Winter Passing (23 page)

“I remember Tatianna came to our village when we were young—the girls were inseparable. Celia’s younger brother and I were always good friends. We loved to bother the older girls, and especially, I remember one time: Celia’s brother and I must have been around eight. The girls were around eleven. We had tried and tried to find their secret hideout.”

Darby saw childhood revelry in the old man’s eyes as he drifted into the past. She scooted forward, expectantly, clinging to the words that told the story of her grandmother before Darby knew her.

“After weeks of following their footprints and trying to follow the girls, we discovered their hideout deep in the woods inside the hollow of a gigantic, fallen tree. I can hear Warner saying excitedly how good it was we found it at that time, for the girls planned a secret initiation.

“‘I think it’s some secret ritual or something,’ Warner said. ‘A girl thing for certain.’

“‘Maybe they will become blood sisters,’ I said as we sneaked through their hideout filled with dolls, a tea set, and dried-flower bouquets.

“‘No way. Celia would faint if she saw her own blood. Tatianna would do it, I bet, but not my sister. I can tell it will be a big event, though. We better find a good place to hide if we’re going to watch.’

“‘In those branches up there,’ I suggested. ‘They’ll never see us from below, and then we can hear and watch them.’

“We had to go outside and around the bottom of the trunk to get into the twists of branches that overhung the girls’ hideout. After settling in there, we waited for what seemed forever. Finally they came. I remember thinking how they reminded me of forest fairies with their long, white dresses and flowers in their hair. But young boys aren’t supposed to think such thoughts. ‘Girls, yuck,’ I mouthed with a gagging motion that made Warner start to laugh. We were sure we were caught, but they didn’t hear us. Instead, they ducked into their hideout and settled around a small log table. We had the perfect view.

“‘Today is one of the most important days for us,’ Tatianna said.

“‘I still can’t do the blood sisters thing, Tati. I’ll faint.’ Celia bit her bottom lip.

“‘Oh, I know. That’s why I thought of something better. First, I want to ask you this, but you have to be sure of your answer.’

“‘Okay,’ Celia said.

“‘Do you want to be my friend forever and ever?’ Tatianna’s eyes were large.

“‘Oh yes, I want to be your best friend forever and ever,’ Celia said with a large smile.

“‘I just wanted to be sure. Now let’s lock our baby fingers together.’

“Across the table, small hands reached. In the center they met with pinky fingers hooked as one.

“‘Celia Rachel Lange, I promise to be your best friend for my whole life. No matter what happens, how old we get, or even if one of us moves far away, I still promise this forever.’

“‘And I, Celia Rachel Lange, tell you, Tatianna Elise Hoffman, that you are my best friend and will always be. No matter what happens or how old we get. And I promise to be your friend forever.’

“‘And ever.’

“‘And ever,’ they said in unison.

“‘I wish we could get matching rings or lockets, but this will have to do.’ Tatianna lifted a box onto the table. She opened it and reverently took out two long, prickly stemmed roses—yellow roses. ‘This will be our forever friendship flower. Whenever we see a yellow flower, especially a yellow rose, we’ll remember our vow to be best friends always.’

“‘What a good idea, Tati. I love roses, and yellow is my favorite color. I’ll remember today always.’

“‘Forever and . . .’

“‘Ever,’ they said again.

“Warner and I stayed in our places while the girls drank pretend tea and giggled about girl things. When finally we left, we put on masks of disgust, though I think we both were a little jealous of a friendship so pure. And the image of their vow with fingers locked together came back to me so vividly when I saw Tatianna at Mauthausen.”

Bruno stiffened as if the mention of that place jarred him from gentle memories.

“I want to tell you, I did not change from that boy into a killer in just a moment. It takes time. Almost so slowly you don’t see that you’re disappearing. I left Hallstatt as a young man to find my life in the city. I came to Linz and Vienna, ready to make my mark upon the world and break free from my family line of failures. I was full of awe and curiosity for the modern world and hoped for a new, more powerful Austria. I wanted to be part of that Austria and joined the Nazi party with its rebellion toward the old ways and passive government. The Party sought power and strength and a greater future for our weakened country. When joined with Germany, Austrians would leave a mark upon the entire world. If some individuals were trampled in the process, it was a sad product of forward movement. Many of us believed these things.”

Bruno focused intently on Darby. “
I
believed these things.” Then he turned away, toward the fire, and into yesterday once again. “I did not advance the way I expected. I did not at first recognize that greed, corruption, and even that old class ladder existed larger than idealism. I became SS in hopes of greater advancement and was sent as a guard to Mauthausen Concentration Camp. It insulted me. I wanted a more noble position than guard to felons, political prisoners, and Jews. I was promised my time there was a mere stepping-stone—all future officers did some dirty work. Prove yourself there, and you will advance. So I went to prove I could be the best, the smartest, the bravest. I convinced myself that the creatures in the camp deserved their punishment, and already I was a very angry man. I saw those people as criminals, animals who fed on our future, leeches on our social system—some probably innocents, but such was the cruelty of bettering mankind. It was the pathway to a future mankind and survival of the fittest. They were not like me. They did not feel or think as I did. Behaviors of greed between prisoners were only further proof—a father who killed his son for food, an instance of cannibalism, the constant undermining of authority. I didn’t look at the good in them. I could not allow myself to see acts of love and chivalry.

“Many of the other guards were sadistic monsters who lusted after blood and torment. But what could I do about that? I had my advancement and own step-up to be concerned with. Though I was no innocent in it all.”

Bruno again glanced at Darby’s white face, then back at the fire.

“One day in early summer, I heard of a pretty girl in the jailhouse. I heard her name—Celia Müller. I did not recognize the name, for I’d left Hallstatt before her marriage. Some officers were discussing her, how they hoped she would be assigned to the brothel—even though she was a Jewess. She did not look Jewish. She wasn’t emaciated, for she had not come from other camps as most others had. She had been for months in prisons and under interrogation, and now she was there and looked better than the others. If only she would speak and disclose the hiding place of the Lange family inheritance, they said, perhaps she would be released to the brothel. I knew immediately—Celia Müller must be the girl from my village, Celia Lange.”

Bruno’s speech faltered. Darby watched him carefully as he stared, almost entranced, at the crackling fire. Somewhere a long way off, she heard the mournful sound of a train.

“There was no way for me to see her, and I did not want to. At times, a woman’s cries could be heard from the prison. It became routine when a certain officer arrived at the camp that the woman would be interrogated. He visited often and was frustrated that she would not reveal it. He had thought time and interrogation would make her give them the hiding place of the inheritance—a wealth for the finder or a huge advancement in rank. A comrade assigned to the jail gave me details as he heard information. He said even Hitler knew of the Lange family inheritance—some Celtic coins, perhaps the oldest ones of our region, and a brooch from Empress Sissi. Celia’s father had already died at Mauthausen before I was assigned there. I didn’t even allow sorrow for Warner, though he had been my childhood friend. The SS officer had been so thoroughly angered about their death without giving any information about the inheritance that he’d sent the interrogators to the gas chambers. Then they caught Celia.”

“At the Swiss border,” Darby said.

“Ah, yes, that is correct. Almost got away, they said. They believed she would give them the answers.”

“But she couldn’t, because she didn’t know.”

“Correct.” Bruno sighed. “I did not see her until the day I was called to execute her. And then I knew. It wasn’t Celia, but Tatianna who stood before me.”

He spoke with unseen layers of time and regret falling from his face. His strong expression turned vulnerable, guilty, and sympathetic at the same time.

“Some guards enjoyed adding suffering to their victims. They would wound them and then walk close to see the pain before finishing them off. I aimed straight for Tatianna’s heart. She watched the sky as if waiting to leave. I pulled the trigger.”

A log fell into the flames, and sparks popped in the quiet room. Darby saw the scene in Bruno’s faraway gaze. She had seen one tiny passport photo of Tatianna but could picture the woman perfectly. A bullet freeing her from her torment, freeing her spirit toward life.

“So I, not anyone else, killed Tatianna Hoffman. And as I took her life, she gave me mine.”

Startled, Darby asked, “What do you mean?”

“I pulled that trigger and instantly understood. I knew Tatianna had somehow given her life for her friend. Already I had begun to question my beliefs in the darkest hours of night. I performed my duties, but I felt haunted by feelings that I couldn’t and wouldn’t face in the daylight. Tatianna changed that. I knew so clearly, as if a veil had been taken from my eyes. I saw it all. I looked at myself and detested what I saw. It triggered my redemption from the Nazis, though always my name would be associated with them, and always my hands are stained with blood—no matter what I have tried to do.”

Bruno cleared his throat. “Now you know. Now I have spoken it to someone. Not even my children know.”

“What did you become? Did you stay in the camp?”

“Only a week later, I received the promotion I so desired. I took it and went to Germany. Once it was my greatest desire, but then, my greatest opportunity. I became a betrayer to the Party I had given my oath. They never knew it was me. I was even imprisoned as a Nazi war criminal, even though I spied for the other side.”

“Why didn’t you reveal that at your trial?”

“The Nazis hadn’t disappeared. Their power was greatly injured, but not destroyed. And if I revealed my truth, it would endanger others. I fulfilled my duties as the good Nazi, and then Bruno Weiler disappeared. I moved to America for ten years, then later returned to Austria. I was given financial help from some friends I helped during the war. I received some physical alteration, then began a new life as a new man. As you can see, I have done well . . . on the outside.”

Darby nodded, glancing at the Degas painting. “Yes.”

Bruno looked at it also and smiled wryly. “People would call me a powerful man, but inside, all men are only men. And for me, my life will always return to Tatianna. She had a power in death I have never found. It was in her face. I heard about it once at a church service in America. There was a man who was stoned to death; Stephen was his name, if I remember correctly. They say his face shone like an angel. Tatianna’s face was like that—like she was really free. I have never found what she had. The blood of others will always be with me.”

Darby could see the struggle within Bruno. She wondered what she should feel for him—anger, hatred, fear? But she could find none of those for this killer of Tatianna and of others. “My grandmother would say that the blood of Jesus purchases the blood on our hands and all of our sins. His life for ours, like Tatianna, but also to save all mankind. If only we ask.”

“Celia Lange said those words? Tell me, do you believe these words?”

“Me?” Darby felt her face flush as she was suddenly on the spot. It was one thing to quote her grandmother, another to state her own belief. “Well, I would have said ‘no’ not long ago, probably six weeks ago. But now? Yes, I do believe it. I believe God forgives us when we ask. I believe Jesus died to provide that forgiveness. His life for ours. In a very strange way, Tatianna showed me that.”

“How can you, or I, know for certain?”

“I’m wondering myself. I guess that is faith.”

“Would you grant me forgiveness?”

“What? You are asking me to forgive you?”

“I cannot say it to Tatianna or Celia or the others. But will you give it?”

“It is not mine to give. I would, if I could. I think that is a matter for you and God.”

Bruno nodded slowly. “You don’t make it easy for me.”

“I will give you the forgiveness I can give. But I think that only God’s will make you feel complete.”

“Perhaps I will seek him and see.”

Darby glanced at the fire, reduced to embers. The tea in her cup had long grown cold. She could see a swirl of what had to be snowflakes in the window behind Bruno. She put her hands in her coat pockets, and Bruno moved to the fire. He added several logs, then took the poker and stirred the embers into a tiny flame.

“Now you know.” He stood by the fire, close to her. “Warm yourself, and I will get some tea.” Bruno replaced the poker. “It is late, but I apologize I cannot allow you to stay tonight. The less you know about who I have become, the better.”

“It must be difficult, living a new life,” Darby said as she rose from her chair. Her back ached and her muscles longed for the soft bed at the Sacher. But that was a long way off. Then, with a start, she remembered that only hours ago, she wondered if she’d ever see the Hotel Sacher again, or her mother, her friends, or Brant Collins.

“It is the world I live in. Everyone has secrets. Money, power, position—they all link the good and the bad. A man must be careful, especially a man of position with my kind of tainted past. And you, my dear. Do not make the same mistakes. Remember, the family inheritance remains an interest for dangerous people. Many have been killed for much less money than the inheritance is worth.”