Long Way Home(112)

When I came back, Uncle Aaron handed me a letter. “This came for you a while back. I think it’s from him. I didn’t open it.”

I swallowed my outrage as I tore open the envelope and pulled out the note, reminding myself that my aunt and uncle had been kind to take Ruthie and me into their home. They had agreed to support us when they had so very little of their own. The note was from Jim:

Dear Gisela,

I finally received the name and address of Sam’s commanding officer in the Jewish Brigade. You can reach him at the enclosed address in Palestine. I hope he can tell you more about Sam and his time in the service.

Your uncle told me about your decision to be free from me and our “marriage,” and I want you to know that I understand and will respect it. I wish you all the best in your new life in America.

Your friend always,

Jim Barnett

We were about to leave when Peggy said, “If you still have the papers saying that you’re his wife, you should bring them. You’ll able to make decisions about his medical treatment along with his parents.”

Peggy called Jim’s parents from Grand Central station, and they were waiting for us when we arrived at the end of our journey. Jim and his father had the same tall, angular build. They stood and moved and walked alike and had the same broad hands. His mother’s gray-green eyes were the same color as Jim’s, the color of the sea. She pulled me into her arms for a long embrace, loving me without question. Jim had poured out that same love on everyone in Buchenwald. I melted into her arms. We climbed into their car and crossed the river on a ferry. Peggy told my story to Jim’s parents on the ride home.

Home. We arrived at the home where Jim grew up a short time later. The dog who greeted me, wagging his entire hindquarters along with his tail, looked like he was smiling up at me. Jim’s mother opened her refrigerator and spread a banquet of food on the table for Peggy and me. I hoped she understood how overwhelming it was and why I could put only a few things on my plate. I wanted to rush to the hospital immediately but night had fallen.

“What time can we see Jim tomorrow?” I asked.

His mother shook her head. “Visiting hours are only on Sundays. We’ll have to wait another week to visit him again.”

“But why should we wait? We’re the people who care about him. We’re his family, and I am a nurse. Jim needs to come home.”

“I agree,” Jim’s father said. He slapped his hand on the table for emphasis. “The doctors had their chance to help him. We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow and bring him home.”

We talked and talked until it was very late. Jim’s mother showed me to a lovely bedroom of my own on the second floor. I halted in the doorway. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

It took me a moment to put my feelings into words. “There’s nobody else in it. I’m not used to sleeping all alone.” For as long as I could remember I had shared a room with someone—first with Ruthie, then with my roommates at nursing school, then jammed in with countless others in Buchenwald and the DP camp. I had slept alone in the tiny pantry in the former SS barracks for a few months, but there had been other people and lots of activity just outside my door. Except for the sound of insects beyond the open windows, this room was deathly quiet.

“You can stay with me, in my room,” Peggy said. “It has two beds.” I accepted her offer with great relief.

I washed in the sparkling bathroom, put on my pajamas, and climbed into bed. Peggy got into her bed and switched off the light. “I’m so excited you’re here, Gisela, and that you want to help Jimmy. Gosh, I don’t know how I’ll ever fall asleep! I’ve been hoping we could bring him home from the hospital for the longest time.”

There was something very comforting about talking to my new friend in the dark in this cozy room. Only a few hours ago, I had been in the bustling city, miles from this peaceful place, working in the bakery and trying to adjust to my new life in America. I hadn’t known that Peggy even existed. But she had quickly become my friend, just as Jimmy had in Buchenwald.

“I’m still very sorry for the way everything happened,” I said. “It was cruel of my uncle to send Jim away. I could tell that he was depressed when we were still in Germany, but I thought he would be all right once he got home.” And yet Jim had told me about the overwhelming darkness he’d felt. I could see why he hadn’t wanted to bring that darkness home to these lovely people.

“We’ve been talking to Jimmy’s Army buddies and following his journey through the war,” Peggy said. “Jimmy loved God and had a very strong faith when he left home. Even in the beginning when he first went overseas, he was always reading his Bible and encouraging everyone. But later on, he stopped. As the war went on, I think he may have lost his faith in a loving God.”

“He did. Jim told me he did.”

“That’s awful!”

“He talked about the terrible darkness he felt. Maybe he tried to kill himself in order to escape from it.”

“If that’s true, then we have to find a way to bring him back into the light. Back to his faith in God.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t know the way back. I lived beneath the same shadow myself, with only a tiny spark of light. Everything I’d been doing for the past few months—traveling to New York City, getting reacquainted with my uncle and his family, helping Ruthie feel settled and at home—those things had kept the light burning dimly in my heart. And the work Jim did in Buchenwald had kept his darkness away for a time. But when he’d arrived home, when my uncle told him I didn’t want his help, the darkness must have finally overwhelmed him. I longed to help him as badly as Peggy did, but I didn’t know how.