Chapter 25

Bern, April 1915

Rebecca wiped perspiration and dirt off her forehead. It had been a long winter and a wet spring. She wasn’t scheduled to be at the hospital today, so she had been making home visits to her clinic patients since before dawn. To filthy houses with very ill children and mothers, many of them dying.

She held the babies as long as possible, concentrating her energy and wrapping it around their fragile bodies. But her power wasn’t enough to save them. Not when their mothers didn’t have enough milk and they were exposed to so much disease. She had long forgotten about her earlier hunger, but her aching feet did occasionally make themselves known.

She and Lara had rented two rooms for their free clinic, open to any woman or child in need of medical services but not wishing to seek them at the hospital. They found out quickly that few families could visit the clinic because they were often too ill to travel there, especially when it snowed or the temperature fell. By the time the mother arrived, either she or the child was more often in need of a coroner. Still, some women came, hiding their faces, not wanting anyone to know, asking for a pessary to prevent pregnancy or asking what could be done if a husband drank or hurt the child. Sarah provided legal aid, and Lara kept the clinic going. Rebecca had discovered that the best use of her skills was to go to the women’s homes. Once she entered the squalid neighborhoods, the word spread, and women came to wherever she was, alone or with their children. And they brought friends. Sometimes her skills and the medicine she brought made a difference. And so she went. Day after day.

“Rebecca, did you read about the silk intrauterine device they are selling in Germany? It’s more effective for pregnancy prevention than a pessary. Do you think we can get our hands on a few?” Lara asked, coming in from an examining room.

“I did, but it’s expensive.” Rebecca sighed. “I don’t know where we’d get the money for it. My father gave me enough for rent, but he said he doesn’t want to know anything about what we’re doing here. We are on our own.”

“I’m afraid my salary at the hospital will not be enough to support the clinic,” Lara said. “Maybe we can ask the other residents and physicians to donate money.”

Rebecca washed her hands with carbolic. “Most of our fellow doctors are ignorant of social issues and don’t support our efforts.”

“Well, there is the Zimmerwald conference in September. What if we ask the Socialists to donate funds? Or write to the Association of Socialist Physicians?”

“Yes. Mark mentioned a conference he was helping to organize. What kind of conference is it?”

“It’s an international gathering of Socialist parties, to unite in their protest of the war. They are going to make an official stand against it, together. I hear Trotsky is coming. Vlad worships him and desperately wishes to hear him speak.”

“How much is Mark involved in all this? He told me he was only helping in a minor way.” Rebecca sat down and leaned against the wall.

Lara looked away. “The rumor is Mark is working very closely with Lenin on a resolution that will be presented at the conference.”

Rebecca felt the tears welling up. “Mark is a surgeon. Why would a Socialist leader need his help in writing speeches? This doesn’t make any sense. This revolution of yours is going to take him away from me.”

“Mark is a gifted writer, and I think he likes receiving attention from Lenin. You should be very proud of him.” Lara stroked her head. “We all are. He is being honored by this.”

“I love him and I need him. I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t lose him. He and Vlad and the others just want to make the world better for everyone. If the revolution succeeds, there’ll be no more divide between the rich and the poor. Everyone will prosper. And you’ll be the wife of a hero.”

“But he is a hero to me already,” Rebecca whispered to herself.

“Oh, there he is now,” Lara announced with a smile as Mark walked in.

Rebecca threw herself at him, nearly knocking him down. She felt she was already losing him.

“I missed you too,” Mark said, giving her a kiss.

“I missed you more!” She wiped a tear escaping down her cheek.

“What’s the matter?” He lifted her chin and forced her to look at him.

“Lara was telling me how much you are working with Lenin. You haven’t told me. I’m worried. What if the university sends you away if they find out about your political activities? Or what if Lenin needs you to go to Russia with him?”

“I have no plans on leaving Bern or you, liebe. The Bolsheviks are here for a while. Nothing but talking is happening with the Revolution right now. I will tell you anything you wish to know. I have no secrets. Only please don’t cry.” He sat down next to her and held her close.

“What is Lenin like?”

“Lenin is very kind to me. He treats me like family. He lives in Distelweg, by the woods, where he invites me to take a walk with him and his wife and some other Bolsheviks sometimes. He knows all the plants in the woods and points them out. Their friend, Inessa Armand, comes with us frequently. We discuss plans for articles and speeches on the Revolution.”

“What is it exactly that you are working with him on? You are a surgeon, not a politician. Why can’t he ask Vlad?”

“Vlad is helping too. Many people are. I am only helping Lenin write, yet it’s very exciting what we’re writing.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll show you one of the works. Look.” He took a folded pamphlet from the inner pocket of his jacket. “This is Number 33 of Sotsial-Demokrat. It’s a manifesto. It says we must turn this Kaiser’s war into a civil war in Russia; into a war against the Tsar! This manifesto is being translated into French and English and German, and will be forwarded to many newspapers. Can you imagine this? The world will become so different if people would rise against their rulers!”

“What do you mean, rise against the rulers?”

“I’m talking about people all over the world rising, not against Germany but against the ruling classes in their countries. That’s what Lenin and the Bolsheviks truly want.”

“Surely that’s not possible! And what will happen to all these people you’re rising against?” Rebecca asked. “What will you do to them? Guillotine them? Put them in prisons? Take their homes away?”

“Rebecca, don’t you understand the injustice of some people having so much yet so many living in starvation and poverty? The families you go to see—they die from disease and starvation with no hope of improving themselves with education or better work. That’s what Lenin is trying to change!”

Rebecca felt her fingers tremble, and she balled them into fists. She was torn between shaking some sense into Mark and asking him if she could curl up on his lap and have him hold her tight.

“You are a talented surgeon, Mark. Your patients need you. Why must you abandon them for this political nonsense?” she finally blurted out.

“It is not nonsense to me or my friends. Or my family and my village back home, Rebecca, where I’ve seen people die time and time again. And it’s not nonsense to the families you work with, whose children die from lack of food. Inessa and I are working on international action, no longer just on Russia. This will happen! The world will be different one day.”

“What if you get arrested and imprisoned?”

“There is no danger of it, I assure you. I am not doing anything illegal.”

“Why can’t you be happy with the life of a surgeon, here with me?” Rebecca demanded in frustration.

“You can’t even bring yourself to tell your family about me. You know they’ll never accept a poor man as your husband!” His eyes were blazing.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve been at fault. I’ll tell them, right away. Will you stop working for Lenin then?”

He rubbed her back. “And what kind of man would I be to do nothing when the whole world is changing, liebe? A ghost of a man, a useless man.”

“It seems that nothing I say is helping.” She bent her head.

“You must allow me to do my duty, just as I allow you to do yours here, in this clinic,” he said, kissing her hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. The sun is setting. We don’t want your parents angry at you for missing supper.”

When Rebecca arrived at home, Hannah was in the garden, weeding the tulip flower beds. Rebecca watched her for a while, enjoying the sight of someone doing such a simple, peaceful activity. It felt good to just stand still in nature for a moment. The smell of spring was clearly in the air and the birds were beginning to come back, chirping occasionally in the trees. A robin sang brightly on a branch over the garden, and she smiled, despite all the stresses of the day.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here.” Hannah rose and shook the dirt off her apron.

“I enjoy watching you tend to the flowers. You have a gift with them.”

“Mother taught me well. I like gardening, it’s very precise. And look at all the tulips that came up this year!”

“They are beautiful.” Rebecca touched the velvety petals of a few flower heads with her fingers. “What’s for supper today?”

“Lamb chops and potatoes. And a cake. You may want to dress nicely. We have a guest coming.”

“A guest? Not another suitor for me?”

“No—it’s someone for me.” Hannah looked down, blushing.

“What? When did this happen?”

“Ebner came to see Father this morning and asked if he could marry me. He asked me right after.”

“And you agreed, I assume?” Rebecca couldn’t believe her ears. Ebner Lehman was a pleasant-enough man, although the most boring person she’d ever met. On the other hand, Hannah would likely be perfectly happy with him.

“I think we’ll be happy together.” Hannah narrowed her eyes, waiting for an argument from Rebecca.

Rebecca needed an ally more than she needed an enemy. “I think you will be, too. I’m glad you made your choice, dear sister.” She hugged Hannah to avoid looking into her eyes.

“You are really happy for me?”

“I really am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never agree with my choices.”

“Well, this time you finally made the right one. I’ll go wash up and change to look good for your fiancé.” Rebecca turned and started away.

“Wait, what about you? Is there anyone you hope will ask you to marry?” Hannah asked.

Rebecca paused, her back still to her sister. “There is someone. I will tell you about him later. Let today be about your happiness.”

“I knew it. No, please tell me now!”

“All right.” Rebecca returned and sat down on a small rock by Hannah. “His name is Mark, and we went to school together at the university. He is a surgery resident now. I’m in love with him.”

“Is he in love with you?”

“He is.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! When is he going to ask Father for your hand?”

“Well, that’s where the problem is. Father doesn’t approve of him. Mark is poor. He is from Ukraine. Father caught us kissing a while ago and prohibited me from seeing him again.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have to convince Father that Mark is a good man. But I don’t know how.” Rebecca teared up. “And the truth is—if I don’t—I am afraid Mark will get tired of waiting and will go back to Ukraine and leave me.”

“Surely not if he loves you? He must wait!”

“I don’t think any man wants to marry into a family that doesn’t respect him.”

“We’ll think of something. I’ll help you.” Hannah hugged her shoulders.

“Thank you.” Rebecca hugged her back.

She liked the idea of a kinder Hannah. Maybe Hannah getting married wasn’t such a bad idea. Would it distract Mother sufficiently to allow Rebecca to see Mark more often? Would it allow her to plead her case with Father more easily? With one daughter successfully married, maybe one poor match would be acceptable? Maybe if Mark could see some hope in their being together, he would spend less time on all this Revolution nonsense.