Daisies Are Forever

by Liz Tolsma

  But should they stay here, with bombs whistling to earth around them?

  Mitch decided for her, scooping Annelies in his arms. “Can you get Renate?”

  She nodded, lifted the girl from the mattress, and carried her downstairs.

  Sudden cold, like a Russian winter wind, cloaked her. She rubbed her arms and sat on the edge of the mattress they had brought downstairs so the girls could sleep during the air raids. All around, the Allied planes emptied themselves of their cargo. The chattering of machine guns indicated a dogfight in the skies above them.

  Annelies lay back on the pillows. “My head hurts, Tante Gisela.”

  With a touch she tried to make as tender as Mutti’s, Gisela smoothed back her hair. “I know, sweetheart, I know. You will be better very soon.”

  She gazed at Gisela with pleading eyes. “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “I hear the planes.”

  “Don’t worry about them. They won’t come here today.”

  But the droning grew louder. The sirens screeched. The building shook.

  Annelies grabbed Gisela’s arm and clung to it. Renate opened her eyes, glazed with fever. “Airplanes.”

  “Ja, I hear them too.”

  A bomb whistled as it streaked to the earth.

  She threw herself over the girls.

  An ear-splitting explosion deafened Gisela.

  The floor beneath her shook. Or was that her shaking?

  Ceiling plaster rained down on them.

  When would it be over?

  Booms continued to sound around them, at last becoming more distant. Little by little, the rumble of the bombers hushed.

  A siren screeched again—all clear. The bombers had turned back toward Britain. For now.

  Gisela sat, still trembling all over. That bomb could have struck them.

  Mitch adjusted the blanket around Annelies and lifted her into his arms. “That hit nearby. But at least we heard the siren.”

  “We should inspect the damage.” Kurt carried Renate in his single arm. “It might have been just down the block.”

  “Ja. That’s good.” Mitch lugged Annelies upstairs and tucked her into bed beside her sister.

  Gisela went to the kitchen to rinse out the compresses. One of the cupboard doors had flung open and broken dishes littered the floor. Too much like the large earthquake that had hit California not long before they returned to Germany.

  Before she could reach for the broom, Mutti and Audra returned from the shelter. Mutti’s mouth fell open when she saw the mess. “Not enough plates to eat off of as it was and now this. Another hardship of the war.”

  If you weren’t matter-of-fact about things these days, you might as well sit down and let a bomb end your misery.

  Gisela swept the broom over the floor and Mutti held the dustpan. Every so often, she caught herself peering over Mutti’s shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of Mitch in the doorway.

  Audra took the pan to bring the shards of glass to the dustbin. “Who are you looking for?”

  Gisela had been attempting to ignore Audra, the sting of her kiss with Mitch too fresh yet. “Where are the men?”

  “They went out already to check on the damage.”

  So close. Like two years ago, when their neighborhood had sustained much damage and Mutti and Vater sent her east.

  How long would it be until their apartment building was hit?

  Audra almost danced out of the room with the dustpan. “I will bring Josep a drink of water when I get back. He is working so hard.”

  Gisela grabbed the washcloths hanging on the side of the sink where she had left them. She had no claim on Mitch, not now that their secret was out. If he wanted to pursue Audra, fine. He would be leaving soon.

  Why, then, did the very thought of Audra with Mitch make her lonely?

  Gisela dragged herself to the main bedroom, though she longed to split herself in two and go to Mitch. She gave each girl a drink and laid the compresses on their warm brows.

  Renate touched Gisela’s face. “You take good care of me, Tante.”

  “I do?”

  Annelies stretched. “You do. Almost as good as Mutti.”

  “Almost?”

  Renate bobbed her head. “Ja. Mutti has a ‘sick book.’ When you are yucky, you draw pictures.”

  “Is that so?” She had no paper or pencils. “You sleep for a while and you will see what Tante Gisela has for you when you are better.”

  Two somber little girls nodded, then lay against the pillows. Just as well, since she had nothing for them.

  She sighed and stroked Annelies’s hair before moving to the bedside chair. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room. In the quietness, Gisela heard the noise next door as bricks were moved and cast aside. On the street, people shouted. The little clock on the nightstand ticked off the minutes. Each jerk of the minute hand brought liberation ever closer. How many more minutes would pass before they would be free? Until she could travel home?

  The hard, angular kitchen chair provided little comfort. Still she managed to close her eyes and nod off.

  The smell of burning gas, burning wood, burning flesh consumed her. Screams rattled in her head. She wanted to run, but her legs refused to move. She couldn’t get where she needed to be. Something, someone held her fast. All her kicking and biting did no good.

  And the screams faded into silence.

  She woke with a start, her heart kicking like a bucking bronco in her chest.

  “Gisela, wake up, wake up.”

  She slid upright and pulled her wrist from Mitch’s grasp. His dark eyebrows were knotted.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You had a nightmare. Or a daymare. It must have been a ghastly dream.”

  Wiping her eyes, she was surprised to find them damp. “It was.”

  “Care to tell me about it?”

  She shook her head. “I’d like to forget it. I’m fine now, thank you.” It wasn’t until then that she noticed the streak of soot dashed across his cheek and the dirt down the front of his plain green shirt. “What happened to you?”

  Mitch stared down at the mark on his shirt. He owned nothing but the clothes on his back, and Frau Cramer had been gracious enough to give him two shirts belonging to her husband. He was a bit shorter and stockier than Mitch, but he was grateful for the gift.

  He hesitated, trying in vain to block out the scene he had witnessed a few doors down. “I don’t feel much like discussing it.”

  “You went to the neighbor, that’s what Audra said. Did they sustain a direct hit?”

  He nodded, his head pounding as he attempted to stop the images of the carnage.

  “Are they all . . . ?”

  “I haven’t any idea. We located a few, um, bodies. Those who perhaps didn’t go to the cellar. We’re digging now to see if there are survivors in the shelter.” If he could shout to the bombers, the ones with the white stars or the ones with the blue circles with red bull’s-eyes, he would tell them to stop. Stop bombing innocent women and children.

  He clenched his fist and struggled to keep his arm at his side.

  Gisela rubbed her bloodshot eyes. The light, the fire, the feistiness had been extinguished. “How much longer?”

  “Not much.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can feel it in my bones. The German government won’t be able to hold out much longer. Too much destruction, too much death. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are working on terms of surrender behind the scenes.”

  “The radio keeps talking about German victories.”

  He stood and wiped the soot from his brown pants. “Propaganda. Don’t believe what Hitler tells you.”

  “I never believed him. Not much, anyway.”

  “That’s good. How are the girls?”

  “The same.”

  He turned to leave the room.

  “Does God still hear us? Or has the evil of our country—our world—caused H
im to turn His back on us?”

  He went to her and knelt in front of her, his hands on her knees. “You’re exhausted. Mum always said things look darkest just before the dawn. In a matter of weeks, this will be over. Life will return to normal.”

  “Normal is unimaginable. But has God turned His back on us?” She pursed her lips, fine lines that had no business gracing such a young face marring it.

  He didn’t have a good answer for her. “I have to believe He hasn’t. Life wouldn’t be worth living if He had.”

  All the way down the stairs and out the door, Mitch thought about Gisela’s words. He knew he should believe God hadn’t abandoned them. He wanted so much to believe that God continued to listen to them. Yet he understood her doubts.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Mitch returned to the demolished apartment house. Up and down the street, bricks and chunks of concrete littered the sidewalk and the roadway. Fires smoldered, women wept.

  He wanted to forget every sight, every sound, every smell of this war.

  Kurt lifted his head and acknowledged Mitch’s return. “How is Gisela?”

  Now Kurt was interested in her? “Fine. The kinder are resting well.” He ignored Kurt’s stare and the questions written across his face and got back to work.

  They labored with as much speed as possible, careful about which bricks to remove first, not wanting the building to collapse on top of whoever might be down there. They dug until Mitch’s fingernails were broken and his knuckles bled. Every little while, they paused, listened, prayed to hear sounds of life.

  None came.

  Darkness fell. Twice they had to stop because of air raids. No other bombers targeted this particular area today. If nothing else, Mitch hadn’t felt this useful all war long. At least he wasn’t milking cows or mucking stalls. He was trying to save lives.

  If there were lives to be saved.

  Because of the blackout ordinance, they were unable to use floodlights or even torches to illuminate the ruins. They toiled in the thin light of the moon, alternating between digging and listening. His arms ached and his shoulders burned.

  Kurt stopped and stretched his back. “Those British. They bomb innocent women and kinder. Hospitals too. What kind of monsters are they?” He pointed at his own empty sleeve. “We hit military targets and leave the civilians alone.”

  Kurt was trying to bait him. “The Germans killed thousands of Londoners at the beginning of the war. You expected that they would treat the Germans differently?”

  His poor German was, in all likelihood, a good thing. If he could speak the language better, he would tell Kurt just what he thought of the Nazis and their war tactics.

  A beam of moonlight illuminated the German soldier who scrubbed his face. “Gisela is very beautiful.”

  Now Mitch knew for sure Kurt was trying to get the best of him. “Ja.” He bent down and lifted away another couple of bricks.

  But it was true. Gisela was beautiful. The kind of woman a man wanted to shelter, watch over, provide for. Mitch wanted to take her to England, show her his favorite spot under the willow tree, take her flying.

  But she wanted to go to California. He had been away from Britain for such a long time, he hadn’t a thought of going anywhere but home.

  “How did you meet her?”

  “At a farm.”

  “You don’t talk much.”

  “Nein. We have to work.” Mitch put his head down and concentrated on the task in front of him. They would soon have to stop. Then he shifted a hunk of plaster.

  He would never forget the gruesome sight that met his eyes.

  Sleep eluded Audra in the few hours they were able to be upstairs when the all-clear had sounded. She should be exhausted. A few hours of rest here and there weren’t enough. But she lay wide-awake.

  She hadn’t meant to make Gisela angry with her. This was going to be hard—being friends with Gisela while trying to make sure she didn’t go to England. If she did, Audra might never make it to America.

  She crept from the bed she now slept in with Frau Cramer, careful not to disturb the woman. Gisela’s mother turned over and resumed her snoring.

  The city lay in silent slumber. Blackout shades covered the windows, refusing any light entry to the apartment, but she imagined the fires burning red against the dark sky. For now, peace had descended.

  Even with the destruction, she loved the vibrant heartbeat of the city. And imagined Hollywood. No more fighting every day to keep body and soul together. There were opportunities and she would take them.

  She grabbed her sweater from the edge of the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and tiptoed across the creaking bare wood floors to the larger bedroom where the girls slept. Their breathing was congested but even. Gisela slumbered in the bed beside them. She hadn’t left them since they took ill. That would have given Audra the chance to spend time with Josep, if he wasn’t so busy digging bodies out of the collapsed shelter next door.

  Audra leaned over Renate and felt the girl’s forehead with the back of her hand. Still warm, but perhaps not quite as warm as during the day. Annelies slept with her mouth wide open.

  The color of the children’s hair, as fair as wheat in the fields, reminded Audra of her younger sisters. All of the girls in her family were blessed with that beautiful feature. You could pick a Bauer from a crowd because of it.

  She padded to the living room. At home when she couldn’t sleep, she would sneak to the barn and curl up in the hayloft beside the kittens. Their warm, purring bodies had a way of lulling her to slumber.

  After all of the barns she had slept in the last few weeks, she never wanted to sleep in the loft again. From now on, it would be nothing but featherbeds and silk sheets for her.

  She sat on the old, sagging couch in the dark. Kurt slept on the other davenport, the gray one, and Josep on the floor. With the lumps digging into her backside, she surmised the floor provided more comfort.

  Josep stirred and thrashed about, moaning, then screaming, his breathing rapid.

  She knelt beside him, touching his shoulder lightly. He calmed without waking, and his breathing returned to normal.

  At last her eyelids grew heavy and she leaned her head against the back of the couch. Her body twitched as sleep claimed her.

  Then the floorboards creaked and someone touched her arm.

  Audra’s eyes flew open and she clutched her chest. She scooted deeper into the dark-red davenport. Kurt hadn’t meant to frighten her.

  She stared at him. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought there might be something wrong.”

  She ran her fingers through her long, brilliant white-blond hair. “Nein, nothing. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Those Americans and Brits don’t want us to get any rest. They think they can break us that way.”

  “They are wearing us down.”

  “And what about Josep? Are you wearing him down too?”

  “As much as possible. Today—yesterday—was more about planting seeds of doubt in Gisela’s head.” Audra sat straighter. “Have you seen the way he looks at her?”

  Kurt lowered himself beside her, his hand on his knee. “You think he likes her?”

  “Ja. Maybe he more than likes her. Like she is as vital to him as air.”

  “Then we have to work harder. More doubts. More questions in their minds.” Gisela may be as vital to Josep as air, but she was as vital to him as his music. Without that, he had nothing.

  She turned toward Kurt. “I admire you, you know. You don’t quit.”

  How many times he had wanted to.

  “You’re the type of person who can do anything he sets his mind to.”

  “I couldn’t be a typist. Or a trapeze artist.” Or a concert pianist.

  She giggled, pure and clean as a mountain stream. “Nein, I suppose I couldn’t see you in a room full of women on their typewriters or swinging from the rafters. But you could be a banker. A preacher. A professor.�
��

  None of those professions held even a bit of appeal. Nothing but his fingers flying over the ivories.

  She touched his empty sleeve. His missing digits tingled. “Oh, I know, you could be an escape artist. Can’t you hear the ringmaster shouting now? ‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I direct your attention to the center ring. The world-famous Kurt Abt is going to attempt to escape from this locked case, underwater, with one hand tied behind his back.’ ”

  Her words stung. He knew she meant them in jest, but they hurt. Was that all he was good for? To be a circus act?

  Audra backed away. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I mean . . .”

  She didn’t understand like Gisela did. She would never insult him, would never belittle him. He guessed she never even thought about his missing arm. She didn’t stare like everyone else did.

  And most important, she brought the music.

  He shook his head. Regardless of the careless words Audra threw around, he needed her. “Just remember the plan and stick to it. If we do that, both of us will get what we want.”

  Josep stirred. “Hey, quiet here. A man needs his sleep.”

  Kurt had forgotten about Josep on the floor. How much of their conversation had he heard?

  What did he know of their scheme?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  April 16, 1945

  Gisela couldn’t stand being cooped up in the apartment one minute longer. The girls’ colds had lingered for several weeks. She and Mitch had each caught it a week or so after they got sick. The cough stuck around. Finally, they were all feeling better. With the arrival of warmer weather, they would do well to enjoy it. She grabbed a sweater for each child. “Today we are going out.”

  Annelies’s and Renate’s curls bounced up and down as they skipped about the tiny, crowded apartment. “Where are you taking us? To the zoo? I want to see the giraffes.”

  Gisela shook her head. The zoo had been destroyed long ago. “Nein. The giraffes will have to wait until after the war. We’ll take a short walk today.”