Love and Hate Page 14

  I thought of Lilo, and I was angry. But I held that anger inside the pit of my stomach—in a ball of quiet rage. He seemed nice on the surface, but he was filled with worms under the skin. He was infected with the hate all of Germany was sick with. I wasn’t the ill one; they were, the German people who had voted to put Hitler in charge. Who followed him still, right to the gates of Hell. He asked me my first name only, and I pretended it was Erich. I supposed that I had to ask him his, and so I did.

  “Dieter.”

  He looked about my age, somewhere in his mid-twenties.

  “You know, Erich, I still remember what that Jew looked like, the one who owned that liquor store. He looked like the devil every time he sold me more liquor.”

  He turned to me and said, “You see, one can tell a Jew just by looking at him. They don’t look human, you know, if you look real close.”

  He looked at me, expecting a response, so I said, “That is because they aren’t human, Dieter.”

  I said it as if I believed it. I didn’t believe it, but I was shocked that I could even pretend. I was disgusted with myself. I was only acting, but that is how the disease of anti-Semitism spreads. Others hated naturally, but some just acted until they believed. I decided that I would not agree with him on any other hateful statements about Jews. It wasn’t fair to Lilo.

  As we entered the outskirts of Deggendorf, he said, “Erich, you can drop me off here, I will walk into town. You continue your journey, and best of luck to you. You must get help and stop drinking before it consumes you.”

  When he said “Heil Hitler” with his arm outstretched, I just smiled and waved as I drove off. I kept my smile on my face until out of his view. Then I let my face turn to its natural emotion at that moment, one of disgust.

  I ditched the car on the side of the road just outside of Passau and walked the several miles to Bücher’s Boys home. I walked up to the building and tried the door, but it was locked. I had to take a chance, so I knocked three times, loudly and each one distinct. I then paused. What if she wasn’t here? What would I do then? Oh, poor Sister Claire.

  I then heard Sister Claire’s voice, small, behind the door, haltingly saying, “Who, who is it?”

  “It is me, it is Hans!” I said, raising my voice so that she could hear me.

  The door opened, and there was Sister Claire. She looked half a decade older in the week since I had seen her, frail and weary. She was clearly frightened and leaned on a cane.

  “Come in quickly so that I can lock the door, Hans.”

  I went to give her a hug, but she stood there coldly. What had Erich done to her?

  “Come, Hans, let’s sit in the kitchen and talk.”

  At the kitchen table, Sister Claire asked me to recount my story to her first, so I did. I told her that I had come to rescue her, and she smiled at that.

  “Now, Sister Claire, tell me what happened to you?”

  She paused and said, “I cannot talk about it. I cannot bring myself to.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and I got up to comfort her, but she put up the palm of her hand to tell me to sit back down. I did so, feeling terrible. It was my fault that she had gone through all of this.

  “I am so sorry, Sister Claire. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I hope you have forgiven me.”

  “You have nothing to be forgiven for. I would do it all again. I just don’t want to talk about it. I don’t mean to be distant. I just need some time. I don’t feel myself. I don’t feel joy like I used to at the birds and the trees. I just think of death. And hate. Of all the death and hate that surrounds us.”

  “I am sorry for your pain,” I said. “Erich released you, and that means that he will not come looking for me. For all he knows I am dead.”

  “That is true, but we cannot count on it. You will stay at the rectory behind Saint Michaels. The priest who lived there, who let you use it, he has passed away in his sleep. It is unoccupied. I have the keys and am looking after it until we get a new parish priest, which may be some time from now.”

  “Okay, I can stay there for a day or two while Mr. Weber makes my papers. But first, have you heard from Lilo? How is she, is she happy in Switzerland? Does she miss me?”

  “I don’t know much, just that she got there safely. It isn’t safe to send detailed messages. And as for Mr. Weber, he is dead.”

  She said it in a matter-of-fact, cold way. I had never seen her like this before.

  “What, but how?”

  “Erich’s thugs killed him.

  “I feel—I am so sorry.”

  I was saddened about Mr. Weber, and rage came over me then. A hatred for Erich, for Nazis, for what they had done by separating Lilo and I, for what they had done to Sister Claire and now Mr. Weber, who had paid the ultimate sacrifice.

  “He knew the risks he was taking. I feel for him too. But I know his conscience is clean and his soul is too. He is with God.”

  I thought of my soul and how unclean it was.

  “So I cannot go to Switzerland,” I said, looking at the ground.

  “No, not just yet. I will find you other papers. Mr. Weber had friends who made papers. I just don’t know if they will still make them now that he is not the one asking. But we will find a way. It will just take some time. Maybe a long time.”

  “I will wait.” My thoughts drifted to Lilo, as they did constantly. She would think I had died.

  Being alone in the rectory every day got lonely. Sister Claire didn’t want to arouse suspicion in case we were being watched, so she only came once a week and was nervous for the half hour it took to drop off my weekly ration of food. My first week there, while she was dropping off food, I tried to get her to open up about what had happened to her. I wanted to share her burden, to lighten it some.

  “Sister Claire, please tell me what happened to you at the camp? I want to know so that I can—”

  She snapped, her eyes widening with anger, “So you can what, Hans? You cannot fix what he did, what they did to me. Don’t ever ask me again.” She softened her voice almost to a whisper. “If you want to help me, you will never ask me again.”

  She turned and left. She wasn’t the same Sister Claire I knew and loved. She was a carved-out version, her joy dried up. Constant fear was her companion.

  I stayed there for ten long months. Sister Claire would bring me things to read. I read a lot of theology, since my selection was limited to what she brought me. She very rarely would bring me a newspaper. She did that when I would ask how the war was going. It was her way of not having to talk about it. The war wasn’t anywhere close to stopping. Although the German offensive against Russia in the Eastern Theater was going poorly, the war dragged on.

  Mostly, though, I thought of Lilo. I wondered what she was doing. I dreamed of her at night and obsessed about her during the day. I was so close to being with her. If someone was looking for me and suspected that Sister Claire was hiding me, they would have found me by now.

  But no one ever came, so hope filled my heart. My heart grew big enough to love Lilo the way she deserved. I loved her so much. I thought about what it would be like when we kissed and made love again. I yearned for her. I ached for her. She ruled my every thought.

  At the beginning of the tenth month, when Sister Claire would ordinarily arrive alone with my food, she showed up with a man instead. I looked at him and then her as I opened the door.

  “This is Mr. Weber’s friend. He is now willing to help. It has been long enough. He prefers not to talk or identify himself. He will make your documents. He needs a picture of you for your passport, and he will then have the papers ready in the morning. I will buy your ticket in the meantime, and you can leave for Switzerland in the afternoon—tomorrow afternoon.”

  The rather large man said not a word and began working. He took a picture of me, and they both left. I should have been elated, and I wasn’t unhappy. But part of me just didn’t believe that I would get to Lilo. I wouldn’t be able to accept that our reun
ion would become a reality until I was there in her arms.

  That night I didn’t dream of Lilo. I thought that was strange upon waking up. I always dreamed of Lilo. She inhabited my body while I slept. That night, I slept in a dreamless state. I got up and showered, getting ready for the day. I wondered, did she dream of me last night? I felt guilty for not dreaming of her. Shouldn’t my desire for her have reached its zenith, with me so close to being with her in the flesh?

  Instead I felt almost nothing. I felt intense love for her that was just out of reach, like it was there, right in front of my body, so close that I could almost reach the feeling, but as soon as I moved closer to it—it got further away. I still loved her, I didn’t doubt that. And I wasn’t numb. I just couldn’t allow myself to dream any more, because I would see her now. Love was still there, deep inside my gut, just out of reach. I thought it would remain out of reach until that moment came when I saw her.

  Chapter 33

  The moment was approaching. I heard a knock at the door. It was Sister Claire. The silent man was not there. She came inside.

  “Hans, here are your documents and your train ticket. My friend, Mr. Franz, knows of your arrival details. He can take you to Lilo.”

  I took the documents. “Thank you, Sister Claire.”

  “Here is some money. It is not a lot, but it will help you for the first month you are there.”

  I looked down. It was far too much for Sister Claire to part with.

  “I cannot take this much from you, Sister Claire.”

  “Hans, I love you. You are like a son to me. Allow me to be a mother to you.”

  I nodded and hugged her for the first time in a year. And she let me. We wept in each other’s arms.

  “I am so sorry that all of this happened to you, Sister Claire, and that it is my fault.”

  She took my chin in her hands and lifted my face to hers, which had been bent down.

  “You are not to blame. What happened is not your fault. You saved me. Now I am saving you. Go live with Lilo, love her, and perhaps when this war is over, if I am still alive—I will see you again.”

  She then handed me a note. “Give this to Mr. Franz. He will take you in for a time, along with Lilo, until you figure things out. Now go, there is a taxi waiting outside to take you to the train station.”

  “I love you, Sister Claire. Be safe until I see you again.”

  “I love you too, Hans. Be happy.”

  That was the last time I saw sweet Sister Claire. She didn’t survive the war. I always wondered, later, if it wasn’t Erich who took her will to live away.

  At the train station, I wasn’t worried. I was finally leaving this country that God had forsaken. I had well-made documents; I had inspected them. I felt safe. I looked the part. I got on the train and was excited yet simultaneously relieved. Soon I would be with Lilo and everything would be as it should be.

  Chapter 34

  I left the train in Schaffhausen, Switzerland, still excited. But I was nervous now. What if Lilo felt differently about me? What if she loved me less, or worse—what if she was with another man? I was jealous of this phantom man. I felt like I could attack someone as I stood awkwardly at the train station with people passing by. I gave them a dirty smirk. Did they know some secret that I didn’t? I didn't trust people any more and didn’t feel safe now that I was here. I couldn’t be at ease without Lilo.

  Lilo, with brown wispy hair about her temples. She was so strong, yet feminine. She was so beautiful. I loved her so much, it hurt. Not being with her had seemed like withdrawing from some potent drug. Why was I waiting? Why was I lingering at the train station? Shouldn’t I be rushing to meet her? Sister Claire had told them what train to meet me at. She was supposed to meet me at this very platform. Why was I not searching for her?

  Did I not love her as much as I imagined? No, I loved her in my bones, my wife, my Lilo. Like she was a part of me. She was the better part of me, the part of me that I had always wanted to be. She was my savior; she had made me into the man that I was. Forgiven and free. When I reunited with her; when we made love—I would be whole again.

  At that moment, on the train station, everyone stopped moving as I saw Lilo approaching. I could sense her presence as I noticed a small brown head bobbing through the crowd toward me. She was the only person moving, gracefully swimming through the crowds to me. My sweet Lilo. Everyone was a statue. A woman was stepping off the train, and she literally froze mid-stumble. The man next to me had been taking a drag of a pungently sweet-smelling cigarette, and he now stopped, his cigarette smoke not moving in the windless air. The only movement was Lilo approaching. The waves had parted, had stopped moving, for her to get to me more quickly, thank God for that. Thank God for giving me back my Lilo.

  I then saw her face. It wasn’t Lilo. It was a woman, plain-faced, with ashen skin.

  She came up to me and asked me, “Are you Mr. Beck? Mr. Hans Beck?”

  I nodded.

  “I am here to bring you to Mr. Franz’s,” she said rather coldly.

  “I thought that Lilo was coming.”

  She looked at me like I was crazy, like I had some contagious illness.

  “Look, I just know that I am to pick you up in a car, a car that Mr. Franz owns and that I drive for him occasionally, for errands. Errands like picking you up. I don’t make small talk, no offense, with his guests and friends. I am told to do things, and I do them. That is what I am paid to do.”

  She smiled a servant’s smile. “Now sir, I am Helga,” she said in a more saccharine voice, holding out her hand, “Let’s be on our way.”

  She took my arm and led me off the train station and onto the road’s makeshift parking lot. I carried my beaten and simple brown suitcase, absently swinging it. I was worried now, more than ever, about Lilo’s feelings for me. Had they changed? Was this why the cold response from Helga? Was I supposed to realize that they had? How could I know? Perhaps I should know because she was too good for me; she always had been. I was lucky to have her as my wife. My stomach hurt badly, and I almost felt sick as we walked to the black Mercedes.

  But then I remembered her face when she had told me that she loved me. She had looked at me like I was an angel, with no blemish. It seemed like the face of God was forgiving me for all my sins. For what I had done, for what I had not done. I had tried since to make up for it all, but it was Lilo who made me feel forgiven for my past. Keeping her alive, and her finding worth in me, had made me feel like my sins had been washed away. I remember that feeling of forgiveness took a while to take hold, even after that root had been planted.

  But when she said that she loved me, her face had glowed. That glow had sparked in me love that I had never received before. Love that lasts forever and doesn’t grow old and die. Love that is transcendent, that is never satiated, that above all continues. And I knew then that Lilo still loved me. I believed that she had not forsaken me. It was not in her character, and for whatever reason that I didn’t understand, she had chosen me to love. I smiled now. She loved me. I was giddy and high from the knowledge.

  To hell with Helga, I thought as I closed the door of the Mercedes with a thud.

  Chapter 35

  We pulled up to a manor house. It had ten windows across it with three levels and was perfectly white. The landscape was several acres of manicured lawn with shaped bushes leading up the walkway to the double oak doors. Helga led the way.

  She said nothing except, “Follow me, Mr. Beck, if you please.”

  I was nervous again. I just wanted to be with Lilo and was wondering why she didn’t bound out the doors to give me a hug and a passionate kiss.

  Helga opened the doors with a key she procured from a small purse that she carried. We entered the grand house. There was a circular staircase in front of us, and Helga told me to stay there while she got Mr. Franz. I stood there nervously, and then a few minutes later, I saw an old man who was likely in his late seventies coming slowly down the stairs. He must hav
e been in good shape; this place had three stories.

  It seemed to take too long, and I shouted, “Mr. Franz, I am sorry to be rude, but I must see Lilo at once, please.”

  He said, “Just a second, son, I am almost down the stairs.”

  I waited, tapping my foot, annoyed and angry. Then we were standing face to face.

  He put his hand on my shoulder, “Let’s go have a drink of brandy, why not, hmm?”

  “Mr. Franz,” I said, pushing his hand off my shoulder, “I don’t want any damned brandy, I want to see Lilo!” I said raising my voice.

  He just raised his eyebrows and said, “I see, I understand. You shall get to see her, in good time.”

  “Is this some game to you? Are you aware of what I have been through and why I am here? I have been through hell. I will not wait any longer to see my wife,” I yelled. “For all I know you have her tied up somewhere with the weird game you are playing.”

  I shoved his frail frame aside and shouted, “Lilo!”

  I ran past the stairs into the kitchen, shouting her name again. “Lilo! It is Hans. Where are you, sweet girl?”

  This house was large; it would take a long time to search. It would be quicker to ask Mr. Franz just where she was, and if he wouldn’t tell me, to beat it out of him.

  I raced back to Mr. Franz, who was now seated on the last stair of the grand staircase.

  “So you will tell me where Lilo is or I will beat your old body, and I cannot say when I will stop beating it once I start,” I said through a clenched jaw.