter to you if I did?”

Then he was gone before she could answer, before she could repudiate the words she had never meant to say. She sat there staring across the gardens. Had Austria bewitched her already? The mountains had emerged above the storm clouds now; their peaks had the glorious unreality of fabulous jewels, and the blue sky above had the breathtaking clarity of a Madonna’s robe. Was it really Sonia Allison sitting here? Even the sounds here were different. The lilt of the patients’ voices as they called from the balconies to their friends, the faraway whisper of music, that haunting fairy-like tinkle of the T
y
rolean tunes, and over it all rode the echo of laughter. Was Michael right? Was it only a cloak for the tragedy that lay underneath? The sweet scent of the flowers drifted across the terrace, laced with the spicy odor of the pine forests that lay like cool green shadows across the mountainside. She watched one of the nurses walking across the grass toward her. She looked just like an English nurse in her neat uniform, only the cap was different from the ones she knew.

The girl stopped beside Sonia’s chair. She smiled shyly. “Please to come. It is supper. Greta send me. I am Maria.”

Sonia stood up. “Thank you. You speak very good English, Maria.”

The girl looked at her uncertainly. “Please to come.” Sonia smiled. She followed Maria into the dining room. Most of the tables were full and everyone seemed to be talking at once. Several looked up and smiled warmly at Sonia. They seemed to be firing questions at Maria, and the quick words of German flew back and forth across the room. Occasionally she caught a word she thought she understood, but it always eluded her before she could be sure. Someone was pulling out a chair for her and gesturing her to sit down.

Sonia sat down shyly. “
Danke schon.”

There was a pleased chorus of surprise.

“You speak German?”

But Sonia could only shake her head and presently they left her alone. She could see a nun going from table to table with a large jug filling up the soup bowls, and another was carrying a tray laden with chunks of crusty bread. She found she was surprisingly hungry, too hungry to wonder at hot soup on a summer’s day. Greta came in just as she was finishing her sausage and pickled cabbage.

The other girl looked approvingly at her empty plate.

“You like frankfurter and sauerkraut. It is well, because we have it often. Have you been all right while I have been working?”

Sonia nodded, thankful that her mouth was full.

“Michael is coming with us this evening. I trust that you do not mind. I know that you do not like him very much, but it is good that he comes. He keeps Stefan from getting too excited.”

Sonia gulped down her mouthful. Had Michael too decided not to say anything? “That will be quite all right. After all, he is your friend, isn’t he?”

Greta gave her a quick look and then nodded. “Yes, he is my friend. Sometimes we get very angry, but always we become friends again. He has more sense than Stefan most times, but he too can be foolish. Imagine staying in Austria when he is free to go anywhere!”

Sonia gave her a curious glance. “I thought you loved your own country.”

Greta tossed her head. “Of course I do, but there is no future here. In other countries there is money, position. Here there is nothing. A nurse is no one.”

The other girls were watching them eagerly, trying to understand the English words.

“You know America?” one asked Sonia excitedly.

“I have been to America once when I was small.”

The questioner looked lost until Greta translated. “You go back soon?”

Sonia shook her head. “No, I like it better in England or here in Tirol.”

Again Greta translated and there was a murmur of surprise. “They think you are very foolish. I think so too. I cannot wait until I am back in America once again. There is so much for everyone, not like here where there is so little.”

Sonia stared at Greta’s bitter face. “But the Austrians seem so happy.”

Greta shrugged her shoulders. “What good would it do to weep?” She turned back to her plate. “If you care to wait we can have coffee together. There is a cafe by the gates and they put ice in the coffee if you like it that way.”

Sonia stood up. She was feeling a little lost. It wasn’t just being in a strange country. It wasn’t because she was so tired that all her impressions were getting blurred around the edges. Perhaps it was the way Greta’s moods changed like summer lightning. She couldn’t be sure, and right now she didn’t care.

She summoned a smile. “I’ll wait for you on the terrace, Greta. It might be cooler there.”

Suddenly she felt she wanted to be away from this room crowded with strangers. As she walked through the corridors, her footsteps had a lonely sound. The far reaches of the gardens had taken on a shadowy look as she reached the terrace. She lifted her eyes toward the mountains and her breathing quickened involuntarily. The blueness of those distant slopes had deepened to indigo, and the sky had taken on a washed-out paleness that reminded her of the delicacy of an Oriental painting. A band of sunlight lay across the peaks like warm gold; the pines huddled dark and forlorn in the shadows.

“You like mountains, eh?”

Stefan’s voice made her turn sharply. “They are very lovely,” she said slowly. “I don’t think I will ever tire of watching them.”

“Some day you climb up to the top, perhaps. There is the cable car if you have not the strength. If there is no cloud you see for many miles. If you are not so fortunate with the weather, it is still lovely. You stand there with the wind blowing cold against you and below all is like a lake of clouds. It is like the fairyland you hear about when you are a small child. You like that, eh?”

This was a Stefan who had left his hatred behind him for the moment, and there was a gentle dreaminess about him that drew her strangely. She felt that he was more of a stranger here in Austria than Michael, although it didn’t make sense. Perhaps Michael was here because he wanted to be while Stefan had no choice. What about herself? After all she hadn’t had to come. It had been a deliberate decision, hadn’t it? Or was she only looking for something she hadn’t found at home.

“Yes, I would like it very much. There is something so clean and untouched about mountains.” She smiled at Stefan.

His face lit up. “You find it so, too! They are washed by the rains from the heavens, and the winds sweep away all traces of the men who sweat
u
p their slopes. It is like being born again. One feels so new, so fresh, and so strong.”

“So this is where you are, Stefan. I suppose you would like to come with us for coffee.” Greta’s voice sounded harsh.

Sonia found herself wincing for Stefan’s sake as the light went from his face as swiftly as if someone had touched a switch. Why did Greta do it? Or didn’t she realize that people would mind?

Stefan shook his head. “I’m on my way to see an accident case. There is not time to stop. I will see you at nine.”

Greta touched Sonia’s arm. “If you wish coffee you must come quickly. I have not finished the duty yet.”

The little caf
e
was almost deserted and it was cool in the dimly
-
lit room.

Greta seemed to have decided to be pleasant again as her eyes were friendly. “You’ll like the coffee. They serve it here in tall glasses with a chunk of ice and a spoonful of cream floating on the top. Are you pleased that you have returned to Austria? Do you not feel homesick for your family?”

Sonia considered the question. “No, I don’t think so. It’s all so strange and exciting here. Besides, I haven’t been with my family except for holidays and occasional weekends. The hospital where I worked didn’t allow us to live out.”

The waitress put down their glasses and told them the cost. “How much is that, Greta? You must let me pay for this.” Sonia held out a handful of change.

The girl smiled
.
“
Bitte.
I
st 40 Schillings
.
”

Sonia turned over the coins and picked out two
20-Schilling
pieces, hesitated and then added five
Schillings.
“
Bitte. Danke schon.”

Greta laughed and the girl joined in. “We’ll have you speaking German in no time. How strange it is. You want to learn our language, and we want to learn yours so that we can escape to freedom.”

Sonia stirred her coffee. “You make it sound as if you were shut behind the Iron Curtain.”

Greta shivered. “You must not say that word. It sounds like Stefan. Never say it when he is near.
”

“Can he never return then?”

“Is it as likely that we win back the
Sud Tirol
from Italy.”

“I don’t understand. I thought the Tirol belonged to Austria.” Sonia was puzzled.

“Sh-sh! It is not wise that we talk about it. It is not popular, the subject. It happened long ago. Only the old people remember and the young ones use it as a slogan, not knowing what it really means. Once Austria was a great country. Now it is carved up into many pieces. So many of the people have been killed or scattered to the ends of the world. All that is left is like a child’s broken toy. The
Tirol
was so proud, so illustrious, and it too has been smashed by the wars we did not want. The
Sud Tirol
...
”
her voice instinctively dropped
“.
.. was given away to Italy. The names of our towns were changed. The mapmakers condescend to put the Austrian names below the Italian ones, but ours are in the smallest of print.” She picked up her glass. “Finish your coffee if you come with me. It is time that I sing to the small ones and tell stories.”

Sonia hesitated. “I think I will stay here. Why do you love the children so much?”

Greta seemed startled, but her face softened. “How did you know? I do not tell you.”

Sonia put a hand shyly on the other’s arm. “It’s in your voice, perhaps.”

Greta laughed, but there was bitterness in the sound. “Always I love the children, but for myself I must not let it interfere with my plans. It is so—so important that I get away from here. Stefan says stay, but that is madness. He says he loves me, b
u
t that is a lie. He loves only his country. If the word came he would leave me like a ... a thief in the
night ...
and where would I be? Holding his children without a doubt, and I would hear them crying with hunger like the little ones who come to our wards. No! I will not listen to those voices soft with love. It is only a treachery to spoil my plans. In America it would be different. There would be the money, the security, the happiness, and the children are not hungry.” She stood up abruptly. “I must go.”

“What about Michael?” Sonia heard her words with horror.

Greta’s face dissolved into impersonal blankness. “He is the greatest danger of them all.” She spoke as if to herself. “He does not care about me or about anyone. Yet if he lifts his little finger I cannot help myself. It is ... how do you say
it ...
hell.” She seemed to waken suddenly. “But what am I saying?” Her eyes pleaded with Sonia. “Do me a favor. Never mention it, not even when we are alone. Promise!”

“I promise,” Sonia said gently.

She sat on in the dim coolness of the cafe sipping her iced coffee, hearing the soft quick sound of the Austrian speech from the other tables, and always the laughter running like quicksilver. Did it have the brittleness of ice on the pools in the first frost of winter or was that only her imagination? The distant sounds of a church clock striking made her realize that she had been sitting there a longtime. She stood up stiffly and began to walk toward the door.

The little waitress passed her with a tray full of glasses.
“Auf Wiedersehen
,”
she smiled.

Sonia smiled back as she answered shyly.
“Auf Wiedersehen.
”

It was as if the words were a passport to her new life and a seal of approval that she was being accepted in this strange land where it always seemed today, tomorrow was only mentioned in timid whispers, and yesterday was accorded the bitterness of a funeral.

She walked slowly back up the hospital drive. The buildings were ablaze with lights; here and there was a patch of darkness that could be a side ward where the desperately ill fought to retain a grip on life, or one of the laboratories where the research workers had laid down their tools until another day gave them strength to push back the frontiers of science yet another fraction. The fierce heat that had seemed to press like a smothering blanket against her earlier had given way to a soft humid stickiness that made the curls cling to her forehead.

She decided to go to her room and change. The dress she had put on after her bath looked as tired as she felt. The corridors seemed longer than ever, and she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find her room when a door opened and Greta came out.

She seemed a little startled to see Sonia. “Did you get lost?” she asked.

There was a sound of voices behind her and she closed the door quickly. “You have come too far. It is the turning before this to the left that you take. I have not time to come with you.”

“It’s all right, Greta.”

Sonia turned around and went back the way she had come. Hadn’t one of those voices been Michael’s? The words had been German, but there had been some undertone, some inflection, that could only be English. She tried to remember exactly where the children’s ward was; Greta had taken her around so quickly that other day. She was almost certain it was up on the next floor. She pulled herself together. Why should it matter that Greta was talking to Michael? After all, they had been friends, good friends, for a long time, and she was only a newcomer.

This time she found her room without any difficulty, and by the time Greta knocked on her door she had slipped into her favorite dress. The soft yellow of its skirt was set off by a narrow black velvet sash, and the scooped neckline showed the golden tan that still lingered from her holidays.

Greta whistled admiringly. “Very nice. It must be so wonderful to have money ... parents to spoil you.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “Next year, I too may have the chance.”

Sonia’s face was troubled. “I bought the dress with my own money, Greta. My parents try to spoil me, but I won’t let them. It isn’t what I want.
”

Greta shrugged her shoulders. “Then you are mad. I cannot understand. Myself, I would take everything. Come, Stefan and Michael will be waiting for us.”

Sonia couldn’t help noticing how Greta’s voice lingered over Michael’s name, making a musical sound of it.

“I’m ready. Where are we going, Greta?” She was beginning to feel excited and the feeling spread through her tiredness like sunshine through the fog.

“We could go to the Maria-Theresia Bar or perhaps the Pony-Aim. Stefan may already have chosen the place for us to go. Michael, he does not care as long as there is music and not too many tourists. He does not like the English.”

Sonia laughed. “But he is English! How silly!”

Greta closed the door behind them and began to lead the way down the corridor. “That is something you do not tell Michael. I know you do not care for him, but he is my friend.”

They had reached the main entrance before Sonia could say anything, and for this she was thankful. She couldn’t account for the oddly lost feeling that had gone through her at Greta’s words She only knew that it had happened.

It was Stefan who was waiting at the porter’s lodge, and Sonia saw Greta look eagerly past him and watched her face change with disappointment. Greta didn’t seem to notice the sad little smile that touched Stefan’s mouth.

“Michael will come later. There
w
as an emergency in the operating room. He is sorry.”

Greta pouted. “Why couldn’t you have taken the case, Stefan?”

Sonia longed to put out a comforting hand to the man who stood beside her, but she dared not. She had a feeling that his sensitiveness would flinch away from her sympathy.

He laughed, but his laugh had the quality of breaking glass. “Because it was Michael’s case, and he is not in the habit of giving them to other surgeons even when they are his friends.”

“I hear the tram coming. Stefan! Sonia! Come!”

Then they were running down the drive, the three of them, throwing laughing encouragement at one another. Breathlessly they scrambled up the steep steps into the small red tram.

“Thank goodness we made it! I couldn’t have walked that road again today.” Sonia pushed back the curls from her forehead.

Stefan looked down at her flushed little face. “You walked? Today?”

Sonia nodded. “Yes. Michael and I missed the tram after lunch.”

He stared at her in a puzzled fashion. “You know Michael, then? You are friends perhaps in England?”

“He was on the same train from Zurich,” Sonia explained. How little that told anyone, and yet what would be gained by telling the whole story? It would only give a false importance to a chain of events that could mean nothing.

Sonia stared around the cafe with delighted eyes. She hadn’t expected this. She had stumbled blindly down the steps after Greta and Stefan. At first the cigarette smoke had made it difficult to see. The music had seemed to beat against her ears, and the voices shouting over the musicians were deafening. But now, tucked away at a corner table with Greta and Stefan, she could take it all in at her leisure. The twirling figures on the tiny dance floor could only be Austrians. She would see no English here. This was no tourist haunt. The beat of the music died down for a brief moment and then began again, a haunting quickstep melody that tugged at her feet.

Stefan was rising to his feet and looking at Greta questioningly.

She shook her head. “Dance with Sonia. Me, I am too tired for the moment.”

Stefan made Sonia a little bow, his face polite and serious. She stood up hesitantly. “I’m not sure that I can do the steps. They seem different from ours.”

He led her from the table. “No matter. I can dance the English way if that is what you wish.”

“No, please don’t I want to learn. It looks so much nicer than ours.”

She found it so easy after
all ...
only an extra little kick step to slip in on each beat of the music
.
Stefan held her firmly, and his strong arm swung her faster and faster. Breathlessly she clung to him for support when the music stopped.

Gently he brushed back the hair from her eyes. “You are too hot, no?”

But Sonia wasn’t listening. She was staring past him to a familiar figure. Michael was standing at the foot of the stairs and was looking at her. On his face there was an infuriating, mocking smile that seemed to say: You have been warned.