Chapter 16

Bern, October 1913

Rebecca closed the door to the dining room, effectively tuning out Mother and Hannah discussing upcoming winter balls, and ran to Father’s medical practice. She hurried straight upstairs to the recovery rooms, skipping steps as much as her long skirt allowed. At the landing, she stopped to catch her breath and adjust the stray hairs coming out of her tight chignon. Damn this long hair! She should have cut it short, as some modern women were doing.

“Is someone chasing you, dear Rebecca?” Mark stood at the bottom of the stairs, waving at her. Joy filled her chest immediately. As it rose to her lips, she couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m here to help my father today. Were you sent with Dr. Kocher’s patient?” she asked.

“Yes. I am to watch over her today. It was the woman you observed having surgery, Nadezhda Krupskaya.”

How foreign that name sounded! “Yes, I remember well. That’s why I’m here too.”

Mark was up the stairs and next to her now. His hand on the banister moved nearly on top of hers, his face barely inches away. Rebecca felt somewhat faint, whether from the lack of breakfast, from running upstairs, or from Mark’s face so close to hers—she wasn’t quite sure. His other hand briefly touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes in pleasure. Could he tell what effect he had on her? Did she want him to know? Was he planning to kiss her? Would she allow it?

“I’m so glad you’ll be here today,” he said and walked away, leaving her breathless. Why didn’t he kiss me?

Rebecca composed herself and followed him. In the largest recovery room, Father was bent over the same woman she’d observed in surgery only recently. A man sat in a chair by her bed. His face appeared concerned, but then he laughed at her father’s joke. Mark was talking to a nurse in a starched white apron and hat. The room had been freshly cleaned, the smell of disinfectant still strong.

Papi looked back, hearing her at the door. “Oh, Rebecca! Come in, come in. I will introduce you to Herr Lenin and his wife, Fräulein Krupskaya, who will be in our charge for the next week.”

“Nadya, please.” A hoarse voice spoke from the bed, and the nurse hurried with a glass of water.

Herr Lenin stood up and bowed to Rebecca, greeting her with a warm smile. So this was the Socialist her friends told her about. He was rather short and unimposing; just a bit shorter than she was, actually. His bald head and a rather large mustache didn’t disguise the fact that he was still young.

Throughout the day, Rebecca realized that, other than bringing Nadya meals and tucking in her blankets a few times, there was hardly any other way she could be helpful. The nurse took care of bathroom needs, bathing, and stretches to ensure Nadya was recovering muscle function. Mark changed the dressing, examined the drains, irrigated the sutures, and applied ointment to speed up the healing. Mark also mixed a special tonic and administered it to the patient at certain times. Rebecca moped around the hallways, waiting for instructions and getting none. She hated that she hadn’t had any time alone with Nadya or her husband to ask them questions about her friends’ involvement with revolutionary activities. Mainly, she did not like feeling useless.

She did enjoy watching Mark, though, so sure in his procedures, his long fingers doing exact actions in confidence. They exchanged many glances and slight touches of hands throughout the day, but she worried someone would notice and tried to keep her distance. It was the right course, she decided, until she was certain how she felt about this progress in their affections. In the early afternoon, in exasperation, she sought solitude in one of the empty recovery rooms upstairs, planning to write a note to Sarah, telling her she hoped to visit with her as soon as it was possible.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Rebecca said, when she realized the room’s chair and desk were already occupied by Herr Lenin. He’d clearly had the same idea about writing.

“I should apologize as well. This is your father’s hospital, and I intrude with my letters.” Lenin spoke hurriedly, standing up and bowing to her again.

“You’re welcome everywhere, no apology needed. I was simply looking for some space to write a note, but I can go elsewhere.”

“I am almost finished. I’m happy to give up the desk to you for your writing.” Herr Lenin began to pack up his papers and inkwell.

“Oh, no need to pack up. My note is not as important as your work,” she protested.

“You’re familiar with my work?” He sat back in the chair and looked up with interest.

“Mark—Doctor Minchin—told me you’re exiled by the Tsar because you’ve been protesting his laws.”

“That is indeed correct. However, it’s much more than the Tsar that we’re trying to fight. The Russian Social Democratic Labor Party attempts to liberate the working class from the oppression of the Tsar and bourgeoisie. The other leaders of the party and I are leading the exploited workers of Russia into the revolution that will overthrow the bourgeoisie rule and establish Communism in our country and then throughout the world.”

“Vladimir Ilyich, do you believe that’s possible? That your party can start a revolution against the Tsar?” Mark spoke behind Rebecca.

“It’s not just possible, but it’s already happening, my dear doctor. Just this year, we had May Day strikes in Saint Petersburg that showed the world that the industrial proletariat is following its revolutionary course. We’re very close, Doctor Minchin, very close.”

“How can you lead an uprising in such a large country? What will you do to spread the word?” Rebecca asked.

“There are many members of our party here in Bern, Geneva, and Zurich, planning and organizing, at the moment. We have underground networks and newspapers. Here is an issue of Iskra for you to read.” Lenin took out a fragile set of papers and handed them to Mark.

“Thank you. I’ll read them carefully.”

“There are meetings in the student colony here in Bern at least twice a week to discuss Bolshevik plans. You need to participate. The Revolution is coming.” He gathered the rest of his papers, closed his inkwell, bowed again, and walked back to his wife’s room.

Rebecca looked at Mark, who was busy scanning the papers. She was truly concerned now. Lenin sounded so certain that this revolution was going to succeed. Was it possible? Or was he a lunatic, leading people to prison and ruin? How much danger was Mark actually in?

“What do these papers say?” She looked over Mark’s shoulder, worry spreading through her chest and stomach.

“It talks about the poor starving in Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus, while the rich are buying new houses and vacationing in Europe at the seaside. It says there are enough people willing to rise up against the rich to make the working class the rulers instead.” Mark’s voice was grave.

“Is this true? Is the paper just trying to maybe rile people up to serve the political party?”

“It is true, and it breaks my heart to be away from home at a time like this. I need to start going to these political meetings. I feel so separated from my community sometimes, always at my classes, always at the hospital, and never contributing to my country.” Mark paced across the room and looked out the window, setting the copy of Iskra down on the now-empty desk.

“But you are contributing! They will need surgeons in your country, even if they do succeed with this revolution. Surely you must realize doctors are always needed everywhere. Look what’s happening now. If Dr. Kocher hadn’t performed the operation on Nadya, she wouldn’t be able to do her political work.”

“If the uprising is to happen, they’ll need every man and every woman to fight. Don’t you understand?”

“I do. Yet nothing is happening right now.” She came close and put her hands on his chest. “All you see is a newspaper telling stories and people giving speeches. Finish your education, so you can be useful to this Bolshevik Party when they finally do need you. If you go to prison, you’ll be no help to them, ever.” And you’ll be lost to me, she wanted to add but didn’t.

“You are correct, of course. I am grateful, as always, for your wisdom.” Mark held her face gently.

His eyes were teary. Then they changed, the deep brown turning as black as the winter night sky. She searched them, hopeful and fearful at the same time. His lips reached hers, and the warmth traveled all the way down to the pit of her stomach and then to her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and inhaled the surgical scent of him, so familiar. She gasped as his lips withdrew, then touched her fingertips to her lips.

“You don’t need to worry about me thinking of politics. All I ever think about is you. I try so hard to do my work at the hospital, but you fill my thoughts. I think, ‘Where is she? What’s she doing? Who’s she talking to? Is she happy?’ I cannot sleep sometimes.” Heat pulsed through his skin and radiated into the space between the two of them.

“I don’t know if you should say all these things.” She tried to move away, but was held by the power of his eyes. Of his love.

“I love you. How can I not say it?” He kissed her again.

She couldn’t think at all. The world around them melted and fell away. All she knew were his hands on her back, shoulders, neck, head. Please don’t ever stop, she prayed silently and almost cried when she felt him move away. Although her body still burned and shook, she wasn’t sure this was not all her imagination.

He held her face gently. “I’m sorry I kissed you without permission.”

“No, please, don’t be sorry.” She turned away for a moment, willing her body to settle down. There. Better. “I love you too,” she whispered, burying her face into his chest and inhaling the smell of his clean white shirt.

He picked her up and spun her around the room, making her squeal. “You’ve made me so happy.”

“Put me down!” She pounded on his chest in pretend protest.

Mark collapsed on the empty bed and put her on his lap. He hugged her close and kissed her in earnest. She ran her fingers through his hair. She’d never imagined love could feel like this, where you no longer wanted to be your own person but wished to fully belong to someone else. She wanted Mark to possess her body, and it wasn’t frightening at all.

“Rebecca! What do you think you’re doing?” Father’s voice boomed from the doorway and exploded in her ears.

She jumped up from Mark’s lap, cheeks blazing. “Father, I’m so sorry…”

“Dr. Miller, my apologies,” Mark said. “I have good respect for your daughter.”

“You will not speak. You will leave immediately. How dare you behave in such a way? I trusted you to care for my patients!”

“But Father, we love each other!”

“You will go straight home, Rebecca.”

Mark was on his way out of the room, but he tried again. “Dr. Miller, I did not mean disrespect.”

“Must you be so cruel?” Rebecca yelled out. “It was only a kiss. What do you think you saw?”

“You don’t have the right to disagree with me, at the moment. I’m afraid your mother’s fears came true, and she’ll be furious tonight. Go home. Now. We will discuss this later.” Father walked out, knocking a chair into the wall on his way out with a loud crash.

Rebecca walked home as slowly as she could. Mark disappeared through the back door. She was hurt that he didn’t attempt to speak to her father to defend himself. Or to her, for that matter. She sniffled. It wasn’t fair she had to face her family all alone, while he ran home to the safety of his friends. She stood in front of her home, wondering whether to enter or to run away. And where would she run? Sarah had enough troubles without her. And besides—she’d never been a coward. She opened the door and marched in. Thankfully the hallway was quiet, the housekeeper and cook nowhere to be seen.

She snuck upstairs, to avoid being noticed by Hannah, and closed her door quietly. There was really no point in changing her clothes prior to the scolding she was expecting at dinner, but there was also no point in coming to dinner quickly. So she brushed her hair and arranged it with combs and put on a clean dress and shoes. It certainly didn’t hurt to feel clean when one was being yelled at, she decided before heading to the dining room, her back held straight in defiance.

The family went silent as she walked into the dining room.

They had heard, then.

She sat down in her chair, placed the napkin in her lap, and faced the enemy.

“Have you had an offer of marriage from that man?” Mother began.

“I have not.”

“Do you expect one?”

Rebecca hadn’t thought of marrying Mark. She loved him, but why did everything in Mother’s mind have to turn into marriage? Why couldn’t they just enjoy being in love?

“I don’t know, Mother. We only had just one kiss,” she protested feebly.

Father coughed at her mention of the kiss, and Hannah giggled. Mother turned a bright color. Rebecca looked down, then looked up at everyone again. She had nothing to be ashamed off. It was only a kiss! Well…several, but still.

“Your father found you engaged in improper behavior with a man who has not made you an offer of marriage. And while you were expected to perform duties for your father. Responsibilities you begged for over and over, as you claim you wish to become a doctor.”

Mother always knew ways to make her feel guilty.

“I’m so sorry, Father.”

“Rebecca,” Father said, “I do believe that it may be time for us to look for a husband for you. You are twenty now, and I can see that your mother’s been right. Education is not everything; you may desire to be married as well.”

“Of course I’m right,” Mother huffed. “And if we don’t find her a husband, she’ll continue looking for improper behavior herself.”

“So can we go to more balls, then? How about the one at the new Hotel Bellevue Palace? Everyone is going to be there! Please?” Hannah interjected.

“Am I to be auctioned off at the ball? Have you lost your mind?” Rebecca thought she might explode in anger at Hannah. “And Mother, I have no plans to be married, at the moment. I’m not ready to marry anyone. Papi, you know how hard my studies are. I don’t have time to care for a husband.”

“And yet you have time to kiss strange boys?” Mother raised her voice.

Her head was beginning to throb rather painfully. “Mark Minchin is almost finished with his studies, and he is a student of Professor Kocher. He’s going to become a surgeon, a respectable profession. A kiss from him surely couldn’t be too improper.”

“He’s not asked for our permission to marry you. And he’ll not receive it either,” Mother said.

“I remember now.” Father’s voice boomed with anger. “You brought him here when your ankle was hurt. You said he was a student from Ukraine. Do you understand you’d have no future with him? He has to return home; he can’t stay here. His future belongs elsewhere. And you’ll not be welcome in his country. Jews are hated and killed in Ukraine.”

“But why can’t he stay here, Papi? We can keep Mark safe here in Switzerland. You are right, he can’t go back home. It is not safe.” Rebecca felt her eyes fill with tears. “If he and I married, he could stay here, and then he could bring his family here and none of them would ever be in danger again.”

“You can see it’s gone too far. We must put a stop to this immediately,” Mother said to Father.

“A ball is a great idea,” Hannah said again, shoving a piece of chicken into her mouth.

“Stop with your stupid ball!” Rebecca shouted.

“You’ll watch your manners,” Mother said. “You will be going to balls with your sister. You’ll also be supervised more closely in all your activities now. And you may not see this man anymore.”

“You can’t do that, Mother! You can’t prohibit me from seeing someone. I’m an adult now!”

“I can do as I wish until you are a married woman,” Mother said dryly. “So it’s in your best interest to marry quickly and run your own household. Then you may do as you please.”

Rebecca was desperate to win the argument and defy her parents. They were wrong, plain wrong about Mark. Her anger burned a hole inside her. However, if she argued and fought more, she’d likely get more restrictions and wouldn’t be able to see Mark at all. Rebecca bit her lip. Hard. She knew her eyes were blazing.

“Fine! I’ll go to the balls. But I’m not getting married until I find someone I really like—love, preferably.”

“No one is forcing you to marry a person you detest, my dear. By all means, choose well,” Father said. “Let us finish our dinner in peace now.”