The Baby Experiment

by Anne Dublin

  “Mama! I’m too old for that!”

  “You’ll never be too old for me to pinch your cheek!”

  “Yes I am, Mama!” Peter walked back to the kitchen, from where Johanna soon heard a loud clattering of pots and pans.

  “Now then,” said Frau Hesse. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

  “No,” said Johanna. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Cecile.

  Frau Hesse stood up quickly. “I must go. Lots to do. Never a minute’s rest.” She hurried away, her flesh jiggling with every step she took.

  — Chapter Twelve —

  The Reunion

  That night, Johanna walked with Rebecca until the sick baby fell asleep at last. Johanna laid her gently on the bed and covered her with the quilt.

  “Sleep well, little one,” she said, kissing her on the forehead. By the light of the candle, Johanna wrote their messages. Cecile carried them down to Peter.

  Johanna rinsed out the dirty diaper and hung it to dry along with the others. She smiled to see them hanging like a line of tired soldiers in a row. Every part of her body felt heavy as she put on her nightgown and climbed into bed.

  “Cecile?”

  “What?”

  “Please don’t kick me tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cecile said. “I never kick in my sleep.”

  “Right,” said Johanna, sighing.

  Although the room was cold, Johanna quickly warmed up under the thick down quilt and fell asleep. Rebecca slept through the night. Everyone was feeling more cheerful the next morning.

  On the way downstairs, they met Frau Hesse coming upstairs with a pile of linens. “Peter went out early this morning,” she said. “Couldn’t wait to saddle the horse! Hurry down, breakfast is ready.”

  Daniel was finishing his coffee as they came into the room. “It’s about time you woke up,” he said.

  Cecile buttered the rye bread while Johanna spooned some oatmeal into a bowl, poured milk on top, and blew on it until it had cooled. She held Rebecca on her lap and fed the squirming baby while she tried to eat, too.

  Daniel cleared his throat. “Well … I’ll be leaving today.” He blew into his handkerchief. The sound was like honking geese. “I gotta get home.”

  Johanna nodded.

  “So, when you’re finished eating, pack your bags and I’ll take you to the station.”

  “I won’t be going,” said Johanna. “I have to wait for the doctor.”

  “And I have to wait for my brother,” said Cecile.

  Daniel shrugged. “Do what you want. I’m going to see to the horse.”

  Johanna began to play a game with Rebecca. She hid the spoon under the table and brought it out again. Each time, Rebecca laughed and tried to grab it from Johanna.

  “Cecile, have you noticed that Rebecca has changed?” Johanna said.

  “How?”

  “It’s as if she’s suddenly older.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like … she’s waking up. You know … like when you’re sleeping and the sun shines on your face and wakes you up.”

  “You’re right,” said Cecile. “She’s looking around all the time and noticing more and —”

  “Paying attention to everything. Not like at the orphanage, where all the babies stopped crying after a while. As if they knew we couldn’t talk to them or pay attention to them. And then they gave up trying.” Johanna shuddered. “I’m glad we left that horrible place.”

  “So am I. And you know —”

  “Quiet,” Johanna whispered. A tall, slender man had entered the inn. He glanced around the room, as if searching for someone.

  “What is it?”

  “Someone just walked in,” she said. “He looks important. Maybe he’s from the duke.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe they’re still trying to find us.”

  “What should we do?” Cecile asked in a shaking voice. Her back was to the stranger.

  “Nothing,” Johanna said. “Don’t turn around. Maybe he won’t see us.” She tried to look at the stranger without catching his attention. He wore a dark brown, fitted buttoned coat, a white cravat tucked into his silk waistcoat, knee-length breeches, white knee stockings, and high-heeled leather shoes with shiny buckles.

  Rebecca began to cry and the man looked in their direction. He gave a start when he saw Cecile. He strode over to their table.

  “Cecile!” cried the man. A smile lit up his face. “Is it really you?”

  “Antoine!” Cecile stood up and almost knocked over the bench. “God be praised!”

  Antoine took Cecile in his arms and hugged her tightly. Then, holding her at arm’s length, he said, “How glad I am to see you! I was worried you didn’t get my message.” Antoine swallowed hard. “Or that you might have caught the plague.”

  “I’m fine,” said Cecile. She was laughing and crying at the same time. She held onto Antoine’s arm as if she would never let go. “But, tell me, what happened to Mama and Papa.”

  Antoine pressed his lips together. “They passed away quickly,” he said. “At least that was a blessing.”

  Cecile shuddered and put her head on Antoine’s chest.

  “We must go on with our lives,” Antoine said. “It is what they would have wished.”

  Cecile nodded, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.

  “Let’s sit down,” Antoine said. “How long have you been here? Why did you leave the orphanage? Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

  “One question at a time!” Cecile said. “First, you must meet … my friend … Johanna Richter — I mean, Eisen. She helped me come here.”

  “Eisen?” Antoine raised his eyebrows. “Are you a Jew?”

  “Yes,” Johanna said, straightening her back. She wouldn’t lie again about who she was. “I am.”

  Antoine narrowed his eyes and then grabbed Cecile by the arm. “Come, Cecile. We must go.”

  Johanna could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

  Cecile shook Antoine’s hand off and said, “Stop! Johanna saved my life!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We were attacked by robbers on the road. Johanna fought them off. They took my money, but might have done much worse if it hadn’t been for Johanna.”

  “I see,” said Antoine, biting his lower lip. Johanna heard the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen, the low voices of the other customers, and the crackling of the fire.

  Antoine took off his hat and bowed his head. “I owe you an apology,” he said in a tight voice. “I am very grateful to you for helping my sister.”

  “I’m glad I could help,” said Johanna, blushing.

  Frau Hesse approached their table. She looked approvingly at Antoine. “Will you be wanting breakfast, sir?”

  “No, thank you. Just coffee.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Antoine sat down next to Cecile and crossed his arms on his chest. “Will you answer my questions now?”

  “Of course,” said Cecile. She grinned. “What were they again?”

  “Why did you leave the orphanage? I thought you liked the job.”

  “I did at first.”

  “We both did,” Johanna said. “But things changed.”

  “How?” They stopped talking while Frau Hesse poured coffee for Antoine. She soon bustled away.

  “Did Cecile tell you we weren’t allowed to talk to the babies or hold them?”

  Antoine nodded. “I thought she must be exaggerating.”

  “I was not!” Cecile said. “We would have lost our jobs.”

  Antoine sipped his coffee and looking intently at the girls.

  “The babies eventually stopped crying,” Johanna said. “All they did was lie in their beds. But the worst thing was —”

  “They started to die,” Cecile said.

  “They were sick?” Antoine asked.

  Cecile shook her head. “It was more like —”

/>   “A sickness of spirit,” said Johanna. “As if they no longer wished to live.”

  “Is that when you decided to leave?” asked Antoine.

  “Yes,” Johanna said. “And to take this baby with me.”

  “And I decided to go with her,” said Cecile, thrusting out her chin.

  Antoine put his arm around Cecile. “I see that my little sister has grown up.”

  “You’re not angry I ran away?”

  “Of course not. It was an intolerable situation. But now,” he said, gulping the last of his coffee, “we must go. The fair is today and I must attend to business.” He smiled. “Not to mention bringing my sister home.” He took a coin out of his bag and placed it on the table.

  “Antoine?” said Cecile.

  “Yes?”

  “Johanna paid for our room last night. Could you…?”

  “No,” said Johanna, shaking her head.

  “We must repay you,” said Cecile. “You were kind to me and helped me.”

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you with my secret,” Johanna said.

  “I’m sorry I was unfair,” said Cecile.

  “Friends?”

  “Friends.”

  “We really must go,” said Antoine, standing up. He reached into his bag again and held out a few coins. “Please take this money to help you on your journey.” He paused. “It is the least I can do.”

  Johanna nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Will you be all right?” asked Cecile.

  “Yes,” said Johanna. I hope so. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Cecile hesitated, and then hugged Johanna. Because Rebecca was crushed between them, she began to cry. Both girls laughed. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Cecile went upstairs to get her things. When she came back, she was wearing her cloak and carrying her bag. Johanna accompanied them to the door and watched as they climbed into the waiting carriage.

  Johanna called, “God be with you!”

  Cecile hesitated for a moment. Then she called back, “God keep you safe!”

  Taking Rebecca’s hand, Johanna said, “Say ‘bye bye.’” She waved the baby’s hand as the carriage drove away.

  The road was clogged with people on the way to the fair. They were walking, pulling carts, driving wagons and carriages, but Johanna didn’t see them. They were talking and shouting, but Johanna didn’t hear them. A gentle breeze rustled through the new leaves on the trees, but Johanna didn’t feel it. She sat down on a bench by the door, took out her handkerchief, and wept.

  — Chapter Thirteen —

  The Kindness of Strangers

  “Fraulein Eisen?”

  “Mr. Mendoza!” Johanna stood up quickly. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She was sure she must look like a ragged street urchin.

  “Are you all right?” Mendoza asked.

  Johanna nodded. “Cecile left a moment ago.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Not far. To stay with her brother.”

  “But that is good, is it not?” He pointed to the bench. “May I?”

  Johanna nodded. “It is. For her,” she said, sniffling. “But I shall miss her.”

  “Of course you will.” He paused. “But I’m glad you are still here.”

  “You are?”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you — a young woman, travelling alone with a child.” He turned towards her and leaned closer. “Such a journey is not safe. I want to help you.”

  “You do?”

  Rebecca was making gurgling noises and tried to grab Mendoza’s cloak. He smiled at the baby and patted her head.

  “I know a woman, a friend of my mother’s, who has come to trade at the fair. She’s almost finished her business and will return to Amsterdam by ship. I talked to her about you. She has agreed to have you accompany her.”

  “I’m very grateful, but I don’t understand why you’re helping me.”

  Rebecca was wiggling about and Johanna had trouble holding her and concentrating on the conversation at the same time.

  “I will introduce you to the woman tomorrow morning. About eight, shall we say? Then you can decide.” He smiled. “With a little luck, you should reach the city before the Sabbath.”

  Johanna’s heart began to beat quickly. “The Sabbath? You … know about the Sabbath?” She hesitated. “Are you … are you Jewish, too?”

  Mendoza nodded. “Of course I am. Couldn’t you tell?” He placed a gentle hand on Johanna’s arm. “I want to help a fellow Jew — especially a woman who is travelling alone.” He gazed into her eyes. “I would feel more at ease if I knew you were safe.”

  Johanna released her breath. She hadn’t realized she had been holding it. “Thank you. I accept your kind offer.”

  “It’s settled then!” Mendoza said, standing up. “But now I must go.”

  “Wait! I’ve never been on a ship before!”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I’ve done the crossing many times. With all the fighting on land that is going on between the Netherlands and France, it is the safest and fastest way to get to Amsterdam.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mendoza, with all my heart.”

  “You are most welcome.” Mendoza tipped his hat. “Until tomorrow then.” He walked briskly away from the inn.

  “You see, Rebecca,” Johanna said, hugging the baby. “God has brought us help.” The baby gurgled and began to play with the buttons on Johanna’s dress.

  Daniel came by a few moments later. “Well, the horse is doing fine. Are you still waiting for the doctor?”

  Johanna nodded. “I am. But I have good news. Mr. Mendoza has arranged a way for me to get to Amsterdam.” She recounted their conversation.

  “You’re going with a total stranger?”

  Johanna smiled. “You were a stranger once.” Rebecca was squirming about on Johanna’s lap.

  Daniel scratched his head. “That’s true.”

  “Anyway, I’ll be travelling with a friend of his mother’s.”

  “Hope you know what you’re doing.” Daniel took a large, grey handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “See what you done? I’m using a handkerchief now, like you told me, instead of my sleeve.”

  “I’m glad to see it, Daniel.”

  “Right.” He crumpled up the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket. “I have to get back to Hamburg.”

  “Daniel?”

  “What?”

  “Thank you for everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” He gazed down at Rebecca. “Have a safe journey. You and the baby.” Rebecca reached out for Daniel’s arm.

  “You too,” said Johanna. “And Daniel?”

  “Yes?”

  Johanna reached into her moneybag and took out a few coins. “Here’s the money I owe you.”

  Daniel pushed the money back into her hand. “No need.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you were robbed and beaten. I feel kind of responsible.” Daniel looked down. “I won’t charge you the rest.”

  “You won’t?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Take care of the baby. That’s the main thing.”

  Johanna felt a lump in her throat and could only nod her head. Daniel tipped his cap, took one glance back, and hurriedly walked away.

  Doctor Weiss had finished examining Rebecca.

  “Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said. He was a fat, balding man whose waistcoat buttons strained like a prisoner at his handcuffs.

  “Are you sure?”

  Doctor Weiss peered over his spectacles at Johanna. “Young lady, there is nothing to worry about. This baby has a rash. That is all. Common in babies. Probably an imbalance of the humours.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Well, let me see,” he said, stroking his chin. “I could bleed her, or purge her …”

  “No!”

  The doctor looked up sharply. “Very well, then. Perhaps that won’t be necessary. Keep her warm and give her plenty to drink. S
he should be fine in a few days.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  “And you? That is quite a bruise on your face.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” said Johanna, touching her sore cheek.

  “A cold compress will help.” He paused. “That will be three schillings.”

  Johanna handed over the money. She spent the rest of the day working on her lace, taking care of Rebecca, and worrying about money.

  — Chapter Fourteen —

  On the Road to Emden

  “Good morning, Fraulein Eisen!” Mendoza said, as he entered the inn. “Mrs. de Pina is waiting outside in the carriage. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I am,” said Johanna, standing up and smoothing her dress.

  As she struggled with her bag and the baby, Mendoza said, “Sam will help you.”

  “Thank you,” said Johanna, handing her bag to Sam.

  “We must go. Mrs. de Pina doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Johanna paid for her room and said goodbye to Frau Hesse. She hurried out of the inn.

  Sam tripped three times and dropped the bag once on their way out. I’m glad I gave Sam my bag, and not the baby. Mendoza helped Johanna into the carriage and Sam placed her bag at her feet.

  The woman seated across from Johanna wore a dark woollen dress covered with a fur-trimmed travelling cloak. Her hair was streaked with grey, her eyes were dark brown, and her nose was long and straight. Her mouth was turned down in a disapproving frown.

  “Mrs. de Pina,” Mendoza began, “allow me to introduce you to —”

  Mrs. de Pina raised her eyebrows. “So, this is the young woman you told me about.”

  “Fraulein Johanna Eisen.”

  “I understand you wish to travel with me to Amsterdam?” Mrs. de Pina said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Johanna felt like a fish being inspected at the market. Rebecca kept wriggling about and tried to reach the swaying feather in Mrs. de Pina’s hat.

  “Why do you wish to go to Amsterdam, Fraulein Eisen?”

  “To start a new life for myself and my ... baby sister.”

  “A new life?”

  “My parents died of the plague. And I heard there were jobs in Amsterdam for lace workers.” I hate lying, Johanna thought.