“Yeah, I believe that,” Elena replied. “You can’t fight racism by twisting faces into pretzels. Although it might be fun trying, it doesn’t solve the problem.”
“It’s going to make me feel good,” Zoe insisted. She spied the bigoted Greek woman who was responsible for her tirade talking to another student. Both students looked back and laughed, their mockery sending a renewed surge of anger through Zoe. “Ooh, I wish I could twist that head of hers!” she raged.
“Zoe! You could get expelled, and that wouldn’t look good for your first day. Anyway, she has probably had bad experiences with Germans. If I let you up, do you promise to behave?”
“No,” Zoe replied, pouting.
“Come on, Zoe, please? If you go after that girl and get caught, you will get tossed out and you will lose your grant. Is that what you want?”
Zoe continued to pout. “No,” she said grudgingly after a moment. She did not think she could bear Eva’s disappointment anyway, and getting into a fight with a bigot was not worth the trouble it would cause. “All right, I won’t go after her.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, now get off me.”
Elena got off Zoe slowly and watched her sit back up. Zoe still scowled and looked in the direction where Kiriakoula had disappeared with the other student.
“What did she say?” Elena asked.
Zoe remained silent for a long moment. She did not want to hurt Elena’s feelings, even though her own were now simmering rather than incandescent. She knew how much it hurt Eva when racist barbs were directed at her because of her German accent; she had seen the frustration and hurt in Eva’s eyes. She also knew how racist taunts felt, since she had been the recipient of such on many occasions.
“Zoe?” Elena prodded.
“She said that she believed in her heart that Germans were the enemy, and that if I didn’t believe that then I wouldn’t be a true Greek,” Zoe replied.
“You know that’s not true.”
“I know it’s not true, but that’s not the point.”
“You can’t jump to my defense every time I’m called a nasty name,” Elena said and put her arm around her. “You wouldn’t have time for your studies if you did that. Forget her. What did you tell her?”
“I told her to go to hell and called her a bitch.”
“Did it make you feel better?”
“No. If I’d twisted her face like a pretzel, that would have made me feel better,” Zoe said insistently as she got up off the grass and helped Elena to rise so they could both go on to their first class. “You know, I could have done it, too, despite her size.”
“Uh huh,” Elena replied and started to laugh when Zoe gave her a disgusted look. “She was bigger than you. She would have stomped you flat.”
“You forget Eva is a big girl and I can handle her.”
“Eva lets you handle her,” Elena said with a chuckle.
“You’re a funny woman.”
“Thank you,” Elena replied and they laughed as they went arm-in-arm down the jacaranda-lined walkway.
Chapter Forty-One
Zoe and Elena wandered through several corridors before coming to the right classroom. Elena obviously felt somewhat vindicated since she was the one who found the room after Zoe was forced to admit that she was lost.
“Don’t say a word,” Zoe grumbled to Elena as they entered. She took a seat in the front of the class. The room filled up quickly as other students filed in and took their seats.
Zoe watched a casually dressed young woman walk to the front of the class and lean on a table that held books and drawings. She tried to catch a glimpse of the artworks but could not make out anything clearly. She glanced around the room, hoping she was not going to have the racist Kiriakoula in the same class, and was relieved when she did not see her. The lecturer held up her hands to quiet them down. She was not a tall woman, and she had dark brown hair and blue eyes, which Zoe found fascinating because they were the same shade as Eva’s.
“Welcome to my class. My name is Lucia de Nobrega. You can call me Lucia. I see we are going to have a big group this time around. If you joined this class to learn to create what is in your mind’s eye, then you are in the right place. If you came to look at naked bodies, I believe the Biology class is in the Carslaw Building.” Lucia smiled.
The students chuckled at the small joke. Zoe and Elena looked at each other and grinned. It certainly seemed as though they were going to have fun in this class.
“In a moment, I will go around the room and get each of you to introduce yourself and tell us why you chose this class. Now, before we do that little exercise, let me give you my philosophy about art and artists. Whether drawing, painting, or writing, an artist gives of him or herself fully. Giving of yourself is usually done most comfortably with loved ones, but here you will learn to express yourself through your art. How do you do this? You have to lose all kinds of prejudice. You cannot have a prejudice and be a great artist. You don’t come here to learn how to be a bad artist. You want to reach inside yourself and become the best that you can be. Being prejudiced will blur your vision — it won’t allow you to look beyond what you think you know and how you view it,” Lucia said, her gaze intent as she looked at the students.
“Secondly, I want you to lose your inhibitions,” Lucia continued. “I’m not saying you have to run around naked across the campus...”
The room burst out laughing. Elena poked Zoe in the ribs. “If I dared you, would you do it?”
Zoe glanced at Elena and whispered, “How much?” and then turned back to Lucia. Elena did not answer.
“That’s a nice little visual, isn’t it?” Lucia asked. “Now I want you to be free about yourself and what you look like. Look at yourself in the mirror and create some funny faces, dance in your own home while singing. You can sing off key as long as the neighbors don’t call the police!” She got another chuckle from her class and continued, “If you allow yourself to look silly and act silly, you will find that your inhibitions will be lost. Everything you are feeling will be expressed in your art. You have to give a little part of yourself to your artwork. Okay, that was a mouthful, wasn’t it? Now while I take a break, you can each tell me about yourself and why you are here.”
Zoe listened carefully as her classmates introduced themselves. Elena had her turn, and then it came to Zoe. She got up and looked around the room.
“Boy, I’m glad this is not a class for public speaking,” she said self-consciously, and got a laugh from the class. “My name is Zoe Lambros. I’ve been in Australia for a little over a year, and I’m living out my dream of learning how to draw and be an artist,” she finished quietly, and sat down with a slight blush warming her cheeks.
***
“Eva!” Mrs. Jenkins waved at Eva she walked up the sidewalk towards the apartment. She was coming down to her as quickly as she could, and Eva had to stop herself from laughing when the stout Mrs. Jenkins tried to run but went back to walking when she could not muster up the energy.
Mrs. Jenkins was a little out of breath when she came to a halt in front of Eva.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jenkins,” Eva said.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Mrs. Jenkins replied. “Eva, you may have a problem.”
Eva was surprised. “Oh?”
“Your pet is screaming its head off in your apartment!” she said. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed the sweat off her face. “It’s so hot today.”
“Ourania?” Eva was really surprised now. “She’s pretty quiet.”
“Oh, I’m not sure what it is, but it’s screeching, and it scared Mrs. Deakin in number seven.”
Eva looked at Mrs. Jenkins and shrugged, nonplused by Ourania’s supposed behavior. She hoped Zoe had not brought home any more pets. At that moment, Earl’s car pulled up and distracted her for a few seconds before she turned her attention back to the waiting landlady. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jenkins, but I’m not sure what the noise is. I’ll go
and have a look.”
“Yes, please do that. Mrs. Deakin’s ticker isn’t all that strong.”
Eva was sure she had a bemused expression. Having delivered her message, Mrs. Jenkins walked away. Eva wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was going to find out soon enough.
“Hey, Earl,” Eva greeted him and they walked to the apartment. As soon as they entered the foyer, they heard screeching and what sounded like very bad singing.
Eva unlocked the door to the apartment feeling a little trepidation. The volume of the noise trebled, spilling out into the corridor. She stood stock-still in the doorway, watching in absolute fascination as Zoe, clad in shorts and Eva’s blue shirt, which was too big for her, waltzed around the lounge, singing (or doing what passed for singing) at the top of her voice with Elena, who was also clad in shorts and a shirt.
“Is this some new form of therapy?” Earl yelled, trying to be heard over the din.
Eva went over to the gramophone and shut it off.
“Hey, Eva!” Zoe bounded up and kissed her. “We were inhibiting.”
“Uninhibiting,” Elena corrected her.
“You were scaring Mrs. Deakin in number seven!” Eva replied.
“Mrs. Deakin can’t hear a single thing! We weren’t that loud,” Zoe said scornfully.
Eva raised an eyebrow. “Well, Mrs. Jenkins heard you and so did we, from the foyer downstairs.”
“Oh,” Zoe said. She sat down on the sofa, her exuberance a bit deflated.
“What was that about?” Earl asked Zoe.
“Our art teacher told us that in order to be great artists, we have to lose our inhibitions and be silly. So, in order to do our homework, we first have to sing and dance.”
“And scare old ladies,” Earl added. He got a slap on the leg from Zoe. “Ow, stop that, Stretch, or I’ll dunk you in the deep end!”
Eva laughed when Earl and Zoe got into a tussle. Zoe was hauled up and carried into the bedroom and the screams of “Save me, Eva” were drowned out by peals of laughter and “Oh, uncle, uncle.”
She went inside the bedroom to rescue Zoe from Earl’s teasing clutches, still laughing.
Chapter Forty-Two
Eva spent the morning at the Interpreter Division trying to help a Greek couple get settled in their new apartment. Even though she wasn’t hired to work with the Greeks, she helped out when, at times like this, the other translators were overwhelmed. She was rewarded a few hours later by the gooiest Greek baklava she had ever tasted, delivered to the office as a gift from the grateful couple. Her colleagues were eating it when the doors opened and Mr. Hermann came in with a bunch of flowers and a huge grin on his face.
“Ah, Fraulein,” he greeted her.
Eva didn’t want to have Mr. Hermann feel obligated, so she attempted to cut him off easily. “Mr. Hermann, the flowers you sent over before the holiday was more than enough thanks. Don’t feel like you need to spend your money on flowers. I’m only doing my job.”
Eva’s eyebrows shot nearly into her hairline when Mr. Hermann went down on bended knee. “Oy, I’m not as young as I used to be,” he grumbled and then looked into Eva’s eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done. No amount of flowers could thank you for how much better my life has been with your help. You have been most sweet.” Mr. Hermann smiled. “And if I was twenty years younger, I would ask you to go out with me,” he teased before Eva helped him rise to his feet.
The day seemed all the more special because of the appreciation expressed by her two clients, Eva mused as she worked at her desk. She glanced up when there was a knock on the door and Debbie stuck her head inside.
“You’re going to starve, and I’ll have Earl berating me for not looking after you!” Debbie said. She came into the office and around Eva’s desk. “Come on, go to lunch.” She flapped her hands like a farmer’s wife shooing chickens.
“Uh...”
“Don’t ‘uh’ me. The clients will be here when you get back.” Debbie pulled Eva out of the chair and gently shoved her out the door, much to Eva’s amusement.
“Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” Eva walked down the corridor.
“Go to lunch!” Debbie exclaimed, giving Eva a mock glare. Her grin broadened when Eva shrugged and walked away.
An hour later, Eva returned to a very quiet waiting area. A few clients sat on wooden chairs waiting for their appointments, but the usual noisy din had been replaced by the much quieter whirring of the ceiling fan.
“Anything exciting happen while I’ve been gone?” she asked Debbie, who for once was not attached to the phone or trying to do ten things at the same time.
“It’s pretty quiet. Doesn’t happen often, so savor the moment,” Debbie said happily. She looked down at her ever-present appointment book. “You have a Mrs. Wagner coming in soon and after that...”
“After that?”
“Nothing. You’re free for the afternoon!” Debbie exclaimed, showing a shocked Eva the book. “The clients over there are for Bernard and Deirdre.”
Eva picked up Mrs. Wagner’s file and walked down to her office. She spent a few minutes looking over the notes Debbie had made about the reason Mrs. Wagner had an appointment. She went to her bookcase and took out a book on family law. She sat down at her desk, opened the book, and began reading. She did not realize the time until there was a knock on the door and Debbie came in. “Mrs. Wagner is here,” she announced, ushering the woman inside and then closing the door.
Eva stood to welcome her client, looked up and blinked. It had been so many years. Could this woman be...? But no, Greta was dead. Wasn’t she? This woman had the same long auburn hair, the same hazel eyes, the same regal bearing, and the same fine features. She was thinner and older but...
Eva fell back down on her chair in shock. She could not begin to believe that the woman standing in her office was Greta Strauss, her first lover. It could not be Greta. That was impossible.
“Greta?” Eva breathed the name and hoped it wasn’t her former lover.
“Eva? Eva Muller?” Greta whispered. “It can’t be my Eva.”
Greta came around the desk. Eva remained where she was sitting, frozen and made mute by disbelief.
“My dear God, it is you!” Greta cried. She knelt in front of Eva and embraced her. “Oh, dear God. I don’t believe this,” she muttered as she took hold of Eva’s hands. “You don’t believe it, do you?”
Eva shook her head slowly, which caused Greta to laugh through the tears that were streaming down her face.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” Eva said when she found her voice.
“Dead? Why would you think I was dead?” Greta got up, pulled the other chair around, and sat down next to Eva.
“Reinhardt told me that he told Father that you were my lover—”
“Reinhardt? Jurgen Reinhardt? That fool?”
“B-b-because he found out about us and he had you shipped off—”
“Good grief, he lied to you. That man was never able to tell the truth.”
“You’re alive,” Eva said in wonder. “Where did you go?”
“Where did I go?” Greta repeated, clearly not understanding the query.
“After we burnt the synagogue,” Eva said quietly. “On Kristallnacht.”
“Oh! After Jurgen and the boys decided they were going to continue without us and then you took off… Is that what you mean?”
Eva nodded.
“Well, I followed them and got up to all sorts of mischief. It was quite a night. You missed out on all the fun. Then I went home to meet John and plan our wedding. You forgot about that?”
Eva shook her head. “I remember John.”
“Oh, come now, you’re still not holding a grudge against me for that?”
“No. I knew you had to marry John,” Eva said. She was unsettled by Greta’s description of Kristallnacht as “fun.” There was so much going on that Eva didn’t know how to process everything at the same time.
“I missed you at the w
edding.” Greta brought Eva’s hand up for a kiss. “I didn’t think you would miss it altogether.”
“I...uh...”
“I asked after you. I spoke to your father and well,” Greta said although her tone indicated anything but sadness. “I was a little hurt you didn’t come to my wedding.”
“You went to my...father?”
“Yes, and he told me you were unwell and he’d sent you to Aiden to recuperate after your mother’s death. What a horrible thing to happen to you, my love.”
Eva sighed. “It’s a long story.”
Greta leaned over and wiped away Eva’s tears. “I can’t believe it’s you. You’ve cut your beautiful long hair,” she said, stroking the shortened locks. “You have to tell me why you did that. I think we need to sit down and have a good heart to heart. Would you have dinner with me tonight?”
Eva tried to gather her scattered thoughts together. “Um...I can’t tonight.”
“I know. You need to get yourself together. How about tomorrow night? I can come over to your place and we can get reacquainted?”
“That would be fine,” Eva stated, still somewhat shocked at Greta’s unexpected resurrection, and unable to think clearly. “I’m married,” she blurted.
“Really? Well, this is going to be interesting,” Greta said. “Excellent, we can catch up on old times.” She rubbed her thumb across Eva’s cheek; the caress was possessive rather than tender and so different to Zoe’s touch that Eva wanted to recoil. “I’ve always said I have perfect timing.”
By the time Greta left the office, Eva felt as if her world had turned upside down and she was not sure how the situation was going to work out. The shock of seeing Greta in her office ebbed away, to be replaced by the realization that she had believed what Reinhardt had told her—that she was responsible for Greta’s death. The unwelcome revelation made Eva sick to her stomach as well as dizzy, with a tension headache sawing through her skull.
She remained in a daze for the rest of the afternoon. Eva didn’t want to talk to anyone except Zoe.
She had accepted Reinhardt’s words that her stepfather had sent Greta to her death because she had been Eva’s lover. Eva didn’t question it—she accepted the blame. All the abuse and humiliation Eva had suffered at his and her uncle’s hands, the abject loneliness she had felt at being viewed as a deviant, and the constant threat of more violence came crashing back into her mind, a maelstrom of unwanted memories. She felt as though she had been punched in the head. Emotionally, she was a wreck. When it was time to leave, she mechanically signed off and said her goodbyes to Debbie.
Where Shadows Linger (Intertwined Souls Series Book 2) Page 32
