

CHILD NO.32 -G

### By

## Maggy Diak

Published by Maggy Diak at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Maggy Diak

### I.

Mia got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" growled Klemen drowsily. "It's Saturday, no work."

"I'm going to check on Mom."

"Hasn't she told you not to come?"

"She has, but I'm still worried. "She sighed: "How I wish there was a telephone in her apartment. It would spare me running to her each time I want to ask or tell her something."

"You said you would have it installed, why haven't you?"

"Because, as you well know, Klemen," she answered, irritated by his teasing, »she doesn't want that damn telephone. Says the numbers are too small for her eyes and fingers. Besides she doesn't want to be bothered by the ringing. Says that whoever has to say something to her should come and say it right to her face.

Klemen rolled over onto his belly giggling: "Funny old lady. Well, do what you want, I'll stay in bed. It would be nice if you joined me, we could..."

She slammed the door.

"Mothers first," he said peevishly.

It wasn't far to her mother's block. About five minutes' walk, nevertheless, she had to dress, go out and worry all the time. I'm going to buy her the mobile, whether she wants it or not, she decided. I'll look for one with enormous numbers. And I'll insist she learns how to use it.

It was a clear, but chilly morning. Shivering, she zipped her cardigan up to the chin. On the lawn among the blocks of flats, an elderly woman was walking her dog. Otherwise, there was no living soul to be seen anywhere. She knew her mother would be up already. She was an early riser. Unless she'd pushed the needle too far into her vein and bled to death!

The thought made her quicken the pace. I shouldn't have listened to her, she murmured under her breath. I should have checked on her yesterday evening and not waited until this morning.

Her mother was a diabetes patient. The illness was discovered eight years ago, and Mia was the one who had to give her insulin shots twice a day. One in the morning and one in the evening. Mom could have given them to herself, of course, she had been taught in the hospital how to do it. However, she said she'd rather die than push the needle under her own skin. Mia got used to it and was sure she'll have to do it for the rest of mom's life. She felt guilty at the scary thought, how she would manage it beside all the duties and work she had with her family, two kids and her teaching job, but she owed her mother so much. Once her mother shocked her by suggesting that she would like to go to a care home.

"For God's sake, why?" asked Mia baffled.

But yesterday morning she shocked Mia by saying that from then on she would give herself the shots. 'You needn't come anymore,' she told her, 'at least not because of the shots.'

"Don't be stupid, Mom," laughed Mia thinking it was a joke, "you can't do that. You never have."

"From now on, I will," was her mom's stubborn answer.

"But be sensible! What if you don't do it right?"

"I'll do it right!"

Mia stared at her. "Have I done something wrong, or what?" she asked suspiciously.

Mother shook her head. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"Because, I decided so."

"Okay, then. You decided!" She angrily walked out.

But she was restless the whole day and at night she had nightmares. Her mother had never, until now, been so weird. Something was wrong.

With her heart thundering in her chest, she entered the block, climbed the stairs to the first floor and pressed the bell twice. This was the sign it was her at the door and not somebody else, so her mom would not get scared when she heard the key grating in the lock.

After unlocking the door, she entered the small hall, a part of which was reorganized into a tiny kitchen, which led into the even tinier bathroom with the toilet. There was one large room, the living room, dining room and bedroom in one. During the day, the bed was hidden in the closet, so that there was enough room in the living room for two armchairs a small table and a couch. Throwing her shoes off and stepping into the slippers, Mia exclaimed: "How did it go? The insulin shots, I mean?"

There was no answer, so she rushed into the room, believing her worst nightmares came true.

"Mom..."

She came to a halt as if struck by lightning. The bed was raised and locked up in the cabinet. The room was tidied up giving no sign that it was slept in. There was no sign of her mother.

"What...? How....?

When Mia recovered from the shock, she ran onto the balcony, checked the bathroom again, even peeped into the wardrobe.

The mother was gone! That was not possible! She never went anywhere by herself. Except to the shop around the corner. And it was too early for that. All the shops were still closed.

Was she sick and did she go for help? Where? To Kate's?

Kate was her neighbor who lived in the flat below. A few years ago, they made friends, well, not exactly friends for mom was in the habit of never making friends with anybody. She was reserved and distrustful. Their relationship was more a good acquaintance than a friendship. It began with Kate starting a chat, which her mother failed to avoid. After exchanging their opinion on the weather and on the prices going up each day, her mother hastened to her flat. In the same afternoon, Kate was at the door again, saying she came on a visit, and her mother did not pluck up enough courage to tell her she hated visits.

From then on Kate was her mom's regular visitor. She didn't have a TV set of her own, so she came each evening to watch the news, which was an excuse for she wasn't interested in politics. If she were, she wouldn't fall asleep a second after the news began. And that was not all. She started to snore. That made her mom furious, yet she did not dare to forbid her to come.

Nevertheless, Mia felt calmer since her mom had had a company. She knew Kate would help her mother if something went wrong, and immediately inform her.

She ran down the stairs to the ground floor and pressed the bell at Kate's door. It took Kate a long time to open it. A look at her crumpled face and messy hair told Mia that she had gotten her out of bed.

"I'm sorry for waking you," she apologized, "I'd just like to know if my mom is here."

Kate widened her eyes. "Here? I thought she was with you. She told me yesterday not to come, for she would not be at home..."

Mia shook her head. "No, she was not with me. Thank you, ..."

Kate was fully awake now. Grabbing Mia's hand, she exclaimed: "Wait, wait, Mia, what are you going to do now?"

Before Mia had time to answer, she added hastily: "Wait for me to get dressed. I'll be ready in a minute. I'll help you find her."

"No, no," hurried Mia, "stay at home, Kate. Go back to sleep. I'll call my husband."

"But I'd like...."

Disappointedly, she watched Mia go.

When Mia came home, she woke up Klemen and told him that mother had disappeared. Looking at her drowsily, he indifferently waved his hand: "So what? She's just decided to go out."

"Go out? Saturday morning? Where to? The shops are still closed. Besides, she never goes out alone anymore!"

"Maybe today she decided differently. Come on Mia," he said, dropping back on the pillow, "come to bed. It's still early."

"Klemen, I'm really worried," she added. "Shouldn't I call the hospital or police to see..."

"Mia, your mother's been missing for ten minutes! The police will take you for being drunk if you report her ten-minute disappearance."

"Not ten minutes. She seems to not have slept in the apartment. That means she might be missing the whole night!"

"Well, it's too early. If she doesn't appear in forty-eight hours, then you can call the police."

"Forty-eight hours! I can't wait so long. Haven't you noticed how silent, weird and lost she has seemed lately. What if she's lost her memory?"

"She doesn't suffer dementia, for God's sake. Don't panic."

"No, she doesn't, but it can happen temporarily because of her diabetes. Do you remember when she got virosis last year? She didn't know where she was. She couldn't find the toilet and thought it was in the wardrobe. She didn't recognize me when I came. If something like that happened, who knows where she is now."

Klemen finally woke up. He scrambled to his feet, and with his forefinger on his lips started to pace the room. He halted in front of her. "She told you and her neighbor yesterday not to visit her, she had planned to go somewhere, which rules dementia out."

Mia slapped her forehead. "Of course! How didn't it come to my mind immediately? But, but," she repeated, "she never goes anywhere by herself."

He grinned broadly, flinging himself down on the bed again. "If you ask me, she found herself a lover and ran away with him."

Mia threw him a furious look. "Stop this foolishness! I have no nerves for it right now. Mom is seventy!"

"So what? Do you think oldies cannot fall in love? Just watch them in the nursing homes..."

"My mom is not only old; she is ill too. And what worries me most is that she didn't give herself the insulin shot and you know what that means. A coma! Besides, she could suffer heart attack. These are not jokes, Klemen."

"Okay," he said earnestly, sitting up. "Do you know what I suggest? Let's go to her apartment and comb through her things. We might find a hint where she has gone."

### 2.

"Let's see first which of her clothes are missing," said Klemen, opening the wardrobe.

Mia immediately noticed that mom's brown costume and her beige spring coat, as well as brown shoes with middle high heel, were missing.

"She dresses like that only when she goes for an examination or on a trip. But it's too early for the doctor, and she would never in the world go on any trip alone."

"Obviously, she has done just that. Let's do the drawers where she keeps her documents. Anything missing here?"

"Only her identity card, which is not unusual. She takes it everywhere, even when we go shopping. When she was doing the shopping by herself, she liked to joke that she took it so that people would know who she was in case she fainted."

"No joke at all, if you ask me. Bad taste. What about her passport?"

"Passport? You don't think she has gone abroad, do you? Because it's impossible. There is nobody out there... Have you found the passport?"

"No."

Mia searched the drawer and didn't find it either. But there was her savings book and after opening it, she went numb in disbelief. Mom had drawn a big some of money from her bank account the previous day. Mia's voice trembled, her eyes filled with tears, when she said: "What does that mean? You are right. She seems to have planned her journey. It must have been long ago. But why hasn't she just told me? Why such secrecy? Am I suddenly not trustful enough, or what? I have been doing all her bank business for years, she forced me into it, and now... this!"

Another smirk flickered at the corner of Klemen's mouth when saying: "Didn't I tell you? There is a man involved into this. Who knows where they went. To the Bahamas, I would say. Still waters run deep."

"Klemen!" she exclaimed sharply.

"Do you have any other explanation?"

After mulling all the options over, she exclaimed: "Ljubo, my brother! If she's gone abroad, she's gone to him to Switzerland. She has no one anywhere else."

"Call him then."

Ljubo's voice was strange, seemed to come from far away. "Have I waked you?" she asked. "Sorry if I have. I'd just like to know if Mom is coming to you today."

She heard him gasp. "To me? Today? As far as I know, she isn't. Why?"

"She's disappeared. Didn't sleep in her apartment. I don't know where she is. When I came to her this morning, she was not there. Her passport vanished too, so I thought she went abroad. And abroad she has nobody but you."

Ljubo reassured her that mother did not mention visiting him. But he decided to stay at home that day in case she came. They promised to stay in touch and inform each other if anything new came up.

Mia looked inquiringly at Klemen. "And what now?"

"It came to my mind that if she had gone abroad, then she had gone by train because no bus goes abroad from here."

"And?"

"What do you think? We'll go to the railway station and ask if such and such a lady had bought a ticket yesterday..."

"You are a genius!" she exclaimed.

They were lucky. The cashier did remember Mia's mother. Yesterday evening, she bought a ticket to Innsbruck, Austria.

Mia gaped. "To Innsbruck? You mean Zürich?"

"No, Innsbruck."

"But she couldn't have...."

Klemen slipped his arm through hers and walked her out.

"But there is nobody there anymore...," she continued perplexed. "Why would she go to Innsbruck, when..."

"Maybe, she went to see Stefan."

"For heaven's sake, Klemen, she hates him like sin! Besides, he's probably not even alive anymore."

They were continuing their way in silence, each deep in their own thoughts.

"I'm going there," she suddenly said.

"Going where?"

"To Innsbruck. Immediately. I'll take the car."

Klemen, annoyed, forced her to stop. "Don't be crazy, Mia! Where will you look for her in Innsbruck? It's as if you were looking for a needle in the hay."

"I don't know. First, I'll go to the places I know she knows. The Gasthof Templ, to Zefi and Stefan's apartment in the Olympic village... If I find nobody there, I'll ask the neighbors, somebody must have seen her ... All I know is that I must go."

"Perhaps Ljubo can..."

"No, Klemen, Ljubo should wait in Switzerland, I'm going to Innsbruck."

They were standing on the pavement, staring at each other.

"Klemen, I must go," she repeated pleadingly.

He went with his fingers through his hair and then said with a deep sigh: "I'll go with you."

Her face lit, she embraced him. "Thank you, thank you," she whispered.

"I don't have any other option, do I, if I don't want to lose my wife after I had lost my precious mother-in-law," he laughed sarcastically."

### II.

The train stopped. Franziska waited for the passengers to get out. There weren't many at this late hour and this time of the year. That's why she chose November and the night train. She hated crowds and loud noise they were making.

After the last passenger, a young man had jumped down the stairs on the platform, she grabbed the metal handle beside the door trying to pull herself up into the train corridor. She couldn't because the first step was too high up for her aching feet and the bag, she was holding in her other hand too heavy though she filled it with as little luggage as possible.

She got scared. I must get in, she told herself, tears gathering in her eyes. I must...

"Can I help you, Ma'am?"

She shuddered with fear, let go of the metal bar and turned around. It was the conductor. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth.

"Yes, please. It's so high..."

He took her bag, went up the three stairs, turned back to her, bent down and offered her his hand. She grabbed it gratefully, and he pulled her up.

"Thank you so much," she said breathlessly, reaching for her bag, but he shoved it out of her reach, saying: "I'll escort you to the compartment. Follow me."

That made her nervous. There was her whole life in that bag. Money, documents, her passport, train ticket. She took only one bag out of precaution. If she had more bags, one for money and documents the other for other things, she was afraid she might lose or forget the smaller one on the train or somewhere else. It was better to have everything in one bag, not a too big one so that she would not need to put it on the luggage rack during the traveling. She decided to hold it in her lap feeling safer that way.

A horrifying thought popped up from somewhere while she was trying to keep up with him: "What if he starts running with the bag?"

He stopped in front of a compartment door, slid it open and disappeared inside. She waited outside. The compartment was a small cabin with two benches, a window, and a sliding door. Above each bench that gave seats to about four people, was a luggage rack. Scanning the compartment through the glass door, she noticed that it was empty. Not that she wished a company,... just... she was not sure she could trust that man. He might lock her inside and rob her, or even kill her.

"Come in, Ma'am," he said smiling pleasantly. She hesitated.

"Come in," he repeated.

Reluctantly, she entered the compartment. If I scream, will anybody hear me, ran through her mind. When walking down the corridor, she didn't see or hear a living being....

"I must go, Ma'am," the conductor said, putting her bag on the bench near the window. "Just make yourself comfortable, later I'll pop over to see if you need anything." He gave her a smiling nod and left the compartment.

She felt ashamed and relieved at the same time. She shouldn't have suspected him of being a robber. Yet, one never knows. Minka, her neighbor, had never dreamed of the possibility to be robbed when leaving the bank with her measly pension, hardly big enough to cover her monthly costs. But she was. By two, not more than sixteen-year-old brats! They were secretly waiting for her outside the bank, snatched her bag away from her and disappeared among the buildings. She screamed of course, she did, yet it was too late. As expected, the police had never caught them. If you don't take care of your own self, nobody will. You can count only on yourself and nobody else. That's why she did the right thing not to trust the conductor, regardless of his kindness.

Taking the seat by the window, she put her heavy bag on her knees and embraced it with both hands as if it were her life belt.

Thank heavens, I'm here at last, she said under her breath.

"Are you afraid, somebody will steal your bag or what?"

Franziska flinched at the voice, bent over the bag, and then cautiously scanned the compartment with her bespectacled eyes. She saw no one.

"I'm here."

Following the voice, she suddenly spotted a figure crouched in the corner of the compartment. It was Zefi!"

"Zefi!" she exclaimed in an undertone, so excited that she dropped her bag which, when touching the floor, opened and with a loud bang spat out all of its content.

"Oh, no," she murmured desperately, grabbing the edge of the bench on which she was sitting with one hand and the edge of the bench on the opposite side with the other and slowly and silently moaning dropped to her knees.

At that moment the conductor entered, halted, gasped. "What are you doing, Ma'am? Don't you feel well?" He squatted down to her to help her pick up her possessions lying on the floor, however she shoved his hand away saying in a shrill voice: I'll do it myself."

Offended, he rose to his feet. "I just wanted to help you," he said. "I don't intend to steal anything from you."

"I can do it myself," she repeated grumblingly.

The conductor left the compartment.

"Why didn't you let him help you?" asked Zefi. Franziska glanced at her sideways. She's put on weight since our last meeting, she thought. But she is still dressed elegantly as always. Her hairdressing is the same. Blond hair, colored of course, reaching to her shoulders. A youthful hairdressing, which doesn't quite agree with her old wrinkled face.

"You never know," she answered, returning back to her things on the floor. They all seem so sweet at first but then.... "Frowning as if she had just seen her, she again looked at Zefi, asking in astonishment: "Zefi, how come, you are here?"

Zefi winked playfully: "I came to make you company, are you not glad to see me?"

"Yyy... yes, of course, only... you know... so many years have passed, since you... Didn't you...?"

"What Franziska?"

Franziska shook her head in confusion. She opened and closed her mouth, like a fish on the dry ground, gasping for air. No sound came out of it.

"What if I didn't?" insisted Zefi.

The train started with a jerk. Franziska cocked her head to the left to see out of the window. She sighed with relief:" Finally, we are moving." After she had pushed all her belongings back into the bag, she pulled herself up on the bench again.

The conductor entered. "Tickets, please." He behaved utmost officially. Usually, he was kind to old women, but he was angry with this one for rejecting his help as if he were a scoundrel, a thief. He knew, in fact, that old women could be stubborn and unpredictable. He had one at home, his mother, who was additionally demented. However, he was not ready to swallow everything they said to him or about him. Especially, if the woman was a stranger.

Franziska feverishly fished through her bag, murmuring desperately: "I have it... After I had bought it, I put it in here... Right here! Where is it? Why isn't it here?"

"Because," said Zefi, "you must have put it somewhere else when shoving things into the bag."

"I know I put it into this inside pocket. I know..."

The conductor started to get impatient. "Find it," he said monotonously, "I'll make a round and come back after a while."

"The best thing to do now is to turn the bag upside down again, shaking out everything on the bench. If you have it, you'll find it. If not...."

"Of course, I have it! Do you think I wanted to cheat or what? That I intended to travel for free? I have never cheated in my life. Never!"

She threw a cautious look at the door.

"Don't be afraid, nobody will come," reassured her Zefi.

Franziska hastily emptied her bag on the bench. "Here it is," she said relieved.

"I've told you, haven't I?"

The conductor returned, and she gave him the ticket with a victorious smile all over her face. He perforated it, gave it back to her, saying: "You'll have to change the train in Schwarzach St. Veit."

"What?" she said baffled, "Is it still necessary to change trains in Schwarzach St. Veit?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have heard that a tunnel was made or an additional track laid. So the changing is not necessary anymore."

He let out a short laugh. "If that were true, we'd all be happy. No, no tunnel was made."

"So nothing has changed for thirty years," she answered disappointedly. "Thirty years ago, my daughter used to travel by this train to...," she searched for Zefi and after her eyes spotted her shape at the far end of the compartment, she continued, "to you Zefi, do you remember? She was only fourteen and traveling all by herself made me so scared. You do remember, don't you, Zefi?"

The conductor followed her eyes and seeing nobody, he wondered if she was sane. He started to be worried. Why was this woman traveling alone? Will she cause trouble? Why did she choose his train, exactly his train?

"Do you feel well, madam?" he asked, all anger forgotten.

"Tolerably well," she answered, giving him a shy smile. "Today I'm feeling a bit better. With a nervous, trembling gesture, she started to shove her gray hair back under the head-kerchief. "You'll tell me when I have to get off, won't you?"

He promised to do that, suggested her to relax and hurried off. His face was grim with anxiety.

"Why are you traveling alone?" asked Zefi. "Where are your children, Mia and Ljubo?"

Annoyance flashed in Franziska's eyes. "Where? Mia is at home, Ljubo in Zurich at work, I guess." The expression of her face softens. "He has a good job, you know. Something with telephone cables. His superiors like him. They say he's a good worker. Has quite a high salary." Her eyes were gleaming with pride.

"They don't know where you are, do they?"

"That's none of their business."

"How can you say that? They'll be dead worried when they find out you disappeared."

"If I had told them, they wouldn't have let me go or would have wanted to go with me."

"And that would be the only right thing for them to do," exclaimed Zefi. "You are stupid and irresponsible to take such a long tour regarding your heart illness and heavy diabetes. You should have told Mia, at least"

Stubbornness flashed across Franziska's face. "I have to do it alone!"

"Do what alone, Franziska?"

Franziska pressed her lips tightly together and turned her head to the window, pretending to be absorbed in the running scenery on the other side though it was too dark to see it.

"Do what Franziska," repeated Zefi.

Franziska kept staring through the window, her face a motionless mask.

Conductor's head poked through the door. "How are you doing, ma'am?"

"I'm fine," she answered crossly because he was breaking in on her conversation with Zefi.

"I would suggest that you take a nap. It's still a long way to Schwarzach."

"I never sleep on a train or bus," she answered. "I can't. I envy those who fall asleep the minute they sit down."

"I'm one of them," he giggled. "I would fall asleep immediately if I were allowed to. However, I think you should try."

"After arriving at Innsbruck, call her from the railway station," suggested Zefi, when the conductor left.

"No, I won't!"

"Why not?"

Franziska shrugged.

"I don't understand why you play such hide and seek with your children Why are you cutting them out of your life? They are your blood, your family."

"You cannot tell everything to your children."

"Why not?"

"Because they'd blame you. Despise you."

"Franziska, don't make me laugh. What is there in your life the children would despise you for?"

"A lot. Too much... And you know it. You blamed me too."

Zefi's eyelids fluttered: "Who is 'you'?

"Everybody, including you and Lucia. At least at the beginning."

"Beginning of what?" Then Zefi burst into laughter. "Oh, I see, you mean Toni, don't you? You think we were despising you because of him? Have you forgotten that we, Lucia and I, were the ones who helped you?"

"Lucia has never forgiven me."

"Oh, come on, Franziska, nobody has ever loved you more than our sister Lucia and you know it. She has never loved me so much."

Franziska sighed bitterly: "Despite that she left me... went to that convent of hers... I missed her so much...." Frowningly looking around the compartment, she asked: "Where is she now?"

Zefi didn't answer. Her eyes were closed, Franziska thought she had fallen asleep again, but then Zefi grinning in her silvery voice that hadn't changed since Franziska last heard it and that was many many years ago: "You were Lucia's favorite, I was Franz'. I often think of our clowning around." Remembering it made her look happy and young again. Just like she was when she was a kid.

But Franziska's lips pouted. "Franz! He never behaved as a brother to me. We hardly spoke. He behaved as if I didn't exist. I liked John more. He was kind, never shouted at me like Franz."

"To me John seemed such a stranger," answered Zefi. "I never took him for a brother."

"No wonder. You were born when he was already fifteen."

"He never played with me like Franz." Her face lit up with new memories. "Do you remember how I prevented our father from beating him because he was romping around with me instead of chopping wood?"

"How couldn't I?" answered Franziska with a deep, heavy sigh.

Zefi's face darkened. "If only it hadn't ended so tragically... I still feel responsible..." She bowed her head to hide tears.

Franziska stretched her hand to give her a comforting hug, but couldn't reach her. Zefi was too far and Franziska's bag too heavy to get up. "Zefi, it was not your fault. Believe me..."

That day and those following, were like hell.

### ***

Franziska was helping Lucia making lunch. She was thirteen, Lucia seventeen. Mother was again having trouble with her stomach and was resting in the room adjoining the kitchen. They were making vegetable soup and pancakes with marmalade. This was the cheapest lunch they could make, besides everybody liked it, especially pancakes. Everything was homemade, including marmalade. Fruits were picked up by children. In spring strawberries, in autumn blueberries and raspberries. They had to get up early in the morning. Before school. It was still dark when they went, half asleep, with cans in their hands to the woods. After filling the cans, they hurried down to the hotels to sell the fruit. They kept for themselves only a handful of it. Not to eat it but to make the marmalade.

The garden provided them with the vegetables, chicken with eggs, two goats with milk. So they managed to survive somehow.

While cooking, they were listening to the radio, an old shabby box that Franz found in a rubbish dump and wouldn't work at first, but he kept poking into it until it filled the place with music, which made everybody euphoric. Well, it gave a somewhat raucous voice, and it gave you a slight electrical shock if you touched the antenna, however, that did not stop them from listening to it. They were just careful to avoid touching the antenna.

Their favorite song was filling the kitchen now, making both of them sing aloud, when loud noises from the outside silenced them. They hurried to the window to see what was happening.

"Look at them," said Lucia, "they are like two careless puppies."

Zefi, eleven years old and Franz eighteen were jumping around each other, screaming loudly.

"If I teased him, or you, like that, he'd beat us," Franziska remarked." But he's never angry with Zefi. And neither is Pa. They just let her say and do whatever she wants."

A weak smile played on Lucia's lips. "Well, she's the youngest and so cute that we are all spoiling her."

When watching Zefi and Franz playing outside, a weak moaning coming from their parent's bedroom, made them exchange worried glances:

"Will you go?"

Lucia nodded, untied the apron and left the kitchen.

Mother was suffering from stomach pain for several months. She couldn't eat, lost weight. Their doctor did not know how to treat her. He had no idea what was wrong with her. The only one who could give her some comfort was Lucia. She knelt down by her bedside, held her bony hand in both hers, and they prayed together. Only then the tension on their mom's face relaxed for a moment. And they all were grateful for this one moment.

Lucia possessed the power to comfort everybody. She just smiled, touched your hand and pain and sorrow subsided. No wonder, everybody liked and respected her.

"How is she?" Franziska asked when Lucia reappeared in the kitchen.

"She fell asleep."

Lucia's prayer helped again.

They returned to the oven.

"Didn't you say that Blaz will come to see her," she asked.

Blaz, John's and Franz' friend, was living down at the foot of the village. Until he went to university to study medicine, he often came to their house. After that, he didn't have much time.

Even so, still being a student, he was already helping people with their health problems. People said he was better than their old doctor.

"He will visit Mom," answered Lucia. "This weekend when he comes home."

Franziska burst into tears. "I'm so scared, Lucia. I'm scared she will die..."

Lucia put her arms around her. "Don't cry, Franziska, don't cry. Everything is in God's hands. We must trust Him."

Franziska yanked herself from Lucia's arms. "If it is in God's hands, then he should help us! Why doesn't he, Lucia? What has our mother done to him to have to suffer so much?"

"Franziska, suffering is not a punishment. Suffering is an ordeal. Jesus too had to suffer before he was allowed to join God. Remember Stations of the Cross and how he was nailed to the cross..."

"Our Mom doesn't need such tests! She loves God with all her heart and he knows it. Why does he have to test her with such suffering? Where is his mercy? Why is he so cruel?"

"Franziska, we mustn't judge God. However, I can assure you that suffering has more than one meaning. On one side it is a faster way to God, because when suffering you are more open to him, ready to accept him. Last but not least because suffering makes you aware of the transience of life. On the other side it makes you a better man. Going through suffering you know how others feel and are willing to help them. You don't ignore them. In short, suffering connects you with God and makes you a better person."

"Lucy, Mom cannot love God more than she already does and she cannot be a better person than she already is. God must know that and should stop torturing her!"

Lucia did not know what to say. She took a knife and started peeling potato. Franziska took another knife and helped her.

"Lucy, you believe to go to God after you die. But what if there is nothing after the death? No God, no hell, nothing? Until now nobody has seen God."

"That's not true! They did. Many!"

"They had illusions. How is it possible, that in a large group of people only one sees God? If he were real, all of them would. The one who saw God only imagined he had seen him."

"No, Franziska, the one who saw him truly believed in him. Faith is the key. If you believe, strongly, sincerely believe, the door opens, and you see, and experience things you may have doubted a minute ago."

Franziska sighed: "It's so difficult to believe in something you don't see. Something that can't be proved. Even Jesus doubted, remember? When he was on the cross. Didn't he exclaim: Oh God, oh God, why have you left me?"

"But then he said: 'Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.' Which means he regained his faith in God."

"Yes, Lucy, but..."

Zefi's happy screaming changed into hysterical sobbing and Franziska and Lucia hurried to the window. Zefi was sitting on the grass a few yards below the yard, weeping loudly. Franz was standing a few feet away, throwing angry looks at her.

"Stop screaming like a banshee!" he ordered.

"Carry me to the top," she cried hysterically.

"No, I won't," he shouted. "You are old enough to walk!"

"I'm not old!"

"You aren't a baby, either!"

"My leg hurts because you were chasing me. It's your fault I can't walk."

"You wanted to play catch and catch!"

"No, I didn't!"

Dropping her head on her bent knees, she started to weep pitifully. Franz was baffled. His face showed his inner fight, whether simply to leave her or do something about it. He decided for the latter. Kneeling down on one knee he said: "Climb on my back."

Zefi's face immediately lit with a happy smile. She climbed upon his back and wound her tiny hands around his neck. He rose to his feet and ran up the hill.

"She's won as always," smiled Franziska.

Lucia returned to the big pot on the stove to stir the soup.

"Franz worries me," said Lucia more to herself than to Franziska. "He is hanging in the bar too much, drinking and playing cards."

"I understand him," answered Franziska. "Pa should have let him go to study. You know how he wished it."

Franz was among the best pupils in the primary school. He was especially fond of reading. Whenever he could, he sneaked off with a book hidden under his shirt, behind the barn and was absorbed in reading until one of his siblings came to warn him that father was pissed off again and wanted him to come immediately to do some work.

When he was in the last year, the fifth, his teacher advised his father to send him to a high school, but father said no. He sent him, only fourteen years old, to work at a sawmill as a warehouse worker, which was a difficult job for him being thin and fragile."

"That's no excuse for becoming a drunkard," retorted Lucia. "Life of none of us is easy. Just imagine if we all..."

"Lucy, Pa has come, "said Franziska in a frightened whisper, quickly joining her.

A moment later, Lucia too heard his brusque voice.

"Hey, what do you think you are doing?"

"Zefi can't walk," they heard Franz stammer. "Her leg hurts..."

"What, the hell, have you done to the child?"

"Nothing, Pa... I didn't do anything. We were just playing catch the catch ."

"Did I tell you to play games, boy? You were supposed to chop wood and not run around like a stupid child!"

Franziska and Lucy hurried to the window again. They saw father unbuttoning his belt.

"Oh no," whimpered Franziska, "he'll beat him again."

Lucia knelt on the floor, bent her head in prayer.

Unexpectedly Zefi jumped between Pa and Franz, shielding Franz with widely stretched hands. "Pa, no! Don't beat him! It is not his fault. He didn't hurt me; my leg doesn't hurt at all! I just pretended." Big tears were running down her rosy cheeks.

Father shoved her away with such force that she lost her balance and fell on the ground. He then pulled his belt from his trousers, raised his hand to strike Franz who was protecting his head with both his hands, when Zefi leaped up like a spring and ran into Pa. With all her weight she hung on his hand, the one with the belt. For a moment, Pa froze in astonishment. Then he yelled at her: "Clear off, girl, or you'll catch it too!"

She showed no fear. Without moving or saying anything, she unabashedly fixed her eye on his face.

"Back off, if I say so," he barked.

"No, I will not! Beat me not him if you have to have a go at somebody."

He stepped toward her. Franziska held her breath. Franz was peeping through the fingers of the palms on his face. Lucia was praying. It was as if the air around them had frozen. The birds stopped singing. The wind ceased blowing. A deafening silence flooded the whole country. And then a burst of laughter. Father's laughter. He threw his belt on the floor, grabbed Zefi and scooped her into his arms.

"Look at this little brat," he exclaimed proudly, carrying her up the hill. "How she attacked me! Like a tigress. My blood no doubt!"

"Haven't I told you," said Franziska to Lucia, who, after hearing father's laughter jumped to her feet, "our little one will yield to no one. She's brave enough to let no one ruin her life. And she's right. We..."

"Franziska fetch father's bottle of spirit and put it on the table. You know he'll go crazy if it is not in its usual place," Lucia reminded her, stirring the soup. After tasting it, she said approvingly," Mmm, it's good."

"It would be even better if we were allowed to cut this sausage into it," answered Franziska angrily. "It's not fair that each piece of meat we get goes to Pa only! He should give some to Franz at least. It makes me sick when I watch our brother's mouth watering at the sight of Pa chewing the meat."

A loud cry made them jump to the window again. Father was lying on the ground. Zefi and Franz were kneeling by his side. Zefi was pulling father's hand to get him to his feet, crying: "Get up, Pa. Get uuuup!" Franz looked forlorn, not knowing what to do.

Lucia and Franziska darted out of the house.

"What happened, what happened," they cried.

"He was carrying Zefi, laughing and then he collapsed," stammered Franz terrified.

Father's eyes were open and rolled up to the forehead so that only the white of them was seen. Lucia felt his pulse.

"It's very weak," she said. "We have to call the doctor. Yet first, we have to carry him inside.

However, this was easier said than done. Father was heavy. He was not very tall but his belly was like a balloon, mostly of drinks. The girls weren't strong enough, so Lucia told Zefi to go to the neighbors to get some help.

### ***

"That evening Pa died," said Zefi bitterly. "And I'm still blaming myself for his death. "

"Don't Zefi, alcohol killed him not your cheek. Though sometimes you really exaggerated with your stubbornness. Opposing pa was irrational if you ask me."

Zefi staggered to her feet and with her hands on her hips exclaimed: "Irrational? Irrational to prevent him from beating our brother? What were I supposed to do? Just watch as you did, or maybe kneel and pray like Lucia? None of these would have stopped our father. But he was wrong and I had to do something. So I rebelled. Fought. I did what all women should do: Fight against their violence, against humiliating us, women! And that is not irrational. Even as a child I was fed up with talks about how men were superior to women. Why, I was asking myself. Did they inherit the right to decide about everything, to direct all spheres of our lives, women's lives just because of their hanging thing between their legs? Unjustifiably! For when I was playing with the silly boys and looking at the idiotic men around me, it became clear to me that I wasn't less clever than them, I just didn't have the chance to prove it. And so I knew, even as a child that I would have to fight constantly against them. For my existence. I was fighting, yes, but not irrationally. And what were you doing? You, and Lucy and our mother? Nothing at all. You let men torture you.

Franziska remained speechless. What Zefi said was at least to some extent true.

"However," continued Zefi, "I did fight with pa, but that didn't mean I did not love and respect him, as distinct from the rest of our family."

Franziska's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean by that?"

"It seemed to me that you were all glad when he died. He wasn't even in the grave when you started to make plans what you were going to be able to do now that he was gone. Go to, school, for example. And Franz openly declared he was glad he was gone. He didn't even want to pray for his soul!"

Breathlessly she returned to her seat.

### ***

Father was put into a coffin, and the coffin was placed on two stools, covered with black fabric. They were all gathered around the coffin, except the mother, whom they sent to bed because she was too weak with sadness and illness to be there with them.

"Let's kneel and pray," said Lucia.

Zefi, Franziska, Maria, their eldest sister who was already married and lived with her husband Mathew down in the valley, and John joined her, but Franz continued standing, his face tense.

"Why are you standing?" asked Lucia. "Aren't you going to pray for Pa's soul?"

"No, I'm not! I want him to go to hell," said Franz through his clenched teeth.

They looked at him in terror.

Lucia quickly crossed herself, while saying: "Franz, you mustn't say that. He's our father..."

"He's ruined our lives. Ours and Mom's especially! She fell ill because of him. She's going to die..."

Lucia rose to her feet and gently touched his hand. He withdrew it as if he'd been struck by electricity. Lucia dropped her hand, saying reassuringly: "Our mother will not die, Franz. Not yet. Blaz promised to bring some new medicines. And you must not blame the father for her illness because he didn't cause it."

"He did," he hissed while tears gathered in his eyes. "She fell ill because of his rudeness. He often hit her, you know that and she was afraid of him. We all were... I have never understood why she married this monster!"

"Because, Franz, she loved him. And he loved her too. She told us what a nice man he was when they met and some years after they were married, remember? He was attentive and good. But then poverty came, and children, there were so many mouths to feed."

"Exactly! So many children. And after each childbirth she was weaker, and after each death of her child sadder, yet he didn't care, he kept doing it, for his pleasure only. Bastard!"

Suddenly the mother appeared in the doorway. "Franz, shut up, at once!" she said in a weak voice, her face white as snow, her lips trembling, tears running down her cheeks. "Don't you ever, ever speak ill of your father, have you heard me?"

Franz jolted at her unexpected voice, said under his breath, 'you have always defended him. That's why he was as he was', turned around on his heels and darted out of the room.

Lucy hurried after him.

"If you go on being like that, you'll make God angry, and he'll punish you," she warned him outside.

Franz gave her a scornful smile. "Punish me? He has been punishing me since I was born," answered Franz. "And for nothing at all. I can't forgive Pa. I just can't."

Thoughtfully looking at him for some seconds, she said with a deep sigh: "Franz, you'll have to learn to forgive. Believe me, it helps. When you get rid of some anger. Besides, the father was not such a bad person. There were times when he was good to us. It's our duty, Franz to pray for his soul."

"I won't," he blurted out. "I won't." And he strolled away.

### ***

"I missed the father," said Zefi, "he was good to me. But, considering how he treated Franz, I cannot blame him for not wanting to pray for his soul."

After a short silence, she said: "Franz was clever, intelligent. No wonder, after reading so many books. We always thought Lucia to be the cleverest but in fact it was Franz." She chuckled: "Do you remember their dispute about whom God loves more, the criminals or the honest people?"

"No, I don't," answered Franziska.

"Of course you do! They were having this dispute the day after our father died. We were all gathered in the kitchen to have some tea. I remember hearing the mourners praying and silently talking in the room with father's coffin. Suddenly Franz again brought up the conversation about God's love and punishment that he and Lucia were having before. Our Mom tried to stop him. She asked him to show some respect to the father who was lying next door. However, he was like a volcano, spewing words.

'Believe me or not, Lucy, but there is no God,' he started. 'There are only people and no God. God was made up by those who don't want to accept responsibility for their deeds. When they do something wrong, they say it's God's fault for not having prevented them, and now it's his duty to forgive them. To make them clean again. And he's made funny rules, rules for the criminals to avoid punishment You just have to repent for your bad deeds and you are clean again. As simple as that. You steal, kill and commit other nasty crimes, then a few Lord's Prayers and Hail Marys' erases the crimes and makes you clean so that you are ready to commit new ones.'

When Lucia did not respond to his challenge, he went further. 'That's what I say, Lucy, he can forgive Pa if he likes, and he probably will because he prefers villains to the honest, but I won't! Don't expect this from me.'

Now Lucy could not stay calm anymore. She hissed: 'You are wrong, Franz, there is no such thing as preferring villains to the honest written in the Bible!"

Franz smiled triumphantly:' You are wrong, Lucy. Give me the Bible, I'll show you. We all knew that Lucia was carrying a small Bible in her apron pocket all the time.

'No,' she said, covering the pocket with her hand as if to protect the Bible.

'I won't eat it,' Franz snorted. 'Give it to me!'

Reluctantly, as if parting from a dear friend, she handed it to him.

Franz leafed through it, then his face lit with satisfaction. He said: 'Listen to this Sunday sermon:

"If any man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go and search for the one that is straying?"

"If it turns out that he finds it, truly I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine which have not gone astray....' (Matthew 18:12)

Zefi grinned:" I still remember those quotations because they are so funny. And probably true. Even our religious Lucy had difficulty to find an explanation that would support her belief.

I remember that her voice was trembling, when she spoke not too sure it was the right explanation she was going to offer: "Imagine you have five children and one of them gets lost. That makes you sad, of course, and you put all the effort in finding him. You are preoccupied with the lost child, but that doesn't mean you stopped loving the other four. It is only that the four are safe. They are already with you while the fifth might be in danger. And when you find him, you are the happiest person in the world, because you saved him and brought him to the other four whom you love dearly.'

Franz jumped in. 'But Lucy, here it says: he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine which have not gone astray. He says more, not equally!'

I saw Lucia struggling hard to stay calm. 'We are all sinning at this very moment,' she concluded. 'The Bible shouldn't be explained. God's words should be unconditionally believed. The explanation does nothing but blurs the real meaning of God. This meaning can be only felt; it cannot be understood. Our brain is not...'

Franz burst into laughter, but quickly covered his mouth when catching mother's outraged look. He added with his voice low, eyes angrily gleaming:

'That's exactly what the Holy Church tells us when it runs out of explanations, or when it does not want to tell the truth. 'It says God is too big for us to understand, or meddle in his business. Our duty is to follow without questions! But I'm not buying this shit!" And he rushed out of the kitchen.

You must remember that, Franziska. You must remember how angry Lucia was. I had never before seen her like that. But I think Franz was right."

She stretched her arms above her head, made some circles high in the air, moved her body from left to right and right to left, saying: "I get a backache if I sit too long. You do agree, don't you that he proved Lucy she was all wrong about her god."

"Hmmm... I don't know if that was the proof. The Bible never interested me much. No, I don't remember this fight between Lucia and Franz, what I remember is that on the day of the funeral Lucia told me she was leaving for the nunnery. I knew that one day this would happen, she was dreaming about it since she was born, yet, I didn't expect it to be so soon. Not so soon.

### ***

They were sitting on the bench in front of the house, leaning with their backs against the wall, dressed in black. They had just come from the cemetery. The rest of the family and the neighbors were inside, drinking and eating the food the two of them had prepared before. They themselves didn't feel like eating, so they sneaked out. Loud conversation, mixed with laughter was coming out through the open window.

"I can't understand why people have to be so happy after a burial," said Franziska with a grimace. "They should be sad, shouldn't they?"

Lucia did not answer. She was drawing invisible circles on the concrete tile under her feet with the point of her shoe

"Franziska, I have to tell you something," she said at last, without looking at her. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

Franziska widened her eyes. "Where?"

"To convent."

Lucia's stared at her, tongue-tied with the shock.

"Have you heard me, Franziska?"

Franziska's lips started twitching, eyes filled with tears.

"What is it, Franziska?"

"How can you ask? You are abandoning me. I'll die here all alone." She hid her face into her palms.

Lucia wrapped her arms around her shoulders, murmuring gently: "Franziska you won't die and you are not all alone. There are Mom and Franz and Zefi."

"I'll miss you," sobbed Franziska. "You are the only one who understands me, who I can trust."

"Later, after my novitiate is over and I take my final vows, you'll come to visit me," she whispered into her ear. "Until then, you'll have a lot of work to do to fulfill your dreams."

Franziska cocked her head curiously: "What dreams?"

"Haven't you always dreamed of becoming a hairdresser?"

"Yes, but..."

"Franziska, it's time for you too to make your dreams come true. I have already spoken to Maida and she promised to employ you in her hairdressing salon. At first as an apprentice, of course. She'll teach you. What do you say?"

Lucia enthusiastically looked at her. Franziska bit her lip and averted her eyes.

"What's wrong? Aren't you glad?"

"I don't know... Yes... I guess so."

### ***

The train made a sharp turn, and Zefi was balancing on one foot for some moments before she dropped heavily on the bench.

"I'd better lie down, before this train throws me out the window," she said. Putting her hands under her head, she added: "You know, I too didn't understand your long face when Lucia told you she had found the job for you at Maida's. You were constantly complaining about Pa sending you to the neighbor's farm to work as a maid instead of letting you train for a hairdresser, but when you got the chance, everything was wrong. "

"I knew I was not gifted for a hairdresser. I knew it, and I was right."

"The idea that you were not fit to be a hairdresser was born in your head only, and you kept sticking to it like a leech to a dog," said Zefi angrily. "It was all in your head only. You were doing all our hair at home and you did the hob well, yet at Maida's you were as clumsy as hell."

"I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Everything."

### ***

She was afraid of people and avoided them. She never knew what to say, where to look. When spoken to, she blushed and stammered and was, of course, aware of how stupid she must seem. That made things even worse.

When there were more people around, she felt safe only with Lucia. With her she was invisible. Lucia drew all the attention and did all the talking.

And now Lucia, who knew how she felt without her, was sending her to Maida's. She enjoyed doing hair, of course she did, and did dream about becoming a hairdresser, however, at this moment she panicked. She imagined women elbowing each other, judging her, laughing up their sleeve.

Franziska's hesitation angered Lucia. "Don't behave like a child," she said in an undertone. "All you need to do is not to listen to women, to ignore them and their gossip, to concentrate on what you have to do and that's it. One day, you'll be on your own. Just like Maida. Think of that."

"I'd rather stay on the farm," she whimpered.

"Don't you think it would be a crime not to accept the position now? To remain a maid for the whole of your life when you can become a hairdresser? Is that what you want in your life?"

"If only you didn't leave... If you were here, to help me..."

"Franziska be reasonable. You know I cannot stand by your side forever. Sooner or later, we would have to part even if I didn't go to the convent. I would have to find a job too."

"We could go together somewhere... work together... like we worked on the farm..."

"Franziska, I have to go," said Lucia impatiently. "We won't be together physically, but spiritually we will always be connected."

"Spiritually! You are always talking only about spirituality. But we are here with our bodies too. It's not enough for me to know you are somewhere in this world, thinking of me. I want to see you, hear you, talk with you. And, Lucy...it was you who kept telling us that family was the most sacred thing in the world. Did you not? And now you are leaving us."

Lucia could not hide how sad she felt. She had known all along that her decision to leave. "I did, Franziska and I still believe so. Nevertheless, each of us has to go our own way. That doesn't mean we'll stop being a family. We won't."

"And your way is to go to the convent?"

"That's right."

"How do you know this is the right decision? Nobody knows for sure."

"I do. I have always known. In my heart. Franziska, I cannot resist the call of the God anymore."

Franziska shook her head. "There is no call, Lucy, everything is only in your head. You created this call. It's not real..."

Lucia embraced her. "Real or not real, I must go," she said gently, "and I want you to be strong. I want you to take care of our mother and Zefi. They will need you. Promise?"

Franziska blew her nose and wiped her eyes. Then she nodded.

Even as a child Lucia became acquainted with all details of monastic life. Her two cousins who joined the Order of Sisters of Mercy at a very young age were telling her about it. She listened to them openmouthed. And she couldn't wait to be old enough to do the same. Her parents approved of her wish to become a nun, because the family having at least one of their members in the Holy Church, as a nun or a priest, gained on respect and reputation. However, when one of the cousins died because of pneumonia, mother became worried and asked Lucia to change her mind. But this was out of the question. She was not afraid of dying. She knew that when that moment came she would be called to God's throne. What else could she wish?

She knew she was going to be a postulant at first. This stage would last a year or two, depending on when she was ready to ask for admission into a novitiate. She would be allowed to change her mind during that time, but she knew she was not going to do that.

In the stage of postulation, she would participate as fully as possible in the life of the community, joining the novices and professed members for work and prayer.

At the same time, she would have to re-examine her intentions and commitment before entering the novitiate. (Wikipedia)

After successfully completing the prescribed period of training and proving, called the novitiate, she would be admitted to vows, and that would make her Jesus' bride. No way back will be possible, and she knew she would never regret it. After taking vows she intended to study. She would like to be a nurse.

### ***

»She didn't even wave goodbye," said Franziska bitterly. "We were standing in front of the house, watching her descending the slope with the big suitcase in her hand, waiting for her to turn back, before she disappeared, to wave, but she didn't."

"I was as sad as you were, believe me."

Franziska gave Zefi a startled look. "What did you say?"

"I didn't, she did," yawned Zefi, pointing to the far corner on the opposite side of the compartment.

Franziska followed Zefi's finger and then she saw her. Her sister Lucia. "Lucy, oh my God Lucy it's you, really you!" she exclaimed, tears of happiness running down her cheeks. She struggled to her feet, stretched her arms toward Lucia to embrace her, yet Lucia somehow slipped away. Disappointed, Franziska sat back again. "When did you come," she asked. "How did you know I was in this compartment ?"

"Don't be angry with me," said Lucia apologetically. "It wasn't easy for me either. I didn't dare to turn back and wave, because if I had, I wouldn't have gathered strength to go on. I had been looking forward to that moment for my whole life, but when it came, I felt so sad, so desperate...."

"You could have waved at least," repeated Franziska, embarrassed because she did not expect her sister to hear her complaints. "I don't believe you wouldn't have been able to go on if you had."

"I wouldn't Franziska. At that moment, I wished nothing more than to run back to you and stay there. And I felt bad because of that too. That was not what God expected of me."

"And what did he expect?"

"To go on without looking back and without feeling sorry. I should be happy to join Jesus not whining. You do remember, don't you, what he said to those who wished to follow him yet they first wanted to say good-bye to their family?"

"No, I don't," answered Franziska. She had long ago forgotten everything she had learned at sermons and catechesis.

"To a man who asked if he was allowed to bury his father first, he said: 'Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.'

Zefi burst out laughing. "What a stupid idea! How can a dead person bury the dead?"

"It was meant symbolically," answered Lucia. "The dead are spiritually dead."

"Ah, still..."

Lucia interrupted her, resuming with Jesus' other quotations: "To a man, who asked him if he may say good-bye to his family, he answered: 'No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.'

"What a cruel God," mocked Zefi.

"And to another, he said: Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. "

"And you offered your whole life to such a God?"

Ignoring Zefi's remark, Lucia sighed: "I didn't wave or look back, but I have never stopped thinking of you. Especially you, Franziska and you know that."

Ashamed of her previous complaints about Lucia, Franziska averted her eyes away from her. That was true. Whenever she was in trouble, and that was far too often, Lucia was the one who offered her all the comfort.

"You are right, Lucy," answered Franziska, "however, you must admit that your life was easier than mine. You were not exposed to the challenges of the world as I was, because you were safely hidden behind the convent walls. I had nowhere to hide. I was left to..."

"Franziska, I was not hiding," she answered in an aggrieved voice. "I did not go to the convent to distance myself from the outside world. I went to find out if I am capable of following Jesus."

"Isn't that the same?"

"No, it isn't. To follow Jesus does not mean to shut yourself from the world, kneel and pray without caring what is happening on the other side of the thick walls. I was as much exposed to the world as you were, however, I resisted it. Believing in God, I was protected by him. You know, follow Jesus, means help people, not hide from them. Do you have any idea about the order I joined? It was established in the far year 1633 in France by Saint Louise de Marillac and St. Vincent de Paul. Their message to the women, who joined their order was to take care of the ill in their homes and in hospitals, take care of foundlings, convicts, refugees and the old. To raise orphans. To be ready to provide for the poor whenever and wherever they were sent: on the battlefields, in prisons. Does that sound selfish to you, Franziska?"

Franziska shook her head.

"Of course not. This is the mission that cannot be carried out inside the four walls. That's why Daughters of Mercy do not live in monasteries, convents. They live in small communities in flats, houses, among the people. Among those whom they serve. They do not distance themselves from people's troubles. They're in the midst of them.

When I went to the convent, not for life but for a short time, just to make final vows, you accused me of being selfish. But Franziska, that was not true. I would have been selfish if I had stayed to take care of you, who could take care of yourselves. You can't even imagine how many aren't."

Franziska was silent for a few moments. "I know," she then sighed. "I apologize. You know, I was too attached to you. Too dependent on you. That was wrong. When you were not near, I felt lost. Nevertheless, as long as I could stay at home, I could manage it somehow. But then, due to the crisis, the farmers had to fire their workers. They could not afford them anymore, and I had to find another job to survive. The worst thing was, I could not find it in our village or near it, I found it far away, which meant I had to leave my parent's house and start living with strangers. Then the second farm too went into financial difficulties, and I had to move on. And here the situation repeated and with the next again. I changed five jobs in only three years and each time had to cope with people I didn't know. I was all alone among strangers; there was nothing I wished more than you being with me... "

Zefi yawned loudly, sat up and shoved back her long tangled hair from the face. "You were always complaining about having to leave home, Franziska, I, on the contrary, couldn't wait to go away and start working," she said thoughtfully. Sniggering, she added: "I'll never forget the director's startled face when I asked him if I could work in his hotel. 'Well, little girl, how old are you?' he asked me with a patronizing smile. 'Fourteen,' I answered proudly. I was used to people thinking I was ten or eleven because I was so small and tiny. 'In two months I'll be out of the primary school, and then I can come working,' I said. He wanted to know how I was doing at school. 'I'm a straight-A student,' I boasted. 'Have always been.'

His mouth sagged open. 'Why don't you then continue your education at high school,' he wondered. 'Because we don't have money,' I answered. 'My brothers and sisters couldn't go to secondary schools either. We all have to go to work to help our parents. Only Lucia was allowed to become a nun, and now she is being trained as a nurse.'

'Mmm,' he said, 'mmm.' I was sure he would kindly apologize for not having any place for me, but instead, he patted my hair and asked: 'What's your name?' 'Josefa', I answered but everybody calls me Zefi.' 'Well, Zefi, finish your school and then bring me your school certificate. Agreed?' 'Will you give me a job in your hotel?' I asked, still not believing. 'I guess so,' he said.

And he did. I worked for him through the war and after. I never job-hopped."

"I didn't job-hop either," said Franziska hurt, "I was forced to change them."

Suddenly, Zefi started cackling and seemed not to be able to stop. Franziska and Lucia gazed at her in surprise.

"What's so funny?" Lucia asked.

"It came to my mind, how she tried to hide her relationship from me."

"Who?"

"Franziska. I came to visit her, and there he was, what was his name? Ah, Tony... Well, I knew at once that something was going on between them."

Franziska's cheek started twitching, but she kept silent.

Lucia raised her eyebrow. "You visited her? You never visited me. You kept saying you were too busy."

A small frown of embarrassment skimmed her brow. However, she composed herself in no time. "I had a day off and did not know what to do. So I decided to visit Franziska. I didn't know if you were working or having one of your religious seminars..."

She lay down, closed her eyes and murmured: "Where are those times? Where have they gone?"

### ***

Like all employees, Zefi was entitled to one day off each week. She chose Wednesdays because Jani too was free on Wednesdays. But, early in the morning, he called her to tell that his wife fell ill. He had to take her to the doctor, that meant he would not be able to come that day. She was angry and disappointed. She cried. It was unfair! His wife had him six days a week. He was hers only once a week, and even on this one day she had to think of something to keep him to herself. But she was even angrier on Jani. Didn't he see that his wife was faking her illness, or if she didn't, there was surely somebody around to take her to the doctor. He could have called her a taxi.

He kept telling her that he had no feelings whatsoever for his wife and was staying with her only for the sake of the kids. But was, nevertheless, working on his divorce. However, if that were true, if he didn't care for her anymore, he would manage to find an excuse for not taking her to the doctor. She certainly would. There was neither a person nor a thing in the world that would be able to prevent her from going to Jani if he waited for her. No chance at all.

She struggled to sleep, to sleep through the day, to sleep through the sadness, yet sleep would not come. She missed him so much that it hurt. The mere thought of him, of his hands, lips, eyes, body pressing against hers filled her with such sweet pain, that if he suddenly appeared, he would bring her to orgasm without even touching her.

She met Jani three years after she came to work at the hotel. At that time, she was seventeen. He was a bus driver. When he was on duty, he often came for lunch to her hotel. Seldom alone. She soon recognized that he was a reveler who besides good food, and a glass of good wine adored women too. He eyed up each woman passing his table. Together with Tilka, her co-worker, and friend, she often had a good laugh at his expense. "Sex is gushing from his eyes, "Tilka said one day. "He would have sex even with a toad if she let him."

He liked to joke with them. Both of them. He liked to seduce them. Even so, he was never rude or pushy or annoying. He was simply childish, and you couldn't but laugh at him. It happened that he hastily, almost unnoticeably smoothed his hand over the fly on his trousers, saying with a seductive look in his eyes: "I'd make love, what about you?"

"I never know when he is making fun and when he is meaning it," said Zefi, wondering. Tilka answered: "He's a jester. Cute, but I would never go to bed with him."

"Has he invited you?"

"Whom hasn't he?"

Me thought Zefi. After the initial easiness and seducing, he suddenly turned away from her. Lost interest. He was playing his games with the others, including Tilka, but not with her.

She was aware of her feelings for him for quite some time but kept it a secret. Even to herself, she did not want to admit that she was in love with him. Nevertheless, she could not overlook the fact that the day without him was colorless and unimportant, yet happy and perfect when he came.

Tilka celebrated her birthday. Among other friends, she invited to dinner Zefi and Jani as well. Zefi was unusually silent. When Tilka asked her what was the matter, she said.' Oh, nothing, I'm just tired after this heavy week with so many guests'. It wasn't true, of course. She was watching Jani entertaining people around him; teasing women, seducing them, ignoring her. He seemed to long for each woman, except her. He didn't notice that she was waiting. Waiting for his eyes to turn to her, waiting for his smile, maybe a slight casual touch. She was on the verge of crying but had to pretend that she didn't care about him. She didn't dare to show him her longing for his strong and at the same time gentle hands to pull her to him, embrace her. The longing was like a burning fire inside her that she feared was going to explode any minute. And then suddenly, as if he had been stung by her fire, he turned to her laughingly exclaiming, 'Zefi, lovemaking is the most beautiful thing in the world. You'll see, one day you will come to me.' There was no request in his exclamation no wish, it was a warning of the inevitable.

Right after that he again turned away, not noticing her inaudible scream: 'Take me!'

They left the restaurant together. It was late. Tilka was kept behind by other guests. She said 'good night', turned to hurry home. He took hold of her hand. "Wait," he said, "Is that all?"

Baffled she looked at him, not knowing what he meant.

"Aren't you going to give me a good-night kiss?"

Without giving this question a second thought, she stepped on her toes and kissed him. It was, in fact, not a kiss. She barely touched his lips, yet, when they parted she knew that through this short gentle kiss, she decanted herself into him. Forever, maybe.

His words, 'one day you will come to me,' echoed in her head. She could not get rid of them. And in the early morning, after a sleepless night, she sat behind the writing desk and wrote a letter to him. 'I love you,' she wrote. 'I'm happy, and I'd like to make you happy as well. Don't be afraid of me, please, I won't cause you troubles. You are married, I know. But whenever you want me, I'll be ready. Whenever. Without obligations and reproaches. I love you.'

The next day, she gave him the letter saying, 'Please, read it later.' His face was a mask of surprise. His first reaction was to open it despite her plea, but then thought better and put it into his pocket.

The whole next day she was impatiently waiting for him to come. By then she already felt sorry to have written the letter. Not that she felt differently about him, no, she felt the same, just... well, she was afraid she had made a fool of herself. Will he ridicule her? Be angry with her? Be scared of her? Will he ever again talk to her? With what right was she offering herself to him as a pleasure? Was she overestimating herself?

When he came in the afternoon, she was a nervous wreck. She wanted to run away, hide. But there were guests to be served. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that he was secretly watching her. He sat at his usual table, and she had to go to him to ask what to bring. His face was smiling. His eyes were sparkling. They had never been sparkling that way. There was a new interest for her in them.

'You should be a writer, 'he said. 'you write well. However, I have to think about your proposal. The part where you say no obligations and reproaches, well, they all promise that and forget after some time. They start to blackmail." He scratched his head. "As I have said, I'll think about it.'

It was not what she expected. His response was more businesslike. She offered him love. He was considering some kind of business. She felt ashamed and hardly kept tears back.

Nothing happened for a few days. He didn't even come for lunch. She scared him off.

Then, one evening, when she was leaving the restaurant, he unexpectedly stepped out of the darkness. A shiver of dread shook her.

'I can't forget you,' he said. "You certainly crept under my skin with your letter."

She said nothing. Side by side, they continued the way.

"Let's go to my bus for a chat," he said.

She obeyed. She was suddenly robbed of all her will or her logical thinking.

His bus was in the parking lot among buildings. The usual place where he left it in the evening if he had a drive the next morning. The night was cloudless, a big almost red moon was smiling down at her. It was late, there were almost no lights in the windows. People had already gone to bed. It was winter, cold and there was quite a lot of snow. The only sounds were their steps on crispy snow.

They sat on back seats. He took her into his arms, kissed her. She felt limp in his hands that started to search her body under the coat.

"Would you mind... I mean, would we... could we..."

She stiffened. "Now?" she whispered hoarsely, thinking of her perspired, unwashed body. And of the cold bus, exposed to the looks of coincidental passers-by. That was unlikely at this hour, but you never know.

"Yes, you promised ..."

He started to undress. With horror, she was watching him.

"Zefi, take your clothes off," he hissed impatiently.

Trembling, she began to unbutton her blouse. It should be different, ran through her mind. She was dreaming of a romantic first time. First, he would undress her, while kissing her, caressing her. Then she would help him undress, whispering loving words into his ear.

She felt ashamed seeing her white naked body lit by the moonlight and she didn't dare to look at his.

It should be different. It should be different.

The weight of his body on top of her pressed her against the rough seat cover.

"Open up, Zefi, open up for me. I can't do it that way..."

She didn't know what he meant. She stayed motionless.

He caressed her breasts, kissed her belly, and below it... Then he rose and pushed. It hurt.

Ah, well, c'est passé, c'est passé, she murmured, climbing out of her bed. So many things had happened since then.

How should I spend the whole long day? Go to work? The thought of having to explain Stefan how Jani had to take his wife... No, no. She dropped the idea. Stefan never had a high opinion of Jani and her relationship with him. He was constantly telling her that she was making a mistake.

But she knew better. Jani was her life.

Swallowing her tears, she decided: I'm going to visit Franziska. I won't sit here the whole day, staring at the walls!

She washed, dressed and hurried to the railway station. This train was almost empty. The commuters, workers and school children and students took the morning one.

She was alone in the compartment but not for long. At the next station, a group of five men entered. She was not happy about that. She didn't like men staring at her, though, she always told Jani about the event just to make him jealous. And to show that there were other men who found her attractive. But staring usually changed into molesting when she had to escape.

Luckily, the five men marched past her without giving her a look, and were seated behind her back where she could not see them, yet she could hear them. They were discussing the possibility of war.

"I tell you, there will be war. Hitler will attack us," one of them said.

The other opposed him: "No, he will not! I've heard we'll join his alliance."

"Do you know what that means," the third one angrily exclaimed. "It means we will be mobilized and sent god knows where, to which front. I don't intend to risk life and limb for that devil!"

"Maybe, he'll change his mind. He has occupied Austria, who knows, he might stop now. He might have got what he wanted.

"Stop yacking! This devil wants the whole world! He can have it, but without my help."

"The world has gone crazy. I tell you, if I have to have a foreign master, I'd prefer a German to an Italian, or Russian or Hungarian or... The Germans are at least disciplined and keep their word. Besides, I can speak German."

"We shouldn't sign the alliance. "

"Then he would slaughter us!"

"We'll fight back!"

"Don't be stupid. He..." The train came to the stop, and they hurried out.

I hope there will be no war, Zefi, thought, remembering that her co-workers and many guests were mentioning that possibility too. She was scared. For, in the case of war, Jani would be enlisted. This thought was her nightmare. 'If you go to war and if something happens to you, I will die as well,' she said to him the other day with tears in her eyes. But he laughed at her. 'You'll quickly find another lover, don't worry. I'll be forgotten in no time.'

After that, the painful circle of trying to prove to him how much she loved him, how she would never ever forget him, how he was her life, began. To torture her, he pretended not to believe a word she was saying until she started to cry for she felt so helpless. Then he exclaimed laughingly, 'You little fool, of course, there will be no war, and I will go nowhere. I'll stick with you until you are fed up to the teeth with me looking desperately for the way to get rid of me. But I will not let you go.'

A happy smile flickered over her face at this memory.

She got off the train at Zidani Most. After half an hour's drive by bus, she had to go on foot to the farm that was about twenty minutes away. The terrain was steep, covered with fresh snow. Her feet started to ache. Why, on earth, didn't Franziska find a job nearer to the town, she grumbled.

The entrance door was open. The dark hall led her to a glass door. Judging by the wall cabinets on the other side, she knew there must be the kitchen. As soon as she knocked, she caught sight of Franziska with a baby in her arms. Franziska's face fell at first, then remodeled into a broad, happy smile. Jumping to the door, she flung it wide open screaming: "Zefi, it's you, Zefi! You came. You are here!"

They embraced over the child. Then Franziska put the child into the playpen, took Zefi by the hand and led her to the table. "Sit down," she said, "what can I offer you? Coffee? Biscuits? Juice?"

Zefi flailed her hand in rejection. "Nothing," Franziska, "sit here by me and tell me how you are doing."

"Not bad," answered Franziska, sitting down. The smiling look in her eyes told Zefi that she was telling the truth. "I babysit, cook, help in the stall, in the field. Actually, I'm doing fine."

"Glad to hear that," said Zefi, thinking how changed her sister was. No trace of the shy girl, she used to know. The change did her good, that was for sure. Nevertheless...

"I hope, you will not stay here forever," she smiled. "Being only a maid... Well, temporarily it is ok, now that economic situation is so bad, but once it improves, you should try something better. Nearer the civilization."

"If they are willing to keep me, I'll stay," answered Franziska. "I'm not afraid of working. And they are good people. I was lucky. I get food, I have my own room. What else can I wish?" Then her smile froze. "Have you heard there will be a war?"

Zefi nodded. "Yes, people talk about it, but I don't think it will be. "However," she exclaimed lightly, "I haven't come to talk about the war. I've come to talk about you, about nice things. Can you go for a walk?"

Franziska looked at the baby in the pen. "Isn't it too cold?"

At that moment, a young man in rubber boots and apron around his waist entered the kitchen. He stopped at the sight of Zefi, throwing a questioning look at Franziska.

Franziska jumped up as if she was caught doing something inappropriate, that is, sitting, so she hastened to explain: "This is my sister Zefi. She came to visit me." Then she turned to Zefi. "Zefi, this is Tony, the farmer's son."

They shook hands. "You have a diligent sister," said Tony with a broad smile and twinkling look. Franziska lowered her head to conceal her blushing face.

"I'm glad you are pleased with her," Zefi answered, giving him a suggestive look, which he accepted with a giggle.

"More than pleased."

"Don't you think it is too cold for Marian to go out," asked Franziska, staring at Toni with a plea in her eyes to stop talking about her.

Trying to be serious, he said: "Well, I don't know...."

"We'd like to go for a walk," Zefi cut across him. "Is there anybody to take care of the baby for an hour or so?"

Immediately she knew she blew it. Fear showed in Franziska's eyes. "No, no, she hastened, "there is no need to go out. We can chat in here too. Marian won't be in the way at all."

Toni stepped to the playpen and took Marian out of it. "Of course, you can go," he said. "No problem."

Franziska shouted in agony: "Tony, give me the baby, you have your own work to do. You all do. Give him to me." She reached for Marian, but Tony retreated, ranting at her: "Franziska if I have said that you are free to go, then go!"

He opened the door, but before he disappeared with the baby in his arms, he giggled again: "Be careful to not completely wear out your tongues."

"You shouldn't do this, Zefi," said Franziska with trembling lips. "Now they will think..."

"They will think nothing," said Zefi dryly. "Don't always bother about what people would think or say. You have the whole right for an hour with your sister. Dress warmly, it's cold outside."

Franziska was reluctant to obey. However, when outside, she slowly relaxed. While walking, they were exchanging information they had about their sisters and brothers and mother. Mother's condition was worsening. "She won't be long," said Zefi and heads dropped, they sadly continued their way.

"Is Marian Toni's son?" asked Zefi after a while. Franziska said no, he was his brother's and added that Toni was not married." Then, out of the blue, Zefi asked: "Are you in love with Toni?"

Franziska's eyes popped out of her head of anger: "Of course not," she said, her eyes fixed to her shoes.

"Well, he certainly is eyeing you up."

"No, he's not. I'm but a maid here."

"That doesn't mean he can't fancy you."

Zefi was aware of the fact that Franziska will never reveal her feelings to her no matter how obvious they were. And they were. Franziska's and Toni's.

They were completely different, Franziska and Zefi. As if they were no sisters at all. Zefi had never had difficulties telling others what she thought or felt. That's me, she used to say. A part of me. If I'm not ashamed of me, why should I be of my thoughts and feelings? It did her good to share the joy and good things as well as sadness with somebody else. Usually, it was with her friend Tilka. If she had to keep everything inside her, she would explode. If you never confide in anybody, if you never listen to anybody, you are left with only you yourself and then even joy has no sense. As for the troubles, you become convinced that nobody, but you have them and soon see no exit out. And that's not true. More people know more and experiences of other people might help you. However, Franziska thought the opposite. The more people know about you, the more they use you and want you to feel bad.

Yes, they were completely different.

In the evening, when she was lying in Jani's arms, she said: "I think there is something going on between my sister and the farmer's son."

Jani came despite having said he would not. He was, in fact, already waiting for her in her room. He was grumpy. The minute she stepped in he snapped at her where she had been, all jealous and angry. He was going on accusing her of being with a man, and wouldn't listen to her explanation. He threw her on the bed, ripped her clothes off her and only after they had made love, he was ready to listen.

"Something is going on?" he guffawed. "You want to say, the guy is fucking your sister?"

"Don't use that language," she said upset. She hated vulgar language, especially in connection with love, or making love. Jani, of course, didn't care. On the contrary, her anger seemed to spur his wish for vulgarity.

"How am I supposed to call fucking? I hope you don't envy her. Let the girl enjoy."

"You take everything so isolated, separated," she answered bitterly. "Love is not only a man's and woman's sexual organs; it is emotions as well. Caring for each other's thoughts, feelings, for what they are going through....

He rolled on top of her again.

" Admit," he said, "that fucking is the best part of it all."

And as always, he sealed her mouth with a kiss, a strong one, a painful one and squeezed between her legs and the discussion, the awkward discussion was ended.

### ***

»As soon as I saw the two of you, I knew you were in love," repeated Zefi. "And I was glad for you. The first impression of Tony was good. It gave me the feeling that he really cared for you."

"You fell into his bed too soon," remarked Lucia. "How long were you there? Two months?"

"Yes. Two months and I had no other option."

Both, Zefi and Lucia looked at her surprised.

"What do you mean you had no other option?"

"I didn't have it!" Franziska's voice became hysterical. "I didn't. Where would I go if they sent me away?"

"Why would they do that? To show you the door because of sleeping with their son would be more logical than to do that because you didn't."

Franziska's lips trembled. It was hard for her to speak. "Toni said that if I couldn't care about him, he would not be able to tolerate me in his presence. It would be too painful for him."

Zefi laughed out loudly. "He said that? Ha, ha! He said if you couldn't care for him... ha, ha, a nice way to say if you don't fuck me..."

"Zefi!" said Lucia sharply. "Watch your tongue."

"I have watched it my dear sister, all these years, but have come to the conclusion that some things have to be named by their name."

"You can name it in a more cultivated way."

"Toni's intention was not a cultivated one, was it?"

### ***

When Franziska arrived at the new farm, it was Toni, the youngest son, five years older than she, who helped her to overcome fear. She was afraid of new faces as well as of herself. Will she manage to do things the way they want them to be done? She had been working on different farms, yet never on such a big one. The big stall was full of livestock. There was no ending to the fields and orchards. The landlady, Toni's mother, accepted her kindly enough, yet she was somehow looking through her. She was a small, bony woman, with sharp facial features and penetrating look not revealing what she really thought. Franziska had an uncomfortable feeling in her presence. A more human approach would do her good. Nevertheless, she came to work not to make friends.

Toni's father, a rather plump man with a moustache under his nose, in stable boots, was more relaxed. He smiled broadly, friendly shook her hand, saying, 'welcome girl on our farm'. Then he sat on his tractor and drove away. Toni's mother took her up a narrow, squeaking staircase into a small room with a bed, a wardrobe and a table with one chair. 'You'll sleep here,' she said. "Change your clothes and come down." And she was off.

"How do you like your room?" asked Toni, when a few minutes later, she joined the family in the kitchen.

"It's nice," she answered shyly.

There was always a lot of work to do. If she did not work in the field or in the stable, cleaning it, she worked in the kitchen. And she had to babysit Toni's' nephew.

Yes, it was Toni, who helped her. Showed her how to do things. He was kind and patient and praised her for being quick at learning. It did her good. She felt more and more relaxed with him. She had never felt so with her brothers. She laughed at his jokes and even managed to make some jokes herself. She started to like him and enjoyed his company but was unprepared for what happened two months later. Didn't' want it to happen.

When she was carrying food into the stable, Toni was waiting for her by the fence. She didn't notice him until his hands suddenly shot out of the darkness and grabbed her. She screamed, and he laughed and drew her to himself. He started to kiss her. She struggled against him, trying to avoid his lips, was desperately shoving away his hands that were forcing their way under her dress, but his grip was as strong as an armor. She couldn't move.

"I don't want to hurt you, Franziska, "he whispered into her ear. "It's only that I like you so much that I had to give you a hug. I had to give you a kiss. Is that so bad? Is it wrong if I like you?"

He let her go. His face was grim now. He seemed to be disappointed. She could read in his dark eyes: 'I have always been good to you, and what do I get? Unkindness.'

Afraid to lose her only friend who always helped her out of the troubles, she stammered:

"No, Toni, it's not wrong. It's just... I'm not used to it. "She fell silent too embarrassed to continue.

"You are not used to what? To someone being fond of you?"

She nodded.

He uttered a short laugh. "Okay," he said, "I won't scare you anymore." Taking her hand, he led her to the edge of the meadow behind the barn.

"Let's sit down here for a moment, just to chat. I won't do anything you don't want me to do. I promise."

She sat, although she did not quite trust him. A warning was echoing at the back of her brain, yet she did not dare to escape. After all, Toni was her employer's son and a man. What confused feelings she developed towards men! On one side she was dead afraid of them, avoided them, on the other they meant a mirror. When approval and recognition mirrored in their eyes, she felt worthy of living, when there was boredom, contempt, her self-esteem, already being on the lowest level, completely crashed.

Later, she often thought herself stupid for fearing men and for believing that her value depended on the sparkles in their eyes. The sparkles that died immediately after they got what they wanted.

They didn't just sit. His hand kept running under her blouse. She was shoving it away, only to feel it on her thighs and under her blouse again. His lips were sealed on hers, she couldn't move. She was stiff with fear. She wanted to run, but the thought that they would send her away, that she'd have to find another job, have to get used to new people made her give herself up to him. She simply switched herself off. Thought of nothing. Tried not to feel anything.

When they parted, she was empty, lifeless, while Toni was laughing, whistling with satisfaction. He won. She was motionless. Didn't cry, didn't say anything, she was frozen. He didn't even notice it.

A nightmare woke her up in the middle of the night and then, too scared to go to sleep again, she was sitting in her bed till dawn with her teeth loudly chattering, knees pressed to her chest, her chin resting on them.

Tired, with bloated face, unhappy and ashamed she came down to the kitchen. Luckily, there was nobody there.

What have I done, what have I done, was running through her head. I have made such a terrible sin.

Please, God, forgive me. Don't punish me. Please.

### ***

"God is merciful," said Lucia. "He forgives your sins if only you repent of them."

"I repented, Lucia..."

"And right after that made a new one! To repent of the sins means a promise you would stop sinning. You forgot the promise."

"I didn't sin on purpose, Lucy. The first time I was too scared to say no. Then... well, when Tony kept being nice to me, kept telling me he liked me, I... I just believed him. I believed that each hug, each kiss, each lovemaking was a proof of his love to me. "

"Men are liars. All of them," said Zefi.

"But that's simply not true, Zefi," opposed Lucia. "You just need to find the honest ones. Wait, not rush to the first one coming your way. No man will like you if you jump into his bed the first minute you meet him."

"You certainly are the right one to give that sort of advice," giggled Zefi. "How many men did you meet in that convent of yours?"

Lucy looked daggers at her.

"Do you know what, my dear sister Franziska, we both got the short end of the stick. We both picked up men who needed women for pleasure only," Zefi said, going to the window, thoughtfully looking out.

"With one difference," said Lucia. "Your Jani was married. You violated two commandments. The seventh: Thou shalt not commit adultery and tenth Thou shalt not covet (neighbor's wife, servants, animals, or anything else)."

Zefi turned from the window to face Lucia. "I don't care what God says, Lucy. What does he know? He hasn't got the slightest idea what life really looks like. Have you ever heard of the explosion of the sparks between two people? Of course not. It happens, unintentionally and you find yourself breathtakingly in love with somebody and there is nothing you can do against it. As for Jani, his wife is not my neighbor's wife. Never was. And she lost no part of him because of me. I was deprived not she. Besides, I firmly believed he was going to divorce her."

"That's no excuse, Zefi. If you hadn't interfered, they would probably smooth things over. There are always disputes in marriages, but that doesn't mean people want to divorce immediately.

"You would know, wouldn't you! Having been married so many times."

"Yes, I know," answered Lucia calmly. "I know because I was giving comfort to many women whose husbands left them because of lovers. Without lovers at least some of them would be able to settle things in their marriages. With them, there was no chance. And if you had disregarded his wife, you could have thought of his children."

"I loved him," shouted Zefi angrily.

"And that gave you the right to steal him from another woman, you believe?"

Zefi desperately threw her arms in the air: "Another woman! Others, others, others! What about me? I was being hurt each day for fifteen years because he either did not come as he had promised, or he left as soon as he got what he had come for. Ran to his wife! I had been waiting for fifteen years, hoping, he would finally make the decision, get the divorce and marry me. I was suffering for fifteen years, so stop with the suffering of his wife!"

But Lucia showed no mercy. She said relentlessly: "You should have taken into account that suffering the minute you started an affair with a married man."

Zefi sulkily lay down, turning her face to the wall.

"If the war hadn't broken out, things might have been different," said Franziska thoughtfully. "Who knows, maybe I and Toni would get married."

"I doubt it, considering that he was keeping your relationship a secret from his family," answered Lucia.

"He kept promising me that he would tell at the right moment."

"If you love a person, you need no right moments."

"You know Lucy, it may sound weird, considering how Toni started our relationship, but I was really happy with him. I was happy for the first time in my life. He was good to me, and I believed he loved me. When I went to our Mom's funeral, when I returned after three days, he drew me into his embrace and would not let me go. He said he missed me so much he thought he would die. He said he would never again let me leave him. Not for a day, not for an hour.

Each day had some sense. Each moment had some sense. I was not alone and lonely anymore."

### ***

For the first time in her life, Franziska didn't miss anybody. Not even Lucia. She still liked them, of course, but now she managed to be happy without them. Just looking at Toni was enough for her happiness. And wrapped in Toni's love, like in a warm blanket, she could get rid of her eternal fear from people, she didn't know. She stopped lowering her eyes when talking to them, she stopped hiding from them. She could laugh, talk, make jokes. Love was like a shield, protecting her from everything that might hurt her. Finally, she lived. Breathed freely.

And then, one day, war broke out.

They were cuddling on the hayloft, sure that everyone was in the field, when Thomas, Toni's brother, Marian's father, started to call Toni's name. Tony crawled to the ladder, telling her to wait for some minutes, before coming down.

When she came, the whole family was gathered in the kitchen, having a lively discussion. At the look of her they stopped talking. Their staring eyes scared her. Did they find out about her and Toni? Will they fire her?

"Franziska, we are sorry to say this," started the landlady, "but you'll have to return home."

Her worst nightmare came true!

"Why?" she uttered, lump in her throat. "Although she feared accusations, she wanted to hear them right away.

"Because war has been declared. Hitler attacked us. We don't know what to expect, but at times like this, everybody should be in their own home."

"But I'd like to stay here." Beseechingly she looked at Toni. Say something, her eyes were pleading. Tell them. Tell them, you love me! Tell them we love each other.

Toni avoided her eyes and kept silent.

"We are really sorry, Franziska, we liked you and were really satisfied with your work. Look, the war will probably not last long, then you can return."

For them that was it. The end of discussion. They started to talk about what was probably going to happen. Where to hide their supplies of food... she, standing in the middle of the kitchen, lost, unhappy, on the verge of crying, was forgotten.

Toni left the kitchen first without giving her a single look. Soon everybody was out. Only the landlord stuck sitting at the table, puffing his pipe, throwing embarrassed, sympathetic looks at her.

"When you are ready," he said, getting up, "I'll take you to the railway station."

He knows, ran through her head. He knows but all he is going to do is taking me to the railway station.

She darted out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room. Sobbing, she threw herself on the bed. Why doesn't he tell them? Why does he let them send her away like a dog? What if there is a war! We love each other, for God's sake! Toni said so! A thousand times.

She got up, dried her eyes and went down. I must find him, she decided. I must talk to him.

She found him in the barn. Alone. His face twitched at the look of her. He didn't stop sticking the dung-fork into the manure, throwing it into the wheelbarrow.

"Toni, don't you love me anymore?"

He didn't answer right away. She waited.

"I never made any promises," he blurted out. His face was a mixture of guilt and anger.

"You said you did. A lot of times."

"We say many thigs... You can't take them all literally."

"Does it mean that you were lying to me?" Her voice was shaking.

Throwing the dung fork on the floor, he barked at her: "We had fun! Both of us! What do you want from me now?"

She stared at him in horror. How could he describe their love as fun making? "Won't you miss me at all when I'm gone?"

"It can't be helped, Franziska. That's life. You meet somebody, live with that person for some time, break up...Besides, I'm not the one to blame for this war."

"I'd gladly stay here despite the war, if only you wanted me ..." she said, a helpless pleading in her voice.

"You heard Ma," he answered coldly, turned around and lumbered away.

Franziska collapsed on the floor. When she heard her name a few minutes later, she dried her eyes and face and stepped out. The landlord was there, waiting for her on the tractor.

"Hurry up," he said, "or you'll miss the train."

She ran up into her room, threw her things into a bag and came down hoping, somebody would in the end say to her she could stay. But there was nobody down there, except for the farmer. Everybody got lost. She climbed the tractor and sat by the farmer. Smiling, he gently tapped her knee, saying: 'You'll be doing fine, girl, you'll be doing fine.'

### ***

»Everything would be different if there was no war," repeated Franziska.

Zefi turned facing her. "It wouldn't be. Toni showed you clearly that you meant only a pleasure to him. Even if there were no war, he'd sooner or later send you away. Nevertheless, I still think you should have told him about the child."

"I did."

Zefi's eyebrows shot up. "You kept telling us you would not." She leaned up on her elbow, then pushed herself to the sitting position.

"Because you wanted me to sue him," Franziska answered.

"You should have sued him! He should help you. Pay for the little Franz."

"I was rather alone than wash our dirty linen in public."

"He wouldn't get off with me so leasily! What did he say when you told him about the child?"

Franziska sighed. It still hurt. "That he's not his."

"Bastard," said Zefi with contempt.

### ***

Franziska discovered that she was pregnant a few weeks after she was asked to leave. Her period wouldn't come. At first she tried to comfort herself that the reason was that cold she had caught the other day. Or that it might have been the shock because she had to leave Toni's farm, or the shock when she returned home and found out that there was no place for her in their parent's house anymore. Her brother John and his wife were expecting their second child; the house was not big enough for all of them, they said. So her oldest sister Maria and her husband Mathew accepted her under their roof though it was not bigger than their parent's house. Besides, there were already four of them living there. Maria, Mathew, their four-year son Ivan and Mahew's mother Joanna. It was crowded, nevertheless, they found a spare room for her. She was grateful to them.

Her accommodation problem was solved, her cold subsided, however her period was still late. She prayed and prayed begging God not to give her the hardest blow she could imagine.

### ***

"You prayed only when you were in trouble," said Lucia reproachfully. "If you had thought of God before, if you had paid attention to your soul and less to your body, you would have never got lost in troubles. The seat of love, peace, patience and self-control lies within the soul not in the body.

"Lucia, we are not you," said Zefi upset. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I would, if I had been offered two options: whether to choose the love of a man or the love of God, chose the love of a man. They had hurt me and made me suffer severely, yet I would choose them. Besides, if a body is to God a sin, why did he then make us so, that we have to use it if we want to conceive a new life, children? Lucia, we have to have sex if we want to make children! We are made that way, why then blame us for loving men?"

"There's nothing wrong with married couples having sex."

"Oh, sure, Lucy, I've forgotten that only the married couples are allowed to have sex," answered Zefi in sarcastic laughter, lay down on her bench with her back to Lucia and Franziska again.

"God always hated me," said Franziska low-spirited. "He didn't like me when I was still a child, and following his example, nobody else did. Toni and after him ..."

Lucia scowled her to silence. "God has nothing to do with all this!"

"God never helped me, "insisted Franziska. "I got pregnant, I didn't want it, but he would not listen to my prayers..."

"You got pregnant because of your stupidity, and against stupidity even God is helpless. And I'm going to add this. It's not true that nobody liked you. I did and Zefi and Ma and neighbors. They never spoke ill of you. The only one who didn't like you were you. That brought so much misery upon you. Your recklessness did. Believe me, God cannot be blamed for each madness men make. Besides, how is he to help somebody who does not believe in him and does not want to listen to him? You said before that you often knew you were doing wrong, but kept doing it despite it. It was God's voice whispering to you, warning you, yet, you didn't listen. And you got into trouble. So, stop blaming God."

Zefi turned to face them. "What God thinks about you or me, Franziska, I don't know and am not even interested. What I can't understand is, why you didn't tell me and Maria that you were pregnant. Why did you have to hide it from us?

"I waited for the right moment. It just didn't come..."

"The right moment! There were plenty. Besides, what right moment do you need to say three words: I am pregnant?"

"Zefi, you know what it was like at that time."

"No, I don't. Enlighten me."

"You and Maria were always deep in worries about how to deliver food, you collected, to the partisans. Then Maria's husband Mathew joined the partisans and whenever we heard shooting in the woods we panicked what if at this moment Mathew was killed? Soon Maria was taken to Begunje for interrogation."

Franziska dropped her head, her lips started to tremble. What memories! What memories!

Zefi nodded. "Those were scary times, indeed."

Lucia helplessly stretched her hands in front of her with the palms up, then dropped them again on the lap. "How can someone come out of the jail only to do things, which were going to send him back forever? Maria knew they would spy on her. We were all warning her, yet she had to do it. She had to take food to the partisans the day she was released!"

"A neighbor betrayed her," said Zefi.

"You don't know!"

"I do, Lucy. We had a connection at Gestapo. He told us."

"If she had stayed at home, she would still be alive. She should have thought of her child too, not only of the partisans," Lucia sighed.

Zefi sniggered. Franziska and Lucia exchanged glances.

"Zefi, are you completely out of your mind? Mary was taken to Auschwitz, died in the gas chamber! What's there to snigger about?"

"Whenever I remember how I stole that typewriter from the Gestapo, I must laugh," said Zefi. "And I did it to revenge Maria. Our connection said, the Gestapos were mad as hell."

The Gestapo building that Zefi was passing when going to work used to be a restaurant before the war. It's view of the lake and the castle was marvelous. There was an office on the ground floor. Its window was only half a meter above the ground and always open. By the window there was a desk and on it a typewriter, literally offering itself to be taken. One morning she equipped herself with an enormous bag, halted in front of the window, pretending she had to adjust her stocking, cautiously looking sideways, then behind her back. After deciding that the air was clear, she reached for the typewriter, and shoved it into the bag. Then slowly, as if nothing had happened, resumed her way to the hotel where she worked. She handed the typewriter to Stefan, who later that evening sent it to the partisans. She became a hero.

"You were reckless not heroic," said Franziska reproachfully. "You were not playing with your life only, but with ours as well."

"Not as much as you," retorted Zefi. "You were playing with your child's life and yours concealing the pregnancy. You both could have died."

Franziska propped her head into her hands. "That was what I wished," she whispered. "I wished us both to be dead..."

"Dear Lord!" Lucia said.

### ***

When it became clear to Franziska that she would not die, no matter how strongly she wished, she decided to miscarry. At all costs miscarry. She started with heavy physical work around the house. Maria and Mathew' s mother were shaking their heads in astonishment. They were telling her that nobody expected her to work so hard, thinking she wanted to make up for the lodging that way, but she kept on digging in the garden, carrying heavy stones from one spot to the other, although there was no need for that. Not knowing what was going on in Franziska's head, Maria started to warn her to stop exaggerating, or she will cause damages to her spine.

Nothing happened. No abortion.

She remembered that some herbs caused abortion and went to pick them up, made teas, drank liters of it.

Nothing.

The thing in her womb was strongly clinging to her. It wouldn't come out. Finally, she took a long needle. Strong pain passed through her body like an electric shock, and she stopped.

### ***

"How did you come to the idea to murder your child!" said Lucia unbelievingly. "He was no that! He was your child, Franziska. Your child."

"I did not feel him as my child at that time, I named him it," she admitted ruefully, turning her face to the window too ashamed to face them. It was dark outside so she saw in the window the reflection of the compartment's interior and herself, but where were Zefi and Lucy? She jerkily turned around, and at the sight of them a sigh of relief escaped her mouth. "I thought you left," she said and continued: "As I couldn't get rid of it, I decided to erase it from my mind. To forget it more easily, I stitched myself a swing dress from an old blanket. That way I didn't need to watch my belly growing."

"Each time I saw you in that wide ugly floppy dress, I felt the urge to pull it off your body," interrupted her Zefi. "You were wearing it day by day, looking in it as an old neglected peasant woman. With all the nice dresses I gave you, you put on this ugly one saying my dresses were too good for the dirty work you were doing. And I believed you! We all did!

"But it wasn't dirty," said Franziska as if that was the point, "I washed it every three days."

"I didn't have the slightest idea what was going on under that tent," Zefi ignored her. "And when Steve came running to me, saying, you were ill, and I had to come immediately, and when I saw you... brrr... I was lucky to survive the shock."

So was I, thought Franziska. So was I.

### ***

She was alone at home and in the garden behind the house. Maria went to the woods to visit her husband Mathew. Her mother-in-law went to her sister and decided to stay with her overnight. She took little Ivan with her. Suddenly, she felt something running down her thighs. Water! She got scared. However, feeling no pain, she pretended nothing had happened. Picking up the spade, she feverishly started to shovel the newly fallen snow away. A slight pain shot through her womb. No, she murmured, scared, no! Grabbing the spade even more firmly, she tried to silence the repeating shots of pain by working harder, harder... There was something warmer now on her thighs, sticky... She looked down. It was red. Blood! The pain was so strong now, that she let go of the spade, squatted down, silently moaning.

"What's wrong, Franziska?"

Steve, the neighbor's son, younger than she was, was bending over her.

"Please," she whispered, "please, fetch Zefi."

His eyes popped out: "Now? Go into the valley? In this weather?"

"Please, Stevie, please."

Sweat broke out on her brow. Her face was drawn into a tight, painful expression, and Stevie was now prepared to do what she asked of him. "Shall I first help you into the house?" he asked.

"No, no, just hurry and get Zefi."

### ***

"When he came, I was sure you were dying so pale and scared he was," said Zefi. "He had no idea what was wrong with you, so I took my whole medicine box with me. I expected to find you in bed with high fever, but the sight of you nearly killed me. You were lying in blood, between your legs, there was a little creature, all blue and cold, nearly dead. I thought I was dreaming..."

A pale smile flashed across Franziska face. "You should have seen your expression. It ..."

"Laughing is out of place here," said Lucia in a brittle voice. "You'd better repent of what you were doing."

"Lucia, you have no idea how often I did that. I had to pay severely for my sin. First, when I had to call Zefi and later, when Lena, our neighbor and the doctor came, gaping openmouthed at me. I felt so ashamed..."

"You felt ashamed and you think you made amends for your sin? Shame isn't repenting. Shame is a wish that people would not learn about your sins! If you repent, you feel really sorry to have sinned, and you promise not to sin again."

"Lucia, when I discovered that I was pregnant, I first repented for what I had done. By praying, which didn't help, though repenting and praying are supposed to help you, aren't they? I had to give birth to my sin, yes I had to give birth to my sin! that I hated with all my heart. Hated, until it was born. At that moment, the sin turned into a little boy, crying for my protection and my love. And my heart opened and accepted him. Accepted with love. The shame vanished. Hatred vanished. I did not repent of my sin anymore, for how, after all, can a little baby be a sin? Later, when he fell ill, I was repenting again. Not for conceiving him, but for hating him, when he was still in my womb. And I have been repenting of that until nowadays. I still am."

Lucia bitterly added: "It's funny, how people try to adjust God's Laws to their needs. How you try to double cross God. First you sin by lying with a man who is not your husband. Then you try to convince God that that was no sin because you got pregnant. Pregnancy means a child, and a child is no sin. Clever, I must say.

However, the sin was made and you are lucky that God is so merciful, always forgiving people's sins."

"Merciful?" laughed Franziska bitterly. "I have never felt anything but the Scourge of God."

### ***

»Ma'am, the next stop will be Schwarzach St.Veit," said the conductor.

Franziska jumped in the seat. "Oh, my, I haven't heard you come in," she said.

"So you did sleep a little?"

"No, no," she hurried to explain, "we were so deeply engaged in conversation that ..."

"We?"

"Yes, my sisters Zefi and Lucia and I." She looked toward one corner of the compartment then to the other. The conductor followed her eyes. The woman is ill, he confirmed his previous thought. She has hallucinations. Shouldn't he nevertheless call somebody? No, I won't, he decided. I'll bring nothing but troubles upon me. Police, questions,... No, no... He'll just watch over her, escort her to the next train to make sure she is safe, and then she won't be his responsibility anymore.

The train started to slow down.

"Come, Ma'm, I'll help you," said the conductor, glad he was going to get rid of her. He grabbed her bag with one hand, shoved the other under Franziska's arm and so they slowly moved to the train exit.

"You are very kind," said Franziska.

"That's my duty."

"A conductor once, it was thirty years ago, saved my daughter," she added.

"Saved? What happened?"

"Mia, my daughter was fourteen when she first travelled to Innsbruck on holiday. I wasn't given the passport. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because, Zefi, the one you saw in my compartment," she turned back, then worriedly continued, "I don't know what takes her so long to come. She won't be in time if she doesn't hurry. Would you be so kind to go back and tell her?"

"She'll come, don't worry. "

"A few years after the war, in the time of Informbiro, she had to escape," Franziska continued. "Illegally. We were all marked suspicious, except Mia who was still a child. That's why she was the only one who was allowed to visit Zefi. I wasn't given the passport neither was Lucia. But Mia was."

After throwing another anxious look over her shoulder she resumed: "There was a man on the train. Very kind and helpful. He told Mia not to worry because he was traveling to Innsbruck too. It was the first time Mia traveled to Innsbruck. He said they would get out together, and he would help her find her uncle and aunt. Zefi and Stefan who were waiting for her. You know, my sister..." Her look became fierce, voice harsh when she added: "That rascal made her get off one station earlier. If it weren't for the conductor who called her back, he would have taken her god knows where. He saved her."

"To tell the truth," nodded the conductor, "you wouldn't believe how many villains are roaming here around, looking for young girls. Do you have only a daughter?"

"And a son." He noticed a proud gleam in her eyes. "He's three years younger than Mia. Lives in Switzerland. Is married there. He has a daughter. I have already been on a visit once. "

"Nice, nice," he murmured, wondering what the daughter and the son were thinking to let their old, obviously ill mother travel alone. But that was none of his business, really.

"They disappeared so suddenly."

"Who?"

"My sisters. Zefi and Lucia. I'd better go back and find them. "

"No, no, they'll meet you outside. Look, the train has halted. Give me your hand, I'll help you out. "

When they were on the platform, he pointed to the other side, saying: "There is your train to Innsbruck. Come, I'll take you there."

"Watch over her," he told the conductor of the other train. "She's not quite, you know ... (he pointed to his head).

The other conductor inspected Franziska for a few seconds. "Then she shouldn't be here by herself," he said nervously. "We should call somebody. Let's take her to the railway office. Let them handle this situation."

"No, no, there would be too many complications. Besides, she's not dangerous. Has hallucinations though... Just watch over her, will you? Don't let other passengers get into her compartment."

"What am I? A babysitter?"

The first conductor shrugged and left.

### ***

In the new compartment, Franziska again took the seat by the window to escape the feeling the walls were going to squeeze her in between. The train wouldn't move, and she started to get nervous. She got up, pulled the window down and poked her head through it to see what was the matter. She quickly withdrew it inside, for at that moment, a train passed by on the neighboring track with such speed that her train shook and the wind blew into her face with all its force. She hastened to pull up the window and sat down. It was a freight train.

"We were shoved into the carriages like cattle," she whispered.

"What did you say?"

Startled, she raised her head and at the sight of Zefi and Lucia, she let out a happy laugh. "Lucia, Zefi! I haven't seen you. I thought..."

"What did you say?" repeated Zefi.

"When?"

"A moment ago. About some cattle...."

"They shoved us into the carriages like cattle."

"Who?"

"The Nazis. It was a long long freight train. I still remember the date. 24th of July, 1942."

"Why didn't you run with the little Franz into the woods," asked Lucia. "Many did and thus saved their lives."

"When I heard the Nazis were in the village, I was so scared and confused that for some time I did nothing but rambled through the house not able to think clearly. By the time I had come to my senses, it was too late. There was already a loud banging against the door...."

### ***

"Aufmachen, aufmachen! (Open! Open!)" Hysterical yelling was accompanied by banging with a butt against the door. Franziska, scared to death, opened with a screaming child in her hands.

"Silence the child," shouted a Nazi, showing teeth as an upset bulldog. But she could not silence him. The more she tried the more he cried.

"He's ill," she said.

Little Franz was constantly crying. He had been weak and ill since his birth. He rejected milk. When he was crying inconsolably, she was crying with him. She felt indescribably guilty, for she believed that she had caused his misery. When he was in her womb, he must have felt her hatred. Maybe, he's still afraid of me and that's why he is crying, she was thinking, whispering into his hair, that she loved him, that he meant everything to her. She was apologizing to him, caressing him. Nevertheless, little Franz kept on crying. The doctor said the causes were the cramps. Boys suffer from them more than girls. They will pass away, he said. The landlady, the first one for whom she worked before the war, and who now kindly accepted her back even allowing her to bring Franz with her, taught her how to massage his belly. But the little Franz kept crying and crying.

They searched the house, in case somebody was hiding in it. Nobody except she and Franz were there. Maria was in prison in Begunje. The old woman went with Ivan to the other part of the village on a visit to a relative of hers. A translator, she knew him, he was her neighbor, and until now she did not know that he was a traitor, ordered her to come to the village in ten minutes. If she didn't they would return and shoot her and the kid.

After they had left, she was walking through the rooms as if in dreams, not knowing what to put into the bag. Where were they going to take them? For how long? In the end, afraid she would be late, she stuffed the bag with some nappies, a blanket, some clothes for the baby, underwear and a cardigan for her, whatever came into the reach of her hand.

Practically all villagers were gathered on the square. Their frightened faces, children crying and about ten trucks waiting in a line gave her a shiver. As if she smelled death. Then Ivan rushed to her out of the crowd shouting: auntie! Auntie! A neighbor came running after him, her own baby in her hand.

"They pushed him to me," she said breathlessly.

Franziska frowned. "Where is Joanna, his grandmother?"

"They sent her home. She didn't want to go without Ivan until they aimed guns at her. They would have killed her if she hadn't left. She asked me to take care of Ivan, but now, that you are here I think you should look after him."

Franziska hugged Ivan who was staring at her with his big bespectacled eyes, understanding nothing. "Of course," she said. "I have already promised Maria in case something happened to her.

"But, how...I still don't..." started Franziska and fell silent when a gestapo man yelled at her: »Nicht sprechen! Nicht sprechen!« (Don't talk! Don't talk!)

"Why did they bring us here first place," she whispered all the same, when the German soldier turned away.

"Because we have men in the forest," answered the neighbor under her breath. "I have my husband and you have your brother. Besides, your sister Maria is in Begunje jail."

"That's not fair," answered Franziska. "I have nothing to do with either Franz or Maria. I didn't even know they joined the partisans."

"Nicht sprechen, nicht sprechen," barked the German soldier, threateningly raising his rifle. She thought he would hit her, so she bent her head above little Franz to protect him from the possible blow.

She felt a slight touch on her shoulders and shuddered, thinking it was the Gestapo man touching her. Lifting her head, she saw it was her brother John. Beside him was his wife with the baby in her arms.

"John," she gasped. "They brought you here too?"

He nodded. His eyes were so sad.

"Will you take care of Ivan?" he asked and she assured him she will.

### ***

"They would deport you to Germany even if Franz hadn't gone into the forest," said Zefi. Nearly all Slovenian villages were on the list for deportation."

"They didn't deport you," Franziska retorted contemptuously. "Nor did they Lucia."

"We weren't at home at that time, that's why. We were just lucky," said Lucia. "Besides, they found us both useful, so to say. Zefi as a waitress and me as a nurse. They were short of medical staff."

"The partisans were short of them too," Zefi unexpectedly attacked Lucia. "While our men were dying in the woods, you were helping Nazis so that they could return to the battle to kill our people!"

A flame of anger lit up in Lucia's eyes.

"I did not help the Nazis, I helped patients! My duty is to help people in need with no regard of their political belief, or religion or the color of the skin!"

"Bullshit!"

"Zefi, every human being, every, without exception, is the creation of God. If he sinned, if he has to be punished, it will be done by God not by me. I am no judge. I have no right for that. I'm here to help. That is my mission. Besides, we helped the partisans too. We never betrayed anybody. We collected medical supplies, medicines..."

"If you had come to work at partisan hospitals, you could have done more. You could have joined Franz. Work at his hospital."

"Franz could use a spare hand," repeated Zefi.

Lucia restlessly shifted in her seat. "Zefi, not everyone went into the forest. Did it ever occur to you and Franz, who kept looking askance at me for sticking to the city hospital during the war, that the old and ill stayed in their homes? That they needed help and treatment and medicines as much as men and women in the forests? Who, do you think, helped them? Mostly we, the Sisters of Mercy. So, please, don't accuse us of not helping our own people.

### ***

Franz joined the partisans from the very beginning. He was fighting side by side with his brother-in-law. When one day, Mathew and a group of his men went in pursuit of the Germans, he had to go on another mission. Because of a village traitor Mathew' platoon ran in the ambush. They fought fiercely. In the end, Mathew, having no chance of escape and seeing all his comrades dead, shot himself.

Grieving, Franz fought from then on even more fiercely. However, his health betrayed him and he landed in the partisan hospital hidden among the trees on the mountain Jelovica.

It happened one morning when he was doing a reconnaissance of the terrain that his platoon was about to cross. He told his men to wait for his return. There was quite a lot of fresh snow, hindering his progress. He had had pains in his joints for some time now. Shivering, not because of the cold but because of fever, he immediately recognized the symptoms. His rheumatism returned.

He first suffered from it as a teenager and had to quit all sport activities because of it. Later in his life he kept making jokes, which weren't jokes at all, that from then on his only recreation was sitting in pubs, drinking. Going to partisans saved him from becoming a drunkard.

Despite feeling bad, breathing heavily, he had to go on. He just couldn't lead his unit into danger. Ambush.

His legs became heavier and heavier. He fell and then tried to creep on his belly, but his arms would not obey him. Then everything went black before his eyes.

When he woke, a beautiful dark-haired girl was bending over him. It must be an angel, he thought. He didn't believe in angels anymore, yet this one had to be an angel.

"Where am I?" he whispered coarsely. "In heaven?"

"No," she smiled, patting his cheek. "In hospital."

Later he learned that it was this girl, her name was Angela, who had found him lying in the snow. She was rambling through the woods with her rifle, from which she never parted, to find some food. She was helping in the nearby partisan hospital, doing different tasks, from taking care of the wounded and ill to hunting wild animals for food and also fight when the danger required it. Her courage was admired by everybody.

She heard a moan and thought the Germans were nearing. She hid behind a tree with her rifle ready to shoot. There was that moan again. And another one, and another... It didn't come from the Nazis. Bent low, she cautiously crept on to see what it was. A wounded deer? Was she that lucky? No, it was a man. He was unconscious, feverish, cold. She ran back to the hospital for help.

After a thorough examination the doctor said he was not wounded. He was suffering of joint inflammation. A very serious one. If that goes on, he said, his heart will be affected. He will not survive.

But he will, said Angela stubbornly to herself. I'll see to it.

And she did. For two months, he was motionless. For two months, he was dependent on Angela. With her help, he finally overcame the illness and got to his feet again. However, he was not allowed to join his battalion again. He was appointed as a secretary and commissioner of the hospital. Angela was his right hand. They stayed there until the end of the war.

After the war, Franz talked Angela into going with him. She was reluctant to leave her mountains, forests, mother and father and sisters and brothers who were her life. But she loved him. She loved him more than her own life. They got married.

### ***

"Franz shouldn't marry Angela," said Zefi. "As soon as I saw her, I knew she wasn't the right match for him."

"He said she seemed like an angel when he woke seeing her face above his. It was love at first sight."

"They all say that, when they are in trouble, needing help," sneered Zefi.

"If she could bear him children, he would stay, I think," commented Franziska.

"No, he wouldn't," stood Zefi her ground. "The society he became a part of would never accept her, and he knew it. That was why he never took her with him. I saw the wives of high officials at the banquets. Fashionable, beautiful women..."

"You can't say Angela wasn't beautiful," Lucia opposed. "She was a real beauty."

"She was until she opened her mouth," answered Zefi. "Then it became obvious how primitive she was. She was practically illiterate, having only two years of primary school. Beside that she wasn't capable of any conversation except of woods and vegetables, and wildlife and herbs... No talk for the new high-class society."

Lucia clenched her fists, which looked somewhat bizarre, considering she was a nun. "That was not her fault! She lived two hours walk from the last mountain. Her family couldn't afford to send her to school to another faraway village."

"I have never said it was her own fault. What I'm saying is that she was simply not appropriate for him. He could not take her anywhere. She didn't' know how to dress, how to behave. She was a peasant among them."

"Do you know what, Zefi, if she was good enough to take care of him when he was practically dying, then he should respect her later too and not be ashamed of her. He could have helped her to learn what was necessary to become appropriate for his company."

"Don't you think, he tried? He did, but she was dumb as a rock. Remembered nothing. Or didn't want to. God knows. Besides, she was stubborn as a mule. You remember, don't you her habit of poking around through trash and then bringing home things like spoons and other rubbish."

"She was raised in a poor family with many children high up in the mountains, lacking everything. It made her furious to see what people were throwing away. She couldn't help picking things up, cleaning them, using them. She just couldn't."

"But Franz forbade her! He felt ashamed and disgusted. His wife was like a beggar, a gipsy... And there was no need for her to do that. They could afford things. Being a privileged, he was given access to warehouses of food, clothes, furniture. However, she did not obey him. She pretended she would, but then went secretly to those trash heaps in the woods again. She was deceiving him. In some ways she was stubborn like a mule."

"Fine. Let's say he was ashamed of her so he left her. Or he left her, because she could not bear him children. I understand that," said Franziska. "But I don't understand why he swapped her for a completely non-attractive woman, ugly if you ask me, older than he was and could not give him children either."

Zefi gave her a scornful look. "Are you naive, Franziska. This second woman was a communist official of the highest rank. She was a member of the Federal Committee, where all decisions were made. I saw everybody bowing low at her. She was ugly. However, they were bowing in front of her as if she were a Queen."

"Day by day, I was watching Angela suffer," said Franziska, turning the palms of her hands up and down and up and down. "Day after day, she was standing by the window, one foot on the floor the other on the wooden coal box, staring longingly at her mountains she knew were somewhere far away. My heart ached at the sight of her. She did not like me, and I did not like her, but to see her like that was heartbreaking. Why did he tear her away from her mountains if he did not intend to keep her? Why did he bring her down with him? Why was he giving her false hopes? I felt sorry for her seeing her every evening going under Franz and his lover's window, to cry there, to plead, to scold. Then she stayed in bed sobbing the next day, sometimes the whole week."

"I tell you," said Zefi, "that Franz never intended to leave Angela. He came to me, countless of times, desperate, crying. He found himself caught between two women not knowing what to do. He loved them both. He owed his life to Angela, however Rose was indispensable in his post war life. "

"That's not love, Zefi! That is calculation."

"Whatever, Franziska, he knew he was a bastard to leave Angela, yet he could not help it. Rose was stronger."

"Another one who could not help doing wrong and thought that crying would vindicate him!"

Franziska and Zefi pretended not to hear Lucia. Franziska said: "I saw Franz suffer too. It surely wasn't an easy decision for him to make. When he was leaving with his big, ugly suitcase, tears were running down his cheeks.

Angela grabbed him by the sleeve, pulling him back. She cried like a wounded animal, beating him with her fists. He did not move, did not try to stop her.

'You said we would be together to the end of our lives,' she cried. 'You promised! You promised to my mother. You said destiny joined us, nobody will ever be able to part us. You said your life was mine... You said...'

Franziska's voice broke. She wiped her tears.

"Rose was too strong," repeated Zefi.

"I suggested to her to return home and find a new life. It was not yet too late. Nevertheless, she didn't want to listen to me. She wanted to stay near Franz, believing he'll return to her. She even got herself a job, so that he would see she can work, take care of herself, be active and attractive. It wasn't a big job, she was a cleaner at a high school, but it was a job. She had to go out, communicate with other people. She seemed quite happy there. She bought some new clothes, went to the hairdresser. She changed. And she was even more beautiful than before. Men noticed that. One of the teachers at that school nearly raped her. Luckily, she was strong, kicked him right between his legs. From then on he avoided her. Her partisan years in the mountains made her a dangerous warrior. If Franz saw her, and I believe he did, for the school where she worked was not far from his office, I guess she had chosen her job there because it was near him, he must have felt sorry for having left her. I believe that was Angela's hope. She never ever gave up the hope that one day he'll return back to her.

However, he didn't return. I often heard her cry at night. Then she fell ill. Cancer. It was too late to do anything. She died suffering. Psychically and physically. I don't wish anybody to suffer like this. Sadness killed her."

"I guess, it killed Franz as well, dying so soon after her," said Zefi. "I didn't know about his heart disease, did you?"

They shook their heads.

"It was probably the consequence of his rheumatism," added Lucia.

"Still, dying of a heart stroke is better than of cancer," remarked Franziska. "Angela did not deserve that."

"And so there is a question for you again, Lucy," said Zefi, winking at her wryly, "What god does things like that?"

Before Lucia had time to give her another lecture, she said:" Spare me, Lucy, spare me. I don't want to hear how god has his own plans."

### ***

"We were crammed like cattle in those trucks," repeated Franziska with a shaking voice, again lost in her memories. "The little Franz was screaming loudly the whole long way. A nervous guy lost his temper and told me in a shrill voice to do something to silence the 'brat'. But what could I do?

The truck came to a stop, and we were ordered to jump off. "Raus! Schnell, schnell, Out! Fast, fast!)" the German soldiers were yelling. Those who were not quick enough were pushed with sticks and rifles.

We were led into a big hall, the huge gate closed behind us. Rumors said, we were in Goricane, in an assembly center, waiting to continue our transportation. Where to, nobody knew. The look at both of my boys made my heart tear. Ivan was pale, fallen and silent. Since the moment, we were shoved into the truck, he hadn't said a word. Gave no sound at all. He didn't cry, didn't laugh. He was blankly staring in front of him. Franz, on the other side, was screaming. And I had nothing at all to comfort him. No food, no milk, nothing. Suddenly, a cup of milk was shoved into my hands. I don't know who gave it. It was a tinned cup. And then, out of nowhere, a candle found its way to me too and with it a box of matches. I lit the candle and with the weak flame warmed the tinned cup. Franz made a sip, and crying violently immediately spat it out. The rest was drunk by Ivan.

Franz had high fever. I knew it from his hot forehead and red cheeks. A woman said I should ask the German soldiers to have him examined by a physician. That scared me. I had already heard that the ill and invalids were often killed by the Germans. I asked people not give us away.

We spent in this building the whole month. The German soldiers were carrying out regular inspections to see how we were doing, but due to the bad smell, coming from the buckets in the corners that were used as our toilets, they were not too thorough and so the condition of my son escaped their eyes.

Then came the day of our departure from the camp. We were pushed into the railway carriages. It was a long journey into the unknown. Franz was rejecting all food. And Ivan didn't stop staring blankly in front of him.

Finally, we were brought into another camp. A German one. It was in the city of Gunzenhausen. They let us off the trucks in front of an enormous building. Later we found out that before the war it used to be a meat factory. Wurstfabrik in German.

Younger men were separated from the others and sent to different parts of Germany to work in factories. The old were left with women and children. Some families were given the offices to use as their bedrooms. The majority of us were put up in a big hall crowded with bunk beds.

The beds were narrow so that there was hardly enough place for me and both children. Ivan fell asleep as soon as he lay down, Franz kept crying. I was pressing him to me, covering him over his head with a blanket to stifle his screams as not to disturb people who were tired and needed sleep. 'Franz, my love, please, please, stop crying,' I was whispering into his ears. Then, at one moment of despair, I lost my nerves and hissed threateningly. 'Stop, for Heaven's sake! What do you want anyway? Stop!' And I even gave him a slight smack on the bottom.

I have never stopped regretting this.

That made the kid sob even more inconsolably. Suddenly Cveta, you remember her, don't you, we were going to school together, rose from the neighboring bed and took Franz out of my hands. Other women surrounded us, dark, solemn silhouettes. 'Go to sleep,' said Cveta, 'I'll take care of him.'

I felt ashamed, desperate. 'No, no, I'll lull him to sleep, give me some time. He'll fall asleep. He won't bother you anymore.'

They made me lie down.

The next day we were summoned up in the yard. Our eyes were filled with terror. What does this mean? Are they going to kill us all? We were often threatened with the notorious Dachau.

The leader of the camp, named Herr Teufel, Teufel meaning devil in German, and I tell you, he was carrying the right name, appeared in front of us, accompanied by a group of German soldiers with rifles. With him was our translator, our traitor as well. He translated Teufel's barking:

'You will get now your assignments.' Then he started reading names. First the names of young women without children and girls above fifteen. They were sent to German families as maids and servants. They were even given the choice to pick up the best family, which was a sheer mocking for none of us knew anything at all about the families, about the places they lived in. How, on earth, can you then choose the best one? Those bastards behaved as if we were there by our own liking.

Some of them made a good choice and were quite happy. Many were not so lucky. Their families didn't treat them well. They humiliated them, beat them, threatened them to send them to Dachau whenever they made something wrong, no matter how small the offence was. Some of the girls never came back. Didn't survive.

The second group of women, the middle aged with older children or without them, and men who were not sent away the first day, were determined to work in the nearby factories and on farms. They were taken there each morning and brought back in the evening.

I and other young women with little children stayed in the camp to take care of the children. I was relieved. Everything will be fine, I was telling to myself. My Franz will recover. A new ray of hope peeped into my life.

However, it didn't last long. My little son got a high fever again and there was no chance to conceal his weak condition from the German staff any longer. One day, Teufel appeared in the door.

He shouted: 'Dress the kid, he'll be taken to the hospital for examination.'

I burst into tears. 'Please, Sir, please, don't send him away," I begged him.

"Now!" he shouted, marching out of the room.

The nurse, a German nurse, but kind, human, tried to console me, saying that the boy would surely die if he did not get the right medicines. There was no need for me to be scared. Everything will turn out fine.

'They'll murder him,' I cried.

She gave me a hug. 'No, Franziska, they will not. How can you say that?'

'I have heard that they murder all ill people.'

'You have heard wrong, my dear.'

So we went. The nurse and Cveta escorted me. We went by train. Drrr, drrr were rattling the wheels of the train. Drrr... The noise seemed to do well to the little Franz and he fell asleep. Sobbing, I was looking at his pale, tiny, gentle face in my lap.

'They'll help him,' the nurse kept telling me. 'The doctor will examine him, prescribe the medicine, and we'll take him back again. Don't cry, your son will be soon well again.'

The clinic in Ansbach was small, untidy. I turned to run away but Cveta caught me by my arm. 'They'll kill you if you do that,' she said. The doctor opened the door. The nurse took Franz from me. We followed her into doctor's office. After a long long examination, a lot of shaking with his head, which made me terrified, he said the boy would have to stay in the hospital for a few days.

And again I cried, begged him to let me be with him, but in vain.

'The ambulance will take him to the hospital in Nürnberg, you three must now return to the camp,' he concluded.

I went mad. 'I won't leave him here! No,' I cried, trying to tear Franz from him, but two soldiers prevented me that. The nurse took out of a cupboard a plastic bracelet, a child's bracelet, such as children are given when they are born not to be swapped with other children. The doctor told her to write on it the following words: CHILD NR.32-G. Then she put the bracelet on Franz' wrist. My child was from now on named: Child No.32-G. Nobody asked for his real name. Later the nurse told me that G meant Gunzenhausen, number 32 was the number of our building.

Two German soldiers came. The nurse and Cveta took me by my arms and led me away.

There was no news for the whole week. Whenever I asked the nurse when Franz would be brought back, she answered, as soon as he was well again. I begged Teufel to let me visit him, but he denied my request.

After a week Teufel came to tell me that my son had died. And that I was allowed to attend the funeral, accompanied by one of the women.

I fainted. When I opened my eyes again, the women were standing around me. Cveta hugged me. The women kneeled and started to pray. They were praying the whole night. I didn't pray any more. I prayed when there was still hope for the little Franz. Now praying had no sense. God did not want to grant my wish. He again let me down. I..."

"Franziska, God..."

"Stop it!" shouted Zefi angrily. "Lucia, don't say a word about your god. Let her finish!"

"It was all over," continued Franziska. "There was no sense anymore. " Franziska wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

"One of the women gave me a black headdress. 'Put it on,' she said.

'What for?' I asked

'For the burial.'

They gave me a candle. Cveta slipped her arm through mine, and we went. A guard was waiting for us outside.

'We'll walk,' said Cveta, 'The cemetery is not far away.'

A small, wooden box was brought. 'Franz!' I cried, tore from Cveta's grip and ran to the box. 'Franz! My son!' I scratched the wooden cover with my nails, tried to lift it, take out my son. The guard shoved me away, aiming his rifle into my breast. 'Shoot me!' I cried. 'Kill me, as you have killed my son!'

The little box was dropped into the hole in the ground. A priest came, made a cross over the box and left. Cveta lit the candle. The guard took us back.'

I practically don't remember the days following the burial. I was roaming around like a robot; all I know was that Ivan was tightly holding the brim of my skirt following me everywhere. If it wasn't for him, I would have died too. But I knew I had to live. For his sake."

Franziska buried her face into the palms of her hands. "And as if that were not enough," she groaned, "Teufel sent me and Ivan away to a German family, about sixty kilometers from Gunzenhausen. I asked him not to do that for I wanted to stay near my little Franz, but he would not listen to me. He said that now being without the baby I was obliged to work. We had to go."

"Franziska, little Franz is with God now, don't be said," said Lucia sympathetically. "And God is merciful, no matter..."

"If he was merciful," cried out Zefi he would not murder children. I know what it means to lose a child. I know what it means praying to God, kneeling before him, begging him to let you have this child, but he takes him from you anyway. Once, twice, three times."

Franziska and Lucia stared at her. "What are you talking about," asked Lucia.

Zefi turned to the wall, covering her head with her hands.

"Are you saying that you and Jani..."

Zefi jerkily sat up, tears in her eyes. "No, not Jani, I got pregnant with Stefan! He wished a child so much. I had three miscarriages. That ruined us, destroyed us."

With a nervous gesture of her hand, Franziska shoved a lock of her hair under her head kerchief. "Now I remember that you wrote to me about it," she said. "I felt so sorry for you."

"You shouldn't have left your home," said Lucia. "Your greatest mistake was to run out of the country. To go through all this unnecessary stress. No wonder you had miscarriages. You should have stayed at home, Zefi."

"Stayed and get killed or taken into the prison to the island Goli otok? Do you think that would be better?"

"I don't think you would be killed or taken a prisoner. No, I don't. I think somebody just wanted to scare you."

"You don't think I was in danger, Lucia? I tell you, you haven't got the slightest idea what it was really like after the war. You couldn't have it, for you were safely hidden in that ecclesiastical fortress of yours!"

"Safely hidden?" repeated Lucia mockingly." Have you forgotten what happened to us, the nuns, after the new communist government came to power?"

"What? You were forbidden to walk around in those funny costumes of yours, praying on every corner. That's all."

"Oh, no Zefi, that was not all. All nurses who were nuns were fired. In one day, three hundred nuns were thrown on the road. There were no jobs for us anymore, there were no convents to hide in as you say! Many didn't have their homes, families, relatives to return to. They had nowhere to go. Some were so desperate that they committed suicide despite knowing they would make the cardinal sin and land in hell. Can you imagine the anguish they were pushed into? If John and his wife hadn't invited me to stay with them in our parent's house, I would be lost too. I don't know, what I would do. We suffered too, so don't pity yourself only."

Zefi's gaze was fixed on the ceiling above her, her lips were tightly pressed together.

### ***

It was the eighth of March, 1948. The Head of the Hospital asked them all to gather in the main hall. It was some time before noon. They found the call strange, because they had never had a meeting at that time. In a cold, uncompromising voice she told them that the new authorities had forbidden them to continue their work. She ordered them to leave the hospital immediately.

That was the darkest day in Lucia's life. Not only had she lost her job, there were so many women, nuns, especially the older ones, whose hearts were completely broken. Her soul was bleeding for them. She'd do anything to help them, yet she was powerless. Later, she learned that many nuns traveled to Serbia where the communist authorities were not so strict as in Slovenia.

Some week before this sad event Mother Superior called Lucia to her office. First, she asked her to pay visits to three older people in the town instead of a nun who suddenly fell ill. She agreed and rose to leave when Mother Superior asked her to sit down again and listen. What she was going to tell, must remain a secret, she said. Looking at the grim face of the old woman, Lucia knew she wasn't going to hear good news.

"What's going to happen with you, my girls, once I am not here anymore?" she said sighing deeply, leaning back in the chair, closing her eyes. "Who's going to take care of you? Help you?"

She straightened again and peered at her over her spectacles. "Admit, sister Bernadette, that to be a nun is not always easy. Many girls decide for it because they see only peace and silence and prayer in it. A shelter from the cruel world. However, it is not always so, is it? There were many girls who came to me, because they were disappointed and desperate. They had been expecting that peace, solitude and complete commitment to God would save them not only from the outside world but from their personal crisis and distress as well. They hoped all doubts and different longings would subside, yet it was not so. You can't imagine how many girls sat in the same chair as you are now, crying heartbreakingly. I tried to soothe them, help them. I did, some of them, those who I couldn't left the order. Some regretted, many didn't. They have families now and often come to visit me. I'm so glad to see them happy.

All this was happening when the outer world stayed outside, on the other side of our walls. Or better, when it still respected us and appreciated our work. I can't possibly imagine, what's going to happen now after all these sudden changes. Now that the outside world started to interfere with our lives with the sole intention to destroy us. And sister Bernadette, I'm going to be the first victim. I have to leave today. From now on nuns will not be allowed to work as head nurses and as I am informed very soon they will not be allowed to be nurses or teachers either. The new authorities think our prayers, our faith in God to be harmful. They say God doesn't exist and persecute everyone who thinks differently, because according to their opinion those who believe in Him undermine trust in human power. Believe me, sister Bernadette, when they say human power they, in fact, say our power, my power! They are wagging from the platforms that no God will rebuild our country, our homeland. That people themselves will have to do it. So there will be no place in the new country for those waiting for God's help."

A bitter smile played on Mother Superior's lips. Lucia, not even fully understanding what she was talking about, looked at her in silence, openmouthed.

"Have we ever been waiting for God to do our work instead of us, sister Bernadette?"

Not waiting for Lucia to answer, she added: "Of course not. We did everything by ourselves. Even more than what was expected from us. In prayers, in God we found the strength to renounce our wishes, to overcome our personal problems, so that we unconditionally dedicated our lives to the others. To those in need. And the new authorities are well aware of that.

You know, it's not our prayers that bother them, what makes them mad is that our prayers are addressed to God not to them. Yes, it may sound weird, my dear, but believe me, the new authority wishes only one thing: to redirect faith in God to faith in human gods. In other words, to them. For, these little people think they are gods. That's what it's all about, nothing else."

Sitting down, she again leaned back and closed her eyes. She was pale and tired. Lucia observed her with fear, not knowing what to do, what to say.

"Bernadette, what I have told you, must remain a secret." Then she whispered: "Now you are dismissed."

"But Mother Superior, isn't there a thing I could do?"

She stopped her with a raised hand. "Leave," she repeated, "and may God bless you. Hard times are coming. Painful ordeals. But, remember, Jesus too had to suffer. And remember his words to those, persecuted because of him: You will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. (Matthew)

"May God bless you too," said Lucia, got up and with her head dropped low, left the office. It was the last time she saw Mother Superior.

### ***

"Zefi, what I want to say is, that I didn't have it easy either, I too could have run away. Instead, I stayed, fought for a better life at home."

"You were not in life-threatening danger! How many times do I have to repeat that?" Anger made her rise to her feet quicker than one would expect. She started to pace the compartment, looking daggers at Lucia.

"We told you to hold your tongue," interfered Franziska, ignoring Zefi's furious looks. "But you didn't. You had to keep criticizing the authorities, though you knew there was nothing you could really do. Only harm yourself."

Zefi turned to her with a scornful look on her face. "My dear sister, I'm going to tell you this! Nothing is easier than bury your head in sand, pretending everything is fine around you. I was never good at this. Lucia, when I said you were safe behind the ecclesiastical walls, I meant it figuratively. You did help the ill, old, poor people, that's true, but you distanced yourself from everything that causes illness and poverty and miserable life of the old.

"You mean politics?"

"Among others! If you don't fight the roots, the cause of misery, you are doing nothing but extinguishing the fire that will soon explode with greater force."

Lucia thoughtfully studied Zefi's blushing face and gleaming eyes for a moment. Then she calmly said:" Zefi, you were in politics, fought fiercely for the improvement of social conditions of the people, fought against those who were trampling human rights and what happened? You had to flee. Why? Because no honest person can succeed in politics. I prefer doing well to some people, making their lives easier to the futile battle with the corrupt system as a whole."

"Yes, I know. However, if more people, if all of us..."

"Zefi, it's time to stop dreaming."

"I still think nothing would have happened to you if you had stayed," repeated Franziska. "I am sure Franz would not let them kill you or send you to the island Goli otok. You were his adorable little sister."

"He didn't have that power, Franziska. He was not that high. Besides, he started to be angry with me for not obeying the Party. For having my own opinion. I brought him shame, and he could not forgive me. I put him in danger too. You know: Like sister, like brother. No, Franziska, after the war he stopped being fond of me. I couldn't say for sure, but I was afraid that to save his head, he would, in the end risk mine."

"Zefi, I think you are wrong here. He was always honest, family meant a lot to him, although he did not show it. He would never do anything to hurt, really hurt nay of us."

"Lucia, you don't know. I just felt I had to run for my life."

"Again with a married man!"

"I did not have an affair with him, and I never planned to have it," spat Zefi. "Stefan had been planning his escape for several months and I didn't have the slightest idea about it. We had never ever been more than colleagues. And as for his marriage, as I had learned later, it had long ago fallen apart. His wife was living in Hungary, he never visited her, she never visited him. But that didn't interest me at all, because I was not interested in Stefan. It was a pure coincidence that we escaped together.

### ***

Zefi and Stefan were washing glasses. They didn't talk much. They were deep in their thoughts. Zefi was mulling over her wasted life. Yes, wasted. First and longest on Jani, who, by the way, kept coming, once a week, once a fortnight, as he pleased, in fact. In his pre-orgasm moments, he was still feverishly whispering into her hair how deeply he loved her, how he would never be able to live without her. In his romantic moments he again brought up his divorce that would happen somewhere in the vague future, when his children grew up and would be able to understand. But she stopped believing him. Something in her heart broke. She started to be haunted by the idea that the time was passing, hers and his. She was not getting younger, neither was he and sooner or later he won't need a lover anymore. He will not need her anymore. He'll return to his wife. And she? To whom will she return?

And secondly, she wasted her time fighting for liberation. Four years were lost for nothing. She had been fighting for freedom, for equality. Everybody knew that the first years after liberation were not to be easy. The country was ruined; they would need to start anew. She was not afraid of that. She was ready to roll up her sleeves and work. Work hard. And she was aware that new leaders would have to be chosen. However, these would be first among equals.

But, the reality was far from those promises, aims, wishes. Greediness for power and money took possession of her fellow fighters.

She didn't approve of expensive banquets for the officers and their wives. When she was carrying plates, half full with the best food possible, back to the kitchen to be thrown into the buckets for pigs and cattle, she could not but think of her sisters Franziska and Lucia and her little niece Mia and the people in the village who were practically starving. And she started to curse under her breath, making Stefan, who shared her opinion, laugh and say: 'What else did you expect? What else did you expect, Zefi?'

"This must be stopped," she decided one day. I have to force Franz to do something.

The next day she invited him on a drink. "Are you not disappointed," she asked him whispering, for it was dangerous to criticize the new authority in public.

"What for?"

"What for? Don't you see what's happening?"

"What?" She knew he was bluffing. She knew he wanted this conversation to end. But, she had no intention to give up. Something must be done.

"Stealing."

He gaped. "Stealing?"

"For four years, we were planning to build up our country on new foundations. Foundations of equality, foundations of honesty, humanity, respect. We were planning to share everything equally among us all. Look what's happening now. The leaders, appointed by us in faith that they were honest and just are raising secret warehouses packed full with all kinds of food for their families and friends while nation is starving! We are being threatened with prison and death for speaking the truth. They are occupying luxurious houses and flats left by the traitors, while poor families of four, six and more are squeezing in one bed-roomed flats. That's not right! And all those expensive banquets and feasts, with food being thrown away and drinks spilt all over tables and floors. This is disgusting! This is corrupt! And this is theft! They are taking our property from us. And that is theft!"

"I have nothing to do with it," he said, grumblingly. "When I was given one floor in that hotel, I took Franziska with me. I shared it. And if you need food or other things, just say so. I'll bring them to you."

"I don't want privileges for me or our sisters, Franz! Things should be shared among all people not to us. I would be ashamed to take anything from those secret warehouses of yours. I can't understand how you are not."

Blood rushed to his face. "I did not establish those warehouses!"

"No, you didn't, but moving in the new social circles you can do something about them. Remind people of promises they were giving during the war. The promises that took them to their high positions!"

"Zefi, I'm have no power to do that. Orders from the Communist headquarters have to be unconditionally obeyed. You know that, you took the oath. You signed."

"Signed that theft is allowed to a handful of people? I didn't sign anything like that!"

"Zefi, stop being foolish or you'll have to face the consequences."

"Like what? Am I going to be expelled from the Party? Arrested? Shot on the spot without the trial? For that's what they often do, don't they? They let people revenge on their own. They don't punish them, although they know that many murders are nothing but a witch-hunt. Neighbors revenging neighbors for past grudges. It's become so convenient to kill somebody you never liked or even hated. Somebody who might know something about you in be dangerous to you. That's what is happening with the new authorities' blessing!"

He leaned over the table nearer to her. Looking straight into her eyes, he said in a muffled voice: "Zefi, the war is not over yet and you know it. We all wish it were, but it is not. We now have to deal with an even more dangerous enemy, domestic enemy. A sneaky one. There are spies, traitors, Russian collaborates among us, trying to swap the German boot for the Russian one. Do you want that? Russian occupation?"

"No, I don't, Franz, but too many innocent people are being arrested and killed. I can't approve of that."

He rose, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming angrily: "Be careful," he repeated and left.

"You are very silent today." Stefan's voice threw her out of her thoughts. She nearly dropped on the floor the glass that she was drying. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing," she sighed.

The restaurant door popped open and in rushed Tilka, breathless. Surprised they looked at her, for she was on the afternoon shift that day, and it was much too early for her to come.

Before any of them had time to utter a question, she put her forefinger on her lips, pointing with her eyes towards the ceiling. It meant, don't talk, there might be a bug up there. She winked to follow her down into the cellar.

There she gestured to help her examine the walls. After they had done it and found nothing, she said, in a whisper: "I hope we didn't miss any."

"Miss what, Tilka? What are you talking about? Why all this..."

"Zefi, you are in danger," she said. "I heard they are planning to arrest you. You have to hide."

Zefi let out a relieved laugh. "That's no news, Tilka. They have been threatening me before, even Franz has. Don't worry, nothing will happen to me."

"This time it's for real, Zefi, believe me. A Federal agent came to visit my husband. I was eavesdropping. "They were talking about you. Saying you were an enemy of the nation who has to be liquidated without delay. They would have already done that if your brother hadn't prevented it. Now they were going to ignore him. Zefi, you have to leave at once!"

"Leave where? You know they will find me, wherever I go. Besides, I'll go nowhere. If they want to kill me, fine, let them kill me. I don't care."

Tilka's eyes watered, her voice was shaking when she exclaimed: "Don't be stupid, Zefi! Don't give them the satisfaction to destroy you, silence you..."

"I'm staying, Tilka!"

"Come here, girls, I'll show you something," said Stefan, who was silent all this time. He drew a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"What is it?" asked Tilka.

"The plan for my escape over the border," he said, unfolding it.

Openmouthed they stared at him.

"Girls, I hope you are aware of what will happen to me if anybody learns about this," he said whisperingly, again cautiously scanning the walls.

They nodded.

"I didn't mean to tell anybody, but Zefi, I would never forgive myself if I didn't try to help you. If you want, you can come with me."

She shivered. "Come with you? Across the border? Have you heard how many people tried to escape? Most of them were killed. Borders are so heavily guarded that not a mouse can cross it unnoticed."

"We will, I promise you. I have studied the way to the greatest detail. Look here," he pointed to the map, "I'll go by train to Martuljek. Then I'll take a walk to the Martuljek Falls. After that I'll go to the hotel for dinner. I have a friend working there as a waiter. He agreed to cover up for me. During the meal I'll go to the toilet, leaving the jacket hanging as a guarantee for my return. Then I'll sneak out into the darkness of the trees and up to the top of Srednji vrh mountain and from there across the border. After some time, when my friend is sure, I am somewhere near the top of the hill and no alarm had gone off, he will unnoticeably take my coat off the hook and hide it somewhere. He'll tidy the table, that is, wipe off all traces of me having been there.

Well, now that we are two, things will have to be changed a little. I don't have any idea yet, how..."

"I do, "said Tilka. "You'll have to pretend to be lovers. You..."

"Tilka," exclaimed Zefi shocked. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Listen, Zefi, only two people madly in love can leave the restaurant in the middle of the meal and not be suspicious. At least, we can hope so. You will succeed, but only if you play your roles convincingly."

Stefan stared at Zefi. "What do you think?"

She shook her head. "I can't leave. I just can't. This is my country. I was fighting for it. Risking my life. Each day for four years. I can't leave it. This country is my home. My heart is here..."

"This country will kill you if you stay, Zefi!"

"I would never, never be able to live in a foreign country, Tilka."

You have only two options. Either you die in your own, so beloved country or live in a foreign one."

They were looking at her. Waiting. She was fighting a painful battle inside her. Then, eyes dropped, lips trembling, she said: "Maybe you are right... But... when are we going?"

"Today!" answered Tilka uncompromisingly. "You have to go today."

Zefi shivered. "Today? Tilka, I can't go today." She looked at Stefan. "You didn't want to go today, did you?"

"Today is as good as after a week," he said. "In fact, the sooner the better. I'm ready."

"So that's settled," finished Tilka.

"But... but..."

"Zefi, today!"

### ***

"You could have told us what you were up to," said Lucia reproachfully. "Didn't it come to your mind how worried we would be because of your sudden disappearance?"

"I wanted; however, Stefan and Tilka didn't let me. They said it would be too dangerous for you too. You were safer not knowing. Besides, there was no time. We had to leave immediately."

She fell silent, dropped her head and muttered in a broken voice: "The thought that I was leaving for good drove me mad. At first I could not accept it... I couldn't imagine never again to see ..."

"Jani?" finished the sentence Franziska.

Zefi nodded. "And being so far from him. Stefan did not plan to stay in Austria, he planned to go to his uncle to Australia. He invited me with him. But it was so far ...

***

"My uncle owns a big farm and many acres of land in Australia," Stefan told her. "I'm sure there will be place for me too. You are welcome to join me."

"Stefan, don't dream about Australia before you are safely in Austria. Crossing the border is terribly risky," she stopped him.

"Isn't it risky here as well?"

"Yes, but... Could we not postpone our departure for at least a day?" she begged. "Today is too early. Too short a time to pack my things."

"Zefi, we cannot take anything with us, except documents and money-"

She couldn't hold her tears back. "I can't... I can't ..."

"Can't what?" asked Tilka.

"Can't leave without saying good-bye..."

Tilka embraced her. "Lucia and Franziska will understand," she said, fighting to hold her own tears back. "I'll tell them you had to leave."

"I'm not crying because of them..."

"Jani?"

She nodded.

Tilka stepped back, and looking deep into her eyes, said: "Zefi, he doesn't deserve you, believe me. He's not worth shedding one, a sole tear or let alone risking your life. He'll never change, and you know it. He'll be taking advantage of you, as long as he can, or you allow him, then he'll return to his wife and family. It's the highest time you leave him and start on your own. Start living your own life. Who knows, one day you'll meet a man worth of you.

There were countless of times when they laughed when describing their prince on a white horse. They knew that even heaven did not possess such men. And even if it did, well, they agreed, they would soon tire of them.

Tilka was right about Jani. However, Zefi couldn't just switch off her emotions, her love for him. She couldn't. She missed him already if he was an hour late, missed him and cried in desperation that he might never come again. And when he was leaving... oh god, she was suffering all the time. Except for the few moments that had grown scarce, when they were together. Intertwined with tenderness.

"I can't Tilka," she cried on her shoulder. "I can't leave. Jani loves me, no matter what you think. You are certain he is lying to me, but, believe me he can be blamed for many things except lying. Whatever he does, he does spontaneously. He doesn't plan in advance. He just bursts out. Whether he is lovable or hateful, he is sincere.

He never hides his feelings, good or bad, from me. He shows them right away the way he feels them. I know it's hard to understand what I want to tell, but Tilka when he says that he loves me, he does not plan to say that, he just feels it that way. When he is angry, he does not plan to be angry, he feels it that way. Maybe I love him so much just because of his spontaneity. He's not a hypocrite, saying one, feeling and thinking another. I don't like the Jani who hates me, I like the Jani who loves me. He disappears from time to time, yet I know he'll return. I am waiting for this Jani, Tilka. And it pays."

"You'll see him never again if you stay, Zefi. Be reasonable. "Maybe a day will come when you can return. Times are always changing, have always been changing. And if he really loves you as you say he does, you'll be with him again."

With this thought in her heart, carrying it like Jani's child, she set out with Stefan.

### ***

"You should have seen Jani, after he was told about your disappearance," remarked Franziska. "You should have seen him crying."

"He'd better repent," added Lucia. "I didn't like him the minute I saw him."

"Has there ever been a man whom you liked?" Zefi asked wryly.

Lucia gave her a patronizing smile. Franziska continued: "Franz was shouting, beating with his fist on the table. I have never seen him like that. He was so mad with us ..."

Zefi knitted her brows. "Mad with you? Why with you? You had nothing to do with my escape."

"He didn't know that. He was sure we had no secrets among us and that we knew where you were. When he left, two men from the State Security police came, and they took us to the police station."

"Of course," Zefi slapped her forehead, as if to say how stupid of her for not remembering, "you Lucy, were just paying a visit to Franziska at that time. That's why they got hold of you too."

Lucia nodded, and Franziska continued: "They were interrogating us the whole night. Threatening us. They threatened me that they would take my children from me and send them to a foster home because I was unfit to raise them in the correct social-political spirit. And they threatened Lucy to send her to an invalid partisan with three children who had just lost his wife and needed help. Instead of dusting the church floor when kneeling, they said, she would dust this hero's home. I must say that I feared them more than the Nazis in Germany."

"Luckily, Blaz saved us," smiled Lucia. "He raised a hue and cry because, as he said, he was suddenly robbed of his best assistant and could not carry out operations.

"Blaz," said Zefi thoughtfully. "The last time I remember him was when he was helping carry our father home. I always had the feeling that he was more embarrassed than we were. I never thought he would become such a famous physician."

"He nevertheless stayed modest and honest and ready to help anybody without expecting a payment," added Lucia.

"That's why you got along so well with each other. Because you were both so good."

"No, Zefi, we were not good. We merely followed our hearts. However, it's true that Blaz was always respected and liked by his patients and his fellow workers. When he was arrested by the Gestapo because of his collaboration with the partisans and sentenced to death by hanging, hundreds of letters flooded the Gestapo office, asking for his release. Letters were written by patients, his fellow workers, citizens, friends, everybody. And believe it or not, a miracle happened. He was released. After the war, he was appointed the head of the hospital.

"I can't believe we were playing together in our village," said Zefi, while Lucia added: "Not only the Gestapo, the communists were paying him high respect, although he never joined the Party. They did everything to persuade him, however he remained firm. It was interesting that despite that he was allowed to do and say more than many communists on high positions. And he dared to do more. Who would dare to march directly into the headquarters of the Communist Party with a demand to release an ex-nun because he needed her and didn't want any other? Nobody, I tell you. When he asked me after the war, after I was fired, if I wanted to become his assistant, I asked him if he was not afraid to find himself in troubles because of me. He tapped my shoulder, and said smilingly: 'Lucy, leave troubles to me, I'm an expert for them.' At that time, I didn't even dream that I would stay with him for twenty years. Till my retirement."

### ***

Franziska took a handkerchief out of her bag and wiped her sweaty forehead.

"What is it?" asked Lucia.

"There is no air in there," she complained.

"Have you given yourself the insulin shot?" Lucia asked.

"No, I can't give it myself... I'll eat a piece of bread and I'll be fine again."

"Who gives you the shots?"

"Mia." After swallowing a bite of bread and taking a gulp of water out of the bottle, she said: "I feel better now. It always helps, you know."

They were silent for some time. Then Zefi said: "He saw us, but didn't kill us."

Lucia and Franziska simultaneously asked: "Who?"

"The border guard. When I and Stefan stepped on the clearing, I still have it in front of my eyes, a green clearing lit by the moonlight, looking silvery, I caught a glimpse of him but was too late to retreat. He was young, still a boy, had a rifle hanging over his shoulder. He stopped and stared at us. Stefan did not see him. He was exhausted to death. I didn't say anything; I didn't tell him I just waited for the soldier to aim his rifle at us."

She got lost in her memories. "If I had known what awaited us, I would never have sat on the Martuljek train," she murmured.

### ***

On the train to Gozd Martuljek, Zefi was fighting with herself. She was leaving for good and could still not quite get it. It was so... scary, impossible. There were moments, when she'd prefer to be caught and killed to successfully escape. She could not imagine living somewhere far away from her sisters, from Jani. The hardest of all was that she didn't dare to show her distress. No tear was allowed to sparkle in her eyes for it would immediately raise suspicion.

There were only few people on the train, but there was, without any doubt, at least one with an assignment to watch and report anything suspicious. She knew, because she was asked on one occasion to spy on the people, she was working with, as well as on acquaintances and relatives. She gave them a decisive no, knowing they would try again.

They had to pretend they were madly in love. They had to hug, they had to kiss, look gently into each other's eyes, smile happily. It was painful to receive and offer these signs of love to somebody she didn't love. Painful, because the more she pretended to be in love with Stefan the more she longed for Jani. Besides, she felt as if she were cheating on him. And that hurt. There were moments when her whole soul was crying, telling her to kick Stefan away, to slap him in the face and run. Run back to Jani.

She did none of this. Leaning her head on his shoulders instead, she smiled the smile of somebody deeply in love.

After getting off the train, they walked, hand in hand to the Martuljek Falls. They were leaning on the wooden fence of the small bridge, looking down at the swirling, shimmering water, running and jumping over the stones, big and small, finding its way among the bigger cliffs. The tiny, invisible cold drops were pricking their faces and hands.

Then they walked to the hotel, with an ideal location. There were no houses around it. The hotel was situated at the foot of a high hill, called Srednji vrh. To the top of it was about an hour's walk through a thick forest. From there it was about half an hour to reach the mountain with the border between Slovenia and Austria.

The restaurant was packed with people. They were obviously celebrating something. A birthday, maybe. They couldn't wish better. It meant, nobody will pay special attention to them. After sitting at the table in the dark corner, they ordered dinner. Stefan's friend was waiting on them, yet they pretended not to know each other.

During the meal Zefi's and Stefan's eyes were locking above the food, giving the impression they would jump to each other's embrace any minute. Finally, the food only half eaten, they got up and hand in hand, looking passionately at each other, headed for the door. A man winked at them, smiling slyly as if to say, I know what the needs of love are and then turned to his companions.

Embracing and kissing, they kept moving down the steps into the darkness of the nearby trees. As far as they could see, nobody was watching them. Nobody followed.

When they were out of sight, they let go of each other and started climbing the hill. It was steep and they often had to drop to their knees and arms to proceed. At first, Stefan was leading, but as he began to stumble, making loud noises when twigs were breaking under his feet, Zefi came forward.

"Let me go first," she whispered, "I'm used to walking in the woods. Give me your hand and follow me as silently as you can."

They grew tired and breathless but dared not to rest. Their disappearance might soon be discovered, despite Stefan's friend help. And then the hunt after them will begin.

Stefan lost balance and fell. She squatted beside him. "No, no, Stefan, you mustn't. Not now when we have come so far. We are near the border now; it cannot be far."

"I can't, Zefi," he whispered. "I just cannot go on. You'll have go alone."

"No way, get up," she hissed. She took his arm and pulled him up. He moaned of pain, pleading: "Zefi, leave me here. Save your life. Go, go..."

Ignoring his requests, she put her arm around his waist and dragged him up. His head fell on her shoulder. He was as heavy as lead.

The forest thinned and all of a sudden there was a moonlit clearing in front of them. And on it was a soldier, staring at them. Zefi shuddered, but it was too late to step back into the darkness of the forest. She waited, the soldier waited. Then he went away as if he had seen nothing.

"Let's run," Zefi whispered to the nearly unconscious Stefan, who was unaware of what had just happened. She dragged him on, but he tottered and fell. "Leave, me Zefi, please, leave me here..."

She felt her nerves loosen.

Using all her strength she pulled him up. "Walk!" she ordered him in a sharp hiss. "Walk!"

He obeyed. Slowly, step by step, they reached the other side of the clearing. Zefi was expecting the rattling of the gunfire so vividly that she literally felt bullets entering her back, causing her pain.

But there was no gunfire. The guard didn't return. They crossed the border and found themselves in Austria. She dropped Stefan on the ground, squatting beside him. "We made it!" she whispered, laughing and weeping at the same time.

### ***

Not all Germans were bad," said Franziska deep in the time of her two and a half year stay in Germany. "There were many quite sympathetic people, trying to help us. One of them was Frau Scheu."

"The woman you and Ivan were sent to?" asked Lucia.

"Yes. She even came to visit me and Ivan after the war. Don't you remember?"

Lucia nodded. "Now that you mention ... yes, I do. She came with her daughter and granddaughter."

"If we had believed Dana that we have nothing to worry about, because Frau Scheu was a wonderful lady, we would have been spared much suffering."

"Who was Dana?" asked Lucia.

"A woman in our camp who was sent to the Scheu family at the very beginning. Then she spilt boiling water all over herself, getting bad burns and was sent back to the camp. I was sent to them as her replacement after my little Franz had died."

"They sent her back instead of taking care of her?" said Zefi scornfully. "And you praise her as a wonderful lady!"

"Well, she was nice to us. Especially to Ivan. And he started to like her. That was strange because Ivan was afraid of everybody and everything, even of his own shadow. However, she found a way to him. He trusted her. For the first time since we came to Germany, I saw him smile.

She taught him German, math, geography...Even read books to him. She enrolled him to the kindergarten and personally took care that he was treated properly. We couldn't have found a better family."

"Family? The lady was nice, what about him?" sniffed Zefi.

"Who?"

"Her husband. The Nazi."

"I didn't see much of him, nor of their son."

"Of course not. They were too busy killing our people."

"Zefi, I don't know what they were doing, I only know that Herr Scheu was kinder to me than later my own brother Franz, when I returned home."

"If she was so nice and loved Ivan so much, why did she send him home after a few months with her?" remarked Zefi acidly. "Franz told me she helped him to arrange his preliminary return home."

"Because Ivan was so afraid of bombings. Whenever he heard the alarm, he got epilepsy-like seizures, after which it took him hours to compose himself. The lady felt sorry for him, so she decided the boy should go home, or he would die of fear. I told her he had lost his father and mother and in fact, did not have a real home anymore. I told her that I had promised to my sister, Ivan's mother, to take care of him. Nevertheless, she made contacts with Franz, don't ask me how, and Ivan was sent home. Our good-bye broke my heart and his too." Franziska let tears run down her cheeks.

"You should have seen his face, when he was brought to his old grandmother," said Zefi. "He shouted like a wounded animal, hid under the bed. We couldn't get him out."

"Franz shouldn't have left him with his grandmother. I don't know why he and Angela didn't take him, adopt him," said Lucia. "They were childless, wanted children..."

"I asked him the same question the moment he told me that Ivan was returning," said Zefi. "His excuse was that he was too busy with all his obligations, was never at home and that Angela didn't have the nerve to take care of such a problematic kid."

"And he thought an old, half deaf woman had them?"

Zefi shrugged her shoulders.

"We all let him down," said Lucia sadly. "We didn't do enough for him. All of us."

Zefi nervously shifted on the bench. "What could we do?" she blurted. "Nothing. Franz decided to leave him with his weird grandmother, and that's it!"

"I could not take him," said Franziska ruefully. "I was barely living on my salary. There were two kids to feed, I couldn't take Ivan too."

"I couldn't either," added Lucia. "If we hadn't been closed, if we had been allowed to live in communities, then our Mother Superior would accept him...."

"Forget these dreams, Lucia," sneered Zefi at her. "Do you really believe that Franz would allow nuns to raise his nephew?"

"Well, smarty, then why didn't you take him?" It was unusual for Lucia to sound sardonic.

"Because, my dear sister, I had to run, as you know. Run to save my head. How, on earth would I run over the mountain with a screaming child? How? Tell me! But if I had stayed, if I had been at home, I would have certainly prevented Franz from sending Ivan to the boarding school after he had finished the primary. That was the biggest mistake he had done."

"Don't think I didn't try," answered Franziska. "He wouldn't listen to me."

"To me neither," said Lucia, "I told him the boy was still too scared and vulnerable. It will do him no good to be with other students in the same room. He had nightmares, was screaming in his sleep, was sleepwalking, trying to escape from dangers. His roommates will make fun of him. I told him all that, but in vain. He said, Ivan was a wimp, and it was the highest time to make him a man. The company of the peers would help him to toughen."

"But it didn't," said Franziska. "Franz had to take him out of the boarding school."

"Only to send him into a madhouse," said Zefi in disgust.

"He had a special status," said Lucia. "He was given board and lodging in the hospital in case he needed an immediate medical help. At the same time, he was allowed to lead a normal life. They even found him work at a nearby factory. They believed earning his own money would raise his self-esteem. And he was free to go wherever he wished. Franz and the doctors believed they were giving him the best therapy possible."

"The best would have been if Franz and Angela had given him a warm home and the feeling that he was wanted, loved. No hospital can replace it," said Zefi.

"We did let him down," moaned Lucia again.

Franziska was thoughtfully stroking the bag in her lap. "I often visited him in the hospital," she said after a while. "Once he told me, he felt safer there. Strange, threatening voices did not haunt him so often as before. Sirens and barking dogs in his head did not waken him up every night. He seemed calmer to me, more satisfied. Even happy. He also wrote poems and always read one or two to me and Mia."

"Despite all that he went into the woods and hanged himself. I don't think this was happiness."

Zefi squeezed into her corner. Her voice was desperate when she said: "Stefan nearly died on that mountain. A child would never be able to go so far. And I would never be able to carry him. It's quite unreasonable to think we would have succeeded with a child, who started to scream at a bird's chirruping. Besides, the worst part of the way awaited us on the other side of the border. With the child, I would have never been able to beat it."

### ***

After they had come to the other side of the clearing, her first thought was, we are safe. We are in Austria. But then she became aware that they were still too near the border. They must go on as fast as possible.

Again she dragged Stefan to his feet and made him go on, although he resisted, wanted to lie down and die. He was exhausted and in pain. And so was she. But she was determined not to give up. She didn't come that far to die but to live.

Finally, they came to a small brook. She cupped her hands and drank the cool, fresh crystal water. Then she moistened Stefan's lips with it. His forehead was burning. He was unconscious. What if he dies, ran through her mind.

Sitting by his side, she started to cry. She was exhausted, scared. Each muscle in her body ached. And she didn't know how to help Stefan. She felt totally helpless.

"Stefan, wake up," she was whispering into his ear. "Please, Stefan, wake up. We are in Austria. We'll soon be down in the valley. Please, Stefan, wake up."

But he didn't. In despair, she grabbed his feet and tried to drag him behind her. He was too heavy. Then she wrapped his head in her cardigan, put her hands under his waist and after some attempts managed to roll him down the slope like a bag of sand.

### ***

"You didn't do that," said Lucia appalled.

"Of course, I did. I had no other option. Either to roll him down hoping he would survive or to leave him up on the mountain with no prospects of staying alive.

It was a long way down. I thought we would never reach the bottom. However, we finally landed at the foot of the mountain. field was stretching before us. My hands and feet were bleeding. But I was alive. And so was Stefan. His pulse was weak ye there it was. I didn't kill him.

Two men came running toward us. I remember seeing their hands flailing in the air, hearing their voices, shouting something at us. Then darkness overcame me.

I woke up in a hospital. Stefan was in the next room. After some days, we were sent to a refugee camp. I wanted to stay in Austria but Stefan talked me into going with him to his uncle in Australia. 'It is far, that's true,' he said, 'but if you decide to return one day, you will. Australia is not the end of the world.' I mulled it over and over. I did not want to stay alone in the foreign country, even though it was near my homeland. And he was right. I would be able to return from Australia whenever I wanted. It would just be a longer travelling than returning home from Austria. But it would not be impossible.

And so we asked for permission to travel to Australia.

But, then Stefan fell ill."

### ***

Stefan got tuberculosis. The doctors said it was a miracle he survived. He was accepted in a tuberculosis sanatorium and was told to stay in bed for three months, after that, if he gets better, he would get new instructions. Nobody was able to predict when if at all, he'd get better.

They had to drop the idea to go to Australia. At least Stefan did.

He was beaten down, but urged Zefi to go on by herself. "I'll write to my brother that you will come," he said." When I recover, I'll come after you."

She didn't hesitate much. She got used to the picture of a family on a vast ranch accepting her. She even started to like it. From school she knew that Australia was an interesting country, with koalas, aborigines, cliffs. Why not explore it a little bit and then return?

And so, after getting all the necessary documents, she sat on a train to Hamburg one morning. Stefan was in good hands. She could not help him even if she stayed.

When she arrived at the Hamburg port, the sight of an enormous steamship, already getting filled with the passengers gave her an unpleasant shiver. No matter what she tried to believe, at this moment Australia again seemed the end of the world. Her world. It will be the end of her dreams. Dreams about meeting Jani again. It was too far, much too far for these dreams to come true. Even now, when she was standing in the queue, moving slowly towards the enormous ship, she felt her hope that she was carrying in her heart beginning to die.

And then, all of a sudden, the memory of her last date with Jani appeared in front of her eyes. As if he had suspected that they were together for the last time, he was embracing her so fiercely, with such lust, that he nearly choked her.

"All I wish is to age together with you," he whispered gently into her hair.

"Don't talk about old age," she answered with a sigh, "I'm not looking forward to it in the least."

She sensed he was not joking this time. As if he were talking of something that had been on his mind for a long time.

"Believe me Zefi, that the old age can be more beautiful than being young."

She burst into laughter. "In what way, Jani? Tell me one single thing that is worth looking forward to in the old age."

"Love," he blurted out without hesitation. "You can't imagine how beautiful love can be after physical needs subside. After sex is not a must anymore, and only gentleness matters..."

He had her in fits of laughter. Offended, he shifted away from her. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"You," she giggled. "You, dreaming of the old age without sex, when each day without it seems senseless to you. All of a sudden, you would like to be a gray-haired gentleman, leaning with one hand on your cane and with the other holding your old lady, with whom you are head over heels in love. You, who will start convincing me in a moment that there is no relationship between a man and a woman without sex. That sex is the only thing that connects them."

"Each period has its own requirements and opportunities," he answered sullenly. "Like I cannot be gray-haired and all shrunken at this moment, so I will not be able to love violently at seventy, don't you think so? I'm not impatient, but somewhere in the future I will be, if I live, old and woe is me, if I enter my old age in despair."

"Hmm, to look at this that way, you might be right," she said earnestly. "If this way of thinking offers you comfort, then it is okay."

Seeing that he convinced her, he laughed loudly and gathered her into his arms again. "But my love, it's a long long way to there. Let's spend the time in between as wonderfully as we can."

And they made love, wishing the desire for each other's body would never subside.

After that he had to go home. What else? Yet, this time he did not hurry. He was dressing slowly, lazily. The night was lit by the moonlight, so they didn't need to switch on the lights.

"I will not escort you to the door. Let's say good-bye right here," she said. She hated good-byes. After giving her a long kiss, he opened the door, suddenly stopped and returned. "I'll have a cigarette before I go," he said and sat. She squatted beside him, leaning her head on his lap. Caressing her hair, he whispered emotionally: "I'm so glad that destiny brought me to this part of the world, to the foot of the highest mountain Triglav, where I met my greatest love and found my greatest happiness." And his tender and happy look met with even more tender and happier. Hers.

Does he feel I'm thinking of him, longing for him, she asked herself, shifting with the crowd towards the ship entrance. It's impossible for the great pain she felt at this moment not to touch him. He must feel it. She made a step forward and then suddenly, as if an invisible force had turned her round, started to push her way back, out of the queue, toward the exit. Half an hour later, she was sitting on the train.

### ***

"And how did Stefan react to your return?" asked Lucia.

"He cried. He cried happy tears. He thought I returned because of him."

"And you, I guess, did not tell him the real reason." Lucia's look was full of scorn.

"My dreams about returning to Jani one day were no business of his and caused him no harm," retorted Zefi. "I stayed with him, treated him until he was well again."

"You did not only treat him, you got entangled with him."

"Got entangled?" Zefi knitted her brow. "A funny word, don't you agree? I did not entangle with Stefan. I escaped with him illegally and stayed with him during his illness. I helped him and..."

"And fell for him."

Zefi, now lying on the bench again, stared at the ceiling. "Yes, Franziska, you are right. I did fall for him and was unable to believe it myself. I was sure that after Jani, I would never again be able to love anybody. However, Jani began to retreat into oblivion, probably because I finally admitted to myself that I would never again return home. It finally became clear to me that in my homeland I was going to be stamped as a deserter forever and would never be able to return. If I did, I would be captured, possibly tortured..."

"I told you that was not true," said Franziska, cocking her head to one side, so that she was looking at Zefi." Stefan was telling you tales to scare you. Probably because he was afraid, you would leave him. I told you that things had changed in our country and that political deserters had nothing to fear. They were invited to return. But you rather believed him than me."

"He was right in the beginning. "He was right for many years. Don't forget that you and Lucia were called for questioning a few times each year. They wanted to know if we had contacts, where I lived and so on. They told you to come and tell them immediately if you got any information of me. Am I right or not?"

Franziska nodded. "Yes, that's true. But it is true as well, that Mia was given a passport at the age of fourteen to visit you. There were no problems with that. And when coming back, nobody asked her anything."

"That amazed me, yes, but did not change my mind. I was too scared to come home. I was even scared to go to places near the border."

"Stefan was nothing but an egoist," said Franziska, averting her eyes back at her hands, holding the bag. "He filled you with fear just because he needed a servant."

"Think what you want, Franziska, but Stefan loved me."

"Stefan was thankful to you for saving his life. Thankfulness is not love."

Zefi's eyebrows squeezed together, forming a crease of anger. "Don't say things you know nothing about!"

### ***

After her return from Hamburg, she first went to see Stefan and then consulted his doctors. They were not very enthusiastic about her idea to treat Stefan at home, nevertheless, they agreed under the condition that she promised to take care of him and to obey all their orders. She did.

Her first task was to find a suitable flat for them. It was not easy, yet with her stubbornness and persistence she succeeded. After finding a job as a waitress, she hired a two bedroomed flat. Then she brought Stefan home. He was ill and weak, however, after a month of her care, he showed a noticeable improvement. The doctors could not believe their eyes when she brought him for a check-up.

With time, she started to place some responsibilities on him. Cooking, for example. Washing up the dishes, making up beds, cleaning the floor. She knew that aimlessness kills. And it in fact made him good. It gave him a feeling that he was useful. He was gaining weight, unhealthy paleness of his face was replaced by a healthy suntan as a result of his daily obligatory two-hour walk. To prove to her that he carried it out when she was at work, he was obliged to bring from his daily walk a fresh bouquet of field flowers.

Of course, they drew closer, nevertheless, they had never crossed the border of friendship. She was still longing for Jani, as for Stefan... Oh yes, she often noticed a sparkle of desire in his eyes, but pretended not to see it. She did not love Stefan. She liked him. She felt sorry for him, and was glad to be able to help him. But her plan was to wait until he completely recovered and then to leave him. Yes, that was what she intended to do. To go her own way.

### ***

"I don't understand why you married him if you did not love him an even intended to leave him," asked Franziska.

"For practical reasons."

Lucia grimaced. "For practical reasons? Were you nuts? Even a marriage of love is liable to all kinds of problems, if it is made for practical reasons it has no prospects at all."

Zefi giggled. "You would know, wouldn't you, Lucy?" Then she said seriously: "Lucy, you have no idea what it means to be a refugee. Nobody likes you. Everybody wishes you to be sent back home. Married couples have it easier. Not only have they support in each other but the native population does not fear them as much as the single ones. The single seem more dangerous. They might be criminals. However, that is not the only fear they have. They don't want their girls and boys, women and men marry them, mix with them. Besides, they are sure that many come to their country only to get married to get citizenship.

Believe me, Lucia, it is easier for married couples to get flats and jobs than for the single people. And the surrounding is less hostile, though they never accept you completely. That were the reasons for our marriage."

"But Zefi, you were not a married couple only on paper. You got pregnant with him. More than once!"

Zefi closed her eyes. It took her quite some time to answer. "You are right Franziska. It just happened. One evening, I remember coming home later than usual because there were many guests in the hotel that day, dinner was waiting for me. On the table was a bunch of fresh flowers that Stefan had plucked on his obligatory walk. It was smelling deliciously. He even bought a bottle of wine. Red wine, because it is good for blood. We were eating, drinking, talking. I was describing my day, he was telling how he had spent his. We had been spending all evenings like that, but this evening seemed special. I did try to think of Jani. However, he was sliding away. I could not hold his image in my head. And so, when Stefan rose, stooped down to me to kiss me... Well, suddenly I felt as if I had been waiting for this to happen for months. I fell in love with him that night. That night he became my life."

"You are both insane," said Lucia, shaking her head in disapproval. "You haven't had a pinch of salt in your head. Only men, men, men! That was all that mattered. As if there were nothing much more important in one's life than men!"

Zefi laughed. "There isn't, Lucy. There isn't. For us with normal hormones at least, don't you agree, Franziska?"

"Ah, hmmm... I don't know..."

Zefi fixed her gaze on Franziska: "What don't you know? As if you didn't go with another, while dreaming of the previous!"

"That was different, I..."

Zefi putting both her hands on her head, exclaimed: "Of course! How could I forget?! You don't want to talk about your men. You want to sweep them under the carpet, so you can pretend they never existed. You'd like to play a saint!"

"Zefi, don't be insolent," warned her Lucia.

"Insolent for telling the truth? I have never had any secrets from you regarding my men. Franziska has always denied her relationships. Tried to hide them from us. But she couldn't hide the consequences!"

"Zefi!" said Lucia sharply this time. Franziska hid her face in her hands, ashamed.

"I'm not keeping anything back from you," she sobbed. "You knew about Toni and I told you about Joseph, Mia's father, didn't I? Toni was, well, my first love. Joseph was ... we were both camp prisoners. I was so lonely, so scared. It just happened."

"Shut up," said Lucia nervously. She leaned back on the wall, folded her arms and closed her eyes. "I'm fed up with both of you. It just happened to you, didn't it? None of your fault, is it? I can't believe it!" She settled in the seat as if going to sleep.

"But that's true," stammered Franziska.

### ***

She met Joseph in the factory in Gunzenhausen where she returned when Frau Scheu fell ill. This happened after her youngest son was killed in a bomb attack. She lost all will to live and her husband established they didn't need the help anymore.

She immediately noticed that life in the Wurstfabrik had changed while she was away. People somehow got used to the life of deportees, reconciled with it. They introduced a new order, divided work and obligations among themselves. Life was more organized, less tense. In the evenings they gathered in the big hall, sang their Slovenian songs, even danced. Rumors reached them that the Americans were nearing, which was reflecting in the behavior of their guards as well. They became more indulgent, let them walk freely around the place, go into the city, but they had to be back before the curfew. Perhaps they thought they would thus make amends for all the bad they had been doing in the past years.

Franziska was sent to work in a factory. There she met Joseph.

"You must be new," he said offering her his hand. Shyly she took it.

"I've been working for a German family in Dachsbach near Münster," she said. "The lady fell ill, so they sent me back."

"I'm Joseph Englebert, a Belgian force laborer."

He was middle height, only an inch taller than she. Dark haired, slim and dressed in a worn uniform. His eyes, black as coal, were boring into hers with such force that she had to avert her look.

"Franziska," she stammered.

"I have been working here for two years. But now, the war will soon be over, and we'll again be free. Germans are starting to flee. The Americans are closer and closer."

"So I've heard."

"Shall we meet in the town in the afternoon, after work?"

"No," she answered without hesitation. This twist of conversation was unexpected and scared her. "I don't go out."

He gave her a startled look: "Why not? Everybody goes out. Nobody is trying to stop us anymore."

"Because I don't feel like going to the town," she retorted, turning back to the machine."

Suddenly the sirens went off in a wailing tone, announcing a bomb attack.

"To the air-raid shelter!" cried Joseph, taking her arm and dragging her out of the factory.

The shelter was packed full. They squeezed among bodies, holding their breath, waiting for explosions. The bomb hit once, twice,....

"They are bombing the railway again, "said a man.

"I only hope they know that in this factory are we and not the Nazis," whimpered a lady.

Finally, the siren announced the end of the danger, and they left the shelter.

Joseph would not leave her in peace, even though she showed him clearly that she did not want his company. He kept inviting her every day to join him in his pottering around the town.

"What a wheedler," she thought, weary of him. Right after work she sneaked out of the factory before him, thus avoiding his company to the Wurstfabrik. She was interested only in when she would be able to return home.

And then Cveta came. They cried of joy, could not stop embracing each other.

"You are here, you are here," Franziska kept repeating, emotionally. "I thought I would never again see you. They said you were killed."

"Evil weeds grow apace, Franziska," Cveta laughed. Then she looked inquiringly at her: "What about you? Are you well?"

"I am," she answered hesitatingly. "As much as I can be."

Cveta was sent to a German family only a few days after Franziska and Ivan had had to leave for the Scheu family. She wasn't as lucky as they were. Her landlady was beating her and constantly threatening her with the death camp. Cveta showed Franziska innumerous bad bruises on her body. "But now, my Franziska, it's over," she laughed, "we won't mourn any more. We'll start enjoying our lives, we'll celebrate to be alive." The two and a half years did not kill her optimism and good humor.

"I don't feel like going into the town," answered Franziska.

"Of course, you'll go. I'll not let you rot in here.

In the end Franziska had to give in. And she didn't regret it. She really felt better. With Cveta it was such fun. Such a relaxation.

They were rambling through the town, laughing their heads off for no reason at all. Just meeting their eyes was enough to make them burst into an uncontrollable laughter. "I was sure, I'll never again be able to laugh," said Franziska, trying to be sad, for she had no right to be happy. But she couldn't. The moment Cveta looked at her, they were giggling again.

They sat on benches, licked ice-cream, tried to imagine what it would be like at home again.

"First I'll find myself a job," said Cveta. "I'll enjoy. After this horror here, I'm going to enjoy each day for the rest of my life. Where are you going to live? In your parent's house?"

Franziska shook her head. "No, John will return there with his family..."

"Have you heard of him lately?"

"Yes, they sent me a note that they were fine. They were lucky with the choice of the farm and German family. Wanted to know how I was... But no, I'm not going to live with them, although they invited me. And I'll not return to Ivan and his grandmother. I'll try to find a room somewhere else...

"Promise, we'll continue our friendship after coming home."

"That goes without saying, Cveta."

On one of these trips to the town, two men unexpectedly joined them. One was Joseph. The other was his friend Jean. Franziska pulled her face. She'd prefer to be alone with Cveta. But Cveta seemed thrilled. Especially by Jean. She could not take eyes off him. Later, when they parted, she talked and talked about him. And when they met again the next day, it was clear: she fell in love with Jean. And he with her. It seemed to be love at first sight.

The nice, relaxing strolls with Cveta were over. They were never again left alone. And worse than that. Cveta and Jean started to sneak away, and Franziska was left alone with Joseph. That was not what she wanted.

On the second or third rambling through the town, Joseph put his hand over her shoulders. She shivered as if electricity had run through her, jerkily shaking off his hand. He was shocked at first, but then he apologized. "I'm sorry. I promise that won't happen again."

"I'd like to go back," she said.

Without a word, he turned back in the direction of the Wurstfabrik.

"I'm married," he said suddenly. "I have two little boys. Miss them so much."

She widened her eyes. Suddenly, tears streamed down her cheeks. "My son died. He was only fourteen months old. He lies out there." She pointed somewhere outside the town.

"Oh, my God," he whispered, shaken, "oh my God Francika..."

He stretched out his arms to give her a hug, but thought better and dropped them. However, at that moment Franziska wished he would embrace her.

"You've fallen in love, haven't you," teased her Cveta that night. They were lying together in one bed so as not to disturb the others when talking.

"No, Cveta, I haven't."

"Of course, you have as well as has he. You can't hide it from me!"

"Cveta, he's married. Has two sons.

"Ouuch," answered Cveta confused. "I didn't know."

After a moment's silence Franziska said: "I'll never again date a man. Never in my life. I will even never again love any person in the world because everybody I care for, dies!"

She was crying. Cveta, tears in her eyes too, was tenderly caressing her hair. "I will not die, I promise. You can love me," she whispered.

Despite pain in her chest, Franziska smiled and nodded.

"I have too many plans to die," continued Cveta. "I want to have at least ten kids with Jean.

Franziska gasped: "With Jean? Will he go with you to Slovenia after the war?"

"No, I'll go with him to Belgium."

"Haven't you promised we'll live close to each other? We'll stay friends we said. Are you now going to leave me?"

"Franziska, I'll come on a visit."

"That's not the same, Cveta."

"But, but I love him so much," moaned Cveta half aloud. A nervous voice, coming from across the room, hissed, 'Stop it, you two! Some of us would like to sleep!'

Franziska and Cveta squeezed nearer to each other. "Franziska, I love him so much," repeated Cveta almost inaudibly.

"Ah, Cveta," she sighed, "lucky you."

The next day Franziska remained in the building when Cveta, Jean and Joseph went into the town. They could not make her go with them. She was sitting on her bed, staring blankly in front of her, when she heard voices.

Vera, an old woman, who could not join the others when they went out because of her sore leg, poked her head into the room saying: "This man is looking for you."

Franziska couldn't believe her eyes. It was Joseph!

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I'd like to show you something," he said. "Will you go with me?"

"I'm not going out today, Joseph. I told you."

"Please, Franziska. It won't take you long."

"And what is it, you want to show to me anyway?"

"You'll see, when we get there."

"Where?"

"To the church where we live."

The Belgian and French prisoners were accommodated in the synagogue across the road. The story of the synagogue was publicly known. "On November 8, 1938, one day before the "Reichskristallnacht'" the city of Gunzenhausen bought it from the Israeli congregation (religious community) for 8,000 RM.

The SA was ordered to burn the Synagogues all over Germany on November 10th, the day following the Reichskristallnacht. But the fire chief of Gunzenhausen refused to follow the order, "because the neighboring houses would be in danger of burning as well". There is however, suspicion that the city was against the plan (to burn the Synagogue) because after all, they owned it now.

So instead a week later the cupolas were torn off the towers. But the building remained.

Shaking her head, she repeated: "No, Joseph, I'm not coming."

A broad smile flickered over his face. "It's not what you think. I don't expect anything from you. I promise. Please."

With a heavy sigh, she gave in and followed him out. When they came to the church, he asked her to wait. He hurried inside and was out in no time, carrying a violin. She remembered now that Cveta mentioned, he was a musician, played in a band and they even had to play to the Germans sometimes.

"Let's go to the park," he said.

After sitting her down on the bench, he stepped in front of her and started playing. His look became dreamy, got lost somewhere in the distance. His face was shining with tenderness, emotions, beauty. His long fingers were dancing on the strings, the bow caressed them. Tears welled up in her eyes. It sounded so nice...

### ***

"It sounded so nice, that you fell in love with him," giggled Zefi.

"No, Zefi, I didn't fall in love. However, I was overawed by his playing. I was moved. Also by the fact that he found it worth playing to me. That was such a precious moment. So unbelievable. A man, playing for me only..."

"He knew what he was doing," grimaced Lucia. "I bet you were not the first victim of his violin playing."

"I was no victim, Lucia. Nothing changed after that."

"Except that you got pregnant with him!"

Franziska covered her face. "You don't understand, Lucy. What happened happened so unintentionally. It happened in a moment of despair. In a moment of fear. In a moment when we all thought we were going to die. We were so near the death..."

"Unintentionally, of course! Isn't it weird that those things happen inadvertently to some people only? To my sister, for example?"

### ***

The allies were nearing and with them ceaseless bombings. It wasn't safe in cellars and shelters anymore, so evacuation to a village outside the town was ordered. The village was situated in the forest on a hill above Gunzenhausen. From there they could witness the fight of Gestapo, trying to defend the town against the Americans. They were hiding in the forest for three weeks. For three weeks they were dead scared of bombings and the Nazis, who might still kill them to get rid of the witnesses of their crimes.

Franziska and Cveta put up a provisional hiding place in a bush. They did not trust houses anymore. Squeezed together they waited what would happen. Bombers started to carry out raids all over the town. The raids were heavier than any until now.

"My God, do they intend to raze the town to the ground? Don't they know that not only the Nazis but we are here as well?" said Cveta through her chattering teeth.

In the middle of the night Joseph and Jean crept to them. "We turned each leaf to find you," said Jean.

"Is it over? Have bombings stopped?" wept Cveta, clinging desperately to Jean.

I'm afraid, they have just started," he said, hugging her tenderly.

And so it was. When it was over and they were allowed to return to the town, they found out, how bad it was. 160 people were killed.

### ***

"Fear brings people closer," said Franziska thoughtfully. "If we hadn't had each other, we wouldn't have survived. We comforted each other, helped each other. Had given each other strength and hope."

"And love," added Zefi, winking slyly. "Don't forget love."

"And love," agreed Franziska. "A special kind of love..."

Zefi lifted her brows. "A special kind? You fall for a man or you don't! There is no special kind of love, especially if you get pregnant. It's an ordinary woman-man love, don't you think so?"

"Zefi, love in war is different from love in peace. In the war time, you live from moment to moment. You don't plan your future, because you are too afraid. It was different when I was with Toni. With him I could hope, I had all the reason to hope that we were going to live together in the future. That we would get married. It was different with Joseph. From the very beginning, I knew we would never live together. I knew that the end of the war would be the end of our relationship. Not because he was married. More than that because we both longed to return to our homeland. Home was the sacred word. Nothing was more sacred. Not even our love. We put homeland above love.

When I first made love with him, it was out of fear of death. Out of despair because I was sure, we were not going to be alive in the morning. After that first night, emotions started to wake inside me. I felt calm, happy, secure with him. In his arms, the war vanished. I was aware that we did not have any future, but I shoved that thought away. I was living for moments."

"Have you never wished to go with him?"

"How, if he was married?" Lucia grumbled.

"He said he would divorce. But, no, I wanted to go home. I longed for home only."

"Then you didn't love him," pouted Zefi.

Didn't I, Franziska asked herself. Didn't I?

"I liked his tenderness. His emotionality. The men I had known were mostly rough, rude. Just remember our Pa and Franz. Toni... well, I cannot say he was rude, but he wasn't tender, or emotional either. Men we knew never talked about their feelings. It was supposed not to be manly. But, we didn't talk about intimate things either." She threw a glance at Zefi and giggled: "Except you, Zefi. I find this kind of conversation even nowadays difficult. That's how we were raised. We were told that talking about one's intimacy was not appropriate, talking about sex was a sin."

"And it still is!" said Lucia decisively.

"Joseph was different," Franziska ignored her. "He told me, what he liked on me and what he didn't. He was revealing to me his emotions. Not only revealing, describing them to detail. So vividly that he often made me blush. I had never thought that expressing your feelings in such a way was possible. He was so direct. Open. And yet never vulgar. You could not miss that he was an artist. Musician. A gentle soul." She fell silent and lost herself in her memories.

Then she resumed: "Something else was different on him. He never gave me the feeling that I was ugly."

"If you say that again, I'll skin you alive," said Zefi. "Who, the hell, had put that idea into your head? Even as a girl, back at home, you were whimpering that nobody liked you because you were ugly. And that was never true! You made it all up..."

"Ah, Zefi," interrupted her Franziska, "I know what I know." She moistened her lips with her tongue. "I'm so thirsty," she repeated, her voice revealing exhaustion. "I don't know, why I am suddenly so thirsty?"

"Did you tell him you were pregnant?" asked Zefi.

"No, I did not. But I think he suspected."

"Suspected? How do you know that?"

"When we were saying good-bye, when we embraced for the last time, just before he jumped on his truck, he said to me: "Franzika, if there is a child out of our relationship, promise to have him played an instrument learned. Promise."

"And you didn't tell him?"

"I wanted. I had it on the tip of my tongue. But at that moment, he was called to hurry up. Then I broke down. I ran after his truck, calling him, crying. It was too late."

"Has he ever written to you?"

"No. The first years after the war the mail often got lost."

"Why didn't Cveta go with Jean?"

"They didn't let her. The Americans."

She moistened her lips with her tongue again, whispering: "I'm so thirsty. Have you got any water?"

"You have it in your bag," Lucia reminded her. "You have drunk it a moment ago."

"Oh, my dementia," laughed Franziska taking pulling the bottle out of her bag. "How could I have forgotten it?"

"It isn't fair," exclaimed Zefi. "You conceived by just looking at a man, I and Stefan tried and tried to no avail. "Throwing a sideway look at Lucia, she sarcastically added: "Lucy can you explain, what your god was thinking to take each child from me, even before he was born? And don't start preaching again that he was punishing me for my sins, because Franziska committed them too, yet he was not taking kids from her. Except for the little Franz but he immediately gave her another one. Why Lucy? Why?"

"God has nothing to do with this," retorted Lucia angrily. "God isn't revengeful; God is forgiving."

"Lucy shut up! Shut up, for heaven's sake!" Zefi turned to the wall, covering her head with both her arms, which she crossed on the vertex. "I'd like to sleep," she murmured.

### ***

When Zefi got pregnant, Stefan was delirious with joy. He was dancing around her, caressing her, watching over her as if she were made of porcelain. He'd put the whole universe in front of her feet if he only could. That will be the most beautiful child in the world, he was laughing. The most beautiful, because he will be ours. He was knitting a long, happy life for him. Nobody would have such a happy life. The child did not have to do anything but slip into it.

Before she lost the child and quite a time after it, their marriage was happy and perfect. They succeeded in so many things. They stood on their own two feet. In a foreign country! Only few were as lucky as they.

They moved to the Tirol region. Because of the air. Doctors advised them, to go somewhere higher, somewhere where the air was better. A coworker of Zefi told her that the Tirol region was the best for lung patients. Innsbruck, she suggested. A beautiful city in the heart of magnificent mountains with healthy climate. The surrounding is gorgeous. Seefeld, Kitzbühl. In winter skiing in summer hiking. Balsam for lungs.

### ***

"I missed her," said Zefi bitterly.

"Who?" asked Lucia.

"Ursula. She was the only Austrian I made friends with. The only one I could trust. We never regretted listening to her and move to the Tirol region. To Innsbruck. The country was wonderful. In only two months, Stefan recovered to the point that he started to work."

"In the same hotel as you, didn't he?" added Franziska. "And later Mia, when she came to you for the summer."

"You are right. In the Hotel Breinössel."

"Doesn't Esel mean donkey in German?" asked Lucia.

"Not Esel, Lucy, össel. ö not e."

"Yeah?"

"The country was nice, but not the people. I didn't feel well among them. It was a shock for me finding out that I practically could not understand them, although I knew the German language quite well. But, I tell you the Tirol language is not a German language. To me it seemed more like barking. Those people were unable to talk normally. At least in pubs and restaurants. They were shouting as if all of them were deaf. And all men seemed robust and unkind. The real rubes. I did not like them, and they did not like me. When we hired the inn Templ, their loud howling often made me lose my nerves, so I warned them to keep their voices down, which they did not like at all. They hated warnings from a foreigner and I was soon called Verdammte Ausländerin, which means a damned foreigner.

Stefan kept convincing me that I shouldn't behave like that because we were going to lose our guests. But I couldn't help myself. They got on my nerves too much. And I told him that no harm would be done if those drunkards stopped coming to us. He didn't agree with me. 'We don't have others,' he was saying. 'If they stop coming we can close the inn and start finding other work.' That was what he feared most. To go back to work under the command of some haughty, inexperienced brats. He'd rather die than let this happen to him again.

"I'd be a boss too if somebody did all the work instead of me," said Franziska sarcastically. "If somebody cooked, washed, ran accountancy. The way you did for Stefan. He was lazy and did nothing but used you."

Zefi pushed to her feet. "That's not true," she shouted, red in her face. "How can you make up something so mean?"

"I'm making up nothing. You told me yourself. Not once, often."

"We say whatever when we are angry, and that doesn't mean we think it that way!"

"If Stefan hadn't thought only about his own ass, excuse my word, you could have had a child too. A child you so much wished. It was his fault you didn't have him."

Zefi's look became glassy. "What do you mean by that?"

"You well know what. Doctors told you that a minor operation would be necessary. However, your husband could not hold out without you for a week. For seven days, the domestic burden would be on him, but he could not sacrifice himself. He rather sacrificed his child! And you obeyed him. Because of him you cancelled the operation."

"He feared for my life!" shouted Zefi, flinging herself down on the bench again. Covering her face with both palms, she stammered: "He was afraid he would lose me. He loved me too much."

"They told him the procedure was not dangerous! He pretended not to believe them. He was hanging on you as a sack of sand. He would be nothing without you."

"You are wrong. He was capable. People liked him. They were coming to our inn because of him. He entertained them, made them laugh. He knew how to tell jokes. He was joking all the time, and they liked it. He was the best man ever for bar service and..."

"I agree, but that was the only thing he really mastered. Sell drinks."

"We intended to adopt a child or two."

"I know, Zefi," said Franziska sympathetically. "You intended and never did. And why not? Because, according to Stefan, there was still time. There was always still time. And the time was flying and then you were too old for that too."

"How do you know all that?" wondered Lucia.

"I visited them a few times, remember? After I had been given the passport. Stefan was not very glad to see me, because he soon found out that he would not be able to fool me. I told him directly in the face that he in reality, did not wish children. Neither his own nor the dopted. He wanted to be Zefi's only child. He did not want to share her love and time. He needed her for himself only. He did not love her. He needed her. And he was fooling her with this adoption."

"And what did he say?" asked Lucia.

"To mind my own business."

"That's not true, Franziska," cried out Zefi. "He loved children. When he saw a child..."

"Exactly! When he saw a child, a somebody else's child, he was all sweet, starting to mollycoddle babies and their young mothers, knowing that you were watching all this through the opening in the wall between the kitchen where you were sweating and the barroom where he was aping! He knew you suffered. Suffered because you could not offer him this kind of happiness, pride, satisfaction. But he didn't care. Or better, he enjoyed your feeling of guilt. After the mother and her child had gone, he would then rush to the kitchen to you, kissing you, hugging you, calling you my 'mucki, my love', saying, we don't need children, we have each other, we are children to each other, meaning in fact, I don't blame you as long as you are good to me. I could have strangled him!"

The door of the compartment slid open, and the conductor came in.

Franziska started. "Is it Innsbruck?" she asked, trying to get up.

"No, no, I'll come when it is time to get ready," he said. "I came to ask if you need anything?"

"Nothing, thank you," she said, giving a sigh of relief when he left.

The train stopped and her eyes were attracted by a nun, staring worriedly at the train. Suddenly, her lips spread into a smile and Franziska craning her neck to see what made her look so happy, saw another nun, coming out of the train and hurrying toward her.

### ***

Franziska looked at Lucia, taking a nap on the bench opposite her. She hasn't changed, she thought. She's still the same. Whoever saw them said they were alike. Like twins. Especially with glasses. Lucia had to wear them as a little girl, later in her old age Franziska needed them too. Once they were both a little overweight, now Franziska lost weight because of diabetes. Lucia didn't lose weight, however she should because of her heart problems. She said the worst was sicknesses in the morning. Sometimes she had to stay in bed for the whole day. Scared to be sent to an Old nun's home as being useless, she each morning with gritted teeth dragged herself into the kitchen to prepare meals. Despite the sickness, despite the pain in her chest she carried out her duties to perfection.

Poor Lucy. Good that she came to me ow. I hope she stays, for from now on I'll take care of her. She won't need to fear that ugly Home anymore.

"I have never got used to you in your nun's uniform," said Franziska. "You seemed so alien.

Lucia opened her eyes. "And I was indescribably unhappy when after the war we were not allowed to wear them. I felt as if I was naked."

"I found it even stranger when everybody started to call you Bernadette, while your name was Lucia. Why do you have to change the name after you enter a convent?"

"It's not when you enter a convent it happens before entering the novitiate, before taking the vows. That is the time when you irrevocably part from your previous life and begin a new one. A new name means going along a new path towards new goals. I liked the name Bernadette most."

"Why?"

"Because Saint Bernadette made good to people, helped them, nevertheless, remained humble and modest to the end of her life. She withdrew from the fame that befell her following her miracles, to the hospice Sisters of Charity of Nevers to nurse the ill. I have always hoped to be strong enough to follow her example."

"You have, Lucy, you have," said Franziska." You have been visiting the oldies and ill for your whole life. I would never be able to do that."

"Who was Bernadette?" asked Zefi.

"At the age of fourteen Bernadette was out gathering firewood with her sister Marie and a friend near the grotto of Massabielle when she experienced her first vision. She saw a dazzling light, and a white figure. The white figure was Virgin Mary. She had 18 visions altogether. At the site of her visions a chapel was built, followed later by a number of chapels and churches at Lourdes."

"Come on, Lucy, the visions are nothing but fairy tales!" exclaimed Zefi impatiently.

"No, they are not. There is proof of her saintliness. Thirty years after her death her body is still not decomposed. This is a miracle."

"I don't believe a word of what you had told."

"You can go to Lurdes and have a look at her. Besides, there are stories of water of a small dirty stream becoming clean after she drank from it and washed in it. She herself was cured of tuberculosis after drinking it. Many people were later cured by this water. This was a miracle. Lurdes became a place of miracles."

"Miracles don't exist," insisted Zefi stubbornly. "In my opinion some people so strongly believe in recovering that in the end the really do. But it is their belief and not a miracle that cures them."

"If somebody is cured because of his belief, then this is miracle," said Lucia.

"But it has nothing to do with God. It can be scientifically explained."

"It didn't work with me," said Franziska, and the sisters looked curiously at her.

"What didn't work with you?" asked Lucia.

"My belief that at home my life will come to normal. That it will be easier... On the contrary. It became even more complicated. At first, I couldn't find a room. Then I was ordered to share the flat with Franz and Angela, who didn't stand the look of me, especially when it became obvious that I was pregnant. Angela often called me a Gestapo whore. She was convinced that I was entertaining myself in Germany. And she was not the only one who believed that the deportees had it much easier than those staying at home, fighting with weapons for freedom. As if we were on holidays.

After Mia was born, I had to go to work to the factory, commuting every day. As I didn't have anybody to babysit my child, I had to leave her in the factory kindergarten during the weekend. I was with her only two days a week..."

"And despite all these hardships, you had to go on looking for additional trouble. Got pregnant for the third time," said Lucia bitterly. "Bring to world another child. Ljubomir. Now you had two mouths to feed instead of one."

Franziska first stubbornly pressed her lips together, then uttered angrily through the teeth: "Yes, Lucia! Isn't it funny that I was still hoping for some happiness? How on earth did I dare to do that? I had no right..."

"Stop self-pitying yourself," said Lucia. "You were old enough to know what you were doing. To know what you were going into again."

"I believed him."

"Again?"

"Yes, again. I seem not to have a detector installed in me to tell me when a person is lying. I don't lie. I don't cheat so I believe the others are like me. The only way to protect myself from the lying men would be to avoid them. All of them, because I'm unable to see who is who. But it was the end of the war. Freedom made people happy. Everybody was happy and in love. I was not happy. My son was dead and buried far away. I don't even remember exactly where. I was so desperate at that time that I was practically unaware of what was going on around me.

My daughter was a year and a half old. I seldom saw her. Angela and Franz barely looked at me, if they spoke, they were yelping. You Zefi, were in Dobrna, attending that school for waitresses, besides you were busy with Jani. If you were not with him, you were waiting for him. And you Lucia were busy in hospital and visiting the old and ill. I worked hard, in three shifts, earned little. If you, Zefi, hadn't helped me, I would have been forced to beg.

I had no life. My only entertainment was walking around the lake, thinking of my shitty life.

And then I met him. Nicholas. One Sunday when I was sitting with Mia on the bench by the lake he asked me if he may sit down. I wasn't happy about that but I had no right to say no, you may not. He was a Yugoslav army officer. Mia immediately toddled to him, and he picked up a stone and threw it into the water where it made a few jumps on the surface. Mia giggled and tried it herself but her little arms were clumsy and managed to throw the stone at her feet only. He did it again and again, and the child was screaming of joy. We chatted. He told me he was from Montenegro and was sent to serve the army in Slovenia. He was accommodated in the military headquarters a few kilometers from Bled. It was nice in Slovenia, a nice country, he said, but he felt lonely.

Just like me. A lonely soul. That's why I accepted his invitation to join him on his walks around the lake when he was free of duty.

For a whole year, we were just friends. We were walking and talking, that was all.

Then, it must have been Sunday, for Mia was at home with us, he proposed to me. Asked me to marry him! Can you imagine? Being proposed to by a man with whom you had never had a close relationship, with whom you had not even kissed? That meant he liked me as I was. Liked my personality and not what my body could offer him. And of course I said yes. He was a good man, tender, considerate. He loved my daughter. And I wanted to be happy. To have my own family. A proper family. Mother, father, child. After so much suffering I deserved to be happy. Besides, my child would not be a bastard anymore. Oh yes, I consented.

We couldn't marry immediately because he had to get documents from his hometown in Montenegro first. It was not easy. At that time, there was no Internet, no e-mails, the snail mail was as fast as a snail.

There was no reason not to start sharing our lives. And I got pregnant. He cried with joy when our son was born. We named him after his grandfather: Ljubomir. He acknowledged him officially. Ljubomir was a legitimate child. I was so happy.

Nicholas said the army promised him a flat. I don't need to tell you, because you both well know, what my life became like with Franz and Angela after Ljubo was born. It was unbearable. I asked Angela to babysit Ljubo while I was at work, but she cursed me like a dog. A neighbor told me there was a woman in Bohinj, thirty kilometers by train, the opposite direction from Jesenice, where I worked, who took babies for babysitting. And so I traveled with both children each Sunday evening to Bohinj, stayed there overnight, then early next morning took the train with Mia to Jesenice, where I left her in the kindergarten and went to work. I didn't see the children the whole week, until Saturday afternoon when I went to pick them up.

Nicolas was a great support. He promised me that after we move into his flat he would find a babysitter for our children. However, to get the flat he first had to be married. And to be married, he had to have the documents that wouldn't come. We were going around in circles.

One day he went to Montenegro himself to finally settle things. To gather the documents himself.

I have never seen him again."

There was a short silence, then Zefi asked: "Didn't you sue him for alimony?"

Franziska nodded. "I did. And he was furious."

"Oh, yes, I remember his letter," Zefi sniggered. "He wrote that after coming to Montenegro, he fell ill. Tuberculosis or something like that. That he had hardly enough money for treatments and could not understand you being so mean, so bestial as to take him to court. He promised to send you money, but he was disappointed about you and did not want to see you again."

"He has never seen me again, and I have never seen his money. Not a penny. I had to raise my children by myself."

After a while, she added: "They killed me."

At this, both sisters gaped. "Killed you? You are still alive."

"Half alive, Zefi. Men killed my trust in them. Not only in them, in everybody. I have never again been able to be close to any man or a woman. I didn't fear them anymore; I just didn't trust them. And worse than that. I started to reject all personal contacts. Contacts with all people, not just men. An embrace became a symbol of hypocrisy to me, not to be trusted. Even a child's embrace. I loved my children dearly, but suffered when they embraced me. So I quickly thought of something to take their hands off me and run away. Slowly, step by step children understood that they shouldn't embrace me, and that they shouldn't expect hugs from me. The killing of this emotion, the killing of trust in my children's sincere love when they were hugging me, is what I blame men for. It is something I will never forgive.

### ***

The train stopped. "Kitzbühl," read Franziska aloud. "This is near Innsbruck, isn't? My, am I thirsty, so thirsty..."

"Each winter we went skiing to Kitzbühl," said Zefi. "We brought Mia too when she came on winter holidays. Did she tell you?"

"Of course, she did."

"I taught them both skiing. Stefan and Mia," she said proudly. "I had to force Stefan to start, and after he did he was surprised what fun it was. He soon skied better and faster than me. 'Mucki,' that was his pet name for me, 'mucki, look at meeee!' he was shouting, while his coat, at the beginning he was skiing in a coat, was fluttering around him in the wind."

Zefi's look became dreamy. "He was so funny and so cute. Those were our best years together. Mia enjoyed too. It's a pity Franziska that you did not let her stay with us after she had finished the primary school. Everything would be hers. And Stefan, Stefan loved her dearly. Like her own daughter. He was changed when she came. He was another person."

"Zefi, I don't know why you were unable to understand that I wanted Mia to have a better life than I had had. I wanted her to study not to work as a waitress for her whole life."

Zefi grimaced. "What's wrong with being a waitress? It's a nice, good profession. Besides, she wouldn't be a waitress forever. After some years, we would pass the inn over to her. She would be a boss. And she had a chance to make a good marriage."

A scornful smile played on Franziska lips: "You mean to the Heimatdienst boy? Because of such people, thousands had died, and I too was exiled from my country. How could you even dream that I would give my daughter in marriage to such a man?"

"He was not bad, Franziska. Not all Heimatdienst men were bad. He liked Mia and with him she would lack nothing for he was quite rich. And he was handsome. And you wouldn't need to work like a Trojan. To tell the truth, I don't understand people scrambling for diplomas and degrees. What use is there of them? None! People with diplomas get the lowest payments which I find right. What do they know? Nothing, except flogging a dead horse and showing. Future lies in professions not schools. If you have a good profession, and you are skilled you can make a fortune. Just look at Mia now. What does she have by being a teacher? She had spent precious years at the University to toil and moil with the ill-bred brats. And for what payment! When she told me, I could not believe my ears! I make the money she earns in a month in a week.

"It's not all about money," said Lucia. "Important is the character of a man, his soul, heart."

"Stop yacking, about how money is not important, Lucia," interrupted her Zefi. "It makes me sick when I hear the church lords, dressed in their scarlet and golden clothes, with big diamond rings on their fingers preach of modesty and how material goods corrupt people. They themselves are drowning in wealth! Just look at what they possess. Forests, estates. It makes me sick seeing a priest or his helper going around in the church with the bag at the end of a long stick demanding from the poor people to throw their last savings into it. They take money for everything they do without having to pay taxes, like we, the ordinary people have to pay them. Such scumbags will not preach me how modest and poor I must be!

"Zefiii!" hissed Lucia.

"Don't Zefi me! They were stealing from you too. At first, they were taking your monthly payments then your pensions. They took all your money and then forced you to work for your living!"

"Zefi, once we moved into a flat of our own, we all had to work for our living. We were a family. We had to cook, shop, clean. We shared the work. There is nothing wrong with that. If I were living alone, I would have to do all this jobs too. And pay for the rent and for the food and other things. We gave the money to Mother Superior, she was the head of the family, deciding what we needed, what our money was going to be spent for. She used it for our living."

"And the living of the Lords in scarlet clothes and diamonds! A big part of your money was sent to them, to Belgrade at that time, where they had their headquarters. Those men, fed by your money, never had to work."

"Zefi, we lacked nothing. We were given what we needed. And I liked working. I just had bad luck to have had my kidney removed, after which I was not so strong anymore. Luckily, I was given the work I could do. Cooking."

Zefi threw her arms into the air. "Exactly! You had to have your kidney removed. Not because it was bad, but because of doctors' mistake! Where was Blaz at that time? Why didn't he interfere? Why didn't he stop them?"

"Don't blame Blaz. It wasn't his fault. It was nobody' s fault. All the symptoms showed my kidney stopped working, but when they opened me..."

"After they opened you, they simply sewed you back, said no problem, we made a mistake it was probably just hernia, and Blaz washed his hands like Pilates, saying he had no idea what was going on."

"Blaz did for me more than anybody else in this world," said Lucia. "I'll be grateful to him forever. Of all nurses, those who had already passed the state exam and had never been nuns and should have priority, he chose me. Me, the nun. I was working for him for twenty years. I have been thanking to God each morning and night for twenty years, to have given me such an opportunity..."

"You should have been thanking Blaz not God!"

Franziska sighed wearily. "Zefi, I'm fed up with you, believe me." Nevertheless, Lucia added, smiling: "It doesn't matter what you think, Zefi, yet God has heard more than one of my requests and fulfilled them. He would have yours too, if you had asked him."

"Yeah? What, for example, has he fulfilled?"

"I never went to a Nursing home. That was what I feared most. To have to go to the Nursing home where I would be shut among four walls, being supervised all the time... I prayed. And he heard me. A year before my retirement the Union of Sisters of Mercy, a member of which I had been since I was eighteen, bought a whole floor in a block and I was among the first three who were allowed to move in. A miracle happened. Going to an institution for the old nuns after your retirement where you were merely a number, was not a must anymore. God found another solution. Small communities living in their own homes. For flats and houses, bought by the communities were homes and nuns living in them were families. I suddenly became a member of a family, Zefi."

After a while, she added: "And he listened to another request of mine and made it come true. "Each year I was granted a ten-day holiday with my sister Franziska. Each year I was allowed to spend in Gorenjska, my beautiful birth country that I lived with all my heart. Even in the last few years, when we had to wear our uniforms and our nun's life became stricter, they let me go to Gorenjska, not to be with my sister, I had to stay in the small community of the Sisters of Mercy, but they sent me to the community nearest Franziska, allowing her to visit me and take me on trips. I couldn't have wished more."

Franziska nodded smilingly: "Those were holidays that I and my kids were impatiently and enthusiastically waiting for." With an amused smile on her face, she said: "Do you remember our way to Triglav, the highest mountain in Slovenia? You said we were going for a walk, and then, after some hours we found ourselves at the foot of Triglav? It was never boring with you, though you were a nun."

" As if nuns were not allowed to like nature," pursed Lucia her lips, offended.

"Like nature, yes, but climb the 2864 m highTriglav in sandals or moccasins and a skirt in the company of her sister dressed the same way and with two children in shorts, and light blouses is something you surely would not expect of a nun," laughed Franziska teasingly.

"You would ascribe such stupidity to no one," said Zefi, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

"But we didn't intend to climb the Triglav."

"Why did you do it then?"

Franziska had to press her lips firmly together not to burst into amused laughter again: "Because, Lucy wondered what was behind the turn and then behind the next and behind the next, until we bumped into an enormous mountain with no turns left."

"Say what you want, but we achieved what we otherwise would have never achieved. We climbed the Triglav. Our highest mountain. We were on the top," was Lucia enthusiastic.

"You and Mia were, I and Ljubo came to the little Triglav only and then had to turn back because Ljubo was so cold and was crying all the time. I still have nightmares thinking of the cliffs I had to climb down with the child in my hands."

"I'd do everything to be given the chance to climb up there again," Lucia sadly murmured.

"Me too," joined in Zefi. "I have been missing our Gorenjska the whole time. Tirol landscape is beautiful, yet it cannot compete with Gorenjska.

"Zefi, I kept inviting you to come for a holiday, but you were refusing all my invitations."

"Franziska, you don't have the slightest idea what it is like to have an inn. You can't just close it for ten days or even longer. If you do, you'll lose your guests."

"I wanted you to come alone. Stefan could run the inn in the meantime."

"Stefan could not be in the bar and in the kitchen at the same time!"

"He could have hired a cook. You should have hired a cook, Zefi to unburden yourself a little bit."

"We hired them. Quite a few..."

"And?"

"And they were stealing and I fired them all."

"Stealing?"

"Yes. They were carrying food home. In their bags. I made some test checks and always found something: an egg, a piece of bread, a steak..."

"Come on, Zefi," exclaimed Lucia unbelievably, "I'm sure not all of them were stealing."

"But they were!" said Zefi stubbornly. "You wouldn't believe how endangered and unprotected you are in a foreign country. Everybody is on the lookout for the right moment to steal from you. If you are not cautious, you can soon be robbed of everything. They would flay you if you let them, and then you can go where you came from. That's what they want!"

"Zefi, Stefan told me you fired them because you were jealous."

Zefi averted her eyes to the wall and kept silent.

"Jealous?" repeated Lucia.

Franziska nodded. "He said the women they hired were fired if Zefi found them looking at him or if he was joking with them, or merely talking to them. She made up stories about thefts ..."

"I didn't!"

There were tears in Zefi's eyes.

"You don't know, you don't know what they were doing to me," she cried, burying her face into her hands. "It started soon after he began working in Breinössl. I noticed girls undressing him with their eyes. He was a handsome man. Tall, slim, black haired, blue eyes and sensuous lips that invited to kiss. Of course, I was afraid of losing him, especially when I saw how he enjoyed it. He, of course, denied it, when I accused him of flirting with them, but he could not fool me. I had gone through a too good school back at home. With Jani. No woman passed us without Jani's look gluing on her." She fell silent for a moment as if looking at a picture from her past. Then she continued: "You might think it is no big deal if your partner gapes at other women, but if a man you are deeply in love with fuses himself with another woman in front of your eyes, even if only with the eyes, you feel humiliated, superfluous, unwanted. Deep wounds are cut into your soul, wounds that never again heal completely. Even when they don't hurt fear radiates out of them.

When I was looking at Stefan, encircled with the longing girls, I asked myself if I was going to go through the hell again. The same as I experienced with Jani. And my answer was no. Never again! I started to fight for him."

"Started to fight? How? By committing your life to the inn you in fact hated? By working day and night? By firing the girls?"

"I wanted him to love me as I loved him. I didn't want any other people in our lives. I gave him whatever he needed. No woman would give him more. But then I made a mistake...

"He talked you into hiring a waitress."

Zefi nodded. "I thought it was going to be a middle aged woman but he introduced to me a young long-haired doll one day, insisting we took her. I tried to prevent it. Tried to find a thousand reasons why she was not appropriate for our inn, however, Stefan won. She was a local, from an influential family. Guests will start coming because of her, he said. Our business will improve.

He was laughing at my worried look, kissing me, embracing me, reassuring me I had nothing to fear.

And so we employed this young monster, running all the time at his feet, touching him, wrapping him into her sonorous laughter. I employed a juvenile mirror in which my face looked old and unattractive. Stefan fooled me. He said we hired her, so he would stop working in the bar and help me in the kitchen. However, he was less and less in the kitchen. If I complained, he would answer he had to help her. She was new at this work. And he again started kissing me, telling me that I was the most beautiful woman in the world, the smartest, and that he would never swap me for another. He owed me, after all, his life. "

She paused. Then, taking her hands off her face, she smiled bitterly. "My dear sisters, I have to tell you this: my life was smoothest when he was ill. That was just after we came to Austria. Perhaps it was the happiest. I did not want him to be ill, that goes without saying, and I did what I could to help him get well again, but at that time he was only mine."

"That reminds me of Angela and Franz," said Franziska. "As long as he was lying in the partisan hospital immobile, he was all hers."

Zefi nodded, the bitter smile still on her face: "You won't believe, but I have remembered Angela a thousand times. In fact, each time Stefan said he was going to love me forever because he owed me his life. And that scared me. Franz swore to Angela, he would love her, nobody but her because she had saved his life.

I was asking myself if I was going to end like Angela. But no, I knew I was not Angela. Far from that. Stefan did not need to be ashamed of me. I was speaking German better than he. I knew how to converse with people, cultivated, intelligent people, of course. I cared about my look, my dress, shoes, hair, face. We were going to have a family, we intended to adopt a child. No, I was not Angela!"

"No, you were not, "answered Franziska. "You had all options open to take the reins into your hands, but you missed them. I understand that Angela was unable to cope with Franz's departure. She was illiterate, simple, scared, used to her mountains only and her family and animals. None of those were there with her in the city. All she had was Franz and when he left her, she had nothing. She lost her inner self.

It was different with you. You were intelligent, self-conscious, used to people, educated, independent, decisive. You have always got what you wanted. Everybody listened to you. Obeyed you. And despite all this, you let Stefan bring you to your knees."

"Not so much Stefan as the foreign country. Being a Verdammte Ausländerin. As for Stefan, well at home I would soon show him the door. In Austria, I was alone, had nobody but him. I simply could not afford to lose him."

"You should have left him and return home. You should have believed me that there was no danger for you. You knew, I wouldn't lie to you. But you rather believed him."

Zefi closed her eyes. Franziska and Lucia waited. Without opening her eyes, Zefi said: "First he was telling me that everybody who crossed the border was killed and advised me not to have any contacts with you, for somebody might spy on you and after they find out where we live, they might come and kill us both. That's why I did not answer your letters for quite some time.

When it was in all newspapers and in radio news as well that political refugees can safely return to Yugoslavia, he said it was all a propaganda, a trap.

Nevertheless, I risked contacts with you. Risked telephone conversations, invited Mia to us. I missed you too much not to do that.

However, I still did not dare to go near the border let alone cross it.

Later when I became a too heavy burden to him, when he could not meet his lover freely, walk her around, I must confess here, that I too, like Angela, was shouting under his lover's window when he was with her, he was trying to persuade me to go home. He said that being with you, with my dear sisters, would do me good. All of a sudden he wanted me to do something he had always prevented me to do. Go to you. Visit you. 'You can return to me whenever you want', he kept reassuring me. 'I'll keep my promise never to leave you.' That meant he would not divorce me. He did not tell me, however I knew what he planned: We would run the inn together, otherwise he would live with his lover."

"You should have divorced him," said Franziska. "He didn't want to because he would lose the inn and would have to go to work again. It was better for him to keep you. But, you should have asked for divorce. You would have got it. Then you should have returned home to us."

Zefi propped her eyes open. There was such deep pain in her look that Franziska and Lucia simultaneously stretched their arms to touch her, but somehow Zefi slipped away, saying: "Franziska, you have no idea how I wanted to come. I was about to pack my things when I suddenly spotted the reflection of my face in the mirror. I couldn't believe what I saw!"

### ***

When she ran away twenty years ago, she was young and beautiful. The face she was looking at now was the face of an old woman. Wrinkled, grey, unhappy. How can I show such a face to my family? To my friends, she shuddered. And what if I accidentally run into Jani? How will he react? Look at me astounded and then relieved for not being with me anymore, the old woman?

### ***

"Zefi, we all aged, not only you," said Lucia.

"I know, I know. However, it was not only the physical appearance, Lucy, that gave me to think. I have changed completely. I was not the Zefi you knew. That decisive, courageous Zefi. Abroad, all I focused on was Stefan. I lived for him only. I shoved the world aside, as if it didn't exist. Stefan was my world for twenty years. I became dependent on him, and he liked that. I believed I was happy. I did not want anything to be different. I was certain nothing would change in our lives. So damn certain. I was never certain with Jani. I never knew what to expect from him the next day, the following hour, but Stefan seemed stable. I could always rely on him, trust him. That's why I suffered such a shock when he suddenly withdrew from me. It was so unexpected. So unbelievable. And I felt as if the whole world withdrew with him. I was hanging somewhere in nothingness. I was lost in him. Could not survive without him. And so it was impossible for me to come.

And there was another problem. The money. I was working hard to make it. And I asked myself if it was right to leave all my property to another woman who didn't stir a finger for it and to return home as poor as a church mouse? The answer was, of course, no. It wasn't right. So I stayed and started to fight for my rights."

"Started to fight! Yes, indeed," exclaimed Franziska upset, "but how? So that you started drinking? That was no fight that was a suicide!"

Zefi's voice trembled. Her whole body was shaking. "I just wanted to silence my thoughts. My feelings. Alleviate my pain. If I had managed that, I would have been able to get to my feet again."

"Alcohol does not do that, Zefi. Alcohol always makes things worse. Drinking is giving up. You knew that, didn't you, from being in the catering business for your whole life. You saw what alcohol does to people. Robs them of all dignity, among others. How on earth could you believe it would not affect you? You should have fought differently."

Zefi threw her a sad look. "Franziska, as a foreigner you cannot fight differently. You cannot fight at all. You can only give up."

"Zefi, you are talking nonsense," jumped in Lucia. "Okay, I will not mention God, although believing in him, praying to him always helps. He becomes your ally in difficult moments. But Franziska is right. Drinking is no fight. You should have acted. I know, it's easy to say what one should do in such situations, when you don't have the slightest idea what it's like, but throwing all responsibility on being a foreigner is a sure way to destruction. Blaming a foreign country was, in my opinion, nothing but an excuse not to fight with yourself, with your fears. An excuse for giving up. And now it became an apology. 'I'm sorry, I had to drink,' you keep saying, 'I was a foreigner."

"Each morning, when I woke up, not knowing what was happening to me the previous evening, I promised to myself that today, today I will stop drinking."

"You never kept the promise and that filthy drunkard, that cleaning woman you hired looked to it that you didn't," said Franziska.

Zefi burst into tears. "She was my only friend."

"Only at drinking. But not because she liked you, because she finally got her booze for free."

Zefi smiled bitterly. "The others even didn't want to drink with me anymore. I was the 'damned foreigner' and that was it. Everybody avoided me,..."

"Zefi, did you listen to yourself talking when you were drunk?" asked Franziska. "You were harping on the same theme, would never stop. Besides you completely neglected yourself. Your hair was unwashed, your clothes dirty. No wonder people avoided you."

Zefi, not listening to Franziska, smiled slyly: "We had a good time together, I and Hana. I remember one day...

### ***

She was alone in the inn. They had Ruhetag (closed for the day) and it was as quiet as in a real temple. Their inn was namely named Gasthof Templ. Nobody but Kuki was making her company. Five years ago Stefan brought him. He was a little puppy then, just born. At first she was angry. "You know I don't like dogs," she said. "I'm head over in work without the dog already."

"But mucki," he said insulted, "I brought him to you to make you company when I am away. With him you won't feel lonely."

That pissed her really off. "Lonely? When you are away? Do you intend to leave me or what?" Was he having an affair already at that time, she kept later asking herself. Is it possible that she was so blind and deaf not to notice it?

"Okay, if you don't want him," he said sullenly, "I'll take him back."

He didn't take him back and she simply didn't have enough strength to make him do it. So the puppy stayed and slowly she got used to him. Even gave him the name. Kuki, from the German word gucken (look). He had lively, big eyes, curiously looking around himself. And finally she had to admit that Stefan was right. Kuki was her only companion when Stefan was off. Until Hana came.

She was the one who hired Hana. To cook, to take care of all business things and to clean the inn was really too much for her. She needed help. A cleaning woman.

Hana was a middle aged woman, untidy, some of her teeth were missing and when Zefi told Stefan that she intended to employ her, he looked at her as if she were out of her mind.

"For God's sake, Zefi, so many young, tidy, strong and capable women came to ask for this job and you decided for this old hag?"

"If she does not do her work well, I'll fire her," she said stubbornly. "I want to get a woman to clean the house not for the fashion show."

Stefan pursed his lips scornfully but said nothing.

Hana did her cleaning job fairly well, so she stayed. She came each morning, and left in the afternoon. She wasn't free on Ruhetag, because that was the day for complete cleaning. Her day off were Tuesdays.

The day Zefi remembered so well, was Saturday. Stefan woke her early in the morning, when he lumbered into the pantry.

### ***

"Into the pantry?" asked Lucia. "Didn't you have a flat in the Olympic Village? I understood you were going there each evening and returned in the morning."

Zefi smiled bitterly: "We were. In the nice old times. When we still loved each other, when he still loved me... But in last years I mostly stayed in the inn and he went to our flat. I slept on a camping bed. In the pantry."

"Stefan told me you were too drunk to stand. He dragged you a few times into the car and up to your flat but then he gave up. It was too stressful," Franziska added.

Zefi dropped her eyes and remained silent.

Lucia, shaken, crossed herself.

"It was Saturday. He lumbered into the pantry and I asked him what he was doing. He said he came to tell me that he was going to Munich to Oktoberfest. Since we came to Innsbruck, we had been attending Oktoberfest in Munich each year. I was always looking forward to it for we made Oktoberfest a celebration of our love. And I always bought nice, fashionable clothes and shoes and bags and hats in Munich. You know how wonderful they were, don't you Franziska. I gave them later to Mia and also bought some new for her."

Franziska nodded. "I nearly lost allowance for her because somebody said that I must be rich if I can afford to buy such clothes for my daughter and did not deserve any allowances."

"How I begged him to take me with him," Zefi continued. "But he declined. When he had gone, I looked out the window and there she was, Lisa. Our waitress. He took her to Oktoberfest, to celebrate their love.

It happened on the day when I decided not to touch alcohol ever again. It happened on the morning when I decided to do everything to get Stefan back. I planned to dress the nicest dress I had, I planned to do my hair, make up. It was the day when I wanted to be attractive, desirable. But he slammed the door and disappeared.

### ***

Zefi was aimlessly shuffling through the inn rooms, from the dining room to the kitchen, along the corridor and back again, Kuki close at her feet. She felt as if she were in a tomb. It was deadly silent and scary. And such is going to be my whole day, ran through her mind.

Kuki whined. He'd like to go out. He had to go out. I'm going to get dressed, and then we'll take a walk to the Hungerburg, she decided. It was going to be a nice day. A nice autumn day. She her mined she pictured the colorful nature. Autumn always dressed it in the most beautiful colors possible. She hadn't been out for a long time, so she didn't know for sure what it was like. But in her imagination, she saw sun rays jumping on dewy leafs, bouncing from them. However, she changed her mind. She wouldn't feel better, perhaps even worse. Because, all the beauty around her would make her suffer even more.

Opening the rear door, she let Kuki into the garden. Then she went to the Privatstube (private room). To the small room, at the back of the kitchen that was used as their private living and dining room. No guest was allowed to enter it.

She lay down on the couch, pulled from under it a bottle of wine and took a long gulp. She closed her eyes wishing nothing but sleep. She couldn't. A million of thoughts were swarming in her brain. The worst, the most painful of them was poking into her with the question where her whole life had gone. Why and when did everything become so strange. So alienated. Unclear. She started even to doubt that she had ever really lived. What if everything was nothing but an illusion? Was Jani an illusion? The thought of him awoke no feelings in her anymore. Was the war an illusion? Did she once really drag Stefan over the mountain and across the border? Did she take the letter, written by the partisans, to the Gestapo headquarters at the end of the war, ordering them to surrender, because nobody else dared? Did she oppose Franz and the Party? Was that she?

Suddenly she wasn't sure any more. No, that was not she. How would she be, when now she feared even to go out, to take a walk? To meet neighbors?

Why am I still living? What is the sense of my existence now? Why has my life collapsed into ashes? What did I do wrong? When? I have never longed for anything else but for love. To be loved. Why have I had to be punished for that?

"I have never discovered what men really wanted from me," she said aloud. "I loved two. With all my heart. I tried to make all their wishes true. I was kneeling at their feet to show them how I loved them. I was carrying them on my hands. And it still wasn't enough. Other women came, offering nothing and the men went with them, leaving me behind. That was, what I was thinking that Saturday morning, while crying and drinking."

"And then came Hana, right?" asked Franziska.

Zefi nodded. "I wanted to send her away at first, but changed my mind. I needed company. I needed somebody in my presence. No matter who. I just couldn't bear the thought of being alone."

She fell into her thoughts, but after some moments continued: "We were drinking. Laughing. I felt better. Even the fear left me. All of a sudden, I became courageous. 'Do you know what?' I said to Hana, 'I'm going home to Lucia and Franziska. That's right, I'm going home!'

'When?' she mumbled.

'Today! Now!'

'To Hungary?'

How I hated being taken for a Hungarian. 'No!' I shouted. 'Remember, for heaven's sake, that I am a Slovenian not a Hungarian, you stupid Austrian woman!' But she saw no difference.

I told her to bring me the biggest suitcase I had and fill it. I remember her throwing into it whatever she found while I was screaming 'more, more, I will take everything. I will leave nothing to Stefan and his concubine.' In the end the suitcase was so full that we both had to sit on it to close it. Then I dragged it to the door. 'Ma'am will you go in your pajamas?' asked Hana.

I looked at myself, dropped the suitcase and returned to the couch. The thought of having to dress, sent a chill down my spine. No way! I rather die than dress.

'Won't you go now?' Hana asked.

'No,' I said. 'I have a better idea how to pull a fast one on them. I'll donate everything that we possess to you! I'll write a will.'"

Zefi giggled. "You can imagine her reaction at that. 'Ma'am will you truly?'' she gaped. 'Will you truly write a will?' She was jumping up and down, losing balance, so that she fell a few times, but she quickly got up to jump again.

We were drinking out of the bottle, squealing with pleasure. I told her to bring a piece of paper and a pencil, and then I put down that I was leaving the inn and the flat with everything in them to Hana. I left Stefan his car, for Hana wasn't a driver. Then I gave the will to her to sign. 'Don't lose it,' I said, 'this piece of paper will change your life. She folded it and put into her pocket.

She was embracing me, kissing with her stinky mouth and I had troubles to shove her off. 'But' I then said to her, 'I want something in return. Not much, though.' She said there wasn't a thing she wouldn't do for me. 'Okay,' I said, 'Then kill Lisa.'"

"Whaaat?" Lucia and Franziska shouted simultaneously. "You told her to kill Lisa?"

"Yes, I did," laughed Zefi naughtily, "I did. However, this stupid goat didn't want to. She would take the money, the inn, the flat, but she would do nothing in return. That's how people are, you see.... They'd skin you..."

"But Zefi, do you know what you demanded from Hana? To murder someone! "

"Well, I gave her the inn, the flat, ...." She clenched her fists. "She refused and I wanted the will back! Instead she started to move backwards toward the door. She wanted to escape with my will in her pocket. She wanted to steal it!"

"She didn't steal it, you gave it to her," reminded her Franziska.

"Yes, I did in return for a small favor!"

"A murder is not a small favor!"

"Women like Lisa deserve to be killed!"

"Zefi, are you still drunk?" asked Lucia worriedly.

Zefi bitterly shook her head. "No, I'm not. I haven't been drunk for a long long time. Since that Saturday, exactly. I got up, jumped to the door to stop her, to take the will from her, but I stumbled and fell. I had no strength to get up. I was calling her, begging her to come back, to help me. She didn't. I was lying on the floor. It was so cold and I had only my silk pajama on. I shivered. I adored my silk pajama. Stefan had bought it for me in Munich the year before. It was so nice, pink. I liked pink and so did Stefan. I heard Kuki scratching the door but had no strength to get up, to open the door. Then Stefan came. Then..."

"Zefi, wait!" exclaimed Franziska in despair, "where are you going? It's not Innsbruck yet. Zeeeefiiii! Lucy, look, Zefi disappeared. Lucy...."

"I have to go too," said Lucia regretfully, starting to move away, disappear.

### ***

"Ma'am, you have to get ready now, Innsbruck is the next station."

Franziska looked at the conductor with hazy eyes.

The conductor got scared. "Ma'am, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." He helped her to her feet and reached out to take her bag. But she wouldn't let him and he didn't insist. Holding her by the arm, he led her to the exit. There were some passengers already there.

Franziska's lips trembled: "I don't know where have Zefi and Lucia vanished. I don't know. Maybe to the Temple. I have to find them. I haven't invited them to go with me. I'd like if we all went..."

The train stopped, and the conductor helped her out.

He was watching her bent and staggering figure. Worriedly shaking his head, he jumped back on the train that had already started moving.

Franziska was slowly heading for the exit. Her bag became heavier and heavier.

"Where can I get a taxi?" she asked a woman who came hurrying past her.

"Take the underpass and on the other side you will see a line of taxis waiting for the passengers," she said.

### ***

"Where do you want me to take you, Ma'am?" asked the taxi driver.

"To the Gasthaus Templ."

He nodded and drove off.

"I'm going to ask Zefi and Lucia if they are going with me. I'd like them, you know. It's more fun if we travel together."

After a short silence she added: "At first I didn't intend to go to Innsbruck, you know. It's not on my way. But then I said to myself, God knows when I will get another chance to go, I'm ill and old, so I better make a turning now. That will take me a few hours more. But it doesn't matter. I have all the time in the world. I promised Zefi, I was going to visit her one day, you know, however, there had never been an opportunity for that. I was too busy."

She uttered an amusing laugh. "Zefi must have guessed I was coming, so she decided to surprise me. She came to meet me on the train. And she even brought Lucia with her. What a nice surprise, I tell you. The three of us together after twenty years! We were having such a nice chat. What memories!"

Her face fell, her voice sad, anxious: "But I lost them at the Innsbruck railway station. I think they told me they were going to the Gasthof Templ but due to my bad hearing I must have overheard it. I hope I'll find them there."

The taxi driver looked at her frowningly in his rear mirror, having no idea, what she was talking about.

### III.

### 1.

"I was sure that I will never again visit Innsbruck," said Mia, after turning on the highway to Austria. They made an agreement that first she will drive than Klemen will take the wheel. "Least of all that I will go on a hunt for my own mother. What, for heaven's sake, has got into her? What is she looking for in Innsbruck?"

This time Klemen was smart enough to stay silent.

"I only hope this drive to Innsbruck will not be such a catastrophe as were the first two."

"The first time she went to Innsbruck with her car by herself was, when Nika, her daughter, was only a year old. She hadn't seen aunt Zefi and uncle Stefan for three years. She thought it was time to go.

First, she tried to persuade her mom and Klemen to go with her, but they said no, no way and they were strongly against her going on such a long way with the baby. Klemen always thought her to be too obsessed with her uncle and aunt. He, of course, had no idea what they meant to her. Not only did she spend each summer with them, they also gave her the chance to work and earn some money for school. And what was most important, they gave her an immense treasure by loving her. Whether Klemen liked it or not, she loved them too. That was the reason she went to visit them despite his complaining.

She was a young and inexperienced driver then. There were no GPSs, at least she had no idea if they existed, and she had no mobile. Yet, she was not scared. Self-confidently and full of adrenaline, because she was going to see her aunt and uncle soon, she sat into the car and drove off. Not far behind the border there was a small signpost with inscription Innsbruck pointing to a road away from the main road, and she said to herself, that must be a shortcut and drove onto it. She was driving for quite some time up the steep, winding road through the forest before she realized that she had made a mistake. It was too late to turn back. She had to risk going on through the dark unpopulated forest with no living being seen anywhere, asking herself what she was going to do in case of a tire puncture, or if she ran out of petrol or if the car broke down. She wouldn't be able to call for help...

Luckily, the little Nika was a quiet, unproblematic. When she was tired of the drive, she simply lay down on the back seat, in those times there weren't child car seats obligatory, and fell asleep, pacifier in her mouth, smiling from time to time.

Finally, when she was despaired to tears, a sun lit clearing opened in front of her and a moment later she was out of the forest, high above Innsbruck. She promised to herself never to take shortcuts again. Especially not in an unknown country.

The bad experience was forgotten the moment she pulled up in front of the Gasthof Templ.

Smiling to herself, imagining Zefi and Stefan's face at seeing them, she spotted tefan running toward her car with arms wide apart, ready for an embrace. But this time he was more interested in Nika than in her. He took her out of her hands, giving her kisses, hugging her, exclaiming: What a beautiful child, what a beautiful child you have, Mia.

"Where is Zefi?" she asked.

He gave her a quick, embarrassed look, murmuring into his chin: "She'll join us after a while." Then he turned his whole attention to Nika again and Mia knew she wasn't supposed to poke into him with further questions.

Finally, after almost an hour, Zefi appeared with a bloated face and red eyes. Mia stared at her, not able to believe it was her aunt, the aunt Zefi that Mia had been spending with all her holidays for the last ten years. The last one only three years ago.

She knew that Zefi started to have drinking problems. Stefan told her mother once, but they didn't think it was that bad.

Zefi seemed like a ghost staring at her. Suddenly, her face lit in recognition. With a loud scream she put arms around Mia, kissing her. Tears ran down Mia's face. Not because of happiness, because of sadness.

"You are here, at last!" she mumbled, still drugged. Then she picked up little Nika and pressed her to her bosom. The child obviously liked that, for she wrapped her little arms around her neck and leaned her face on Zefi's. They were all moved.

When Zefi completely composed herself, she turned again into the old Zefi, Mia had known. Into a humorous, gay, a little roguish auntie. And Stefan again called her, my mucki,' giving her hugs and kisses. Everything seemed to be as it should be. Even better, because now little Nika was contributing to the good atmosphere with her toddling and babbling.

Mia was glad she came. Leaving Nika with her aunt and uncle in the Privatstube, she went out to the garden that she had been crisscrossing with heavy trays of food on her shoulder so many summers.

Suddenly she felt breathing behind her back and then Stefan's arms wrapped around her waist pressing her to him. He had always liked hugging her and she had taken the hugs as hugs of a father. Zefi liked it too, seeing how much he liked her. She was the child they wished so deeply and Mia was grateful for that. Her mother had not taken her into her arms since she was a small child, and she had no father. She experienced caressing for the first time with Zefi and Stefan.

Lifting her arms behind her head, she caressed Stefan's hair, saying emotionally: "Uncle Stefan, I'm so glad that I came."

"So am I," he whispered, his voice becoming suddenly husky.

"Mia," he said, "don't go home. Stay with me. Stay both you and Nika. We'll send Zefi home."

Thinking that that was a joke, she laughed: "I believe Klemen will be happy. He complains constantly about my nagging."

He pressed her so tightly to himself that she nearly stayed out of breath. "Mia, please, stay with me. You'll lack nothing. I'll fulfill all your wishes. I'll take care of you and the kid. I'll give you heaven. Be mine, be mine Mia, I have always wished you, wanted you. You must have known it.

She pulled away from him, turned to face him and seeing his pleading eyes she knew he was serious. He meant it. Confused and scared she stalked inside, joining Mia and Zefi. Zefi was luckily too preoccupied with Nika to look at her and probably find out from heer expression that something was wrong.

It took Stefan a long time to join them. He was averting his eyes from her the whole evening.

They stayed for three days, and she was careful not to be with Stefan alone. However, they kept playing the role of attachment in Zefi's presence to the end of her visit.

Later she often wondered if the blame for his behavior at their last visit was not on her too. Were his hugs, caressing in the years when she had been visiting him and Zefi really father-like or did they even then mean something else. More dangerous? His words: you must have known it, were still clinging in her ears.

She remembered one afternoon. They were at work in the Hotel Breinössl when she felt sick. Zefi asked Stefan to take her to their flat. He escorted her up and waited until she lay down on the bed. Worried about her health, he joined her on the bed, stroking her hair, pressing his body tightly to her back. His fatherly attention did her good.

After some time, he hoarsely suggested she should change into pajamas to feel more comfortable. At that moment an alarm, she did not understand, went off in her head, and she violently shook it, saying no.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hand stroking now her hips, the pressure of his body to her back even stronger. She was numb with fear.

Again she nodded violently, her face in the pillow.

All of a sudden, he got up and vanished into the bathroom. When he reappeared after a while, he hurriedly left the flat without looking at her.

They had never mentioned the event. Yet, no matter how they tried to pretend that nothing had happened, she never again felt so relaxed with him as before.

She was aware he could have taken her by force if he had wanted, but he refrained and regardless of everything, she was thankful for that. Respected him. She could not hate him.

She decided not to tell her mom and Klemen about what Stefan suggested and meant. But as soon as she stepped out of the car, Klemen, who came to take Nika out of it, immediately noticed that something was wrong.

"Wasn't it nice there with your aunt and uncle?" he asked, studying her face. And without waiting for the answer, said: "I told you not to go."

As soon as she stepped inside, before she had time to say hello to her mother, the telephone rang. Mother picked up the receiver.

"It's Zefi," she said, stretching her hand to give Mia the receiver.

Mia ignored it.

"She wants you," said her mom perplexed.

"I can't now," answered Mia crossly. "I'm tired, have to unpack."

"Come on," said mother with an encouraging smile, "two words..."

"Tell her, I'll call later."

"She wants to know how you traveled, if Nika is fine..."

"Of course, she's fine!"

She couldn't bear it any longer. "I'm tired," she murmured, "I need an hour's rest."

Retreating to the bedroom, she flung herself on the bed, feeling fed up with everybody. With Stefan, Zefi, her mom, Klemen. Even with Nika.

Mother silently entered the room. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, worried.

"Nothing."

"Zefi was drunk again," her mom said. That made Mia jump up.

"No, she wasn't," she cried hysterically. "I was there; she was sober the whole three days. Everything was as it had always been. They love each other!"

"After you and Nika departed, Stefan went to his lover right away."

"But Stefan doesn't have a lover!" If he did, he wouldn't ask her and Nika to stay with him, she wanted to add, but didn't.

"He does, Mia, he does, "mother said scornfully. "Zefi told me. And that is the reason for her drinking. She told me, she admitted now on the phone, that they were acting those three days. They were pretending that everything was fine between them just not to disappoint you. Tragic is, that Stefan started to pretend and she followed him and after some hours even began to believe that he had really returned to her. So it was another hard blow into her face, when he left her immediately after your departure. Bastard!"

Mia sobbingly buried her face into her palms. Now she knew why she felt so unhappy. Because after this visit something beautiful, a wonderful memory or a picture that she had been carrying all these years in her head and heart, a picture of a perfect love between her uncle and her aunt, turned into ashes.

A week later Stefan called. Crying so fiercely that it was hard to understand him. "Zefi died, "he sobbed. "Our 'mucki' is gone!"

He had to repeat it three times before Mia, who was on the phone, finally comprehended what he was saying.

"I'll never forgive myself for not answering Zefi's call," said Mia.

Klemen gave her a sideways look, then he fixed his eyes on the road in front of him. "When?"

"When Nika and I returned from that visit. If I had spoken to her, I might have comforted her. Said something, done something."

"Mia, Zefi did not die because you didn't talk to her."

"I know, even so..."

"Don't put the blame for her death upon yourself, for God's sake! It was Stefan who should have helped her not you."

"Our mother is still convinced he put something into her drinks after he had returned from that Oktoberfest with his lover. He poisoned her. What if she went to Innsbruck to report him to the police?"

"Don't be silly! She can't do that after so many years. Besides, she has no evidence."

"The evidence is his odd behavior at Zefi's funeral. He looked weird. Like a bat, preparing to jump on people's necks to suck blood out of them.

On his nose were sitting enormous eyeglasses, covering most of his face. When he saw us arrive, he left the group of the mourners and ran towards us, flailing and shouting, Mia, darling Mia, our mucki has gone, our dear mucki has left me and you! His embrace made me stiffen, and as quickly as I could, I slipped from his grasp. After that he reached for my mom and for aunt Lucia, however, they both stepped back, at which his arms fell to his body. On his way back to the mourners, he pointed at a big gray cemetery building, saying duly, 'the burial will be there'."

"That's no evidence," replied Klemen.

"No, it isn't," agreed Mia disappointendly.

"You know," she resumed, "burials in Austria are not like the burials in our country. We stepped to a huge glass wall behind which there was a conveyor belt. After waiting for some minutes, Zefi's casket, it was of dark brown wood with Stefan's and our wreaths on the cover, moved slowly, very slowly past us. Stefan screamed, beat heavily with his fists against the glass, calling her, Mucki, come back to me, come back to me... I couldn't cry, neither did the mom and Lucia. Stefan's masquerade was too funny. Absurd. Grotesque.

Not wanting to join the mourners in the nearby inn, we went straight home. Stefan made no attempts to make us stay."

### 2.

"Kitzbühel," read Klemen on the sign post. "Oh," he exclaimed enthusiastically, "we were watching live broadcasts of giant slalom on TV from here."

"But you missed the live coverage of our skiing skills," she giggled. "Zefi taught us both skiing. Me and Stefan. Right here in Kitzbühel. The credit that I was able to teach our children skiing years later goes to her."

"Does it go for nearly killing them, too?"

Mia looked at him in astonishment. Till now he had never uttered a word of reproach.

"If you had gone with us, this wouldn't have happened."

"You knew I didn't ski."

"You could have helped me!"

"Why did you go, anyway? Was it necessary?"

"Not for you, because you are selfish. Not being interested in any sport except sitting in front of the TV, you believe, everybody must do the same. Especially the girls."

Nika was ten, her second daughter Lea five when for her winter holidays, being a teacher, she had winter and summer holidays, she decided to go skiing in Austria. Neither mother nor Klemen were skiers, they had never in their lives had skis on their feet, so they immediately refused to go. They strongly opposed her going alone with the two kids too. However, being stubborn like a mule, or as mother said, as Zefi at her young age, she packed the small car with skis, rucksacks, and her two daughters and off they went. She wished to offer her girls the skiing adventures she once experienced with Zefi and Stefan. And for that only Austrian ski resorts were appropriate.

However, it wasn't as easy as she had imagined. The hotel where they were accommodated was down in the valley at the foot of the mountains with ski slopes. Each day they had to take the chairlift to come to the top. And this was the problem. The chairlift was making a circular ride from the top to the bottom and vice versa and did not halt completely at the lift station, it just moved slower. So she had to hurry and jump into the chairlift, with one kid on her lap, the other holding by her hand, with a heavy rucksack on her back and needless to say, all three of them had skis on their feet.

She'll never forget the first day when they were still not used to the chairlifts. There wasn't a big problem at the bottom lift station, where she somehow managed to jump on the chairlift. But it wasn't so easy on the top, where she had to steady herself on skis. She lost balance and fell heavily together with the girls on the hard snowy ground, at which the chairlifts finally stopped not to hurt them. But more painful than the fall were the appalled looks of the people, saying, 'What for heaven's sake, is this young mother thinking to come alone with two kids, when obviously she herself is unsure on her skis.

At that moment, she had to admit they were right, but would not show this for the whole world. Stubbornly pressing her lips together, she took the girls to the wide, not too steep slopes. The girls soon learned how to take the ski lift, and they started to enjoy the beautiful sunny day. She did not regret bringing them up there until the moment when it was time to go down. The sun was already nearing the horizon. It was then that she started to panic. Will she be able to jump on the chairlift?

After scanning the slope down to the valley, she came to the conclusion that it probably wasn't that far and heavy to ski to the bottom. Many did, why wouldn't they?

To get out of people's way she led the girls to the off-piste, where the snow was not stamped and would prevent them from dolling down the hill.

Thinking of that descend to the bottom still gave her the shivers. They didn't ski, they crawled down the slope that seemed to have no ending. The girls soon started to complain that their feet ached. Hers were shaking too. When their feet ceased holding them, she threw the skis and rucksack down the slope, grabbed the girls, pressed one to her left side and the other to the right and they slid down on their behinds. It was already dark when they reached the foot of the mountain. It was then that she burst into tears. The girls, embarrassed and scared, wrapped their tiny hands around her neck.

"Okay, Klemen, I agree. I should have acted more responsibly. But I taught them to ski, didn't I? The easiest way to avoid all troubles is nowhere to go. Stay at home, watch TV. I think parents should give to their children more than that."

He made no comment.

A faint grin flashed across her face when she said: "I think I inherited the wish for adventures from my aunt Lucia. She was unstoppable. There was more life in her than in many people I know. Thanks to her I climbed the Triglav."

Klemen who, of course knew the story, rolled his eyes: "Spare me please."

After a while, she giggled: "Once she broke into a farmer's hayloft and the farmer nearly shot us dead."

Before Klemen could say that he is acquainted with this story to, she continued: "We went to Bohinj. She adored Bohinj. We went early in the morning by train and intended to return in the evening. I remember that we were taking a long walk by the lake admiring the beautiful Sava and listening to Lucia's enthusiastic exclamations: Isn't it gorgeous? Isn't this a creation of God?

After having eaten our sandwiches, Lucia went on her usual exploring mission. She walked where she shouldn't walk, across the meadows, fields, through the forests. We followed her, though the mom was grumbling all the time that we should return, or we'll miss the train. However, Lucia was reassuring her that there was still time, it was still early.

Seeing a small hayloft, a wooden cabin with hay under the roof, she ran to it, whispering, 'Franziska, do you remember how often we slept on hay when we were children? I can still smell the fresh cut grass, the odor of the hay.'

Our mother, who sensed catastrophe hastily answered, 'Lucy, it's late, we must go.'

"Why not stay here for the night?" came out of Lucia's mouth what mother had feared.

"No! No way!"

"Yes, yes," Ljubo and I were shouting. "And we won the battle."

I remember Lucia happily dancing on the meadow which started to be wet with dew. Fog was rising from the nearby Sava, making the air wet and chilly. But Lucia didn't notice it. Didn't care. She was reciting psalms about the beauty of nature and God.

We climbed a ladder to reach the hay that was going to be our bed. Ljubo immediately complained about how the hay was pricking him and the mom had to take her cardigan off to wrap him into it. Lucia gave me a piece of her wide skirt to lie on.

In the middle of the night a male voice woke us. He shouted: 'You villains, come down, now, or I'll come up and shoot you on the spot!' Our mom gathered me and Ljubo in her arms, Lucia crept to the opening, cautiously poking her head out, saying in an innocent, gentle voice: mister farmer, don't be angry, we apologize, we have missed the bus and there are two small children...'"

Mia choked with laughter at the memory.

"Well, mister farmer was not angry, in the morning he even brought us breakfast. And he nearly fell in love with Lucia."

"I have such nice memories of Lucia," she added after a while. She was so..."

There were two personalities hiding in Lucia. One was sister Bernarda, the other Lucia. Aunt Lucia. Sister Bernarda took care of her and Ljubo's religious education and made all arrangements necessary for them to receive the sacraments such as baptism, communion, confirmation. After that they both stopped going to church, for which sister Bernarda blamed their mom, her sister Franziska. If she hadn't stopped attending church her children wouldn't have either. Even so, Bernarda was not really angry with Franziska or Mia and Ljubo. She simply loved them.

Lucia was her opposite. Not less religious, yet different. Joy, power, love, especially love for nature were radiating from her. She was like a kid, a God's kid. Not a nun, who has obligations towards God and people, but as a child who has no other obligations than to enjoy in things she likes. Enjoys as if everything was made for her only. She was boisterous, curious, innocent.

And worldly. Sister Bernarda wasn't, Aunt Lucia was. Lucia was capable of talking of such things that neither sister Bernarda nor the mom were. Mentioning the mom, well, they in fact, did not talk at all. They were exchanging opinions about everyday things, never exceeding the mother-daughter relationship when the first has to raise, educate, lead, help, the latter to learn, obey, follow. There was no question of discussing intimacy, sexuality with her. Weird, as it may seem, Lucia and Mia had no difficulties in tackling such themes. The mother was angry if Mia put personal questions to her, saying it was none of her business. Lucia was not.

"Have you ever regretted becoming a nun," Mia asked her one day.

Lucia's answer was a firm no.

"Have you never longed for love... Love of a man?"

"Of course not! I have become Jesus' bride, and that is the most a girl, a woman can wish."

"But aunt Lucia, that's not the same."

"No, it isn't. It's more. I was happier in love with Jesus than I could possibly be in love with a man."

"I can't believe that a man can simply suppress the needs of the nature. For, the way you nuns live is against the nature. In my opinion, at least."

"Nature is not only the body, my dear Mia. Nature is the soul as well. The soul is the upgrade of the body. A higher level. Those who are incapable of lifting themselves above the limits of the body into the higher dimensions are forced to satisfy their needs of the body, saying they are the call of nature. I don't blame them; they can't live otherwise. But, to live in the soul and reach higher levels of spirituality, reach the contact with God and Jesus, means to outgrow the physicality, in other words, you don't feel any need to indulge in physical lusts that do nothing but obscure the spirit. "

"Have you really never had any contact with sexuality?" The question was dare and Mia was afraid that her aunt will take it amiss. Yet, she didn't.

"I did," she said. "At that time I was a young girl just entering the postulate. There were about ten girls sleeping in the big room. One night I felt somebody creep into my bed under the blanket, immediately starting to touch my breasts. Scared, I jumped out of bed and when I turned back to see who it was I was shocked to discover it was my tutor nun. After seeing, how shocked I was, she ran out. I must admit that from then on I didn't sleep as firmly and relaxed as before. But I never again experienced anything like that.

"Did you report the nun?"

"No, I didn't. I felt sorry for her. She was looking at me pleadingly, scared. She was young too, you know. I think that some months later she left the convent."

"Yes, she was an extraordinary woman," repeated Mia," and I am convinced that she was happier than her sisters. Zefi and my mother at least."

Klemen gave her an inquiring look.

"Not because her life were easy or carefree. Not at all. It's just that she managed to fulfil her aims and wishes in it. The goals she set to herself as a child. To serve God, to follow Jesus. To ask Virgin Mary and angels for help. They accompanied her in good and bad. Whatever happened to her was God's will. Except for rare occasions, she humbly accepted it. With gratitude. Even when it gave her a blow. It was an additional sign that He loved her. I guess that such a belief must be nice."

"Why did you stop going to church if you find that so nice?"

"I had my reasons. But it's not going or not going to the church that matters. What matters is believing. I think there are no more than two per cent of church goers that really believe. As deep as Lucia."

"Mia, now I'd like to believe in getting soon a pint of beer. How far from Innsbruck are we? I'm dying of thirst.

"It's not far," she answered and added after seeing an ad in Slovenian language by the roadside: "So much has changed since I was last here. Especially from my first visits thirty years ago. Now, being members of the European Union all languages and people are mixed. You can see and hear everything. When I first came to Zefi and Stefan, I was forbidden to speak Slovenian.

" Forbidden? Why?"

"Because Zefi was afraid somebody, coming from our mutual Yugoslav country might hear me and then come on the door asking for money or food."

"You aren't serious!"

"I am."

One day she happened to hear a known language below the window. It was either Serbian or Croatian or Bosnian, she could not make it out, but she knew that people speaking it were from their mutual country Yugoslavia. Enthusiastically she jumped to the window to say hello, when Zefi shoved her aside and closed the window before she had time to utter a word.

"Mia," she said upset, "there are many Yugoslav workers there who came to Austria in search of a better life. If they find out that we are the Yugoslavs too, we'll never get rid of them. They will expect help, money, food, drinks. You must understand that we hold nothing against them, but the locals look askance at you if you are hanging out with your own people. They start to feel endangered. If we want to succeed in this foreign country, we have to avoid them. We sweated blood to come this far, we wish others to succeed as well, but we can't help them. That's why you too will speak only German outside these walls."

"Not very philanthropic, was it?" grinned Klemen.

"I was disappointed; I must admit that. I respected her for the stories I'd heard, of how she had once been fighting for the poor and underprivileged, and now she didn't even want to say hello to them. Now she was scared of them. Scared she would have to share some of her possessions with them. Yes, I was disappointed but I had to obey her."

"Do you know how the drunkards called her behind her back?" Mia added.

"Of course I do. Verdammte Auslȁnderin. Damned foreigner."

"That's right. Only because she wanted to make some order in her inn, by asking them to keep their voices down. In a way, she was right when she said, you have to be careful if you are not one of them. People don't like being ordered by the foreigners. And when they showed that to Zefi, Stefan, instead of siding with her, he pretended it was nothing. If you ask me... I don't know, she was too isolated. Had no friends due to the fact that she was not sociable. And so she started to drink. Stefan chose another tactic. He simply stooped to the level of the most primitive locals. He joked with them, drank with them. He was lucky to carry his liquor better than Zefi. He made the locals accept him as one of their own. They never accepted Zefi and Stefan did not know how to help her. He loved her, there is no doubt about that, he was not only thankful, he really loved her, but somewhere on their way something went wrong... terribly wrong. Zefi started to descent into the hell and Stefan was helpless."

"Not helpless enough to get himself a lover."

"That's true. Brought her into the inn. Right in front of Zefi's eyes. Disgusting. There, there..." she exclaimed, "turn left and then right and we'll come to the Gasthof Templ. Oh, God," she sighed, "if you exist let us find my mom here."

### 3.

Klemen pulled to a stop in front of the Templ.

They stepped out of the car.

"There will be no beer here for sure," said Klemen disappointedly at the sight of the inn, marked by the ravages of time. The blinds were pulled down, there was nobody there. "And I doubt we'll find your mother here."

Mia pushed open the gate into the garden. Once so tidy it was now full of dry leaves. She peeped through a dirty window.

"Right behind this door," she said, "there is a long corridor, its floor covered with dark-green plastic flooring. The first door left opens into the kitchen, on the other side down the corridor is the guest room. I remember massive oak chairs with cut hearts in their backs and massive tables. Straight on is the private room, Privatstube where Stefan and Zefi were spending most of their free time. Guests were not allowed to enter it."

Klemen pulled her sleeve. "Mia, I'm more interested in where your mother is. That's why we came, didn't we?"

With the back of her hand she went over her eyes as if trying to remove the veil of her memory.

"Sorry, Klemen, I've been drifted off by memories. I spent so much time here."

"Oh, Fräulein Mia!"

Astounded, they turned around to see whose voice this was. There was an elderly woman coming across the street towards them. Mia squinted into the sun, and then she recognized her. It was Zefi's neighbor, the only one with whom Zefi communicated. They hadn't seen each other for almost thirty years, yet the woman recognized her anyway.

"Fräulein Mia," repeated the woman excitedly, "I just can't believe to see you again." They shook hands. The neighbor looked her up and down. "You haven't changed a bit, Mia. You are exactly the same as you were when you were coming here on holidays."

"Mia hated such compliments. How would a person not change in thirty years? When young people, for example, her former students, gave her this compliment, she knew what it really meant. For them, she was old already at the time when they were in her class, all teachers above thirty are old for their students, so it was natural that they thought she didn't change. Old then old now. No compliment in fact. But if an older person tried to give her such a compliment, she found it stupid if not hypocritical.

Mia gave her a sour smile. "That's my husband, Klemen," she introduced him to her. They shook hands. "We came to visit Stefan. We thought we would find him here, in Temple."

"Don't you know?" asked the neighbor surprised.

"What?"

"He died two years ago."

"Oh, really?" Mia felt... What did she feel? Sadness? Not really. Or just a little. As if another piece of her life broke off.

"Yes. It happened suddenly. Heart failure."

"Whose is the Tempel now?"

"Klaus'."

"Klaus'?"

"Stefan's son. Stefan and Lisa's."

"So he married her?"

"No, he didn't. After Zefi had died, they lived together for a few months, then she left him. We knew it. She was a lightskirt if you know what I mean. Such women are after the money only. When Stefan didn't want to spend a fortune on her, she was off. The boy, Klaus, came to him years later."

Mia didn't know what to say.

"Poor Zefi. I liked her, you know. She didn't have it easy with all this work, taking care of everything. She really didn't deserve such a terrible death."

Mia nodded. "Her liver collapsed, because of combining alcohol and pills. Stefan said she was already dead when he came."

The neighbor scratched her chin in embarrassment. "That's what Stefan said, but Lisa talked otherwise."

Mia twitched her ears. "Whoa! What did she say?"

"That Zefi was still alive when they returned."

"Did she see her?"

"No, Stefan wouldn't let her in. He went in to check if everything was okay and came out saying she should go home, because he had some work to do. She asked him if something was wrong with Zefi, and he said no, everything was fine, but two hours later he called her and told that she was dead."

"Was there an investigation into the cause of her death."

"There was. But," the woman smiled awkwardly, "you know how Stefan was. Beloved, had strong connections, everybody owed him something. Did he never call you?"

"Never. He didn't even invite us to the after burial, when her urn was put on the cemetery wall."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Strange. He liked you so much. But," she said, her face lit with wondering, "you are not the only people who came by today. I don't know what hangs in the air that suddenly so many people became interested in the Tempel. For years and years nobody had come and now..."

Mia and Klemen exchanged glances. "Who else was there?"

"I did not know her. An old woman. Came by taxi. She was walking in the garden, this one, peeping through the windows. When I came down, she had already left."

"When was it?"

"About six hours ago. You know, I'm an early bird."

"Let's go," said Klemen impatiently.

Mia gave the woman an apologetic smile. "Thank you so much for coming down and chatting with me."

"So, my Mom was here," said Mia, when sitting in the car. "At least I know she is not lying somewhere in a coma. But where did she go from here?"

"You know Innsbruck, not me. But, Mia, before we start racing the Innsbruck streets, I want to go to lunch. I'm hungry and thirsty. It's already two o'clock in the afternoon."

She took him to the Hotel Breinössl where she was once working as a young assistant to her boss Zefi.

"I'm not sure whether it has any sense going to Zefi and Stefan's flat in the Olympic village. I don't think our mother has gone there. Wait, wait. It just came to my mind. When we found out that Stefan had put Zefi's urn on the wall without inviting us to attend the final ceremony, the final act of burying her, my Mom made a promise to visit Zefi's grave one day. She never again mentioned it and I have forgotten about it. I think that that was why she came here today. We'll have to look at the cemetery. Unless,...." Mia frowningly looked at Klemen. "Did you hear what the neighbor said about Zefi? I mean, that she was still alive when Stefan came but he later denied it?"

"Or his lover Lisa was lying."

"I doubt it. Maybe mother was right. Maybe Stefan did put some poison into Zefi's drink and she is now at the police station..."

"Mia, be sensible. Stefan is dead. There's no point in reporting him as a murderer..."

"I think mother does not know that. She did not speak with the neighbor. I don't believe she's spoken to anybody. So she can't know that Stefan died two years ago. She probably thinks he is still alive."

Her mobile rang. "It's Ljubo," she said. "He probably wants to know if I have any news."

"Hi, Mia," he mumbled, "I got a call from Nurnberg... from the hospital. Mom is there. They found my number in her bag... kkkhhhm... "

"Nurnberg," she gasped. "Hospital? How? She was here in Innsbruck a few hours ago! What did they say?"

"She's there... khhmmm . I can't go right now. They want someone to come. I can't... kkkkhhmm, will you go ?"

"Of course, I will. Do you have their telephone number?"

"Wait... khmmm... it must be...here....khmmm tut, tuuut."

Mia stared blankly at her mobile. "He switched it off. He was not in the state of finding the number. Damn it! Couldn't he refrain from drinking at least today?"

"Mia, let Ljubo fetch her from the Nurnberg hospital, we must go home, I have work tomorrow morning."

"Ljubo? I guess he can't even stand on his feet. Look, I know you are fed up with all this, but you wanted to come. You could have stayed at home."

"Is that instead of 'thank you'?"

"But we can't just leave her in the hospital, Klemen. If you don't want to come, I can drop you at the railway station."

"Stop talking nonsense! How far is it to Nurnberg?"

She looked at the map on her mobile. "It's a little more than 320 km, about 3hr drive."

### 4.

"I'm afraid Ljubo is going Zefi's way," Mia said after they were on the highway again and added with a sigh: "Mom should never have sent him to Zefi and Stefan. I think he started drinking there. Zefi was against it, of course, but Stefan kept encouraging the boy to empty a glass of spirit, saying it will do him no harm. However, that was not true. He got used to the alcohol at such early age."

"Why did mother send him away at the age of sixteen? It was a bit early, wasn't it?"

"One reason were financial difficulties. After he finished primary school, he didn't want to go to any secondary school. If he had gone, he would have been given a scholarship just like I had been. He was too young to start working, which meant that he was at home, doing nothing and mother was dead scared he would fall in with a bad crowd. And that was the second reason, why she sent him to Zefi."

"And thus did exactly what she feared: sent him to a bad crowd."

"Well, Stefan and Zefi were not a bad crowd. They meant well. They liked him and helped him a lot. Taught him a lot. Later, at the age of eighteen he found himself a job on a freight ship as a cook. They gave him a good start. What was wrong was that they thought, at least Stefan did, that getting used to a glass or two of the alcohol daily, would do no harm. They were wrong here."

"If he hadn't been used to the alcohol before, he would have got among the sailors," said Klemen. "They are known for their notorious life."

"Yes, I know. Nevertheless, Mom should never have sent him away. He was too attached to her. I am sure he made problems as a child because he had been missing Mom's presence so much. She was working, did not have much time for us. It did not affect me so heavily, I went my own way, but it affected Ljubo. By doing bad things he was forcing mother's attention on himself and punishing her for not being there for him when he needed her most... Look, that building must be the clinic."

The Nurnberg clinic was an enormous grayish white building in the middle of green, among parks, flowers and flowering bushes. Mia and Klemen hurried down the long corridor to the reception desk. The clerk, a smiling, young girl confirmed Mia's mother was in their hospital. She led them to a door, knocked and a bespectacled, grey haired man in white robes opened it.

They shook hands, and he invited them to sit down.

"Your mother feels much better now. I can say that her condition is stable. She was brought here in the last moment," he said, looking at Mia.

"What was wrong with her? Coma?"

He nodded adding disapprovingly: "She shouldn't be traveling alone."

Mia felt all her blood run into her head. "We didn't know she was leaving. She just disappeared."

"Yeah?" he smiled, embarrassed. "Well, now you can take her home. However, I must warn you that she is still somewhat confused. I don't understand what she is saying because I don't know your language, however, she seems not to react right. After coming home, take her straight to the hospital, her heart is weakening ..."

"Is it not too risky to take her by car now? I mean, so soon," asked Klemen.

"I'll be frank with you, sir. The lady is seriously ill. You can leave her here, of course, if that's what you think were best, but I would advise you to take her home. I think she would want that too. I'll give you all the necessary medicines, make her comfortable in the car and leave everything else to time. There is nothing much you can do. Or, we can do."

Mia and Klemen exchanged glances. "We'll take her home," said Mia.

When they were outside, her lips trembled: "Did he actually tell us, she was going to die?"

Klemen embraced her. "I don't know, Mia, but let's prepare her for the long drive."

Mother was pale, shrunken, lost. Mia burst into tears.

"Mom, it's me, Mia," she said, stroking her hair. Mother opened her eyes widely, stared at her for some time with her grayish blue eyes, then smiled.

"Lucy," she whispered. "Where were you? Zefi and I thought you would never come. We had to travel alone. But now, we'll go together." She looked so happy.

"Mom, we are taking you home."

Mother violently shook her head. "No, Lucy, not home. "She closed her eyes. Her breathing was heavy. After some moments her eyes again popped wide open: "The grave," she whispered. "We must... the grave. Gunzenhausen... The grave..."

"Mom, Mom what grave? Where?"

Mother did not open her eyes.

Mia tore her eyes from mother and looked at Klemen. "What grave, Klemen? What is she talking about?"

"Maybe she thinks Zefi's grave. You said she wanted to visit it," he shrugged.

"But she mentioned Gunzenhausen not Innsbruck. Gunzenhausen is the city where she spent more than two years during the war. She met my father there, yet as far as I know he didn't die in Gunzenhausen. He returned to Belgium after the war. John, her brother, my uncle, also returned with his family. So nobody died there. What grave is she then talking about?"

"She's hallucinating, Mia. You can't take seriously what she says."

"But there must be something in what she is saying! She wouldn't have gone on such a journey if she had not had a real aim. And it seems to be a grave."

Mother was sleeping the whole way. Here and there, she whispered: grave, Gunzenhausen, Franz. Mia wondered what her uncle Franz had to do with Gunzenhausen, for he had never been there. He was a partisan during the war, the cause for her mother's deportation. Why did she remember him now?

They stopped a few times to have some rest. Each time Mia tried to get some answers from her mother. When she asked her what she was doing in Innsbruck, mother seemed not to understand her. She looked at her confused. But when she asked her if she wanted to visit Zefi's grave, she said smilingly:" I didn't need to, because Zefi is alive. I'm so glad I went to Innsbruck to find the truth. Stefan was lying to us. There must have been somebody else in that coffin. Zefi never died."

"Mom, why did you go to Nurnberg?"

Mother's face twitched as if she was going to cry.

"Mom, why?"

Mother closed her eyes. After a long, painful silence she repeated: "Gunzenhausen, grave, Franz..."

And that was it. Mia could not make her say another word, clarify those three.

She hoped to get the answers after mother's condition improved. The doctors in their local hospital did not give her much hope, however there was always a possibility, they said. They could not rule out the improvement.

There was no improvement. Mother did not wake from her coma again. After two days in the hospital she died.

How she wished her mother would wake and clarify everything.

But she didn't.

### 5.

Ljubo came alone. Léonie, his wife, supposedly could not skip work, and Noemi, his daughter could not skip school. That might have been true or not. His Swiss wife showed quite openly that she was not particularly fond of his mother and sister. That hurt him. They often had severe fights over it. He told her she was haughty, fancying herself to be better just because she was a Swiss.

Mia secretly watched him at the funeral. He was shaken but thanks to god, sober. That was, what she feared most. There weren't many people at the funeral, nevertheless it would be grotesque if he were staggering and she would need to help him walk.

He stayed with her for three days and never touched a drop of alcohol. Mia felt relieved, calmed down. Léonie must have exaggerated when telling her about the hidden bottles in the cellar.

They spent three nice days together. They hadn't spent such days since their childhood. And even as children they were like a cat and a dog. Always fighting about something. Their mother was furious and sad. 'In the whole world there aren't children like you,' she used to say. 'Sisters and brothers are supposed to like each other not fight.' And then looking at Mia she added what Mia hated most "You are older, you should know better!'

They visited Bled, where they had spent most of their childhood. From there they drove to Bohinj to see what the shabby house where he had been living as a baby looked like. It was renovated and inhabited by strangers. On their way back they made a stop at mother's grave for the last time.

"She was a good mother," said Ljubo thoughtfully.

Mia, who was gathering the withered flowers from the wreaths, straightened up.

"Yes, she was," she agreed.

"Do you really have no idea what she was looking for in Nurnberg?"

Mia shook her head. "No, Ljubo. She was mentioning Gunzenhausen and a grave. We know that she was deported to Gunzenhusen, but the grave... I don't know. Maybe a friend of her died there. However, Klemen thinks she was hallucinating and whatever she said had no meaning."

"She was always so mysterious about her past. Didn't want to tell us anything. The more I think about her the less I know her."

"Me too," said Mia.

"Nevertheless, she was a good mother. I was causing her such troubles. She could have given me away to that correctional home, but didn't." There were tears in his eyes.

After a while, he uttered a short laugh. "Do you remember, how I got the bicycle?"

Of course she did. She was eleven and he was eight, when one afternoon two policemen appeared at the garden gate. At the sight of them, Ljubo ran away, hiding somewhere, while mother, scared to death, went to meet them.

"You stole a bicycle," Mia snickered.

"I didn't steal it, I borrowed it. I rode around the lake, then I returned it in its place."

"It was a theft the policemen said."

The policemen threatened mother to take Ljubo from her if she did not start taking care of him. And that was not the first time she was threatened, for Ljubo preferred roaming around instead of going to school. With two other boys, all of them about nine years old, he committed minor thefts, like a packet of cigarettes or a bag of candies. But this time mother knew that the warning was more serious than before. Yet, what could she do, being at work the whole day and having no one to take care of the boy?

The only thing she could do was somehow put it into his head what was right and what was wrong.

After the policemen had gone, she tore a tiny rod from the hazel bush, laid Ljubo over her knee and beat him. He didn't cry, it seemingly did not hurt him at all. But it hurt their mother. She sobbed heavily while shouting: 'I rather see you dead than in jail! I rather see you dead.'

"Two days later she bought me a bicycle," added Ljubo. "Instead of sending me away, she bought me a bicycle which cost a fortune. There aren't mothers like that in the whole world."

"Yes," said Mia stiffly," we were lacking almost everything, clothes, food and she went straight into the bank, took a loan and bought you a bicycle. She never took a loan for me."

"Well, she was paying for your studies."

"She would have for yours too if you had showed interest in them."

They fell silent. Then Ljubo said: "I have never again stolen anything from then on. Never."

"But you started breaking off cherry branches instead," she teased him.

It was their mother's birthday and Mia handed her a picture she drew herself. Ljubo had nothing. He sneaked out of the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with an armful of blooming cherry branches. But before he had time to open his mouth to wish mother a happy birthday, the keeper, living in the flat above them, rushed hoppy mad into the kitchen: "You damn brat, see what you have done! Killed the blossoming cherry tree!" Then throwing mother a furious look, he said through his clenched teeth: "That boy is a devil!"

The next day mother was summoned to school. The headmaster and three teachers were waiting for her in the headmaster's office. On his desk was a bunch of cherry branches.

After they were all seated, the headmaster said grimly, throwing a quick glance at the branches before his eyes bore into mother's: "Dear madam, you know why I have called you. This time the decision must be made. Your son must be sent to the juvenile correctional home. That would be the best solution for a boy without any supervision. I know that you are a single mother and that you are at work ..."

"Excuse me sir," said a young teacher, slim, her dark, long, curly hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes warm. "I have a proposal to make. I'll take him into my class. Each day after school I'll take him to my home to help him with his homework and make sure he does not ramble around with other boys. If the results are still bad after some months, I'll sign your decision to send him to the correction home."

Not only the mother, all of them stared at her open mouthed.

"Dolores saved me," said Ljubo, his face twitching and eyes wet at the memory.

"Dolores and Mom."

He nodded. "Dolores was the best person I have ever met."

"She even gave you a puppy."

"Who grew into a big German shepherd."

"And the keeper did not forbid him."

"He even made a kennel for him."

"He wasn't a bad man, the keeper."

"No, he wasn't."

After some moments of silence, Ljubo sighed: "I still dream of him, of my Wolf. When I was cycling around the lake, he always accompanied me. We got up at five in the morning to make a round or two. I was mad about the bicycle. And about the Wolf. They became my only friends. Nobody could lure me away from them."

"Thinking in general, we didn't have a bad life," said Mia. "We achieved quite a lot, made something of our lives, didn't we?"

"You did."

"You too have nothing to complain about. You didn't go studying, but you have sailed the seas, crisscrossed the world. You have a wife and a kid."

He stared at her.

"What is it?" she laughed embarrassed.

"Mia," he uttered with trembling voice, "Mia, promise me that you will bury me here with Mom. In our Slovenian soil. I don't want to lie there." He meant Switzerland.

Mia, who was squatting beside the heap of flowers trying to light a candle, jumped up.

"What, the hell, are you talking about?" she said angrily. She never liked melodrama. "You are not going to die! Not now."

"Promise me!"

"For God's sake, Ljubo, I'm older than you, I will for sure die sooner. However, we are both too young to die now."

"Promise me." He looked at her with a mixture of order and plea. Then he drew his wallet out of the pocket and took out three hundred Swiss francs. "Take them."

She stepped back. "Are you crazy? What is this?"

"For my burial."

That really pissed her off. "Listen to me, Ljubo! If I am going to bury you, I'll bury you on my expenses."

Turning around, she ran to the car.

The next evening, she took him to the railway station. They embraced. Both of them had tears in their eyes.

"Ljubo," she said, "now we are only the two of us. We both have our families, of course, but of our family, mother you and me, only the two of us are left. It is true that we never liked each other much, but let's start differently from now on. Let's not loose contacts. Let's visit each other more often. Our Mom would like that.

"I agree," he said and got on the train.

At home, she found three hundred francs in her bag.

### 6.

Mia, correcting school tests, jolted at the sound of the telephone. Who is it at this late hour? In the screen appeared the name Léonie.

"Léonie, how come you call at this late hour?"

"Ljubo died."

Mia stiffened, her blood was freezing when she was listening to convulsive sobbing on the other side.

She got up, shook her stiffness off. "Léonie, what are you talking about? I was having a long conversation with Ljubo only three days ago. I'm having holidays next week and Ljubo invited me to visit him. He can't be dead!"

Two days, after he had returned from mother's burial, he phoned her that he had moved away from Léonie, because he could not bear her any longer. He hired a flat in the next street, near to where Léonie and Noemi lived, so that the daughter could come to him whenever she wanted.

"Mia, he died."

"Wait, wait, I'll call you later."

With one arm leaning on the table and with the mobile in her other hand she stared blankly in front of herself, struggling for breath.

He didn't die! That's not possible! We are going to spend the next week together...

Collapsing into the chair, she burst into tears. When she came to herself a little bit, she called Léonie.

"How did he die?"

"Coma. I was trying to get him on the phone the whole day yesterday. He didn't answer. Even though he moved from me, we were in constant contacts. He even promised me to go to the clinic for the alcoholics."

"But Léonie, he didn't drink anymore. I saw him!"

"Mia, he was drinking. But he was good at covering it up. He could fool anybody except me. Today after work, I went to him. He didn't answer the bell neither the knocking or calling. I called the police. They broke in. He was dead. He had been dead for man hours... coma... Did you know he stopped giving himself shots of insulin?"

No, she didn't. She didn't know anything! Again. She didn't know the truth about her brother, she didn't know the truth about her mother or her father. Where was she living? On an island, with fog over her eyes?

She called Léonie back. "Listen, Léonie, I don't know if Ljubo discussed this with you, but the last time he was here, he said he wanted to be buried in Slovenia beside his mother."

At first there was dead silence on the other side, then Léonie started to scream like mad. "No way! That's out of the question! You are making it up! He didn't say that!"

"He did."

"He has a daughter here! She has right to have at least his grave if she does not have him. We'll bury him here, so that she can light a candle. You cannot prevent it."

"Léonie, I told you only his last wish."

In the end Léonie found a solution. "I was advised," she said when she called her the next day, "to have two urns prepared. One will be buried by us, the other by you."

The first thought Mia got was, oh no, are we going to tear him into two parts? Murder him? She even told Léonie, how she felt. However, Léonie insisted it was okay, many people do that. In the end she had to agree. It was either leave him with her completely or have half of him buried beside his mother.

So there was another grotesque burial awaiting her. The first was Zefi's the second Ljubo's. Tears seemed to have drowned in the shock.

### 7.

Sitting on a bench in the Zurich railway station waiting room, Mia was throwing frightened glances at a big cardboard box by her feet. Inside it was an urn. Ljubo's urn, or should she say an urn with Ljubo's ashes. Half of it. She was frightened because she didn't know whether it was allowed to carry urns across the border or not. There had been no time to find out before she went to Zürich. If it wasn't and the customs finds out, then... What? Will she be arrested? Will they take Ljubo from her?

The speaker announced the arrival of her train. She dragged the heavy (why heavy, there was only half of him) box into the carriage, praying there would be no customs examination.

There wasn't and relieved, she settled in an empty compartment.

She felt uneasy. Her brother was dead. He was not aware of all the mess around his burial, yet somehow she couldn't get rid of the feeling that now he was watching her from that box, accusing her of not doing what he had asked her to do and even gave her the money.

I have never promised, she argued with those eyes. I have done my best. And in a way Léonie was right. Noemi deserves to have you near her. You should be pleased they want you, according to what you had done to them.

Why on earth did you have to die? Okay, life was hard. Not only on you but on all of us. We were all the victims of the bloody war. Of the poverty. However, our mother, who suffered most, found the strength to struggle for a better living. We didn't have much, yet, she offered us a better life, a better start than she had ever had. Where would we be if she had given up like you did? You should have struggled if not for yourself for your kid. Like our mom did. But no. Instead of fighting, you turned tail and ran into the oblivion of the alcohol. Just like Zefi. That's selfish, and I hate you!

She hit the box with her fist. Then she lay down, her head on the box. When she woke at the home station the box was wet with her tears.

### IV

### 1.

"Mia!"

Mia turned back and saw two ladies, one in a wheelchair and the other pushing it along the pavement. The lady in the wheelchair, said: "You are Mia, Franziska's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yyyes," answered Mia. "Do I know you?"

"Probably not. I wouldn't recognize you either if my friend," she pointed with her face behind her to the woman pushing the wheelchair, "hadn't told me who you were. "

She gave a sudden giggle: "I was holding you in my arms when you were fourteen days old. You were so small." She showed about 50 cm with her hands.

Mia uttered confused: "Well, I don't remember..."

"Of course you don't!" Her face turned to serious. "I've heard Franziska died a few years ago. If I had known, I'd come to the funeral. We were good friends once."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"I would say so. I guess Franziska didn't tell you much about her life in the German camp. We were together there. She was always introvert but after the war she avoided everybody. Including me. Nevertheless, she wanted me to see you, when you were born. I still have her postcard saying: Cveta, I'd like you to visit me." And I went. She lived together with her brother Franz and his wife in that hotel in Bled. Near the railway station. When I came, she said laughingly: "Cveta, that is my girl." It was then that I held you in my arms.

But after this visit we lost contacts for many years. Only when you moved to Jesenice to live, we sometimes met in the street, had a short chat. It was then that she told me you were studying and that she had another child, a boy named Ljubo. She seemed so happy. However, I never visited her and she never visited me. She was not interested.

Cveta's friend suggested to go to the park and sit while talking.

"So you knew my father?" asked Mia.

"Of course I did. We were both dating Belgian soldiers. Franziska's was Joseph, mine was Jean." She sighed. "It was so stupid of us to part and go home believing that heaven was waiting for us. What heaven? Hell, I'd say."

"My Mom was so mysterious about my father. She showed me the photo of him though, told me that he was playing the violin and that was all. Oh yes, a few months before she died, I insisted she told me more about him and all I learned was that he had already been married and had two sons before he met my mother."

Cveta nodded. "He loved your mother, but returned to his family."

"Did he know she was pregnant? Did he know about me?"

"I'm not sure. But I knew. She said she was glad. She thought you were given to her as a replacement for little Franz."

Mia gaped. "Little Franz? Her brother?"

"No, no,.... Oh, my god, you don't know, do you? You had a brother. His name was Franz. He was deported with Franziska to Gunzenhausen. There he died, only a year and a half old. It was so sad." Tears gathered in Cveta's eyes.

Then she told her everything about her brother Franz.

Mia, gazed at her unbelievingly. "I had a brother? She had a son? Before me? She never mentioned him to me. You don't mean Ljubo? He was born after the war, but he didn't die as a child!"

"No, no, Mia, I know about Ljubo. Her first child was Franz and he died in Gunzenhausen. I went with her to the funeral."

"But why... Why didn't she tell me?" Mia's voice trembled, she could not hold back her tears.

"Who knows," said Cveta, giving her a compassionate look. "Maybe she was afraid you would despise her. She was so sensitive."

"Despise her? I would respect her for what she had suffered, gone through. " She covered her mouth, then exclaimed: "Oh, my God, now I understand what she wanted to tell me with the three words she was repeating all the time: Gunzenhausen, grave, Franz. I thought she meant her brother, but..."

She told Cveta about mother's mysterious journey to Innsbruck and Nurnberg.

"She went to visit her son's grave. First her sister's in Innsbruck, then her son's in Gunzenhausen."

Cveta nodded. "You are probably right, Mia."

"But if she had told me, I would have taken her there myself. Why didn't she trust me?"

Cveta patted her knee. "Mia, no matter what you think or what it looks like, your mother loved you."

Mia shook her head. "I have never had that feeling. I always thought she was sorry to have me."

Cveta took Mia's hand into hers and looked deep into her eyes. "Mia, you must believe me this: she accepted her pregnancy as a blessing. I know, because I was there when she found out. I saw her, she told me. But I guess she did not know how to show her love to you. She was never good at exposing her emotions and thoughts. But she was a good person. We all liked her."

"What's wrong?" asked Klemen when she came home with red eyes.

She told him about what she learned from Cveta. "I'm completely confused," she said. On one side I feel sorry for my mother. It's hard to imagine what suffering she had to go through. On the other side I'm angry with her. She should have told me and Ljubo about our brother. She should have told me more about my father. Because of all the mysteries she had kept from us, I'm starting to doubt even the story of the Belgian with the violin. I feel so insecure. All of a sudden, I again don't know who in reality I am."

"You are my wife and you are our children's mother. That should be enough, I think."

Yes, that should be enough. But it wasn't. To be his wife and to be their daughters' mother was most important, of course. However, she lacked the truth about her roots and about her mother's past. And without telling Klemen, so as not to anger him even more, she decided to find it.

### EPILOGUE

After Cveta, I met three other ladies who were deported to Gunzenhausen together with my mother. From them I learned what life in their camp was really like. And they gave me a lot of new information about my mother. I understand her better now. But I'd like more information about my father and my brother.

I asked many organizations and individuals for help. They were all kind and ready to help me, however, to my and their disappointment, they were unable to find any record of my father. No man, named Joseph Englebert, seemed to be in Gunzenhausen during the second World War. No man, maned Joseph Englebert who was deported to Germany during the second world war seemed to be born and lived in Belgum. If I didn't have a photo of him with his inscription to my mother and the witnesses, I would say she was lying. She was not so I'm starting to believe that he, Mr. J.E. or one of his family, does not want to have contacts with me and gave the orders not to equip me with any information.

The second question that's driving me crazy is: Why is there in Slovenia no birth certificate of my brother. He must have been born in Slovenia before he died in Gunzenhausen! I know his date of birth but not the place. However, Slovenia is a small country, it shouldn't be difficult to find where a child was born on an exact date. But this what is happening. No birth certificate seems to exist in Slovenia. And in Gunzenhausen there is neither a death certificate nor a grave of a child with the name Franz.

Strange. Weird. Crazy.

One of my former students Urska, who helped me a lot with my research or search for my brother, emailed me wise words to make me less disappointed: If a secret does not let itself be revealed, no matter how hard you try, no matter how many people try to reveal it, then it probably shouldn't be revealed.

She might be right. Maybe it is just waiting for the right time. Maybe it is not ripe enough at this moment. Or maybe it is so personal that it has the whole right to go to the grave with its owner.

But, being a part of this secret gives me the right to imagine what happened in my mother's past, how it happened, why it happened. And that is what I have done in the first part of this novel. When I was writing it I was shocked by the discovery that I know my aunts' lives to greater details then my mother's. What I wrote about the aunts is true, when writing about mother I had to imagine or reconstruct many events.

And what am I going to do now?

Return to my husband, my daughters and my grandchildren and stay with them.

THANKS

I am deeply grateful for all the help from:

\- The society of the former political prisoners and exiles, special thanks to Mrs. Slava Bicek, the Head of the society;

\- The deportees, ladies who were together with my mother in Gunzenhausen: Mrs. Ada Prezelj, Mrs. Ivana Iskra, Mrs. Cveta Reichmna and Mrs. Dana Ambrozic;

\- The mayor of Gunzenhausen Mr. Gerhard Jochem and the Director of the Gunzenhausen and Nurnberg Archives Mr. A. Müllhäuser;

\- The Belgian Embassy, the Ambassador Mr. Werner Claes;

\- The Archive of Slovenia, Mrs. Metka Gombac and Mrs. Polona Trobec-Mlakar;

\- The Archbishop's Archive of Slovenia;

\- The president of the International Tracing Service, Mr. M. Schlenke;

\- Heads and employees of the administrative units: Mrs. Maja Antonic, Tatjana Tavcar and Urska Samar, whose words I used for the ending of my novel;

\- Professor Stanko Klinar, my husband Valentin Cundric and my daughter Andreja Cundric for proofreading of the Slovenian version of the novel, for suggestions and corrections;

\- Sonja Koranter for her blurb.

### ###

### Dear reader,

### Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, will you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

### Thanks

### Maggy

