Long Way Home(100)

“Yes, you have! Joe told me how you’ve been trying to help his friend Jim and talking to all his old Army buddies. Joe has been listening to all the advice they gave, and it really helped him. He was so hard on himself in the past because of his shell shock. He said he felt like a coward and a failure for not shaking it off. It really helped him to know that all the others had trouble getting over it, too. He said his friend Jim still struggled, and Joe had always admired him so much.”

“I’m glad,” I said. I remembered what Dr. Morgan had said about long-term hospitalization and wished his buddies’ advice had helped Jimmy, too.

“Joe said that a lot of the men talked about how their wives or girlfriends helped them, but he thought it was all over for us. He thought he had ruined everything and that I didn’t love him anymore. He said when I stepped off the bus, he felt like the sun was shining for the first time in months.” She wiped her eyes and said, “How can I ever thank you, Peggy?”

“Just be happy,” I said. “And take good care of each other.”

I wondered if I would ever find someone to share my life with, the good times as well as the hard times. Something shifted in my heart, and for a brief moment I saw Donna and Pop in the light of Barbara and Joe’s love. They deserved a new start, too. In an apartment all to themselves.

“So what’s next?” I asked Barbara.

“We’re going to get some sleep,” she said, laughing. “Joe went back to your father’s garage for a few hours and I’m going to try to nap here. Then we’re leaving for Ohio together this afternoon.”

“On his motorcycle? All that way?”

She laughed again. “I’m not letting him out of my sight or out of my arms ever again!”

*

I had plenty of time to get dressed and go to church, but I was too cowardly to face Paul Dixon. Instead, I bought the Sunday paper and sat in the park with Buster, searching for an apartment until it was time to ride to the hospital with the Barnetts.

“May I ask you something, Peggy?” Mr. Barnett said as we drove the now-familiar route to the ferry crossing over the Hudson River. “And you can tell me it’s none of my business if you want to. I’ll understand.”

“You can ask me anything.” I tried not to sound too hesitant.

“I ran into Paul Dixon at church this morning and he was looking for you. He asked me if I knew how to get in touch with you. I didn’t know what to say.”

“We’ve been worried about you,” Mrs. Barnett added. “We’ve seen you walking to the clinic from town every morning, and you’re boarding Buster with us . . . Is everything all right?”

“Um . . . yes . . . ,” I managed.

“But where are you living?” Mr. Barnett asked. “Not with your father, I gather. Are you sure you’re okay?”

It was going to be hard to explain it without bawling, but I cleared my throat and summoned my bravest voice. “Well, Pop and Donna thought it was high time I moved out on my own—and they’re right, of course. I’m a grown woman, after all. I’ve been looking for a place that will let me keep Buster, but I haven’t had any luck yet. I’m boarding at Mrs. Jenkins’s guesthouse in the meantime.”

The Barnetts looked at each other across the front seat. Then Mrs. Barnett turned around to face me. “You should have said something, Peggy. We would love it if you and Buster stayed with us. Gordon and I just rattle around in that great big house, and I know you would be good company for us.”

I couldn’t face her. I looked out at the distant mountains instead. “Pop is always telling me I shouldn’t bother you. He says I’m being a pest for spending so much time over at your house.”

“Oh, Peggy,” she laughed. “What a silly thing to worry about. We have plenty of empty bedrooms upstairs, and you are more than welcome to use one of them.”





24


Gisela





AUGUST 1945

On a rainy day in August, I packed the few belongings I owned and climbed into the back of an Army vehicle with a dozen other Buchenwald survivors. Our lives were about to change once again. My new home would be in a displaced persons’ camp in Bensheim, Germany, on the edge of the Odenwald Mountains. Jim and most of the medical team from Buchenwald had been transferred to an Army hospital in Frankfurt, thirty miles away, and they were helping me and the others relocate. Jim promised to visit me whenever he had free time.

I was glad to finally leave Buchenwald. The Allies had divided Germany among themselves, and the concentration camp was now located in the Soviet occupation zone. So was the section of Berlin where my family’s home had once been. The new DP camp in Bensheim was in the American sector, and the nearly one thousand people who lived there with me were all fellow Jews who had somehow survived the Nazis. After an emissary from President Truman had toured the DP camps, the Americans had decided that the needs of displaced Jews were very different from those of other war refugees because we had no homes to return to. The Jewish communities all over Europe where we’d once lived had been destroyed, our homes and businesses confiscated. We were reluctant to return to countries where we would be an unwelcome minority again, so for now, we were placed by ourselves in camps like this one in Bensheim and given a measure of independence to govern ourselves. We were liberated but still not free. Together we faced an unknown, uncertain future.