The Ring (31 page)

Are you all right, Ariana? Ruth cast her a searching glance as Ariana sank onto the bed.

I'm fine, Mrs. Liebman ' and you've all been so good to me ' I still don't know what to say.

Don't say anything. Just enjoy it. And then, after a moment of pensive silence, she looked at Ariana. In some ways I think it is our way of living with the guilt.

What guilt? Ariana looked at her in confusion.

The guilt that we were all safe here while all of you in Europe ' She paused for a moment. You were no different than we were, yet you all paid the price for being Jews.

In a moment of stunned silence Ariana understood. They thought that she was a Jew. So that was why they had taken her in like one of their own children ' that was why they were so good to her they thought she was a Jew. Bereft and anguished, she stared at Ruth Liebman. She had to tell her. She couldn't let her think ' but what could she tell her? That she was a German ' a real one ' that she was one of the race that had killed those Jews? What would they think then? That she was a Nazi. But she wasn't. Nor had been her father ' nor Gerhard. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of it ' they would never understand it ' never ' they would cast her away from them ' put her on the boat again. A sob broke from her and Ruth Liebman ran to her and held her tightly as they sat side by side on the bed. Oh, my God ' I'm sorry, Ariana ' I'm so sorry. There is no need for us to speak of that now.

But she had to tell her ' had to tell her ' but a little voice inside Ariana silenced her. Not just yet. Once they know you better, then maybe they will understand. And she was too exhausted to argue with the voice any further. She just let Ruth Liebman tuck her into the canopied bed beneath the bedspread of pink satin, and with a long, jagged sigh, after a few moments, Ariana slept.

And when she awoke, she once again sat thinking over her problem. Should she tell them now or wait? But by then Debbie had already written her a poem, and Julia knocked softly on the door to bring her a cup of tea and another slice of the cake. It was impossible to tell them. Already she had been woven in among them. Already it was too late.

Now what are you three up to? Ruth looked in on the three girls, giggling together in Ariana's bedroom, Ariana had been showing them how to put on rouge. Aha! Painted women! Ruth looked at the three faces and grinned. Ariana looked even sillier than the two others, with her fair cameo beauty and her long blond hair falling over her shoulders childlike; the rouge looked ridiculously out of place on her cheeks.

Can't we take Ariana out tomorrow? Julia looked at her mother pleadingly, a long-legged, sensual colt with huge brown eyes that somehow made her look more than just sixteen. She was fully as tall as her mother, but there was something more delicate about the cast of her face. Ariana thought her very lovely, and somewhat exotic. And she was so wonderfully honest and open, so bright, and she had such a quick wit.

Debbie on the other hand was more gentle, quieter, but very lovely, too. She was still something of a dreamer, and unlike Julia she was not interested in boys at all. She was only interested in her beloved brother, and in another week he was due home. By then, Ruth had promised, Ariana could be out with the girls, every day if she chose. But in the meantime she still wanted her to stay quiet, and she could see, too, that despite Ariana's protests, the girl was often grateful to be left alone to lie down.

Ariana, is it that you feel ill, dear, or only very tired? It still troubled Ruth greatly, and she was growing more afraid daily that Ariana had in some way been marked for life. At times she was very lively and rapidly becoming a part of the family's roughhousing and cavorting on weekends and after meals, but still Ruth could see that the girl was not at all recovered from her ordeal. She had made Ariana promise that they would return to the doctor again if she didn't feel a great deal better by the following week.

I promise you, it's nothing, I'm coaly tired ' I think it was just from being so seasick on the boat. But Ruth knew full well that it wasn't the ocean crossing. It was a sickness of the heart. But Ariana never faltered, never complained. She helped the girls each day with their summer studies, tidied her room, sewed for Ruth, and twice now Ruth had found her downstairs helping their housekeeper to rearrange the linen cupboards, sifting through mountains of sheets and tablecloths and napkins, in an effort to put order in areas where Ruth seldom had the time or interest to interfere. The last time she caught her, Ruth had sent her quickly packing to her room, with orders to go back to rest. But instead she had found her in Paul's room, sewing the new curtains Ruth had started but never had time to finish. It was obvious that Ariana wanted to be part of this homecoming. Everyone else in the house was and she wanted to be, too.

And as Ariana sat quietly in Paul's room, sewing, she wondered what kind of young man he was. She knew how infinitely dear he was to his parents, but she didn't know much more than that, except that he was close to her own age and that the high school pictures that lined the room showed a tall, smiling, athletic-looking boy with broad shoulders and a mischievous light in his eye. She liked the look of him, even before they met, and it wouldn't be long now before she met him. He would be home Saturday and Ariana knew now how desperately they had longed for his return, particularly after the death of their eldest son. Ruth had told her gently about Simon, and of course, Ariana knew the loss of Simon had been a severe blow, which made Paul more precious to them now. But Ariana also knew now that Paul's homecoming was not going to be easy for another reason.

Ruth had told her that when he had left two years before, Paul had wanted to be just like his older brother. Everything he did had to be a mirror image of what his older brother did. And when Simon left, he was engaged. So just before Paul shipped out, he got engaged, too. To a girl he'd known all his life, She's a very sweet girl, Ruth had sighed. But they were both twenty, and in some ways Joan was a lot more mature than Paul. As Ariana watched Ruth's eyes, she suddenly understood. Six months ago Joan married another man. It's not the end of the world, of course, or it shouldn't be, but ' She had looked up in agony at Ariana. She never told Paul. We thought she'd written to him, but finally she told us that she never told him a thing.

He still doesn't know? Ariana's voice was filled with compassion. Miserably, Ruth shook her head. Oh, my God. And you're going to have to tell him when he comes home?

We are. And I can't think of anything I less want to do.

What about the girl? Do you suppose she'd be willing to come and tell him? She doesn't have to tell him she's married after all. She could just break off the engagement, and then if he found out about it later '

But Ruth smiled ruefully. I'd love it, but she's eight months pregnant. Ariana smiled. I'm afraid it falls back on me and his father.

So that was what they had to look forward to. Ariana couldn't help wondering how he'd take the news. She had already heard from his sisters that he had a ferocious temper and that he was a very intense young man. She worried, too, how he would feel about having a stranger there, in his home, when he returned. To him, after all, she would be a stranger, even though before he even came home, Paul was no stranger to her. She had heard dozens of stories about him, his childhood, his jokes, his mischief. She felt that he was already her friend. But what would he feel about this mysterious German girl who had suddenly appeared in their midst? She couldn't help wondering if he wouldn't be put off by her after viewing Germans as the enemy for so long, or if, like the rest of his family, he would trust and accept her as one of their own.

It was precisely this trust and acceptance that made her not tell them she was not Jewish. After days of silent torment she had made up her mind. She couldn't tell them, it would destroy everything. They would never understand that a non-Jewish German could be a decent human being. They were too blinded by their own pain and revulsion at what the Germans had done. It was simpler to keep quiet and suffer her twinges of guilt. It didn't matter now. The past was dead and gone. And they would never find out the truth. If they knew, it would only hurt them. They would feel they had been betrayed. And they hadn't. Ariana had lost as much as anyone. She needed the Liebmans just as much as they had known she needed them from the first. There was no reason to tell them. And she couldn't now. She couldn't bear to lose this family, too. She only hoped that Paul would accept her, too. Now and then she worried that he might ask too many questions, but she'd just have to wait and see.

But Ruth's mind was turned in an entirely different direction. It occurred to her that having a young girl as pretty as Ariana afoot would distract him, too. Despite the fatigue that continued to pull her, the girl had blossomed in the brief two weeks. She had the most perfect complexion Ruth had ever seen on another living human being it was like a perfect peach velvet, her eyes like heather kissed with dew. Her laughter was bright and sunny, her body lithe and graceful, her mind sharp. She would have been a gift to any mother, and the thought of that did not escape Ruth Liebman whenever she worried about Paul. But she couldn't only think of Paul now; she had to consider Ariana, too, which reminded her that there had been something she wanted to ask her. She narrowed her eyes now as she looked at Ariana, who felt suddenly like a very small child beneath that gaze. Tell me something, young lady, why didn't you tell me that you fainted yesterday morning? I saw you at lunchtime, and you told me you were fine. The servants had told her that afternoon.

I was fine by then. She smiled at Ruth, but Ruth did not look pleased.

I want you to tell me when those things happen. Do you understand that, Ariana?

Yes, Aunt Ruth. It was the name they had decided was most comfortable.

How often has that happened?

Only once or twice. I think it just happens when I'm very tired or when I don't eat.

Which, from what I can see, is all the time. You're not eating enough, young lady.

Yes, ma'am.

Never mind that. If you faint again, I want to be told immediately, and by you, not by the servants. Is that clear?

Yes, I'm sorry. I just didn't want to worry you.

So worry me a little. It worries me more if I feel I'm not being told. And then her face softened again and Ariana smiled. Please, darling, I really worry about you. And it's important that in these first few months we take especially good care of your health. If you're careful to recover properly now, you won't have ugly reminders of the past forever. But if you don't take care of yourself, you may pay for it for the rest of your life.

I'm sorry, Aunt Ruth.

Don't be sorry. Just take care of yourself. And if you continue fainting, I want to take you back to our doctor. All right? He had already seen her at the hospital before she checked out.

I promise I'll let you know next time. But don't worry about me, you're going to be busy enough next week with Paul. Will he have to be confined to his bed?

No. I think he ought to be able to manage, as long as he's careful. I'll have to follow around after both of you to make sure you take care of yourselves.

But Ruth didn't have far to follow after her son when he got home. When they told him the news of Joanie's marriage, he was so overwhelmed that he spent two days locked in his room. He let no one in, not even his sisters, and it was his father who at last prevailed and convinced him to emerge. When he did, he looked ghastly, exhausted, unshaven. But the rest of the family looked almost as bad. After the long years of terror and worry, to have him home at last, and so distraught over the broken engagement, made them ache with frustration at his pain. But in a roar of anger his father had finally accused him of self-indulgence and childish pouting, and his own anger at his father's words had at last brought him out of his shell. He appeared at breakfast the next morning, clean-shaven, pale, and red-eyed, and although he spoke tersely to all present, he was at least there. It wasn't until the end of the meal that he addressed anyone. He had been staring angrily at everyone, except Ariana, whom he didn't seem to see at all. And then suddenly, as though someone had hit him on the shoulder, he looked across the table at her with a look of surprise.

For a moment she wasn't sure whether to smile at him or just to sit there. She was almost terrified to acknowledge the look in his eyes. It was a piercing stare that went to the very core of her being, questioning her presence in his home, at his table, silently asking her why she was there. Following her instincts, she nodded and then averted her eyes, but she could feel his gaze on her for endless moments, and when she looked up at him again, there seemed to be a thousand questions in his eyes.

What part of Germany did you come from? He didn't say her name, and the question fell strangely into his parents' conversation as he speared her with his eyes.

She looked him straight in the eye. Berlin.

He nodded, his brows suddenly knit together. Did you see it after the fall?

Only briefly. Ruth and Samuel exchanged uncomfortable glances but Ariana didn't waver. Only her hands trembled slightly as she buttered a small piece of toast.

How was it? He eyed her with increasing interest. In the Pacific, they had only heard distant rumors of what the fall of Berlin had been like.

But for Ariana the question conjured up a sudden vision of Manfred in the stack of bodies outside the Reichstag, and involuntarily she closed her eyes, as though that gesture could banish the memory, as though anything ever could. For a moment there was a terrible silence at the table, and then Ruth stepped rapidly into the gap.

I don't think any of us needs to discuss things like that. At least not now, and not at breakfast. She looked worriedly at Ariana, who had once again opened her eyes, but they were heavily veiled with tears.

Ariana shook her head gently and without thinking stretched a hand across the table to Paul. I'm sorry ' it's just ' it's so ' There was a little catch in her throat. .' it is very ' difficult ' for me to remember ' The tears were rolling openly down her face now. I lost ' so much. ' And then suddenly there were tears in Paul's eyes and his hands reached across the table and took hers lightly in their grasp.