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

looked better than he had in weeks and was building a fire.

In the kitchen, Frau Schmidt was working at the oven. When she heard the door shut, she turned, saying, “Adeline, did . . . Are you all right?”

“I’m trying, Greta!” Adeline said, and then burst into tears.

As her husband rose in concern, the older woman rushed across the room to Adeline. “My dear, whatever’s the matter?”

“It’s always hard this time of year, not knowing,” she wept. “And that evil woman Lieutenant Gerhardt told me Emil was put in a camp where disease has killed nearly everyone. He’s been gone since March last year, and I have no word whether he’s dead or alive.”

Frau Schmidt hugged her, saying, “I can’t imagine. But you have your sons. No matter what, you’ll have Emil’s spirit in them.”

Remembering that her friends had lost their son in the war, she stopped crying and pulled back to look at the elderly woman, who had a wistfulness about her.

“Thank you for reminding me how lucky I am, Greta,” Adeline said.

Will burst into the house. “Mama, come quick. You’ve got to see the sky. It’s so . . . I mean, you won’t believe it!”

She hesitated, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her coat.

“Go on,” Frau Schmidt said. “Your sons are giving you a present you won’t believe. Could there be anything better than that?”

Adeline gazed at her, smiled softly, and shook her head. “Thank you,” she said again.

Buttoning her coat and putting her scarf over her head, she went outside where Walt and Will were peering up in awe. She followed their gaze and gasped.

The sun had almost sunk below the horizon, but its dying light was throwing fire at five clouds stretched out in long, thin spirals, painting them in rich reds, golds, and purples, like so many ribbons festooned in the sky above them, slowly rotating as if blown by a spiraling breeze. Smiling up at the ribbon clouds, Adeline felt her sons come in beside her and wrap their arms around her waist.

“Merry Christmas from heaven, Mama,” Walt said.

Adeline felt the tears flow again and hugged both her boys tight, still watching the sky when she heard the door open and footsteps on the porch.

Frau Schmidt said, “Will you look at that!”

“Isn’t it incredible?” Adeline said, looking over at her friend and smiling.

“Peter!” Frau Schmidt called. “Come look before it’s gone!”

Her husband came out, struggling into his jacket but stopping when he looked up and saw the ribbons. His jaw hung loose a moment. “My God, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

The colors in the clouds changed with every minute that passed, turning redder and more purple than gold, and then only purple before darkness took the gift of the ribbons in the sky and made them a cherished memory.

“Did you like your present?” Will said as they walked back toward the farmhouse.

“One of the best presents ever, thank you,” Adeline said, hugging both boys tight.

Frau Schmidt was already back puttering in her kitchen when they entered. And Herr Schmidt was still in his heavy coat and winter hat, squatting to light the fire, which began to dance in the stove while Adeline and the boys took off their winter clothes.

“That will feel good in about fifteen minutes,” Walt said.

“I just like watching fire,” Will said.

“Everyone does,” Herr Schmidt said, closing the stove door and tousling Will’s hair before removing his hat and coat. “Would you like to sing some carols?”

Both boys clapped and looked to Adeline, who was not entirely in the mood for singing. But she nodded. “That would be nice.”

Frau Schmidt called out, “Peter!”

“Greta?” he said.

“You said there was something in the post for Adeline.”

“Ahh,” he said, wagging his finger as if just remembering. “I put it here, I think.” He reached into his coat’s inner breast pocket and came out with a slim envelope. “I don’t know why they sent it here. You’ve been gone almost a year.”

Equally puzzled, Adeline took it, seeing the typed address with her name, care of the Schmidts, and a return address, “IRC-DPC-Alfeld.”

The boys went into the kitchen where Frau Schmidt was pulling cookies from the oven.

“Where’s Alfeld?” Adeline asked as she turned the envelope over, seeing the flap was partially unsealed or had been resealed poorly.

“No idea,” Herr Schmidt said. “Then again, my memory is not what it used to be.”

Putting a finger under the raised flap, Adeline tore it open and retrieved a single sheet of paper before unfolding it. She began to read the typed letter. As she did, her free hand started to tremble and then to travel shakily to her lips. Her eyes blurred before she rocked back her head and threw up her hands, screaming in a mixture of disbelief and pure joy.

“My God, boys, it’s from the International Red Cross! Papa’s alive and free! He’s waiting for us in the West!”

The boys began to jump up and down and scream with her.

“Where is he?” Will cried.

“A displaced persons camp in a place called Alfeld! The British Zone!”

Walt calmed down and looked confused. “How did he get there?”

She looked at the letter through tears that she had to brush aside to reread it. “It doesn’t say. It just says he’s waiting for us to write to him.”

The Schmidts shared in their happiness, which was contagious that night. They ate and drank and toasted before Herr Schmidt went to the piano and played a jaunty tune Adeline did not recognize. But it had a toe-tapping quality that reminded her of the song an accordion player had performed at her wedding and how she and Emil had danced to it like they’d gone to sleep in Russia and woken up in paradise.

She held her hands out to Will and to Walt.

“What are we doing?” Walt asked when she began to tug their arms this way and that.

“We’re dancing,” she said. “We’re dancing the night away because your father is alive!”

PART FIVE:

THE LAST GREEN VALLEY