Stones on a Grave Page 9

  “At least he didn’t slam the door in our faces,” said Sara. But she still had no information. At the fifth or sixth house—she was beginning to lose count—the man who answered the door came out with his cane raised above his head and waved it threateningly in Sara’s direction. She and Peter backed away.

  “Let’s just say that he wants us off his property,” Peter replied when Sara pushed him for the translation.

  The sky had become heavy with the possibility of showers. And the clouds that had hovered in the distance were now directly above Sara’s head. By the time she had tried three more houses, with the same results, fat drops of rain were beginning to fall.

  “I think we need to get out of here,” Peter said. “This is only going to get worse.”

  The rain, which began as erratic drops, quickly became a strong and steady downpour. Sara and Peter bolted toward the street to where they had left their bicycles. The wind gathered strength, whipping the spray into Sara’s face as she reluctantly climbed onto her bicycle and followed Peter back to Wolfratshausen. She was completely disheartened and confused by the ugly reaction of the townspeople of Föhrenwald, and her spirits had turned as murky as the sky, which had gone from dazzling blue to gray and bleak.

  This was not the way Sara had imagined the day unfolding. She had thought she was going to uncover some piece of her past, something that connected her to this place and these people. She had thought she was going to find a piece of herself here. Instead, she had gone from feeling like an outsider as an orphan in Hope to feeling like even more of one here in Germany. Instead of finding the place where she belonged, she was finding herself to be more of an outcast than ever.

  Fourteen

  BY THE TIME Sara and Peter had ridden their bikes back to Wolfratshausen, they were drenched. Sara’s hair hung in wet ringlets around her face, and her clothes clung to her body. Peter was just as soaked. Sara could tell that he was trying hard not to stare at her as they stashed their bikes in the shed and entered the back of the inn. Sara was carrying the basket of uneaten sandwiches that Frau Klein had prepared earlier that morning. In the confusion and disappointment of the day, there had been no opportunity to stop and eat. Besides, their outing had been much shorter than Sara had anticipated. She wasn’t at all hungry. However, she assumed she would face a lot of questions from Frau Klein, who would not be happy that they had failed to eat her snack. Surprisingly, all was quiet when they entered the inn.

  “That’s funny,” Peter began, almost reading Sara’s thoughts.

  “I know,” Sara replied. “Where’s Frau Klein? And where’s John Wayne?” At least the dog should have been there to greet them.

  “Maybe she’s gone out to meet someone.” Peter glanced out the window. The rain was still coming down in sheets. “But with this weather, I don’t know why she would have left.” He was trying not to appear worried, but Sara could see it on his face. Puddles were forming at their feet.

  “We have to dry off,” she said, trying to avoid his look.

  Rummaging around in a cupboard, Sara managed to find a couple of old towels, which she handed to Peter. Then she ran up to her room to change out of her wet clothing. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of anything having happened to Frau Klein. Even though she had just met the elderly woman, Sara already felt an emotional connection to her that was stronger than she had felt for any grown-up, except maybe Mrs. Hazelton, and even that was different. Mrs. Hazelton was proper and formal. Frau Klein was soft-hearted and sentimental—like everyone’s substitute grandmother, Peter had said. The tender feeling was new for Sara, but she liked it.

  She pulled on a dry sweater and pants and quickly towel-dried her hair. Outside her window, the robins’ heads were jutting up into the sky, searching for food. But when Sara looked closer, she realized there were only three babies there and not the four she had seen the previous day. The mother robin was perched in a tree nearby and was cheeping loudly, calling out to her babies to join her. They must be ready to fly off, Sara realized. One must have already left the nest. Soon they would all be gone, just as it was meant to be.

  Sara left her room and began to walk down the stairs. The lights were out in the sitting room, and the curtains drawn. That too was odd. When Sara had passed this room earlier in the morning, the curtains had been wide-open, and the sun was streaming in. She wondered why Frau Klein had darkened the room like this. She was just about to go back into the kitchen to find Peter when she heard a sound from across the room—a low, broken moan, like someone crying but trying to muffle it. Sara peered around, trying to make out the hazy shapes. And that was when she saw her. Frau Klein was sitting in a big armchair, folded forward as if she had collapsed. Her face was buried in her hands as she rocked back and forth.

  Sara flew across the room, calling out as she ran, “Peter! In here! Something’s happened to Frau Klein!” Sara reached the elderly woman and knelt at her feet, reaching up to place her hands on the woman’s shoulders. Frau Klein jumped and looked at Sara. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her smile had evaporated. Dread and fear were written across her face. Sara felt her heart grow cold. But before she could say a word, Peter was on the floor by her side. He began speaking urgently, a string of German words that were meaningless to Sara. Frau Klein responded in a low, strained voice while tears gathered in her eyes and spilled down onto her cheeks. Sara felt helpless crouched on the floor. If only she understood what was going on.

  “Is she sick? Should we call a doctor? Take her to the hospital?” It had been a couple of days since Sara’s anxiety had gotten the better of her. But now she began grinding her hands together with rapid motions.

  Peter exchanged a few more words with Frau Klein. Then he sat back on his heels and turned to Sara. “It’s John Wayne,” he said.

  “The dog?”

  Peter nodded. “It happened fast, just after we left this morning. John Wayne lay down on the kitchen floor. Frau Klein thought he was sleeping—he always takes a nap after breakfast. But when she went to look at him a short while later, he was breathing badly and wouldn’t wake up when she tried to move him.”

  At first Sara was relieved—she had been terrified that this dear, sweet woman was sick, maybe even dying. And even though they were still relative strangers, the thought of losing Frau Klein had saddened her completely. But the relief was shortlived, seeing how distraught Frau Klein was.

  “She loves that dog more than anything,” Peter continued. “If something happens to John Wayne…” He stopped before finishing the sentence.

  Sara gulped. She knew that, especially after having lost everyone in the war, Frau Klein thought of John Wayne as family, as important as a child or a sibling. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked.

  “They told Frau Klein at the animal clinic that they needed to run some more tests.” Peter looked up at Sara. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

  The telephone rang and Peter went to answer it while Sara continued to try and comfort Frau Klein. When Peter returned, his face was ashen. He bent down to Frau Klein and whispered something to her. She cried out again as Sara stroked her back, desperately trying to soothe the old lady.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” cried Sara.

  Peter hesitated before responding. “That was the clinic.” His eyes locked with Sara’s, and she understood in that moment that the situation with John Wayne was critical.

  “We need to do something,” Sara said. “Is there some way we can help her?”

  “The vet is going to give John Wayne a shot,” Peter said. “Frau Klein wants to go back to the clinic to stay with him…until the end. The vet’s office isn’t far from here.”

  Sara jumped to her feet. “Yes, let’s go with her. She shouldn’t be on her own.”

  She helped Frau Klein to her feet and ran to get a shawl for her, which she wrapped around her shoulders. The rain had eased up considerably. Now it was just a light drizzle. But Peter grabbed a large umbrella from the front closet, an
d with Frau Klein on one arm and the umbrella in his other hand, he escorted her out the door. Sara took up a position on the other side of the innkeeper. The three walked down the street, arms linked. There was no conversation.

  Sara was lost in her own thoughts. She realized that she had forgotten all about the trip to Föhrenwald that had happened earlier. All the disappointment at not finding anyone who could give her information about her own mother had been replaced with the concern she was feeling for Frau Klein. She glanced over at Peter. His eyes were on Frau Klein, and his face was strained and pale. Sara was struck by the compassion he clearly felt for his elderly friend. He was probably kinder than any guy she had ever met, she realized.

  When they reached the clinic, they were quickly ushered in to see John Wayne. He was lying on a small table, panting heavily, eyes closed. Frau Klein approached him and began to gently stroke his head and his body, whispering in his ear and pressing her face to his fur. Sara didn’t have to know what she was saying to understand what was going on. Frau Klein was saying goodbye.

  “The vet has already given him a shot,” Peter said. “He says it won’t be long.” After several more minutes had passed, Peter added, “I don’t think I can watch. I’m going to wait in the other room.”

  Sara nodded. It was hard to be here and witness the anguish of this moment. But after her breakdown at the inn, Frau Klein was very composed and calm. Sara marveled at how she had found that strength. She didn’t want to leave Frau Klein alone and wanted to show that she could be strong for her. “I’ll stay here,” she replied, gulping hard to keep herself from crying.

  As soon as Peter had left the room, Sara approached the table to stand next to Frau Klein. She scratched behind John Wayne’s ear and bent down to bring her face close to his head.

  “Hello, you sweet old thing,” she whispered. At the sound of her voice, John Wayne opened one eye. His tail slowly lifted off the table, and his tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick Sara on the cheek. Then he lowered his tail and closed his eyes once more. Sara and Frau Klein continued to stand over John Wayne as his breathing became shallower and his chest rose and fell more slowly. Finally, his body became still and they knew that he was gone.

  Peter, Sara and Frau Klein walked back to the inn in silence. As soon as they arrived, Frau Klein began to busy herself in the kitchen, removing plates of food from the refrigerator and bringing them over to the table where Sara and Peter sat. Somehow, they managed to convince the elderly woman to sit with them. Peter brought her tea in a tall glass and set it down in front of her. She squeezed lemon into the hot liquid. Steam rose in gently winding streams as Frau Klein lifted the glass with trembling hands to take a sip. But within minutes, she was back on her feet and bringing more food to the table. There was no point in trying to stop her. Sara understood that it was comforting and probably distracting to Frau Klein to feed the young people. And so they simply watched as she loaded the table with food and urged them to eat.

  “I don’t understand how this happened so fast,” Sara finally said to break the unbearable silence. “When we left here this morning, John Wayne seemed fine.”

  “I spoke to the vet while you were in the room with Frau Klein. He told me that the dog had been sick for some time—something in his lungs that wasn’t going to get better. And he was old. I think his system couldn’t handle it anymore and just shut down. Frua Klein didn’t think it would happen this fast, but apparently she knew it was coming.”

  At the mention of her name, Frau Klein smiled at Sara and said something to Peter.

  Sara looked up at the innkeeper. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “She said she’s fine and she’ll get through this. She also said she’s grateful that she could be with John Wayne when he took his last breath,” replied Peter. “And she wants to thank you for being at her side. It was pretty brave,” Peter added. “That last part is from me.”

  Sara gulped hard. She had never in her life felt brave about anything. She and Peter remained at the table, trying to please Frau Klein by eating as much food as they could, even though they had little appetite. Peter finally got up to leave, but not before promising that he would be back the next day.

  “I’ve got to do some work for Dr. Pearlman in the morning. But I’ll be here as soon as I’m done.”

  Sara felt reassured to know that. She watched as Frau Klein gave Peter a big hug and followed it with one for her. Then Sara climbed the stairs to her room.

  Once inside she sat at the small desk that was next to the bed. She fingered the Star of David around her neck and turned it up to her face so that she could look at it. She still didn’t know what the letters across the front meant. Peter had said that the writing was in Hebrew. He didn’t know more than that. Sara let the necklace rest back on her chest and reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a pen and a sheet of writing paper. It had a small black-andwhite drawing of the Landhaus Inn in one corner. She stared down at it and then picked up the pen and began to write.

  Dear Dot,

  I’ve been here in Germany for a couple of days now. The weather has been on and off—sometimes sunny, but sometimes so rainy that it’s soaked me to the skin.

  She stopped and stared at what she had just written. Who cares about the weather, she thought. Just get to the point. With a deep breath, she began again.

  This has been harder for me than I had thought it would be. I thought it would be simple to find out some things about my mother, and then I’d be on a plane coming home. That’s not the way things have worked out. I haven’t found anyone who is willing to talk to me, let alone tell me anything important. I’m beginning to think there may be nothing to find out. Maybe this will all be a waste of time as far as that’s concerned. Maybe I’ll never know where I came from. I’ve felt as if I don’t belong anywhere—not in Hope, and not here in Germany.

  Sara paused for a moment and then continued writing.

  I really don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. And not everything is as terrible as it sounds. I’ve met some people here—people who are kind and take care of each other. And even though they’ve had some impossibly hard things to deal with themselves, they have reached out to try and take care of me too. I don’t understand a lot of what some of them are saying, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I said I didn’t think I would feel as if I belonged here, but I guess that’s not entirely true. I guess I’m realizing that you belong wherever you feel cared for.

  Sara paused again, surprised at herself for having written that last sentence.

  I miss you and I hope you are well. I hope you are finding out important things about your past. I haven’t done any sewing here, but I haven’t forgotten our pact. I hope you don’t forget it either.

  She signed the letter, folded it into an envelope she found in the drawer and then got ready for bed.

  Fifteen

  SHE HADN'T MEANT to sleep so late. She had wanted to get up early and be downstairs helping Frau Klein or simply keeping her company. But when Sara finally rolled over in bed and opened her eyes, the sun was pouring into her room from midway across the sky. She dressed quickly, grabbed her letter to Dot and ran down the stairs. Frau Klein was in the kitchen at the counter, elbow deep in some kind of pastry dough. Her hands were pounding the mixture up and down so hard and fast that the loose skin above her elbows waved back and forth like a flag in the wind. But when she saw Sara, she wiped her hands quickly on her apron and motioned for Sara to sit and have something to eat. Sara smiled and shook her head, indicating that she would only have some coffee. She had to find a way to fight Frau Klein’s over-zealous cooking without offending the woman. At this rate, it would not be long before the clothes Sara had made for herself before coming here would no longer fit her! She tried not to be moved by the disappointed look on Frau Klein’s face. She grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Frau Klein placed a slice of apple cake next to her cup. Sara sighed. How could she resist?

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bsp; Frau Klein returned to her baking while Sara picked away at the cake. It was quiet in the kitchen, and Sara found herself missing John Wayne, who would have planted himself next to her, panting heavily and hoping for some crumbs from her plate to fall his way. His food and water dishes were still sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, as if Frau Klein couldn’t bear to remove them yet. It would be the final acknowledgment that he was gone. Sara yearned to say something to Frau Klein. This was one of those moments when the language barrier was so frustrating. She wanted to ask how the innkeeper was feeling after her terrible loss of the day before. She wanted to offer some words of consolation and support. She wanted to say that she was also sad. She was amazed that Frau Klein was able to function at all. When Debbie, one of the little orphans back in Hope, had lost a kitten that she had found and was caring for, she had cried for days and refused to get out of bed. And even though Sara could see the sadness on her face, Frau Klein was bravely moving forward and getting back to her routine.

  After Sara had finished eating, she got a stamp from Frau Klein, who refused to accept any money even when Sara tried to press some into her hand. Then she grabbed a light sweater and walked outside, hoping to find a mailbox to mail her letter. Peter had said that he would be back at the inn later that day, after doing some work for Dr. Pearlman. And Sara wanted to be there when he arrived. Even though she was still preoccupied with thinking about Frau Klein’s situation, she needed to get back to focusing on the reason for her trip, and on what she was going to do next. So far every door had been closed in her face. Dr. Pearlman had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her, and the people who lived in what once was the DP camp had turned her away. She felt frustrated by her inability to uncover any information. Was she really going to be forced to abandon everything and catch the next flight home to Canada? No! She shook that thought away. She hadn’t come all this way to turn back. There had to be something she could do. She just had to figure out what.