The slow march of light, p.7
The Slow March of Light, page 7
Luisa spun to face her. The woman had the door open only a crack, so there wasn’t much Luisa could see. “Mrs. Weber. Is she not your mother? If you’re not Greta, then—”
The woman raised her hand. “I’m Greta. Who are you?”
Luisa inched back. “I’m a nurse at the hospital, and Mrs. Weber—”
“What’s your name?” Greta cut in.
“Luisa. Luisa Voigt.”
“What organization are you with?”
Luisa stared at the woman. “I work for the hospital.”
“Yes, yes, you said that.” Greta’s words were rapid. “Which organization do you work for, Luisa Voigt? If you don’t tell me, then I have my ways of finding out.”
Luisa exhaled very slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. This visit was not what she had expected. Greta was not a humble, grateful daughter . . . Was she afraid of something? What crimes exactly had her father committed? Perhaps—
“Ms. Voigt,” Greta said. “I will ask you one more time. If you do not answer, then there will be consequences.”
Was Luisa in a dream? “I told you. I work at the hospital. I recently graduated from nursing school and was hired only a few weeks ago. I don’t belong to any organization.”
Greta held Luisa’s gaze for a long, charged moment. Then she gave a brief nod. “Thank you for the letter. And it would do you well to forget this ever happened and especially forget Mrs. Weber.”
Before Luisa could recover her wits enough to ask Greta what in heaven she had meant, the door swung shut again.
The way home was long because Luisa was so distracted that she missed getting off at her tram stop. So she had to get off at the next stop and retrace her steps. She walked into an empty house. Her mother’s heeled shoes were still by the door, which told Luisa that her father hadn’t awakened yet for his night shift. He hadn’t been able to change his shift after all. Something about the assistant police chief turning down his request.
They’d make do; they always did, Luisa told herself. She was used to their short stints together. She’d make him dinner, and they’d spend a little time together before he started his shift. He’d read the newspaper, and she’d read a book or review some of her old textbooks.
The incident with Greta had been bizarre, and Luisa didn’t know what to make of it. The phone in the kitchen rang, and she hurried to answer it. Maybe it was Sonja, asking if they were going to the concert tonight. Luisa still hadn’t decided what her final answer would be.
But the person on the other end of the line was Mrs. Klein from the hospital. “Luisa,” she said in an urgent tone. “Do you know anything about Mrs. Weber? You were assigned to rebandage her today. It seems she has left the hospital without being discharged. She’s missing.”
Chapter eight
“So we have before us the prospect of two or three monstrous super-states, each possessed of a weapon by which millions of people can be wiped out in a few seconds, dividing the world between them. It has been rather hastily assumed that this means bigger and bloodier wars, and perhaps an actual end to the machine civilisation. But suppose—and really this is the likeliest development—that the surviving great nations make a tacit agreement never to use the atomic bomb against one another? Suppose they only use it, or the threat of it, against people who are unable to retaliate? In that case we are back where we were before, the only difference being that power is concentrated in still fewer hands and that the outlook for subject peoples and oppressed classes is still more hopeless.”
—George Orwell, “You and the Atom Bomb,” October 19, 1945
Hanau, West Germany
October 1960
The map stretched as wide as the desk it sat on in the barracks room, and Bob traced the overland route with the tip of his finger from his current location in Hanau to the small village in Sanzeno, Italy. He would need to make more inquiries, but right now it looked like he could take trains as far as Torento, Italy. From there, he hoped there was a bus system the rest of the way.
This was all premature, of course, but he wanted the journey to be well planned out.
First, he needed to write a letter to his grandfather’s cousins and find out if he could stay with them. When he was allowed to take a two-week leave in about four months, Bob planned to visit the hometown of his Grandfather Giuseppe Inama. The man had left Italy as a seventeen-year-old and immigrated to America, never to see his parents again. His grandfather had worked job to job across the country until he ended up in the mines of Kemmerer, Wyoming.
Once the Minidoka track had opened for homesteading, he moved his family to Rupert, Idaho. Later, religious differences put a wedge between Bob’s father and grandfather. Bob didn’t have a close relationship with his grandfather. In fact, every time he’d visited as a boy, his grandfather had spoken only Italian, leaving Bob unable to communicate with him.
Yet a trip to his grandfather’s homeland had been on his mind ever since being assigned to Germany. Perhaps if he visited the town of Sanzeno, he’d understand his family heritage more and, in turn, know his grandfather better.
“What, are you daydreaming?” Murdock asked, clapping a hand on Bob’s shoulder.
Bob had been so engrossed in the map that he hadn’t even heard Murdock come in. “I’m dreaming of Italy.”
Murdock laughed. Then he leaned against the desk, his arms folded. “This about your grandfather?”
“Yeah.” Bob’s gaze once again shifted to the map. “You and Jones should come.”
“Nah,” Murdock said. “Even if our time off did match up, I’m going to a warm beach somewhere. Not hiking around a small village taking pictures of old buildings. No offense.”
Bob chuckled. “None taken.”
“Jones is ready,” Murdock said. “We’d better leave now if we don’t want to be late for the concert.”
Bob hadn’t forgotten about the concert, not in the least. Especially since Luisa might show up. He was looking forward to a couple of hours of losing himself in music. It had been too long. His mind wandered to Luisa again. She was different than other women he’d been around. Besides her German heritage, she seemed genuine. Open-minded and sincere toward anyone or anything. She had a quiet, calm presence about her, yet she wasn’t hesitant to speak up or ask questions.
“I’m ready,” Bob said, folding the map quickly, then tucking it into the drawer of the desk. He followed Murdock out of the barracks to the bus stop.
They reached Frankfurt in about thirty minutes, and by that time, both Jones and Murdock had broken down every guy in their unit and ranked them by their marksman skills from the last two days of training. Bob shook his head when they ranked him as a perfect ten. “No one is a perfect ten.”
“I’d usually agree with you,” Jones said. “But what you did yesterday changed my mind.”
“You’re going to be our unit leader any day now,” Murdock said. “Maybe even get promoted in rank.”
Bob was satisfied keeping his head down and doing his job. Some of the fellows wanted accolades and recognition. All that could go to someone else, for all Bob cared. Although he still took satisfaction from a job well done.
A good percentage of the unit had been drafted, and there was a marked difference between the men who’d decided to commit with their whole hearts and minds, and the men who were still pining for life beyond the army. Yes, being drafted had been a tough awakening, but there was a reason for everything. There had to be, and he had to hold firmly to that belief.
Yet sometimes he felt like he was straddling two lives. The one he’d hoped for, and the one he was currently living.
When they arrived at the church, a group of young women stood out front. Sonja was among them, which meant there was a good chance Luisa was there too.
Sure enough, on the other side of Sonja was Luisa.
“There’s your girl,” Murdock said in a teasing voice.
“She’s a friend,” Bob said.
“Sure, we believe that,” Jones added.
As they approached, Bob found he was already smiling before the group of young women had turned around. He barely had a chance to straighten his features before Luisa’s gaze locked with his. Her hair was pulled back into some sort of braid, and she nodded the moment she saw him.
Murdock nudged Bob, but he ignored his friend. The two groups fell into a lively conversation, mostly in English, as they walked into the building. Luisa was smiling along with her friends, but Bob noticed that she seemed ill at ease about something. Her gaze would meet his, then quickly flit away.
With all the shuffling and conversation going on, Bob didn’t know who he’d end up sitting by, and when it was Luisa, he couldn’t deny that he was pleased.
There were still about ten minutes before the first number, but the conversations around them were hushed.
“Is everything all right?” Bob asked Luisa, keeping his voice low.
She looked at him, her blue-gray eyes wide. “What do you mean? Did you hear something?”
Was that panic in her voice? “I’ve heard nothing. You seem like you have something serious on your mind.”
Her gaze fell, and she looked down at her folded hands. “I don’t think I can talk about it.”
Bob nodded. He couldn’t force her to say anything if she didn’t want to, but that didn’t stop the questions running through his mind. Was it her father? Bob knew the man was a police officer. Or something about her new job at the hospital? Was she well? He peered at her more closely without making it obvious that he was scrutinizing her. The color of her face seemed normal and from what he could guess, she appeared healthy.
“Whatever it is,” he said at last, “I hope it will all work out.”
“Thank you.” She stayed quiet after that, and moments later, the concert began with the small orchestra. The music was classical, and Bob was transfixed as the notes soared through the room, pushing his emotions around with the ebbs of the melody.
When the intermission was announced, Murdock and Jones rose from their seats, as did the other young women in the group.
“Coming?” Murdock asked.
Luisa hadn’t moved, so Bob shook his head.
Murdock shrugged and headed out of the social hall to where the refreshment table was set up.
“Do you want anything?” he asked Luisa.
“No, thank you.” She released a slow breath, touching the floral pendant on her necklace. “Sorry about earlier. You’re right. I am distracted. Today, one of my patients who had recent surgery left the hospital without permission. She disappeared, and it seems that I was the last one to have seen her.”
Bob frowned. “Maybe she was discharged, and there was a clerical error?”
Luisa met his gaze; her eyes were troubled. “No. There was no clerical error. She asked me to deliver a letter for her . . . and I think it was a mistake. I think I might have broken some law, but I don’t know.”
Bob wasn’t connecting the different points of her story.
Then she told him the entire scenario of the woman from East Berlin—Mrs. Weber—who had given her an envelope to take to her daughter. But now Luisa wasn’t sure if the woman in the house was the patient’s daughter at all. “And tomorrow, I’m going to meet with the hospital administrator to talk about what happened. But what if . . . what if I tell them about the letter and I lose my job? My father’s a police officer, and if his daughter is caught breaking the law, then that will affect him too.”
Bob leaned forward, his mind spinning with unknowns. “If she’s from East Berlin, then maybe Mrs. Weber truly needed help, and what you did made it possible for her to get that help.”
Luisa closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she said, “I can only hope so. But what do I tell the administration? I don’t want to get anyone in trouble or arrested. Whatever Mrs. Weber told me or didn’t tell me, the desperation in her eyes was real. If she really needed help, then should I feel guilty for helping her?”
The intermission was over, and people started coming back into the room again. Bob was out of time to have any sort of private conversation with her. He’d heard of the many East Germans who were relocating into West Germany. The GDR was making it harder to travel freely between the two portions of the country.
“Don’t feel guilty,” Bob said. “You didn’t understand everything that was going on, and you were only doing what you thought was best. As far as your meeting with the admin tomorrow, follow what your heart tells you to do.”
Luisa gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “All right. I guess I have a lot to think about.”
Before Bob could say anything else, Murdock and Jones had reached their aisle with the other young women. They were full of chatter, and moments later, the second half of the concert began.
Again, the music soared around him, but he didn’t get caught up in it this time. His thoughts were occupied with Luisa’s situation. But by the time the concert ended, he didn’t have any better answers for her. The conversation buzzed around them, and the building slowly cleared out until it was just their group left. Luisa’s friend Sonja kept practicing her English for everyone and had them laughing at her pronunciation.
“At least I’m learning English faster than you’re learning German,” Sonja told Murdock.
“Not all of us can be Bob,” Murdock said with a laugh.
Bob smiled. He was far from fluent, but he was getting better at the language every day.
“Before we know it, Bob will be speaking Italian too,” Jones said.
“Right,” Murdock agreed. “You should invite Luisa on your trip to Italy.”
“Italy?” Sonja said. “You’re leaving?”
Bob felt Luisa’s curious gaze on him. “When I have leave in a few months, I’m going to visit my grandfather’s hometown. He left there when he was seventeen and never returned.”
“So your Grandfather Inama is Italian?” Luisa asked.
“Yes, and he still has extended family there.”
The others in the group were no longer paying them attention, and their conversation was more private.
“He’s still alive?” Luisa asked, her blue-gray eyes curious.
“Yes, and he always spoke Italian around me when I was a kid,” Bob said. “Haven’t picked up the language yet.”
Luisa smiled, and something in Bob’s chest eased.
“Have you decided what you’ll say tomorrow at the hospital?” he asked.
“I think I’ll take your advice and follow my heart.” She tilted her head. “Tell me about your grandfather.”
Bob considered her question. “He’s always been a hard worker, whether in the mines in Wyoming or at his farm in Idaho. When my father began going to other churches, my grandfather, a devout Catholic, wasn’t happy. So there hasn’t been much of a relationship between my grandfather and my sister and me. No Christmas gifts or anything like that.”
Luisa touched his arm. “I’m sorry. Perhaps visiting his hometown will bring you closer? You could show him pictures. Maybe he’ll appreciate that?”
It seemed Luisa was of the same mind as Bob. “That’s what I’m hoping. I’d love to bring him pictures of my trip.”
Luisa smiled, and Bob smiled back.
“You’ll be at church this Sunday?” he asked.
“I can be. I think Sonja is going.”
“We’re heading to the bus stop,” Murdock called from the doorway.
Bob turned to see that he and Luisa were the only ones in the social hall. He hadn’t even noticed that the orchestra had packed up and the others had slipped out.
“Coming.” Bob turned back to Luisa. “Let me know how your meeting goes.”
“All right.”
“You coming, Luisa?” Sonja was the next to poke her head into the room.
Luisa laughed. “Goodbye, Bob.”
He watched her go, then left with Murdock and Jones, smirks on their faces. His mind wasn’t on their ribbing though. Instead he was thinking of what Luisa had said about bringing back pictures to his grandfather. And how she was going to be questioned tomorrow at the hospital. He hoped it would go well and that Luisa would know the right thing to say.
Chapter nine
“It should be clear to everyone that there is no means and no force which can halt this struggle of the peoples for their liberation, for it’s a great historic process, one of ever-growing and invincible power. It may be possible to prolong the dominion of one state over another for a year or two, but just as in the past the bourgeois order of things came to replace feudalism and as, now, socialism is replacing capitalism, so colonial slavery is giving place to freedom. Such are the rules of human development, and only adventurers can believe that mountains of corpses and millions of victims will delay the advent of a radiant future.”
—Soviet Leader Nikita Khrushchev,
Address to the United Nations, September 23, 1960
Frankfurt, West Germany
October 1960
Luisa saw the light on inside her house and knew that her father was waiting for her. Her pulse leapt, but then she reminded herself that she’d done nothing wrong. She’d gone to a concert at Sonja’s church. She’d talked to others in attendance. That was all.
Yet the guilt still pressed against her stomach because she knew her father had warned her against American soldiers. She’d heard of girls falling in love and marrying American or British soldiers, then leaving their country and families behind when the soldier was reassigned.
She unlocked the door and slipped inside. Walking past her mother’s slippers next to the door, Luisa found her father sitting at the kitchen table, his shoulders hunched as he read through a collection of papers. Luisa’s mind went to Mrs. Weber again. She wondered if the hospital had contacted her father as well. Who was Mrs. Weber really? Had anything she’d said been true? And was she in pain from her surgery in a place where she couldn’t find help?
