A Flicker of Light (5 page)

As the sun’s dazzling golden rays broke through the darkness, Petra knew she must rest. Both her body and her mind
were
total
ly exhausted
. Birds began to chirp as the forest slowly came to life. As she came closer to the road, she heard the rumble of a motor vehicle as it broke through the calm of the sounds of nature.

Using a thick clump
of bushes for cover, she waited as it came closer. If it happened to be a local on his way to town, she decided that she would flag him down and ask for a ride. Even though the Institute hung like a dark cloud less than a mile away, the cold, hunger and thirst were already wearing her down.

Watching from her hiding place, she saw a German army truck loaded with prisoners wearing gray striped uniforms, with yellow a
rm bands. The arm bands had six-
pointed stars on them. She held her breath
,
afraid of being seen as
she
watched the vehicle go by. The girls at the home had talked about the concentration camps, where enemies of the Reich were detained. She wondered what crimes these men had committed. Of course, the other girls had
also
mentioned the racial issue and how
undesirables were taken to camps because they belonged there, far away from the pure German population.

From what Petra had heard, Jews and Romany seemed to pose the biggest threat to the Nazis
’
supreme Aryan race, but others like homosexuals and Jehovah’s Witnesses also fell into the objectionable category. At Heim
Hockland
,
Petra had
heard the girls say that these prisoners
spent their days living
in concentration camps were often
hired out as free labor to the German farmers and factory owners. The concept bothered her. She wondered what made the Nazis feel so superior, but she had dared not speak her mind.

From within the truck, a single prisoner caught her eye, and she felt sur
e that he saw her too. His deep-
set black eyes blazed out of a pain-stricken face, trappin
g her in their stare. After the truck had passed by
, she stood still for a few minutes, consumed both with pity for the pris
oners and fear for her own well-
being. With a firm grip she braced herself on the trunk of an aging oak tree and sucked air into her lungs until she fel
t that she could continue on
. When she finally reached the open road, she found herself surrounded by acres of farmland.

Heim
Hockland
meant highlands - that much she knew - but she had never seen the beauty of Germany’s farm
country before. Hills curved gently across the landscape covered with virgin snow, a pure white powder that seemed like fairy dust sprinkled with tiny diamonds sparkling in the rising sun. Petra was famished and thirsty. Instinctively
,
her hand went to her belly. She must feed the baby. Wishing now
that
she had stolen some food and a thermos from the home before she left, she began to walk towards the farmhouses. Unsure of how she would be received, she decided not to risk going to someone’s door. Instead she would hide out in a barn where she could get out of the cold for a while and possibly find some food. Then
,
once she regained her strength, she would continue on. She studied the nearby farms. They lay acres apart. She chose the closest one an
d made her way through the snow
drifts toward it. As discreetly as possible
, she inched around the old wood frame house
and found the entrance to the barn. With the last of her strength, she lifted the bar on the door and opened the latch. The barn appeared peaceful as she entered, dimly lit by the early morning sunlight that had found its way through the openings in the wooden slats of the roof.

A
n old gray plow horse stood in its stall covered with a blanket. When the horse saw Petra, she whinnied softly. Beside her in an open stand, a brown and white milk cow
stood swishing her tail. Both animals eyed Petra curiously, their large brown eyes expressive and questioning. Pushing hard, she closed the door against the wind. Turning her at
tention to the mare, she quietly
apologized as she borrowed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Until now Petra had not realized that her body shook and her teeth chattered. She looked down and noticed that just out of the horse
’
s reach was an old soft apple atop a small pile of hay. For a moment Petra considered giving it to the animal, and then, although she felt sorry to take it because the horse watched longingly, she sat down in the hay and devoured it herself. Soft, chewy, and slightly frozen, the apple tasted like a feast to her.

Across the room she saw the milk pail hanging from a hook on the wall. Rising
,
she walked over and
took it down. She lapped up the
remnants of milk still
within the bucket from the cow’s
last milking. When she’d cleaned the container dry, she set it down and lay to rest herself upon the hay. She wished that she knew how to milk a cow, but she had no
t grown up anywhere near a farm
and she had no idea.  The warmth of the blanket and the safety of the shelter brought on a need for sleep, and her eyes suddenly
grew heavy. Within minutes she drifted off, swept into a deep, but fitful, slumber.

Dreams of her father whirled in her head; how happiness radiated from him to everyone in his wake, back before the accident on the fishing boat had claimed part of his leg. For years he had come home with the sea in his hair and his heart in his work. In her childhood memories
,
he wore a permanent smile. His kind face had taken on a permanent ruddy hue from years of sun exposure. When he returned home from a day on the water and tossed a bundle of fresh fish on the table he would state proudly, “I am a fisherman,” then turn to them with a hearty laugh, “like my father before me and his before him.” At night before bed
,
he
would
t
ell
them all stories of the legends of the Vikings, and with pride he declared them to be his ancestors and theirs. His heart big and full, he
’d
embraced his wife and children with kisses and tenderness as he
’d
enfolded them in his massive, muscular embrace. His essence
had
brought laughter and song into the household.

One day while out fishing, something had happened at sea. He would not explain, but he had lost his left leg from the knee down. The family
had
rushed to the hospital where they saw the backbone of their world weak and
broken as he lay upon the bed. Petra
had
recognized the dishonor he felt in his face, and therefore did not meet his eyes. At first, for a while, following hi
s return home, her father had been
quick to anger and had grown ill tempered
, refusing
to engage in conversation with anyone. As time went on, he
’d
learned to function without his leg. Although
he’d
never
been
quite
the same
, he
’d
finally accepted his plight. Life went
on, but his joy in it had been lost
.

Financial need
had
forced him to find work, but there were few opportunities for a crippled man. He
’d
saved what little money he could and opened a tavern on the water. The saloon became very popular, and he made a fair living. It became known as a place where sailors could come for hearty fish chowder, fresh herring, a beer or a cup of schnapps. Over time he came to have affection for the little place, but Petra knew in her heart that he always longed to be out on a boat, catching fish, and singing the songs of the sea. Her papa’s face lingered in her mind as she slept on the pile of straw.

Chapter 5

S

iegland
Bruchmeier
found out early in life that she’d been born to cook. Whenever she worked her special magic, the aroma of wonderful food permeated every room of the house. Her enormous body moved through the farmhouse kitchen like a whale swimming the seven seas. With great care she prepared thick slices of ham, poached eggs, and freshly baked bread. The responsibility to see her husband well fed before he tended the land would never be taken lightly. This was the only life she knew, the only life she understood. She had gone from her father’s farm to her husband’s.

Klaus
Bruchmeier
, her spouse -
a kind, gentle, soft-spoken
man -
had proved to be a good provider
and a loving husband
. In so many ways, fortune had smiled upon her, and never, not even for a day, did she forget to give thanks. In the beginning they’d both been aware that they’d entered into a marriage of convenience. He was a shy man, awkward around women, but badly in need of a wife who could help him with his chores. He was an only child who’d lost his father a year before they met. She was
a sheltered girl, not blessed with a pretty face or attractive figure. When their mothers had introduced them,
it was with the
hope of a marriage that would bring many children to help with the farm work. The elder Frau
Bruchmeier
had lived with the newlyweds, a
nd although she could be demanding,
Siegland
had cared deeply for her, and
she had wept when her mother-in-
law passed away in her sleep just a few months after the wedding.  The farm work was hard, but as the ye
ars together bound Klaus and
Sie
gland
to each other, their love grew into a joyous union. They had good fortune because their farm lay in the fertile highlands outside of Munich. It served them well, providing abundant crops
, including
asparagus, onions, and a huge bounty of red strawberries every June.

Before the Nazis came into power, Klaus had hired workers to help him with the harvest, and when he had taken his crops to market, he
’d
always returned with a full purse. They owned a single cow for milk and cheese, three hens for fresh eggs, a rooster who made sure that Klaus never overslept, and of course, the farmer’s best friend, the old gray plow horse. In good years, the couple purchased a pig to slaughter for meat for the winter. In leaner years, they managed to trade for wheat, and still found plenty to eat from what the farm produced. The neighbors had
always been generous with the
Bruchmeiers
, and they returned the favors. Klaus, a warm and appreciative man, showed his wife the utmost respect and fondness. He knew how well she cared for him and he bestowed upon her all of the love a man could give.

Although she had a full a
nd satisfying life,
Siegland
had
one
overwhelming
regre
t
-
s
he could not have children
.
The
desire
gnawed at her, and she tried to it fill with tremendous amounts of food. Over the years she had grown quite fat. Klaus, a large man himself, did not mind. Instead
,
he enjoyed the glorious meals she painstakingly prepared for him, and his greatest fulfillment in life became her bright and open smile. As she sat across from her husband at the breakfast table,
Siegland
slathered butter across a thick slice of freshly-baked, dark, grainy bread. With love and care, she covered the butter with strawberry jam that she had canned the previous summer, and then licked her lips as she bit into the hearty fare. Satisfied with her preparations, she smiled at her husband, then cut another slice of the bread and prepared it in
the same manner for him. Klaus’
full face broke into a large, jagged, yellow-toothed smile that warmed her heart even now, after all of the years that they had spent as husband and wife. Memories came flooding back to her of
their early
days together. How skinny he had been;
only his bulbous nose had had any flesh to speak of. But after years of her coddling and delectable cooking, she had fattened him up, and she smiled to think how healthy and strong he had become - robust, she called it. Klaus had grown to be robust! Touched by the knowledge that she had taken his gaunt frame and rounded him out, she reached over and affectionately stroked his arm.

The hand-carved cherry wood kitchen table and chairs stoo
d proudly as evidence of Klaus’
talent with woodwork. This set, in its
intricacy, proved to be Klaus’
finest creation. Large and sturdy, each piece painstakingly bore the imprint of roses as their petals unfolded, all different and in varying stage
s of development. I
n the center
of the table was
a large wooden bowl, carved with wildlife, the etchings consisting mostly of rabbits an
d deer. Klaus enjoyed working with
wood and spent much of his free time creating stunning pieces that adorned the entire farm house. As he lifted his coffee cup, Klaus sipped the steaming hot liquid and breathed in the strong mouth-watering bouquet. Then he patted his wife’s fingers lovingly and stood up.