Lotti still had her job and she continued her volunteer work at the DP camp. Sometimes, however, the work with displaced persons did not make her feel useful. It actually made her feel worse. She’d taken the job hoping that by helping others she might find peace, but what she found was that in most cases there was nothing she could do to ease the pain of the survivors. Then, something terrible happened. She, Lotti, the girl who never held a grudge, never hated or condemned, realized that she’d grown into a bitter woman obsessed with hatred for the Nazi regime. Lotti found herself thinking about all she’d lost, and hatred grew inside of her like a cancer. She dreamed of murdering Nazi officers and awoke in a cold sweat. Damn them, they’d stolen the lives of so many people, her included. She was aging rapidly for her years. Her anger and resentment were eating her from the inside out. Lotti knew she spent too much time alone in that apartment consumed with rage. So, on the rare nights when Gabe had time to see her, she was glad for the company. And since he was an American GI, he had access to extra food, which he was generous enough to bring as a gift to her when he visited. Gabe brought things that had become rare treasures because of their scarcity, a piece or two of fresh fruit, sometimes a can of sardines. And she had to admit, Gabe was a lot of fun, generous, very American. When he came to see her, she was able to forget herself and laugh for a few hours. He was handy and more than willing to help with repairs in her apartment. She appreciated all he did. But Lotti knew he was too young for her. His life was ahead of him. And even though she was only thirty-eight years old, she felt that her life was over. Oh Lev, she thought. The years she’d spent with Lev, now those were the golden years of her life. For a brief moment in time she’d reached out and touched heaven; her soul had been joined with his and she’d known pure joy. Yes, that was when she was truly living. Now, Lotti merely existed. Getting up every morning, she followed the same routine. She washed her face, ran a comb through her hair, looked in the mirror at the woman with sunken eyes who had once been such a carefree and blissful soul. Once, and it seemed like so long ago, these very same rooms where she now lived alone had been filled with love and laughter. Her memories drifted back to her dear friends, the Margolis’s They would come to visit, and when their two daughters were young the children ran through the rooms playing hide and seek and giggling. Michal had begged her children to sit down and behave, but Lotti never minded. She couldn’t have children, and Gilde and Alina were like her own. As the girls grew up, she’d bonded deeply with Alina, who was such a quiet girl. Alina, Lotti knew, had opened in a way she never could to her mother. Lotti was glad to be there for Alina. And then, Alina and Lotti’s brother, Johan, had fallen in love and disappeared. Where were they now? “Alive, dead?” She spoke the words aloud, but there was no answer, only the echo of her own voice in the empty apartment. And little Gilde? Such a sweet and happy child she had been. What happened to Gilde. She’d boarded a train one day and rode out of their lives. Lotti had never heard from her again. And poor Michal. What happened to her dear friend Michal who never returned when she went to the police station to look for her husband? What had become of her? Or Taavi? The last she’d seen of her husband’s best friend and business partner, he was on the run like a hunted animal. Such a good man Taavi was, such a good friend to her and Lev. Yes those days before the Nazis, those were the golden days, the days of pure delight. All that she had now were memories, memories of laughter, memories of love. Some nights she awoke crying from heartbreaking dreams of Lev. Dreams so real she could touch him, hear him. The yearning for the dreams to be reality was devastating. Dear tender Lev, his arms around her, the comfort of the warmth of his smile. Dreams only dreams from which she must awaken. God, please, she would think, let me go on sleeping and living in this dream forever. But she would always open her eyes to find she was still alone. Once upon a time, Lotti had lived a fairy tale. But today, this was all that was left of her life.
On a cold Wednesday morning, she got up and realized she didn’t have any food in the apartment. She had to go out to the market. It didn’t really matter. She didn’t feel like eating breakfast that morning. Many days she had no appetite. Lotti had grown very thin and pale. She was off work today at both her job and her volunteer work at the DP camp. It was a good day to spend her time cleaning the apartment. Gabe said he was going to try to drop by on her day off, and he usually kept his promise. Lotti took the broom and began sweeping the kitchen when the downstairs doorbell rang. She smiled. Of course it was Gabe.
Gabe walked three floors up and entered the apartment with a cloth sack and a letter.
“I brought some strudel and real coffee.” He smiled.
“You’re so good to me.” Lotti smiled back and began boiling water for the coffee.
“This was in your mailbox.” Gabe handed her a letter with strange postage. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought it up. It looks like it’s from America. You don’t know anyone in America, do you?”
“No, no one in America.” Lotti took the envelope, puzzled. But then her hands began to tremble when she recognized the handwriting.
CHAPTER 39
March 1946 Gilde
Gilde’s class was doing a recital that afternoon. She had a lot of work to do to put things together. The parents of the students had rented a hall. It wasn’t really a hall. It was an empty apartment above a bakery. They’d only rented it for the day, but it was enough to have all of the students very excited. It wasn’t extremely large. There was room for several chairs and a make-do stage that one of the student’s fathers had built out of wood. Off the main room lay a small and ill-equipped kitchen; this was where the girls would be changing their costumes. It was a makeshift theater. However, it gave the students a thrill of excitement to be performing before an audience even if the audience was only a group of parents, siblings, and family friends. For Gilde, giving singing, dancing and acting lessons to a group of children couldn’t compare to the heady excitement of the applause of a crowd. But her depression from losing Alden took the fire out of that thrill for her. What once had been a childhood dream now paled in comparison to a happy home. Her little school was not earning enough money to employ a nanny, so she had to care for Vicky herself. Although it was more difficult, no longer could she take long afternoon naps, at the same time, it was satisfying. Gilde bonded with her daughter in ways she could not when she was distracted by her stage career. The students took turns watching Vicky in order to enable Gilde to conduct the class. They usually took Vicky to her room when they finished rehearsing their particular segment of the recital. The girls were all young; none of them seemed to mind helping Gilde, and for that, Gilde was grateful. Because, without their cooperation, she could never have kept the school open. Even after so many months of not working, Gilde still had occasional contact with the theatrical agent who’d represented her, and every so often she was offered an audition. Twice she had been selected for call-backs for a second audition. But she’d never been cast for the part. Although she would never admit it to anyone, sometimes she put Vicky in her buggy and walked by the hospital hoping to get a glimpse of Alden. Of course she never did. She often wondered how he was and if Jane had given birth to the baby yet. The thought of him with Jane, holding Jane, kissing her, was painful but she thought about it often. There was no stopping her mind. Visions of Alden and Jane played like a film clip that was on a circular reel, going over and over, on a movie screen inside her head.
Vicky was growing quickly and she had begun attempting to walk. She was stubborn and difficult, crying when she fell or didn’t get her way. The students in Gilde’s class were finding it difficult to control the toddler. And now that there was going to be a recital, Gilde was forced to hire a babysitter She found a teenage girl who was willing to watch Vicky during the show so that Gilde was free to help her students with costume changes and prompts. Gilde brought several of Vicky’s toys and put them in the corner of the makeshift dressing room. The babysitter was trying to entertain Vicky, wh
o was fussy and wanted to explore the contents of the kitchen cabinets. The child was full of energy, and even for her teenage sitter, Vicky was exhausting. At three that afternoon, the parents began arriving and getting seated. There was chaos and an air of giddy excitement in the dressing room. The students were nervous. They each wanted to be the star of the show, at least in their own adoring parents’ eyes. And, Gilde wanted them to enjoy their little theater class. After all, their parents made it possible for her to keep her apartment and raise her daughter. Most of her students were wealthy girls with indulging parents who didn’t mind paying a nice sum for lessons, especially from an actress who’d been on the stage in some of London’s finest theaters. All them were rich girls except one of the students. She was a girl who had come as a guest with a wealthy friend. The girl was a shy, introverted youngster who had captured Gilde’s heart instantly, and so Gilde had extended an invitation for the girl to attend the school without charge. Her name was Kassandra, but the others called her Cassy. And once she got on stage, Cassy was like a different person. She emerged from her cocoon like a butterfly, and it was obvious that she was more gifted than the rest. But, regardless of their talent, Gilde loved all of her students.
The production consisted of small skits from American musicals that the students had selected themselves and Gilde had approved. There were only three boys in the class, so some of the females also performed male parts. The small kitchen was crowded with people. Two girls were practicing their song from the Gershwin musical called Crazy Girl, and they came over and asked Gilde to watch. “Please, Mrs. Thornbury, can we do our skit for you one more time before we go on stage. We’ll do it quietly so that no one will hear out in the audience?”
“Yes, of course,” Gilde said.
The two students stood opposite each other, singing.
“You’re a little off key, try again,” Gilde said, sitting on a kitchen stool and giving them direction.
The girls sang together, much more beautifully this time. “That was perfect!” Gilde said. A case of pre-stage fright, Gilde thought to herself and smiled.
“Is my lipstick on all right?” another of the girls asked Gilde.
“My goodness, it’s a bit smeared. Here, let me help you,” Gilde said, taking a rag and wiping the girl’s lips.
“Mrs. Thornbury!” Cassy screamed. “Mrs. Thornbury, come quick.”
Gilde jumped up as the chair moved from under her and slid across the wood floor. Then, Gilde ran towards the sound of Cassy’s voice. Cassy stood in the doorway.
“What is it? What happened?” Gilde heard Vicky wailing and didn’t wait for an answer but followed the sound of Vicky’s voice to the hallway outside the apartment. There she found Vicky lying at the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh my God,” Gilde said, rushing down the flight of wooden stairs, her feet barely touching the ground.
“I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know how Vicky got out of the apartment and fell down the stairs. I’m sorry, Mrs. Thornbury, I am. But I was watching her and then I got distracted by watching all the singing and dancing and I am so sorry, but… she wandered off….”
“Call for a taxi,” she yelled to the two girls who stood frozen with fear at the top of the stairs. “Hurry.”
Vicky’s face was covered in blood and she couldn’t get up. “It’s all right, my darling, it’s all right,” Gilde whispered into her daughter’s ear, even though she wasn’t sure she believed her own words. At least she’s crying, I know she’s alive.
“Never mind about the taxi, I have a motorcar.” One of the fathers came racing downstairs. “Let me get it and I’ll meet you in front of the building. We’ll take her straight to the hospital.”
CHAPTER 40
Lotti March 1946
A letter from America? Who would send her a letter from America? The handwriting … could it be? Was it really possible? Was this a miracle from God? Lotti ripped the envelope open with trembling hands. She read the signature before she began the letter. As soon as she read the words she knew she was right; it was Alina and it was a miracle from God. “With love, your friend, your sister, always, Alina.” The tears began to stream down Lotti’s face.
“What is it?” Gabe asked.
“It’s a letter from Alina. Do you remember me telling you about Alina?”
He nodded.
She read the letter in silence and for several minutes, neither of them spoke. “My God, Gabe, Alina is alive. She’s alive.”
CHAPTER 41
Gilde March 1946
Everything from the moment Gilde found Vicky at the bottom of the stairs was a blur. The ride to the hospital. The nurses and doctors putting Vicky on a stretcher. The medical personnel tried to shuffle her out of the examining room, but she refused to go.
“Her nose is broken. And, her leg is broken. But she should be all right,” the doctor said.
“Oh my God,” Gilde said. “Oh my God.” Her hand flew up to her throat. “Is Alden Thornbury working tonight? Is he here now? Please, I have to see him.” Gilde was almost hysterical. She wanted Alden. He was the only doctor she trusted with her daughter.
“He was here all day. He left about an hour or so ago. We can help you. There are plenty of good doctors here to help you.” A nurse with a starched white uniform put her arm on Gilde’s shoulder, trying to be the voice of reason.
“No, I am his ex-wife. This is his daughter. I know he would want to be here. Please… Call him.”
CHAPTER 42
Alden March 1946
It had been another long and grueling day at the hospital. Even though the war was over, there were still so many people needing medical care all the time. It wasn’t as a bad as it was during the bombings, but being a doctor was and always would be an all-consuming job. When people were ill they looked to him for relief. They looked up from their hospital beds with eyes glassed over in misery. Alden wished he was supernatural and could heal the sick with just a touch. Sometimes when he was overwhelmed he thought about how Jesus must have felt when crowds were begging him to heal them at once. But he wasn’t Jesus. He knew he wasn’t a god. So many of the other doctors thought they were. Alden knew he was just a man with some medical skills that he hoped to use in order to do good in the world. Alden thought about his day and all of the people he’d treated. He hoped would make it through the night. I can’t be there twenty-four hours, he thought, I am only human. His stomach was growling as he realized it had been seven hours since he’d last eaten. There was nothing to eat in the pantry. Since Jane left he’d been taking his meals at the hospital cafeteria or not at all. It seemed to be impossible to find the time to go shopping for food. He was either exhausted or working. All the way in the back of the highest shelf he found a box of crackers. Taking it down, he opened it to find three old moldy broken pieces. He had to laugh. Even he wouldn’t eat that. And after the terrible food he’d eaten at the hospital, something had to be totally inedible for him to turn it away. Well, he was far too tired to go out to a restaurant, so he’d have to wait until morning. Leaning down he took off his shoes and sank into the sofa. Then he rubbed one of his feet. It was swollen. To be expected. His shoulders ached too. Very strange, but the only thing he missed about Jane after she left him was the back rubs she gave him when he got home from work. But when she miscarried the baby it had traumatized her, and she changed. She was sure it was because their marriage had been cursed. “It’s because I stole you from Gilde. God is angry with me, Alden. I can feel it and I am scared. I must leave you or something even worse will happen, I just know it. Our marriage is built on adultery and losing this baby is proof that we are being punished.”
Alden didn’t believe in a vengeful God. But from the day she lost the baby, Jane began to descend into a web of fear and madness. Finally he decided that she was right and it was probably best that they say goodbye. She began blaming God’s wrath for even the smallest thing that went wrong. She was distant from him, could not make love wi
th him because she was afraid that if she could get pregnant again she would surely prompt God’s rage. And, if he were completely truthful with himself, Alden knew he was never in love with Jane. He was sorry they’d lost the baby, but maybe it was for the best. The marriage was a farce. Every time they made love, he thought about Gilde. That was not fair to Jane, and he knew it. Jane deserved better. And, somehow, Alden believed that maybe God had Jane’s best interest at heart when she miscarried. Now she was free to find someone who really loved her, the way he should have. And Alden? He was alone, but he was free to marry his second true love after Gilde, which was his work. Devotion to his job as a healer became his top priority in life. Just as he was about to massage his other foot, the phone rang.
Another emergency at the hospital, he thought, and got up to answer.
CHAPTER 43
Gilde March 1946
Alden rushed into the hospital. His hair was askew, his face pale and tired, but when they called and said Gilde needed him, he didn’t hesitate.
“Alden … it’s Vicky.” Gilde grabbed Alden’s sleeve as he approached the emergency treatment room where a group of doctors and nurses surrounded Gilde’s daughter.
“I know, they called me from the desk and told me everything. Let me get in and see her.”