Acts of Contrition (Passing Rites Book 4) by Elena Graf

Author:Elena Graf [Graf, Elena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 20th century history, World War II, Battle of Berlin, Rape of Berlin, Women in US Army World War II
Publisher: Purple Hand Press
Published: 2019-02-05T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

On the day Elisabeth was to arrive, I decided that it wouldn’t do to hide behind the steering wheel, so I asked Grauer to drive. As we headed to the train station, I noticed his eyes in the rear view mirror regarding me critically.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Grauer?” I asked impatiently.

“You look sad, Gnädige.”

I only tolerated such talk because Grauer had been in my service for ages, and I was quite fond of him. He had been one of my great triumphs as a surgeon. After other doctors had given up on him, saying he would never walk again without a crutch, I had repaired his miserable leg, which had been shot to bits in the Great War.

“I’m not sad at all,” I said. “I am very happy that Lady Elisabeth and the children are coming home.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to his driving, but I could tell my little speech had done nothing to change his opinion. I was equally unconvinced by it. Despite Sarah’s enthusiasm and encouragement, my feelings about Elisabeth’s return remained ambivalent. On the platform, I forbade myself to pace. Although I had quit smoking again at Sarah’s insistence, I asked Grauer for a cigarette. We were silent as we awaited the train, but his presence comforted me.

Finally, the train pulled into the station. Grauer walked back to the baggage car to see after the luggage. Alone, I waited for Elisabeth and company. So much had changed since the fall of 1941, when I had last seen my daughter. She had come home just a few months before America entered the war to escort Katherine’s children to the States. Katherine and I were enormously grateful that she had come at once and without question, but five years had passed. Katherine was dead. My son was dead. Our family seat was in the hands of the enemy. In ordinary times, five years is nothing. In wartime, it is an eternity.

When my daughter stepped off the train, I was immediately struck by our resemblance. She had always strongly favored me, but now that she was approaching her thirties, it was like looking into a distant mirror and seeing my younger self.

Elisabeth’s little girls, both tow heads, were attractive children. The infant’s nurse held Katie, Elisabeth’s youngest, on her hip. The girl shyly clung to her and regarded me with a look of suspicion. Her older sister, Ursula, stared outright. For a five-year-old, this child seemed very grave. She was quite clearly a Stahle, tall, slender, and blond. She had my eyes, the dark blue often seen in blondes who have golden skin. She was a much younger version of her mother and myself. Usually, one warms to someone who bears so close a resemblance, but this child gave me a decidedly chilly look. I saw that making her acquaintance would require some effort. However, it was essential to involve myself in her upbringing. Ursula was next in line after Elisabeth.

Katherine’s younger daughter, Grethe, was a red head like her mother.

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