◆ 32 ◆
The man ran after us as Martha accelerated down the street. Esther was already on the floor of the car, and Martha barked, “Rosene! Get down!”
A few minutes later, the car came to a stop. “Stay down,” Martha said. “When I say now very slowly sit up and then count to a hundred. Then, Rosene, you calmly get out of the car and climb into Betty’s car. She’s sitting up front with her driver. Esther, you count to a hundred again, and then you do the same.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“She’ll take both of you to the airport. Once you’re in Hamburg, take the train to Frankfurt, to Josef and Lena’s. I’ll meet you there in a few days.”
After a few minutes, Martha said, “Now.”
I sat up slowly, and Esther climbed from the floor of the car to the seat. I counted slowly to one hundred and then opened the door, climbed out, and then got into the back of the car I’d been in earlier. As I closed the door and scooted across the seat, the driver started the car. When Esther climbed into the car and closed the door, the driver began moving away from the curb.
The man from the other checkpoint appeared behind the car, and the driver accelerated. I couldn’t help but look behind us. Martha turned her car around into the street, blocking the man and Esther’s uncle, who had appeared beside him. The uncle hit the hood of her car with the palm of his hand, and the other man tried to dart around it. But Martha put the car in reverse, bumping into him. Martha had her window down. “Sorry!”
Esther’s uncle reached the back door of her car and yanked open the door. A look of disgust passed over his face. The driver of our car turned left. I craned my neck to try to see Martha, but she and her car were now out of view. Our driver turned right and then sped away from the area. After taking what seemed to be a convoluted route, we arrived at the airport.
Betty stayed in the car, but the driver climbed out and opened the trunk. He took out my suitcase and then opened my door. I slid out, followed by Esther. “Safe journeys,” he said in German. “We’re grateful for your work.”
“Rosene, wait.” Betty climbed into the back seat and slipped off her shoes and then her stockings. She scooted across the seat and handed them to me. “I hope they’ll fit Esther.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Danke.”
A few minutes later, Esther and I were strapped into seats on another transport plane, ready to take off. I stuffed the stockings in my purse for the time being, and Esther took off the slippers and put on the shoes. They were perhaps a half-size too big, but they would do.
When we reached Hamburg, I opened the suitcase. On top were two coats, another pair of pajamas, another set of underwear, a skirt, a blouse, and a sweater. Underneath the clothes was a packet of Deutschmarks and a note from Martha. This is enough for taxi fare, train tickets, and food along the way. I’ll see you soon.
I was miffed with Martha, feeling as if she’d set us adrift, until anxiety filled me again. What might happen to her? I knew I couldn’t dwell on that now—I needed to take care of Esther. First, she needed food. And then rest. Even if it took us a day longer to get to Frankfurt.
We followed several soldiers off the plane. One said to the other, “Let’s go by the cafeteria first.” We followed them into a hangar converted into a cafeteria.
There was a line of people in uniforms but a few civilians too, including women. I stashed the suitcase in the restroom, and then Esther and I went through the line. It was American food. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Green beans. Jell-O salad. And soft rolls. Esther and I sat and ate.
“We’ll take a taxi to the train station from here,” I said. “There’s a train to Frankfurt at five. Hopefully we can make it.” It was a quarter to four.
“Let’s go,” Esther said. “The farther we are from Berlin, the better I’ll feel.”
We had to find a phone in an office two hangars over to call for a taxi. Then we had to walk out to the main road, which was over a mile away. Betty’s shoes looked better on Esther’s feet, but the slippers had been easier for her to walk in.
Finally, we made it to the train station. I rushed to the booth and bought our tickets. Ten minutes later, we were on the train heading south to Frankfurt.
Esther immediately fell asleep. I took the coats from the suitcase and spread one over the top of her while I put the other one on.
Worry gripped me. Was Martha safe? Had Esther’s uncle gotten into her car? What if something happened to her?
It would be nearly ten by the time we arrived in Frankfurt and nearly eleven by the time we reached the house. Would Vater Josef and Lena let us in?
I dozed for a while and then awoke with a start. I longed to be home in Lancaster County. Tears stung my eyes, and I stifled a sob.
“What’s wrong?” Esther asked.
Feeling like a fool—what were my losses compared to hers?—I said, “Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“I’m missing home.”
“And Zeke?” She reached for my left hand. “Have the two of you married?”
“He left,” I said. “For California again.”
“And you didn’t go with him?”
“No.”
“Rosene.” She clasped my hand. “You two were perfect for each other. I thought you’d marry soon after I left.”
“A year ago I hoped we’d marry. But things were never the same when he returned from his first trip. He’d changed.” Maybe I’d changed too. “I regretted not going with him after he left again, but I don’t know if that would have been the right thing to do. He said he’d write, but I haven’t heard from him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe he still will. Maybe he’ll tell you to meet him in California, and you’ll live happily ever after, like in a Hollywood movie.”
I tried to smile as I dried my eyes. “Will you come back to Lancaster with me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I need to speak with Martha.”
Esther was without a home. She had no parents to return to, only an uncle she couldn’t trust. Lancaster wasn’t home to her. All she seemed to have was Martha.
At least I had one family that loved and cared for me, and a second one that was at least interested in me. I could make a plan for myself, whether to stay in Lancaster County or to leave. It was my choice.
When we reached Frankfurt, I called the Weber home. After twelve rings, Garit answered with a gruff “Hallo.”
“It’s Rosene. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No. I was writing.”
“I’m at the train station and will arrive at the house soon. I have a friend with me. Esther is her name.”
“I’ll let Lena know,” Garit said. He didn’t sound happy about it.
When we reached the house, I knocked softly on the front door and then loudly. A light flicked on in the house across the street. Finally, Garit came to the door and let us in. “Lena said to go on up to your room.”
I led Esther upstairs. She didn’t bother to change into her pajamas and fell into what had been Dorina’s bed, exhausted. It took me longer to fall asleep, as I grappled with who I was. A Mennonite young woman from the United States or a German woman from Frankfurt?
I’d just rescued Esther from East Berlin. For some reason, Martha thought only I could do it. And I had.
I stared at the ceiling. What would life be like in Lancaster County for the rest of my life without Zeke? All I’d wanted was to create a home with him, to live together and make a life together, to hope the Lord would bring children into our life, regardless of the fact I would never have our own.
The next morning, when I stepped into the kitchen, Lena and Garit sat at the table with cups of coffee and a newspaper. Lena turned her head toward me. “Tell me about your friend.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Her name is Esther. She’s from Berlin and knows Martha.”
“Through the Red Cross?”
I nodded. “Esther is a refugee. Her parents were killed during the war.”
“What is her last name?”
“Lang.”
Garit glanced up from the newspaper. “She looks Jewish.”
“Her father was Catholic.” I sat down at the table with them.
“Meaning her mother was Jewish?”
I stared at him. “What does it matter?”
He glared at me and returned his gaze to his newspaper. “How long will the two of you be staying?”
I answered, “Until Martha returns.”
Garit folded the newspaper. “How long will that be?”
“Not long.”
Garit stood. “We’re not running a hotel here.”
“Rosene can stay as long as she needs to.” Vater Josef stood in the doorway. “She’s always welcome here. So is her friend and Martha too.”
Garit shook his head. “Do you really think Martha works for the Red Cross? There’s something more going on.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Vater Josef said. “This is still my house. They’re welcome here.”
Garit, without saying anything more, left the kitchen. Lena stood and followed, saying, “I need to get to work—to pay the bills around here.”
Vater Josef sat down beside me. “I meant what I said. You’re always welcome, although I understand it’s hard for you to be here.”
“Danke.” Was he sincere? Or just an ill old man, regretting what he’d done, but too afraid to say so? I stood and said, “I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”
I wished him no ill will. I’d forgiven him as best I could. Did I have an obligation to do more?
Esther mostly slept for the next few days. Twice she came down to eat, but often I took a tray up to my room for her.
Lena complained about not having enough money in her food budget to feed two extra mouths, so I gave her most of the rest of the money in the envelope.
One evening, after I washed the dishes, Garit came into the kitchen. “Where’s Martha?” he asked.
“She’ll be here soon,” I said.
“That’s what you said before.”
I concentrated on drying the last plate.
“You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused this family,” Garit said. “Lena and Josef never deserved to be treated this way.”
I spun around, clutching the plate with the towel. “Them treated this way? Let’s talk about the Kaiserslautern train station. What would you have done with Clare and me if you’d caught us?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face reddened.
I deepened my voice. “‘Has anyone seen a young American woman with a thirteen-year-old German girl? They’re wanted by the Gestapo.’”
“Don’t be ludicrous.” He crossed his arms. “I wasn’t working with the Gestapo. And I didn’t go after you.”
I put the plate in the cupboard and then marched out of the kitchen.
“If Martha isn’t back in two days, you need to leave,” Garit called out after me.
I ignored him.
I knew Martha would come to Frankfurt, as she promised, if she could. But my worries were growing. Had something happened to her? Who should I contact to inquire about her? I had no idea who could be trusted and who couldn’t.
Finally, I took a taxi to the Red Cross office in Frankfurt and waited in line for two hours to speak to the receptionist.
I greeted her and then said, “I’m the sister of Martha Hall and the sister-in-law of George Hall, who both work for the Red Cross. I need to speak with one of them.”
The woman stood. “I’ll return in a minute.” She turned and knocked on the closed door, then entered the office and closed the door behind her. I stared at the door, willing it to open.
Finally, it did. The receptionist stepped out and said, “Herr Hoffman would like to speak with you.”
As I walked into the office, my knees began to shake.
A man wearing a suit stood in the middle of the room. He extended his hand and said, “I’m Herr Hoffman, the new director of the Frankfurt Red Cross. Please sit down.” He motioned to a chair against the wall.
I sat.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said.
I braced myself, fearing the worst had happened to Martha.
“George Hall passed away three days ago in Berlin.”
I gasped. “Was he killed?”
“No. It seems he had a heart condition.”
I remembered that Martha had mentioned a heart problem kept him out of serving in the war. “Where is Martha?” I asked.
“That’s the problem,” Herr Hoffman said. “We don’t know. I was hoping you did.”