A Flicker of Light

A Flicker of Light: Petra's Story

By
Roberta
Kagan

80

Chapter 1

Heim
Hockland
/
Steinhoring
Institute for the
Lebensborn

Outskirts of Munich, Germany, 194
2

Q

uietly, so as not to alert her roommate in the
Steinhoring
Institute, Petra Jorgensen reached beneath her small twin bed. Her long slender f
ingers gripped the handle of her
black cardboard valise
,
taking care not to scrape the floor as she pulled the small suitcase from its place under the bed. Then, taking a moment to glance over and reassure herself that Ursula, her roommate, remained asleep, she continued to pack. Ursula lay on her side
,
propped up on two thick pillows and covered with heavy blankets. The only sound that could be heard in the small room that the girls shared was the deep
,
rhythmic
humming
sound
of Ursula’s sno
ring. She was unlikely to awaken
.

Petra
had few belongings
,
so the packing would be quick and efficient. She held the latch of the suitcase
so
that
it would not make a sound as she opened it. Reaching
inside, she caressed the binding of the sm
all book she found there
. In the darkness
,
her hands felt the familiar
burgundy leather cover with its raised gold letters: Hans Christian Andersen’s
Fairy Tales
. This collection had been her favorite when she was a little girl. She planned to read it to her child when the baby reached an age to be capable of understa
nding.
Smiling, Pe
tra remembered gazing into her mother’s soft blue eyes and listening intently as Mama had read the stories aloud.
Petra thought briefly of
The Little Mermaid
- a
story of love and sacrifice.
I
n fact,
the
story
was
so like her ow
n that the thought of it brought heat to her face
like a slap of reality.

Although Petra
knew she would
love the baby regardless of its
sex, she secretly wished for a girl - a pretty child, whom she could dress in lacy frocks, with
soft
blonde
curls - someone to read to who would listen as she had done
. She’d spent many nights envisioning a garden in the summer with the sun cascading down like ribbons onto a patch of creamy golden daffodils, the little one beside her with bows in her hair. In her mind’s eye, she could see the child looking up at her with a face of wonder, eyes wide and innocent. Petra had gro
wn up with two younger brothers, a
nd although she
loved them, she knew first
hand how different boy
s and girls could be. A girl child would be someone she could understand fully, someone
whose emotions and thoughts would be reflective of her own.

Her toothbrush and a bar of soap wrapped in a rough washcloth waited on the nightstand t
o be placed with her other
possessions. Then, she removed two floral cotton dresses from the small
closet;
both garments were large enough to suffice until the baby's birth. When she’d left home in a huff, she’d given very little thought to what she might need. And now that the temperatures had dropped, she realized she should have packed warmer clothes. Petra shook her head, annoyed at her own thoughtlessness. Then, without taking care to fold them, she tossed the dresses into her suitcase. Ne
xt she added some undergarments:
a thin pale pink cotton nightgown, a thicker red flannel one, an alternate pair of sensible black shoes, and finally the picture on the night table.

Petra looked at the picture
,
paralyzed with sentiment. She caressed the photograph and stared into the familiar face by the moonlight that filtered through the window. Her heart ached as she remembered Hans - his clear ivory skin and bright smile, how his corn-colored hair would bleach by the sun to almost white. Then she allowed
her mind to drift to his lips a
nd
the memory of his kiss
. The sweet spearmint taste of his tongue and the clean, crisp
citrus smell of his cologne descended upon her as if he stood right there beside her in this dark God-forsaken room. Her heart cried out in a silent voice only she could hear. The pain enveloped her as she pressed the picture to her breast. Like a dark sword, grief tore a cavernous hole in
side of her that she feared
would never
be
fill
ed
.

She would never look into those gentle blue eyes again.

“Hans,” she thought, “how could you leave me here in a place like Heim
Hockland
? How? What happened to our dreams? Where is your love? You promised to always be here for me. And now you are gone. Hans, can you hear me? Hans, I’m alone and frightened, so frightened. Hans?”

Petra bit her lower lip
;
she must steel herself against the tears that threatened to betray her resolve. With heaviness in her soul, she focused on packing. She must hurry.

So she would not see it when she opened the valise, she turned the picture frame upside down in the bottom of the suitcase and then placed the package of Hans’ letters tied with a red ribbon on top of the photo. All she had left of their love
lay right here in front of her -
a pile of papers, and a photograph. Then she remembered and a bittersweet
smile came over her face. How could she have forgotten the mos
t important thing he’d left her - t
he
ir baby?

Petra
shivered as
r
eality hit home
.
She
was alone.
Somehow, she must find a way to raise their child herself. Regardless of how hard she tried to be strong, the tightness in her throat and the emptiness i
nside of her would not go away.

S
he
resolv
ed that no matter what crossed her path in the future
,
she would never love again
.
The pain
of loss
was too devastating. At that moment Petra resigned herself to living for the speck of life that grew quietly within her protective womb.
All of her l
ove would be given to her child
from now on.

Although she tried to stay on task, her mind traveled back to the beginning. She remembered the shock, and shame she’d felt when she
’d
learned she was pregnant. The dread she’d felt knowing that she must go
to her parents had been
overwhelming, b
ut she
’d
see
n
no other option - Han
s was still
enlisted in the German army. And she’d been right to be ter
r
if
i
ed. When she
’d
told her paren
ts that she was pregnant
, her father's Viking blood
had
raged with anger. His face
had
t
a
k
en
on a crimson shade and his features
had
distorted until she hardly recognized him. Tears of disgrac
e
had
covered her mother’s
face. At that point,
Petra had known
she could no longer stay
at her childhood home. She had to
leave, and with Hans’ help
,
she would seek refuge. They were
just
seventeen and neither had much money. This
had left them with
no
where to turn until Hans
had
heard about the
Lebensborn
program. He
’d
sent a letter to Petra
,
filled with excitement
,
sharing all the details. Together, through letters, they
’d
made plans for her to have the baby at Heim
Hockland
.
Hans’ brother was in the
Waffen
-
SS
, so with his help she
had been
accepted into the program. Once things had been arranged, sh
e ha
d refused to cry or show weakness as her father stomped through the Norwegian seaside shack where they
had
lived, slamming doors and shouting. Instead
,
she
’d
set her jaw in determination, and without a goodbye, Petra
had
left her family behind. When she
’d
closed the door on the petrified faces of her little brothers and her youth, her journey into an uncertain future
had begu
n.