The Last Green Valley - Mark Sullivan (black female authors .txt) 📗

Emil enslaved, working in a cramped, hot tunnel below a frozen wasteland, almost took Adeline to her knees. But then a gust of wind blew a mist of snow in her face, shocking her and making her realize she was cold. Shivering cold.

Adeline tried to run to heat up her body, but the snow was too deep in places, and a ring of questions began to form and repeat in her head: Was Emil alive? Would she ever see him again? If he lived and somehow found her, would she even know him when she saw him? Would the boys? A year or two, of course. But ten years? A decade of not knowing?

When she finally crested the knoll and was walking past the Schmidts’ barn, she was trying to tell herself that she could last ten years if Emil could. But what if Emil can’t last? At what point do I give up?

Her mother had never given up, and her father had never come home. Emil’s mother had given up on ever seeing her husband again, and he’d shown up on her doorstep, alive but broken.

Walking to the front porch of the farmhouse, she wondered what her life would be like if that was Emil’s fate as well and sensed an almost crushing burden on her shoulders. She shook it off immediately. It did her no good to think like that. She had to keep faith that he’d come back whole. In the meantime, she had to live for her boys, keeping their father’s memory alive in their hearts. But if I have trouble remembering his face, how can they?

Adeline was about to knock, when she heard piano music playing. She ducked down and looked beneath the shade to see the farmer and his wife sitting side by side at the piano. Frau Schmidt was playing, and her husband was watching her with such deep, undying love that Adeline was moved to smiling through tears. They’d been married for nearly forty years. They’d been through terrible tragedy, and yet their love hadn’t just survived; it had deepened and flourished. Isn’t that a cause for hope?

She considered not knocking and leaving the couple alone. But then the music stopped, and she could hear Herr Schmidt clapping inside.

Frau Schmidt was thrilled when Adeline did knock on her door, greeting her like a long-lost daughter and kissing her on the cheek when she gave her the chocolate. Herr Schmidt said he was calling it a night and went upstairs. Captain Kharkov and his men were thankfully on leave in Berlin.

Adeline said that she couldn’t stay long, that she had to get back in case one of the boys woke up, but she ended up spending an hour with her friend. She listened to the older woman’s fears about her husband’s health and shared some of her own.

“I sometimes wonder who I will be without Emil,” Adeline said.

“You will be you,” Frau Schmidt said softly.

“What?”

“You are already without him, Adeline. So you will be you without him in the future, and from what I’ve seen, being Adeline Martel is more than enough for anything life wants to throw at her.”

She hugged the older woman and thanked her for her kindness and support.

“I thank you,” Frau Schmidt said, hugging her back. “You are a good friend.”

Adeline felt better as she left the house. Knowing the Soviets were in Berlin, she decided to take the lane back to the village. Dogs barked in the distance. The snow creaked beneath her boots, but there was a nice smell in the air. Spring was coming.

She heard Frau Schmidt say, Being Adeline Martel is more than enough for anything life wants to throw at her.

Is that true? Adeline wondered. So far, yes, but—

A car engine turned over. Headlights came on ahead of her on the lane, blinding her. She threw up her sleeve to block it, hearing a car door open.

“Frau Martel?” a woman’s pleasant voice said.

“Yes?” Adeline said uncertainly, and stopped. “Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Eloise Gerhardt with Kommissariat 5 of the Deutsche Volkspolizei, the People’s Police,” she said. “I’d like a few words with you, please. Come, I can drive you home while we talk.”

Adeline hesitated.

Lieutenant Gerhardt’s voice grew sterner. “Frau Martel, do as you are told. You do not have a choice in this matter.”

Adeline resigned herself and walked through the headlights’ glare to see the party officer was a big stocky woman in a gray-green woolen long coat. She had short dark hair, a square chin, a prominent nose, and hard eyes.

“Please,” Lieutenant Gerhardt said, gesturing to the open rear door. “You first.”

Adeline reluctantly climbed into the sedan, seeing a man was driving the car. The policewoman got in beside her, saying, “Keep the interior light on, and drive Frau Martel home the slow, long way, please. We have much to discuss.”

The driver grunted and put the car in gear. The overhead light went on.

Lieutenant Gerhardt smiled. “You will answer my questions truthfully, yes? It will be bad for you otherwise.”

It was only then that Adeline realized that Kommissariat 5 of the People’s Police meant she was talking with a secret police officer of some sort, like the one who’d taken away her father so long ago.

“Yes?” Lieutenant Gerhardt said, her tone now colder.

“Yes,” Adeline stammered. “If I can.”

“Good. You cook for Colonel Vasiliev?”

“Yes. And for several of his ranking officers.”

“You often go to Berlin to the special commissary there at the colonel’s request?”

Frowning, wondering why she was being asked that, Adeline said, “Yes. He gives me a list and the money. I go and come back. There is always a receipt.”

“You admit you are a frequent visitor of the commissary on Colonel Vasiliev’s behalf. More frequent than almost any other customer. Did you know that?”

Adeline shook her head. “No.”

“It is true. The party keeps track. You see, your colonel is a glutton. He sees himself as better than the others who shop there, and he takes advantage of his position