From the Ashes of War, page 27
part #3 of The War Trilogy Series
“We have a new life together,” he continued, “but I love everything about you, sweetheart. Including all those precious memories. So don’t mourn or grieve for them alone. They’re part of us now, because on the day we married, as the vicar said at our wedding, we became one.”
Anya nodded, her heart filled with love for him. “I don’t deserve you, Danny McClain. I truly don’t.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “That’s true. You don’t.”
“And lucky for you, I happen to like your silly sense of humor.”
“It’s an acquired taste, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”
She laughed at his feigned vanity. “We all have our crosses to bear, right?”
“Hey, the way I see it, as long as we can laugh together, we can conquer anything, right?”
“You sure about that?” she asked. “Does that include a German orphan and a mute who looks quite a lot like my father?”
“Piece of cake.”
“What?”
“Piece of cake.”
“But we haven’t been served our steaks yet.”
His grin returned. “Sorry. I always forget you don’t know these quirky expressions and take them literally. A piece of cake. Easy breezy. Not a problem.”
Later, when the waiter returned to clear their plates, he asked if they’d saved room for dessert. “Perhaps a piece of cake?”
He was clearly confused by their laughter, so they thanked him for the suggestion but declined the offer.
“I think we may have offended him,” Anya said when he’d left them.
“He’s probably used to it. I’ll leave him a nice tip. Oh,” he paused, reaching into his coat pocket. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.” He set a small box wrapped in pale blue paper with a matching bow in front of her.
“What’s this?”
“Go on. Open it.”
“Oh Danny, I’m so embarrassed. I wasn’t aware we’d be exchanging gifts. I should have—”
“Nonsense. It’s just a little something. Let’s don’t get hung up on obligatory gifts. It’s just something I wanted you to have.”
She smiled, tearing the paper, then opening the tiny box. She lifted the small square of tissue and found a miniature silver replica of the hotel with The Drake in red letters.
“The Drake?” She looked at him quizzically. “Really?”
“Well, sure. This isn’t any ordinary anniversary. This is our first anniversary, and I thought we should remember it.” He held her wrist, admiring the collection of charms dangling from her bracelet. “This is our life story, Anya. The plane and the windmill, reminding us how we met. The American flag, to celebrate your new life here. And now the Drake Hotel,” he paused, dancing his brows and lowering his voice, “where we’ve already made a few of our own memories.”
She smiled as she pulled the charm from its box. “Then I love it. Thank you, Danny.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll add it to your bracelet when we get back upstairs.”
She lifted her wrist. “At the rate we’re going, I’ll barely be able to lift my arm in a few years. So many charms.”
He fingered each of them. “Yes, so many charms. Soon we’ll have to add one for our first house, and maybe one of those college mortar boards when I graduate—”
“Mortar boards?”
“Those flat black hats with a tassel that you wear when you graduate.”
“Oh yes. One of those.”
He leaned a little closer and whispered in her ear. “Then maybe we’ll need one with a baby rattle or perhaps a pram?”
Her face warmed as it always did when he spoke of such things. She bowed her head and tried to think of something terribly clever to say. Instead, even as the thought crossed her mind, she raised her head and looked at her handsome husband, his eyes so endearing.
She didn’t even try to suppress her smile. “I should think a pram would be a lovely addition, don’t you?”
She would never forget the awestruck shock registering in his eyes, or the goofy smile widening in those deep dimples she loved so much.
“Are you serious?” he croaked.
She nodded, placing her hand over his. “Yes, Danny. I’m completely serious.”
42
They might have wished for a whole week at the Drake, but the overnight anniversary had refreshed and recharged Danny and Anya. Which was a good thing since Jacob was waiting for them on the front porch steps as the car rolled to a stop in the driveway. He trotted over to the car, reaching Anya’s window as Danny turned off the ignition.
“I thought maybe you weren’t coming back. How come you were gone so long?”
“Gone so long?” Danny climbed out of the car. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours, buddy. How’s it going?”
“Okay, I guess. Except you missed all the excitement. An ambulance came early this morning, but it didn’t have the siren blaring, so I was disappointed.”
“What? Who needed an ambulance?” Anya let the car door slam and rushed toward the porch. “Is Betty okay? Is it Father?”
“No! It was one of those old ladies across the street.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and continued. “She wasn’t dead or anything, but the other one was crying so hard, I thought she might croak.”
Danny and Anya exchanged looks of relief, then concern. “Was it Angelica? She’s been sick, you know.”
“How should I know? What did you do at the hotel?”
Danny’s face went blank. “Oh, you know, we just … rested. Lots of rest.”
“Yes, quite a bit of rest,” Anya added as Danny joined her on the porch steps.
Jacob scratched behind his ear as he followed them into the house. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Yeah, that’s why we knew you would’ve been bored.”
“No kidding.”
“Hello, kids,” Betty said, meeting them at the door as she dried her hands on her apron. “Have a good time?”
“All they did was sleep,” Jacob grumbled.
“Well, then, how nice.” She pressed a kiss on her son’s cheek, then Anya’s. “Sounds like just what you needed.”
“If you ask me, they could’ve saved a lot of money and just slept here,” Jacob added.
Betty, Anya, and Danny shared knowing smiles.
“Yes, well, it was still lovely for them to have a chance to get away,” Betty said. “And now nice to have you home again.”
As they made their way into the kitchen, Danny asked about their neighbor. “What happened to Angelica? Jacob said an ambulance came this morning.”
“Yes, the poor dear took a fall and broke her hip. Mrs. Martello called from the hospital just a while ago and said Angelica will have surgery tomorrow morning.”
“How did she fall?” Anya asked.
“Mrs. Martello thinks she was confused again. She was hanging sopping wet clothes on the line in her backyard during the night and must have tripped on a fallen branch. Poor thing laid there for hours. When Mrs. Martello stepped out on her porch to get her newspaper this morning, she heard her crying. At first, she thought it was a kitten, it was so quiet and pitiful. But when she followed the sound, she found Angelica on the ground with her nightgown soaked in the morning dew.”
“That’s so sad,” Anya said. “She must have been frightened all those hours.”
“Probably so, though with her mind coming and going, she might not have been altogether aware of what happened. Once she’s out of the hospital, she’ll move in with Mrs. Martello, and they’ll put her house up for sale.”
Danny and Anya glanced at each other and smiled.
“What?” Jacob asked, nibbling a sugar cookie.
“We’ve been thinking about buying her house once it’s on the market. Remember?” Danny said.
“You’re moving? What about Papa and me?”
“Oh honey, we’ll sort that out later,” Betty said.
He put the half-eaten cookie back on the plate. “You can’t just leave. Not now. We just got here!”
Anya placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off.
“Jacob, listen to me,” she said. “We are not leaving you. Okay? We’re just thinking about it at this point. Besides, it’s just across the street. No need to get stressed about it.”
“Anya’s right,” Danny added. “Nothing for you to worry yourself over.”
Jacob stared at the cookie a minute more, then grabbed it again. “Just promise you’ll tell us before you do anything?”
“You have our word,” Danny said, holding his hand out to shake his hand.
“Where’s Father?” Anya asked, pouring two glasses of lemonade at the kitchen counter.
“He’s resting upstairs, I think,” Betty said.
“He was mad you all took off like that.”
“Jacob, he was not mad,” Betty said. “We had a lovely evening last night listening to our radio programs. Then we all went to bed at the usual time.”
Anya started for the door. “I’m going upstairs to see if he would like some lemonade. I’ll be back in a while.”
Jacob stood, dashing for the door ahead of her. “You better let me check and see if he’s awake.”
“Jacob, let her go,” Danny insisted. “Anya can check on him.”
“Why can’t I go too?”
“Because she’s allowed to have some time with her father without you or me or anyone else. Okay?”
He said nothing, just huffed as he often did and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I won’t be long,” Anya said as she left the room.
She tapped on the door while juggling the two glasses. “Father? Are you awake?”
With the door cracked, she slowly opened it and spotted her father sitting up in bed. With pillows propped behind him and a book in his lap, he roused from sleep.
“I thought you might like some lemonade.”
He sat up straighter and ran a hand over his balding head before adjusting his glasses. Satisfied, he fashioned that smile on his face and held out his hand for the glass.
“There now.” Anya took a seat in the chair beside the bedside table. “I thought we might have a little chat.”
He took a sip and smiled with a nod of the head.
“Danny and I just got back from the Drake,” she said speaking Dutch. “It’s a lovely hotel, and we had a nice time celebrating our anniversary.”
His smile stayed put, but he remained silent, of course.
“We had a room on the eighth floor overlooking Lakeshore Drive. The beach was quite busy. I suppose the summer heat makes it so popular. We had a nice time at dinner. We ate in the hotel lounge. It’s called Coq’ d’Or, which means golden rooster, according to the menu. Apparently, it was named after a popular bar in Philadelphia, wherever that is.”
Her father nodded again, then took another sip before setting his glass on the bedside table.
“On the back of the menu, there was an interesting history about the lounge. I know how you love history, so I thought I’d tell you about it. It said there was a period of fourteen years when alcohol consumption was illegal in America. But when the Prohibition ended in December of 1933, as the story goes, the Coq’ d’Or began serving alcoholic beverages before the hour the law was officially repealed. The bar stayed open all night to serve the long lines winding down the street. Isn’t that bizarre?”
She had no idea if he’d listened, as he studied a loose button on the cuff of his sleeve. But that was okay. She’d grown used to these one-sided conversations. But oh, how she longed for so much more.
“Yes, well, the steaks were delicious and cooked to perfection. I must say I’m surprised how much I’ve learned to like American food. Of course, it’s no match for the food of our motherland. Do you remember Mother’s poffertjes? I miss them so. The American pancakes are so heavy, don’t you think? Maybe I should ask Betty if she would let me make some poffertjes. Would you like that, Father?”
He glanced toward the window but made no response.
Doesn’t matter, she told herself. Again.
“And Mother’s erwtensoep. I can’t tell you how many times I have dreamed of us sitting at our table at home. Mother is there, ladling the pea soep.”
She closed her eyes. “Oh, I can almost taste it. And her bruin brood served hot from the oven with butter? Can you taste it too, Father?”
She opened her eyes only to find him dozing. Her smile slowly faded, but she wasn’t upset. For better or worse, she was growing accustomed to such visits.
As he slept, she studied his kind face with all its new lines and wrinkles. The puffy bags beneath his eyes, more pronounced now. The tiny laugh lines skirting the outer edges of his eyes, evidence of happier days. His hair, what was left of it, now snowy white, as was the close-cropped beard along his jaw.
And the reading glasses perched on his nose. Why had she not noticed them before? Smudged and dirty, and crooked across his nose. Surely they could have him fitted for new ones. Most likely he needed a stronger prescription for them.
And his clothes. He and Jacob had come with only a few pairs of slacks and shirts, no doubt from some missionary barrel at Amersfoort. They’d bought clothing for Jacob shortly after they arrived, and Betty had graciously found clothes for Huub from Frank’s side of her closet.
“I know it’s silly, but I can’t part with them yet. Perhaps God knew we would need them?” Betty had said.
But Frank’s clothing hung on Father’s thin frame. Her eyes followed the length of his legs atop the bed covering, his feet crossed at the ankles, black socks on his feet.
She looked below to his shoes resting on the rug beside the bed. Scuffed up and worn. She leaned over to pick one up and turned it over. A hole in the sole. She checked the other one. Two worn spots.
Oh for goodness sake. How could I have been so blind and negligent?
He’d never been a vain man, putting importance on outward appearances. Her mother had always taken it upon herself to see that her family looked respectable. And though he was always smartly attired, his tie perfectly knotted, and his clothes clean and pressed, he preferred kindness, a ready smile, and a firm handshake as the only garments of importance.
But now, at this moment in time, his appearance mattered to Anya. If he could not return to her in spirit, she could at least help him dress properly.
And then it hit her. How could she have forgotten? His birthday was next week—the seventeenth of July! What perfect timing, giving her an excuse to buy him some new clothes and shoes.
An idea took shape as she tiptoed out of the room and hurried down the stairs, careful not to spill her lemonade. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and found them just as she’d left them. Betty at the sink. Danny and Jacob seated at the table.
“I’ve had the most wonderful idea!”
“What is it?” Danny asked.
“Father’s birthday is next week. It’s on Wednesday. I don’t know how I could have let it slip my mind. We should have a birthday party! With a cake and balloons and—”
“That’s a great idea!” Betty added.
“Then let’s do it,” Danny said, joining her. “Do you think he’ll understand why we’re celebrating?”
“Of course he’ll understand,” Jacob scoffed. “He’s not stupid.”
“I didn’t mean that he was, Jacob. I’m just wondering if he’d be pleased, or if it might overwhelm him.”
“Didn’t sound like that to me,” Jacob grumbled with a scowl on his face.
“Wait a minute,” Anya said. “Jacob, why are you acting this way?”
“What way?”
“Like you’re mad or upset about this. I would have thought you’d be excited to celebrate Father’s birthday.”
“Papa’s birthday.”
“Fine. Papa’s birthday. Why are you reacting like this?”
He stared at her but said nothing.
“Jacob? Anya asked you a question,” Danny said.
Silence.
Anya took a seat next to Jacob’s and folded her hands on the table. “Please talk to us, Jacob. If there’s something wrong, then let us know so we can help.”
She studied the small vein throbbing along his temple, the firm set of his jaw. She started to place her hand over his, but stopped when he jerked it back.
“Jacob?” she said quietly.
His lips tight, nostrils flared, he stayed silent. A moment later, he dropped his head and mumbled something.
“What was that?” she asked, placing her hand firmly on his and holding tight.
With his head still planted on his chest, he took another breath. “I said, I’ve never had one.”
“Never had one what?” Danny asked.
“A birthday party.”
“Never?” Anya asked.
He shook his head.
“Well, then,” Danny said, “I think we should do something about that.” He knelt beside his chair. “And how exciting that we will have the privilege of giving you your very first birthday party? That’s a huge honor, if you ask me.”
“It’s a ridiculously huge honor,” Anya said. “And yes, we must do something about it right away.”
Anya wasn’t sure her heart could take much more. A child who’s never had a birthday party? As she looked into his hooded eyes, she wondered what other missing pieces might be buried in his young heart.
“Such fun we’ll have,” Betty added. “You’ll have to choose what kind of cake you want and who you’d like to invite—”
“And where you’d like to have your party,” Anya continued. “We could have it here or maybe at the park?”
“Really? My very own birthday party?”
“Absolutely!” Danny said.
“When is your birthday?” Anya asked.
He looked at her with the oddest expression on his freckled face. “I don’t know.”
“You mean you can’t remember?” Betty asked.
“No. Nobody ever told me.”
He doesn’t know his own birthday?
But then, how could he? He would have been so young when he was taken to the camps. Too young to remember his life before. Too young to remember his parents or where he came from or what day he was born.
_preview.jpg)
