Daisies Are Forever (33 page)

The women of the house crouched in the back corner of the cellar.

Kurt hid behind the oxygen pump with Jorgen.

Mitch stood tall in the middle of the room, waiting to face the Russians.

Would they take the time to find out he was British? Her stomach clenched. She went to him and tugged on his arm. “Please, go hide. In the time it will take you to explain to them who you are, they will shoot you. Go with the other men.”

He rubbed her arm but didn’t say a word. A study of his dark eyes told her what she needed to know. Nothing would dissuade him from confronting the Red Army head-on.

He guided her back to her spot with the other women. “Pray.”

With a great crash, the soldiers broke open the heavy wood door. They thundered down the stairs, their boots stomping on the wooden steps. “Uri, uri,” they continued to demand.

They turned the corner to the shelter. Within seconds, they raised their rifles and pointed them at Mitch’s chest.

Oh God, spare him. Spare us, Father
.

The answer to her prayer came to her as a soft whisper.
Fear not, for I have redeemed thee.

Yet panic rose in her throat and threatened to choke her.

“English, English, English.” Mitch shouted at the Soviets, his voice strong and clear. From his pocket, he withdrew a piece of paper. When he unfolded it, Gisela saw that he had colored a Union Jack. He waved this in front of his face. “English, English. Now get out. Leave here.” He pointed to the stairs.

“Nein.
Germanski
.” A rather squat, Asian-looking soldier cocked his rifle, five watches glinting on his arm. He shook his head so hard, his ushanka hat tilted on his head. “Uri.” With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for his cohorts to search the building for watches.

Mitch stared right back, his dark eyes focused on their guard.

Pressure built in Gisela’s forehead and a wicked headache picked this moment to erupt. She sat and rubbed her temples.
Dear God, help us. Make these soldiers go away.

She gripped the edge of her chair, digging her fingernails into the wood.

Mitch waved his homemade flag. The soldiers cared nothing for his nationality. “Leave this place.” He took a step forward. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

The soldier cocked his gun. Mitch took another step forward. “Go. Go. Go.” Another step.

The Mongol peered through the sight.

Mitch ran at him and kicked the rifle out of his hands. It clattered to the floor. Gisela sucked in her breath and shook all over. Mitch grabbed the gun and pointed it at the Mongol. “Out. Get out. Now.” He spun the soldier around and marched him up the stairs.

Gisela clasped her hands together and hugged Annelies close. Russian voices floated from upstairs, harsh words she couldn’t understand.

More clomping of boots on the stairs, Mitch’s voice, the door slamming.

But who left?

Mitch leaned on the door, trembling like a nervous dog, his ears ringing.

He had sent the Russians a message.

How long before they returned the favor? With shaking fingers, he locked the door. He had to will his legs to carry him down the stairs to the bunker.

He sank to the floor.

Audra rushed to his side. Her hands were cool through his thin shirt. “Are you injured? Did they hurt you?”

“Nein, I’m fine.”

She wrapped both hands around his upper arm. “You were so brave. I can’t believe you stood up to those monsters. And they left here without hurting us. I owe you my life.”

Gisela gathered a fussy Renate in her arms and came to stand beside him. “What were you doing?”

He managed a small grin. She didn’t reciprocate and he sobered. “I couldn’t let them come and have their way here. Not after what they did to Xavier, shooting at him from the sky. Not with what they might do to you. And the others.”

Audra kissed him on the cheek. “Danke for saving my life. I will be forever grateful. I will do anything for you.”

Mitch didn’t doubt that she would. He pushed himself up and left her squatting on the floor. From the corner of his eye, he watched Kurt crawl from behind the oxygen pump and sit on the bench.

Mitch approached Gisela, who paced this small dungeon bouncing Renate on her hip. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“What is it?”

She turned on him, fire in her amber eyes. “They could have shot you. They could have shot all of us. What kind of craziness was that?”

“For Xavier.”

“Is that what he would have wanted?”

She had a point. A very good point. “No.”

“They’ll return. And they may not be so understanding next time.”

Mitch bowed his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was foolish and, well, I didn’t think. But I did take this from one of the soldiers as he left.” He held out her gold watch.

She took it from him and stared at it. “You remembered this.”

“The last link to your sister. I couldn’t let them have it.”

She touched his cheek. “Thank you. You were crazy and don’t ever do that again, but thank you.”

Kurt approached them, his gaze darting between them. “From now on, Gisela, you will go behind the oxygen tank with me. Josep is trying to get us all killed. You need to stay somewhere safe. With someone who will keep you safe.” He gripped her elbow.

She wriggled away from him and a little closer to Mitch. Kurt clenched his fist.

Gisela hunched her shoulders. “It’s only a matter of time until they take one of us. All of us. They will kill some of us and rape the others.” Her voice broke as she studied Renate, now quiet in her arms. “God help us, our fate is sealed.”

THIRTY-FIVE

May 1

F
or days, the screech of the Stalinorgels echoed in Audra’s head. The cadence of machine guns lulled them to sleep and woke them in the morning. One day blurred into another. The Holtzmann sisters argued and bickered as did Annelies and Renate. Kurt was short with her, and Jorgen snapped at anyone within ten meters.

The only ones who got along were Gisela and Josep.

There had been a change in their relationship. They were closer, looked at each other with a tenderness that reminded Audra of her parents. They were in love.

And her dreams of a life of fame and fortune in the West were shattered.

The men left the shelter to work on securing the front door. From below, Audra heard them grunt as they picked up Frau Mueller’s hutch and carried it to the entryway. The wardrobe would be harder as it had to come downstairs from the bedroom.

Gisela sat beside her on the bench and rocked a dozing Annelies.

Audra rested her back against the cool concrete wall. “Will the
furniture keep the Soviets from getting in?” She had never been as frightened as when the soldiers had burst into the shelter. If they took her virtue, they would take everything she had left.

“Nein. It may delay them, but they will get in one way or another.”

“And then?”

“You know.”

Audra clamped her hands together.

“Put it here.” Josep’s voice carried down the stairs. The piece thunked on the floor.

Frau Mueller sat at the table on one side of the cellar, her red tongue stuck out in contrast to her pale face, as she concentrated on the strange markings she made on the paper.

She had written Тиф карантин—TYPHUS QUARANTINE—in big, bold letters. The Russian she had learned when she gave refuge to a woman fleeing the communist revolution years ago might be what would save their lives. They would post the paper on the front door and pray that whoever tried to force their way into the house could read.

And would be afraid enough of typhus to stay out.

The agonizing screams of women and girls echoed down the street, their purity and innocence snatched from them. Right on their block, the laughing, mocking voices of the soldiers continued day and night. When the women’s cries died out, the wailing and mourning began.

They had traded one form of fascism for another.

Gisela turned to her. “You like Josep, nein?”

Audra smoothed back her movie star-colored hair. “You like him.”

“I love him.”

The swelling in her throat blocked anything Audra might have said. If Gisela would take her to America, then she could have
everything she wanted. The fame, the fortune, the handsome man on her arm. “You will go to England?”

“Why do you want to be an actress so much?”

“In the West, I don’t have to be poor anymore. No more awful handmade clothes. No more sharing the last piece of bread with your younger brother. No more sleeping four or five to a bed. If I could go to Hollywood and be famous, I would never have to worry again. Ever.”

“I understand.”

“You didn’t answer my question about England. Will you go there?”

“I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, much less after the war. I want to go to America, to California. When we lived there, I was happy. I want that again.” Gisela clamped her hands together. A single tear escaped down her cheek. “I want you to come to America with me.”

What did she say? Wiping her face, Audra turned back. “You would take me with you? You really would?”

“I would help you get a visa to come, help you get started.”

“Why? All I’ve tried to do is keep Josep from you. For my sake. For Kurt’s sake. He asked me to work with him.”

“We know. Josep and I have known since one of the first nights we were here.”

“Then I truly do not know why you would offer to help me. I don’t deserve it.”

Gisela’s brow furrowed. “Everyone deserves a fresh start.”

“What do you want in return?” The price might be too high. The last of her tears dried. Gisela must want something.

“Your friendship. Nothing more.”

“You want more than that.”

“Nein.” Gisela rubbed her brow. “Everyone makes mistakes. If we could go back in time and make different choices, we would.
Each of us. But we can do nothing but move forward. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. God has forgiven me for each and every one, washed me clean in His Son’s blood. Given me redemption. That is what I’m offering to you.”

“Redemption?”

“Something like that. Not from me. From the Lord.”

From deep inside her welled a spring of tears. She couldn’t stop them from running down her cheeks, even though they washed away the coal dust. And her sins.

The men returned to the bunker as the shelling continued, fiercer than ever. The noises of battle came from within the heart of the city. The Reichstag building must have fallen by now. Deep underground, below the Red Army’s boots, was Hitler’s bunker.

For Gisela, the hours passed with maddening slowness. Together they ate their meager meals. Jorgen carved little horses for Annelies and Renate, who played on the large blue-and-green rag rug in the middle of the concrete floor.

Drunken Russians soldiers, imbibing confiscated liquor for their May Day celebration, roamed the streets. The screams of the women being raped threatened to overwhelm her. How could she stand this any longer? Oh, that the cries outside would stop. That the cries in her memory would cease.

Darkness fell, deepening the shadows in the cellar. Outside, nothing stopped. The inebriated victors celebrated by molesting as many women as they could find. Annelies, Renate, and the old ladies fell asleep.

Tonight Frau Mueller pulled out the rectangular brown Bakelite radio set with its arched dial. Since the Russians had ordered all radios to be turned in a few days ago, she had hidden this battery-operated unit under the bottom stair. The victors
wanted to take these magical boxes to Russia with them, not understanding that most needed electricity to make them work. Electricity they didn’t have.

Mitch came to Gisela and pulled her close. She trembled against him. “I can’t make the noises go away.”

“Focus on God. He brings us through the raging waters.”

“Isaiah 43:2. I’ve been reading that. My opa quoted it to me right before we left Heiligenbeil.”

“Cling to it.”

“I miss him terribly. I can’t stand to think what happened to him.”

“Then don’t. Remember the good.”

“And you too. Remember the good. The good of your time with Xavier. The good of the time with your father.”

Frau Mueller turned the knob and the radio crackled to life. The adults sat on the davenport, huddled around it.

Surprise rippled through the group with the first words they heard.

“
Achtung
! Achtung! The German broadcasting system is going to give an important German government announcement for the German people.”

But no statement came. The broadcast turned to classical music.

Gisela hugged herself. “What could that be about?”

“I didn’t understand all of it.” Mitch’s voice held a trace of worry.

“A special announcement. Not from the Führer, but the German government.”

Kurt moved beside her. He rubbed his hands together. “News of a great victory, no doubt.”

But doubt it Gisela did. The sounds outside their cellar were not the sounds of triumph but of utter defeat.

They sat, hardly daring to breathe, not daring to move.

Just before ten o’clock, the achtung warning was given again and the broadcaster began to play the slow movement of Bruckner’s Symphony no. 7, a well-recognized piece of music in Germany.

Gisela worried the cuff of her sleeve with her fingers. “How long are they going to make us wait? The batteries will die before we find out what they are going to say.”

Mitch took her hand in his. “All in good time.”

She jiggled her leg for a while, then paced the small room. Bettina and Katya snored so loudly Gisela was sure they would drown out the radio. The minutes ticked by. How long was this music?

It was close to ten thirty when the music came to an abrupt stop. Three drum rolls followed. Gisela couldn’t swallow.

“It is reported from
Der Führer
’s headquarters that our führer Adolf Hitler, fighting to the last breath against Bolshevism, fell for Germany this afternoon in his operational headquarters in the Reich Chancellery.”

A collective gasp went up. Gisela bit back tears. Could it really be true? Might this be over? Mitch slipped his arm around her waist.