The Voyage (37 page)

Chapter 137

Within a few days, the entire city of Antwerp was covered with pictures of Adolf Hitler. Nazi flags flew from the tops of buildings, and what once was a peaceful seaside town was now a community of quiet and fearful residents.

When Edda had visited Viktor’s parents, his mother had given her a gift of a gold cross. It had been Viktor’s grandmother’s and she’d wanted to give it to his wife as a family heirloom. Edda thought the gesture kind, but she had not been able to wear it. Somehow, it felt like a betrayal to her Jewish background, and to all the Jews still suffering. On the day the Nazis entered Antwerp, Edda took the necklace out of her drawer. Then Viktor, with a solemn expression on his face, helped her to put it on.

“I will wear this from now on, until our daughter is old enough and then it will be hers,” Edda said.

Viktor nodded. “We are the lucky ones, Edda. We are both safe and alive…”

“And guilty,” she said looking down at the worn carpet.

“Yes, and guilty.”

Chapter 138

Edda sighed with relief, after an hour of coaxing both children had finally gone down for a nap. They usually slept for at least two hours, which meant that if everything worked out as planned she and Viktor might have a precious half hour to spend making love when he came home from work for lunch. Since the children’s births, their time alone together took scheduling.  Most nights Viktor returned late from work, and by the time the children were asleep, he was too.  However, because their time was limited, it became even more special for both of them.

Viktor would be hungry when he got home, so Edda went into the kitchen to prepare something that he might eat quickly.  She took out a hunk of dark yellow cheese and thick black bread.  There was a knock at the door. Probably Christina from upstairs, she thought.  Often Christina would come over and the two would share a cup of coffee. Christina and her family were their good friends. They attended church together and the women belonged to the women’s club at the church as well. Christina’s youngest child just started school, so she had plenty of time to visit. Well, Edda would just explain that Viktor would be home soon and could not sit and talk.  She wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door.

“Telegram for Viktor Hahn.” A boy in short black pants wearing a band with a swastika around his arm stood holding the wire.

She took the envelope and put it on the counter. “Wait just a moment,” she said. Then went to her handbag and got a coin out of her change purse, which she handed him.

“Thank you, Frau Hahn,” he said.

She nodded.

After she closed and locked the door, she sat down on the sofa and opened the letter. It read:

Viktor,

I am writing because I believe that you have a right to know. Tthey were your parents too. Mother and father have both passed away. Father came down with tuberculosis last year and mother took care of him until the end. She never contacted me. I never knew. I wish she had. I would have wanted to see father one last time.  I suppose she didn’t want to burden me. However, I missed his funeral, and I feel I should have been there.  After father’s death, she finally sent me a letter to inform me of what happened. I wanted to come home and spend some time with her, but she refused. Then last month, I suppose she was weak from all she had gone through, she got very sick. It was a bad year for influenza this year and she caught a terribly strong strain of it.  Mr. and Mrs. Krautz from across the street were bringing her food. Finally, they sent me a cable informing me of her condition and I came home immediately.  I wanted her to go into a hospital but she refused.

Mother’s funeral took place two days ago. As I stood there under the gray sky watching them lower her casket into the ground, I thought of you. I wished that you could be here with me. We are orphans now, Viktor. And you are my only brother. However, because of circumstances, we both must go on as if we are all alone in the world. In a few days, I will be leaving for the Ukraine. Perhaps I will die there, who knows? Mr. Krautz says that he will keep an eye on the house until I return. When I am able, I will sell it and send you some of the money. I suppose losing our parents has made me soppy and sentimental, but I cannot help but think of us as children and I must admit, I miss you.  Well, enough of all of that. Once again, I must remind you, do not return to Germany under any circumstances. It is unsafe for you. I wish you well.

                   Axel

Edda dreaded giving this letter to Viktor. It would devastate him. She thought of Axel; he’d gone a different route, certainly, but she could see that he still cared for his brother.
What have I done to the man I love?

The door opened and Viktor came in. He walked over and kissed her.

“What’s wrong?” he said looking at her.

She handed him the telegram. He read it, then sat down on the sofa.

“My parents, Elke.” His face bloodless, he called her by her real name. “They are both dead.”

She nodded. “I know. I am so sorry.”

“I wasn’t there for them. They died old, sick, and alone. My God, Elke.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. He would not look into her eyes. “I am going back to work.” He dropped the paper on the worn coffee table.

“Viktor.”

He stood up to leave.

“Stop, please.”

He turned to look at her. “What is it?”

“I must know…You resent me for this…”

“No,” he said, turning away.

“Don’t lie to me, just tell me. Say it, Viktor. You do. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Elke, stop.”

“Say it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Say it,” she said. Her voice rose.

“Goddamn it… Okay, I’ll say it. I resent you.”

She started to cry.

He walked out of the house and slammed the door. The baby woke up and started wailing. Tears in her eyes, Elke went to the crib and began rocking it. Irma settled down and fell back asleep.

I should leave him. I should take the children and go. But, how can I take the only family he has left away from him? I should never have married him. I knew it when we were on the ship. I knew that he would come to hate me for everything that he lost because of me.
She was sobbing when the door opened.

Viktor walked in.

“This is what you wanted. You wanted me to say that I resent you. Well all right, I said it, but not for the reasons that you might think. I resent you for being everything any man could ever want in a wife. I resent you for making me love you. But I wouldn’t change it for anything,” he said, his face red with anger, his body shaking.

“I’m sorry for what I have done to you. You could have been at home with your family, with your friends. If only you had married a non-Jew. God, Viktor, I feel so guilty. I knew this would happen one day...”

“Yes, it was inevitable. We knew they were old and that soon they would pass on. And I feel guilty too. But it isn’t your fault and it isn’t mine either. You want to know whose fault it is… It’s Hitler’s, and Himmler’s, and Goebbels,’ and Goering’s, and Eichmann’s, and all of those sons of bitches who did this to us.  Every single person we know has suffered because of them. Each one of us has lost something. Think about it, Elke… Anna and Alex lost their homes and families. My parents, my brother, Olof… Dear God, poor Olof… And Manny? What about him? The Nazis took a piece of each of us, and left us guilty and broken. But you and I, Elke, this is the good part of life. What we have together is a gift from God himself. We have love, we have each other, and we have two wonderful children. If we let ourselves become resentful of one another for any reason, we will have given the Nazis our lives. Haven’t they taken enough?”

She nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s all right,” he whispered. “Hold fast to our love, Elke. It’s true we don’t have much material wealth, but make no mistake, we share a beautiful gift that even Hitler could not take away from us.”

He walked over to her and took her into his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…”

“Come lie with me. Let me hold you. Let me know the wonderful gift that God has given me,” he said.

And she saw a single tear fall down his cheek.

Viktor never saw or spoke to Axel again.

The war ended with the Nazis’ defeat. The concentration camps were liberated, and displaced persons camps were formed. The Jewish refugees began searching for their lost loved ones. For a single moment, Edda longed to reveal her identity, but then she thought about her friends, and her children. Her friends would be angry that she had lied to them. The children would be ostracized, no longer a part of the good Catholic community where they had grown up and were comfortable. No, Edda thought, there was no reason to tell anyone anything. She’d lived as a Gentile for so long, and she would go to her grave with her secret.

When Irma turned seventeen, she married the son of the neighborhood shoemaker, a boy she’d known all of her life.  Edda and Viktor hosted a wedding for the couple, inviting all of their friends at St. Mary’s Catholic Church. It was a lovely occasion, and the bride and groom were sent off in a hail of good wishes. It was a good thing for her children to be a part of a community, Edda thought.

Sepp shipped off to college on a scholarship to study philosophy.

“Ehh, a waste of education… What kind of job are you going to get with a degree that means nothing?” Viktor asked his son. “Get some kind of training so that you can make a decent living.”

“Perhaps I will go into law…” Sepp said.

Edda turned her head sharply to look at him. Manny had studied the law. Sepp looked just like Manny.  She took a deep breath and sighed. There was no reason to bring this up with Viktor now, after all of these years. Sepp might be Manny’s son by blood, but he was Viktor’s son in every other way. When at age three he’d had the measles, Viktor had stayed up all night and walked the floors carrying him, rocking him, comforting him. At seven years old, Viktor taught him to throw a ball and to fish. Sepp belonged to Viktor; he was his father’s heart, and his pride and joy.  For the sake of both father and son, Edda would never reveal what she knew to be the truth.

Chapter 139

On a cold winter morning in the year of 2008, Viktor passed away, at 92 years old. Edda never left his side; she held his hand and longed to go with him.  His two children both came home to stay with their parents through the night.

Only four months later, Edda followed her husband to heaven.  The children were with her.

“I am glad to go,” she said. “I miss your father every day. Now we will be together.”

Irma broke into tears. Her husband hugged her close to him. Sepp held his mother’s hand.

After the funeral, brother and sister returned together to the small apartment where they’d grown up. The time had come to clean out the remains of their parents’ lives.

Irma couldn’t stop crying; her eyes were bloodshot. Sepp put his arm around his younger sister.

“Mom couldn’t go on once dad died. They were too close to be separated,” Irma said.

“It’s true. Everyone said it. They were so in love, inseparable, even when they were old. If I ever meet someone and get married, I hope it’s like that,”Sepp said.

“Come on Sepp, you’re an incurable playboy.  You’ll never settle down. It’s not in your nature.”

“You don’t know that for sure…”

“Come on Sepp. My children are getting married and their uncle is still single. If you were going to get married you would already have done so.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, when your kids have kids, can I share the grandchildren?”

“Of course,” she said and squeezed his arm.

The apartment was filled with memories. Edda had never removed a single piece of Viktor’s clothing. It was as if she were waiting for his return.  All of the tiny knick-knacks brought back memories, as well as the boxed-up Christmas tree ornaments. Even Sepp felt the tears threaten.

“We had good parents, Sepp.”

“Yeah, they really tried to do the best they could for us,” Sepp said.

“Hey, look at this.” Irma pulled a book bound in burgundy leather out of her mother’s drawer. On the cover it said
Journal
. “Did you know Mama kept a journal?”

“Hell no. Let me see it.” Sepp reached out and Irma handed him the book. As his hands touched the pages he felt a tingling in his fingers. “Do you mind if I take this back to the hotel tonight and read it?”

“No, go ahead. Let me know what it says,” Irma said.

Chapter 140

The room was silent except for the clanking of the ceiling fan.

“Sepp Hahn,” Anna said, her voice cracking with the recollection of her friends and the time they spent together…so long ago. When they were all still so young… “You are Elke and Viktor’s son.”

Sepp nodded. “My mother believed that Manny was my birth father. It was all in her journal, everything. After I learned about my Jewish heritage I knew that I had to see you.”

“Oh my God, Manny had a son.” Anna’s hand went to her throat. “Your father did a great deal for my husband and me. I owe him my life, and now that I know that he is no longer alive, I owe everything to you, his last legacy, his only remaining heir.”

“You owe me nothing. I didn’t come here today expecting anything. I came because, until you knew everything that happened, the story was not over. Now you know that you no longer need to search for Elke or Manny.”

“It’s none of my business, but Sepp…did you have a good life?” Anna asked, the words catching in her throat. She was rich now since she’d published the book. If only she could have helped Elke and Viktor.

“I had the best parents a child could have. I never knew Manny. To me, Viktor Hahn was, and always will be my father.”

“Please, join me up here on the podium. This book, this story, is as much yours as it is mine…” Anna said.

Sepp walked up to the podium. Anna hugged him.

“I am glad I came. I am glad that I met you, and that after all of these years there is no shame in telling the world that my mother was Jewish. I am proud of everything she was. And the fact that she survived with my father’s love and assistance against incredible odds only increases my admiration for both of them.”

The room was silent. Many of the survivors had tears running down their faces. Then, quietly at first, one person began it, but then the chant caught on
,
“Never again! This must never happen again! We must never forget!” It rose in volume until the room shook with the noise of those who had seen hell and lived through it.

“Never forget. Keep the story alive, tell your children’s children. It is only through education that we can prevent a horror like this from ever happening again!” Anna shouted through the microphone over the raised voices of the survivors.