The Voyage (35 page)

Chapter 128

The night before Viktor was to leave for Belgium, Viktor and Olof went to the same pub they had been going to all of their lives. For Viktor, not only was he saying farewell to his friend, but also goodbye to his bachelorhood. They sat at a table with red and white checked tablecloths and drank mugs of thick dark beer. They’d grown up on this brew, so the bitter taste brought back memories for both of them.

“So, you’re sure you are never going back out to sea?” Olof asked.

“I don’t think so. I will be a married man now.”

“She’s a beautiful girl, but Viktor, you’ve been a sailor your entire life. You know how much we have enjoyed our travels together. How can you throw it all away now? My God, you are giving up so much, and for a woman?”

“Because I am in love.”

Olof laughed. “Love’s like a disease, my friend. And you have been struck with it. In fact I think you might have the worst case I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s wonderful. I hope it happens to you someday,” Viktor said.

“Please spare me. I’m not looking for anything like this. I would rather have several different girls than one permanent one. Too much work.” Olof laughed again. “But I must admit you do look very happy and for that I am truly glad.”

“I will think of you often, Olof. I’ll remember all the fun we had together”

“Yes, we certainly had some good times and got into plenty of trouble, too. Remember that girl in France, the one with the red hair? And the night when we all got drunk in her apartment and she did that crazy little dance?”

“I’m trying not to remember. I’ve gone respectable,” Viktor laughed.

Olof laughed too. “It was fun anyway.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for what you have done, getting these papers for Elke,” Viktor said.

“No need to thank me. I only did what anyone would do for a best friend. If the shoe was on the other foot you would have done the same for me.”

“You’re right. I would have. No doubt about it.”

Olof took a sip of beer. “How truly strange life is. When were chosen as the crew for that ship of Jews I would never have dreamt that you would fall in love with one of them.”

“If you only knew her better, you would understand.”

“I saw her. She is stunning, but this is your entire life. Sleeping with a pretty girl is one thing, but marriage? I’m sorry, but I have to ask you just one more time. Are you sure about all of this, Viktor?”

“More sure about marrying her than anything I have ever done before in my entire life.”

“So,” Olof said, “if you are not going back out to sea what will you do?”

“Find a job, I suppose. Neither of us has much money, so I am going to have to think of something.”

“And we always swore that we could never give up the sea…” Olof said.

“Yes, the sea is like a woman. You fall in love with her depth and beauty. But the only thing that can make you forget one woman is another. And I have found a woman I love far more than the ocean, a woman who makes my heart beat faster, stirs my blood, and fills me with a sense of purpose.”

“Have you become a poet too?” Olof laughed. “So where is my friend Viktor? Has he been possessed by Shakespeare?”

“No, Olof, just by love.”

“Well, who am I to say. Perhaps I will fall in love one day.” Olof shrugged. “Let’s hope not.” Then he took a gulp of beer and smiled at Viktor. “Would you mind if I saw you off tomorrow morning at the train station? I have a little something for you, a gift. I forgot to bring it with me tonight.”

“Of course not. I would welcome seeing you.”

“What time does your train leave?”

“Eight o’clock in the morning. Are you sure you want to come after a full night of drinking?”

“I’ll be there.”

Chapter 129

Viktor stood on the platform waiting to board the train. A cool breeze filtered through the station, as the sun had just risen and had yet to warm the earth. He’d arrived at seven in case Olof came early, but there was no sign of his friend. Viktor decided that Olof had probably changed his mind about getting out of bed after the late night they’d had. The large round clock on the wall said five minutes to eight. Viktor assumed his friend wouldn’t make it before he left. 

“All aboard!” the conductor cried out. “Have your papers ready for inspection.”

Viktor had his papers in his front pocket. He knew there would be no problem. He was pure German, Aryan as they had come to call it. 

“Next!” the man at the boarding desk called.

Viktor presented him the papers.  He nodded his okay, and Viktor lifted his suitcase and stepped up the stairs on to the train. He slid into a window seat and gazed out at the train station. The next time he came to Germany he would be a married man. Strange how life could be…  As he drifted off, daydreaming of Elke, the train let out a whistle and then rumbled to life. He prayed that he had not left Germany too late, and that he had not lost Elke by leaving her alone for so long. Soon he would be in Belgium, and if she still loved him, and he hoped with all of his heart that she did, he would take Elke into his arms and make love to her until they both were so worn out that they had to get some sleep. He missed her terribly.

Outside, Olof came running across the platform. Viktor saw him through the window, and leaned forward as if he could reach out and touch him, but the train was already beginning to move, so he waved. Olof did not see Viktor. Instead, Olof was looking around frantically as is something had gone wrong. Then two
Gestapo
agents came running onto the platform. They grabbed Olof’s arms. Viktor could not hear the conversation, but he saw the panic on his friends face and jumped up to get off the train. However, the train had begun to pick up speed. Viktor watched in horror as the
Gestapo
took Olof away, and the train pulled out of the station.

Viktor sunk back into his seat. His heart was racing so fast he felt dizzy.
What had happened? Had Olof been caught? How? Why? What had gone wrong? Now what would happen to Olof? Would he be questioned? Sent to a work camp? Killed? And all of this for me? What if the Gestapo tortured Olof and forced him to tell them about Elke and the papers? Would they come as far as Belgium to find both of them, and did Hitler have any power there?
  He had no answers, only terrifying questions.  Perhaps he should never go to back to her, never bring her the papers. Maybe the Nazis were following him, too, to see where he went and who he met. That would be just like them. Sweat began to trickle down his brow. Worse yet, maybe they already knew everything and had arrested Elke. Maybe that was why the hotel clerk did not find her name registered. Could the Nazis arrest Elke if she were in Belgium? He had no idea. He didn’t think that they could, but what if they did or if they just took her? Elke.  He couldn’t leave her there in Belgium all alone. He would go to her, and no matter what happened they would face it together. 

Chapter 130

Every time the train stopped at a station on its way to Antwerp, the guards checked Viktor’s papers. Although he tried to remain calm, he found his hands trembling as he handed the documents over to be scrutinized. Viktor watched the guards’ faces and wondered if they were searching for him, if the guards at the stops had been alerted. A thin line of sweat ran down the side of Viktor’s face. He wanted to grab the papers, jump off the train, and run as fast as he could. The pounding in his ears made him feel as if he might vomit. 

But then the guard just handed Viktor his papers, nodded, and went on to the next rider.

“Papers…” the guard said. The man in the seat in behind Viktor handed the guard his documents.

The guard nodded, and then went on to the next person.

Viktor sighed, his body relaxing for the moment with relief.

Finally the train arrived in Belgium. The ride from Antwerp to Luxemburg was far less nerve-racking; after all, he was no longer under Nazi rule. He could loosen up a little. However, his nagging worries would not allow him to sleep.

It was close to midnight when Viktor arrived at the hotel where he’d last seen Elke. He climbed the stairs to the little room that they shared and knocked on the door painted red.  She answered almost instantly, as if she had not been asleep at all.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

“It’s me, Viktor.”

The door flung open and Elke began to cry, and then to laugh, and then cry again as she threw herself into his arms. Viktor found he was crying too. They kissed, and continually touched each other to be sure that the dream was real.

“You’re here…” she said.

“I’m here,” he whispered in her ear.

“Viktor, I missed you so much.”

“An hour never went by that I didn’t think of you. I am so glad to be here with you again…” he said, slamming the door and locking it. Then he lifted Elke into his arms; she was light as a child, and laid her on the bed.

“I have something I must tell you.” she said looking up into his eyes.

“Yes, go on…” he was suddenly afraid. Maybe she had found someone else, or changed her mind?

“I’m pregnant.”

He bent down and kissed her. “Oh, Elke,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. Never did he consider that the child might not be his. 

She reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. He was here. Viktor was here.

“We are going to have a wonderful life. Your new name is Edda Beckenbauer.”

“You got the papers?” she asked. At that moment, Elke decided that Viktor must never know that the child she carried might not be his. Why tell him? Why hurt him? What happened with Manny no longer meant anything to her. Together she and Viktor would raise this baby, and she would do everything she could to ensure the lifelong happiness of her husband and their child.

“Yes, I have them in my suitcase. You can feel free to travel with me back to Germany and meet my family,” he said, but he wanted to wait for a long time to let this thing with Olof settle before he ever set foot in Nazi-occupied territory.

Chapter 131

On a sunny Sunday morning in early September, in the year of 1939, Edda Beckenbauer married Viktor Hahn in St. Mary’s Catholic Church.  They moved to Antwerp, where no one knew Elke by her real name.  She would officially be Edda Hahn. 

The couple found a small two-bedroom apartment above a bakery shop. They bought enough secondhand furniture to be comfortable, including a wooden crib, which Viktor sanded down and painted white.  They made friends with a couple who lived upstairs with their three young children. The wife taught Edda to knit booties and blankets while she grew big waiting for the baby’s birth. Every Sunday, Viktor and Edda went to church with their upstairs neighbors and another couple who lived just a block away. Often the three couples shared dinners at each other’s homes and stayed to play games of cards, or just sip strong coffee and talk.

They began to feel safe, and as time passed Viktor let go of his fears. Edda could not work, and money was tight, but Viktor found a job working on repairing fishing boats. He missed going out to sea, but would not have traded his life with Edda to sail again.

That February, on a cold, snowy afternoon, in a small local hospital, Sepp Hahn came quietly into the world. A sweet infant who almost never cried, Sepp grew into a self-reliant one-year-old, capable of playing alone on his blanket on the floor while Edda cleaned the small apartment where they lived.  When Edda looked at her son, as much as she wanted to she could not deny that he belonged to Manny. He was born with a full head of dark curls, and his eyes danced the same way Manny’s had. Both Edda and Viktor were blondes, but Viktor never seemed to notice; maybe he just assumed that the dark hair was a trait in Edda’s family tree. He bonded with the little boy and the two were as close as a father was and son could be. When Viktor arrived at home after a day of working, Sepp immediately raised his arms to request that his father pick him up and hold him. Viktor laughed and lifted the boy high in the air, making him laugh aloud.  All during dinner, Viktor held his son on his lap, never tiring of the child or needing time to himself.

Enough time had passed for Viktor to feel comfortable returning to Germany. Although it was difficult, he forced thoughts of Olof from his mind. He wanted his family to know his wife and their son. So they planned a trip to coincide with his brother’s leave from the army, a reunion.

Viktor’s family took to Edda right away, and they adored little Sepp, who amused everyone with his childish antics. Nobody suspected Edda was really Elke, born a Jew. Although it was difficult for both Edda and Viktor when his brother Axel appeared wearing the uniform of the German army, neither said anything to the family. However, at night, alone in their room, they discussed their feelings.
“My family loves you.”

“I am glad. I love them too. However, it is hard for me to live this lie with them. I feel dishonest.”

“I know, but it is best that they never know. Can you forgive me for asking you to pose as something you are not? It is not only for my family, but we are in Germany. If you were discovered…”

“I can forgive you and I do. You are doing what is best for me, what is best for little Sepp, and us too. I have learned to live as a Gentile so that nobody ever suspects. It is good to know that we can travel back and forth to Germany without worry. We have wonderful Gentile friends and the priest at the church is a kind man. I like him very much.  But seeing your brother wearing his uniform sends chills up my spine. I can’t help it. It is a constant reminder of everything.”

“Yes, I know. I feel the same way, but he’s my brother. What can I do? I don’t want to risk your safety telling them the truth. I know they are my family, but it is just better this way.”

She nodded. “I know you’re right.”

The following day, Edda went out for a walk. She needed the fresh air and time alone. Axel and his father had spent the better part of the morning discussing Hitler’s virtues, and how he’d saved Germany from ruin.  It took everything she had for Edda to keep quiet. Viktor offered to accompany her but she refused.  Her golden hair tossed in the wind as she tucked her hands into her pockets. It was a beautiful crisp day, and she had a lot to be grateful for. She may have given up her identity, but she was alive. And even more, she had a wonderful husband and a healthy son. What more was there to life?