Long Way Home(70)

“When will this war ever end?” she asked.

“We’re all asking that question, Ruthie. Right now, no one knows the answer. But did you see all those airplanes the Americans sent today?” A shudder rocked through her as she nodded. “They are just as strong as the Nazis are. Everyone says that the Americans are going to defeat them soon. We just need to be patient.”

She was quiet for a long moment as we sat holding each other. “Do you think we’ll ever see Vati and Mutti again?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“Only God knows. But no matter what, we still have each other.”

I ended up staying through the night. Ruthie and I talked and reminisced, and we both dozed for a bit, curled up on the broad window seat together. Whether Sister Marie forgot about us or whether she was giving us a few hours together, I would never know. But I was grateful. A different nun came in the morning and told Ruthie it was time for breakfast. We hugged and said goodbye, and I left. I needed to go home, bathe, and change my uniform for my day shift at the hospital. My rumbling stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten.

I had to walk through the ruined streets for a long way until I found a trolley line that was still intact. As I stood waiting to board, I realized I didn’t have a token. I hadn’t thought to bring money or a purse as I had rushed out of the hospital to climb into the ambulance. The conductor looked at me and seemed to take in my disheveled condition.

“You been helping out?” he asked. I could only nod. He gestured for me to climb aboard and he let me ride without paying the fare. I made it home and then to the hospital in time to report for my shift. A news vendor was hawking papers in front of the entrance and I paused to read the headlines. The Nazis were gloating, of course, that the Americans had missed the factory and destroyed a Belgian town. They listed the grim statistics in huge font: thousands had been injured. Nearly ninety were still missing. More than nine hundred people had died so far, including two hundred children. Four schools had been hit. Out of the 3,700 homes in the village of Mortsel, more than 3,400 had been destroyed or heavily damaged.

Later, when it was time for my lunch break, I went into the hospital chapel and knelt on the carpeted kneeler as I had been taught to do. There had been many, many times when I’d been angry with God for everything that my family was suffering. Times when it had been impossible to pray. But today I needed to thank God for sparing Ruthie. A simple school outing to the forest had saved her. Maybe a miracle would save Sam and my parents, too.

I looked up at the man being tortured to death on the crucifix. A Jewish man named Jesus. And I thanked God that this Jewish man’s followers were helping us.





17


Peggy





JULY 1946

Three days after Donna told me about the job at the pharmacy, I dressed in my Sunday best and walked into town to apply for it. My anxiety mushroomed as I got closer to the store until I could feel the pressure building in my chest, squeezing my lungs. I hadn’t reacted this way when I’d applied at the IBM factory, but then I had been just one among hundreds of women. I didn’t know any of the others and they hadn’t known me. And I had wanted to help win the war.

A chime sounded when I opened the door. Joanie Edmonds stood behind the counter, straightening a display of Life Savers. She cocked her head to the side in her perky way and smiled her perfect smile. “May I help you, miss?”

Was it possible that she didn’t recognize me? I couldn’t remember the last time we’d seen each other. Probably not since high school. I usually shopped in neighboring villages to avoid meeting people from town. “I heard you’re looking for someone to work here,” I said. “I’m Peggy Serrano.” Joanie stared at me, her smile frozen as if she couldn’t put the familiar name and the unfamiliar face together. I nearly turned around and bolted from the store. Then her eyes widened and she suddenly seemed to recognize the “dog girl” behind the adult facade.

“Oh! Right! Peggy! Of course. I’ll get you an application.” She disappeared into the back. I drew a deep breath and took a moment to look around. The ceiling seemed close enough to touch, the neon lights humming and glowing with an unnatural bluish light. Display shelves crowded together, jam-packed with items like Pepto-Bismol and aspirin and Alka-Seltzer. Two barefoot boys stood beside a rack of magazines near the front window, thumbing through the comic books. I glimpsed Mr. Edmonds behind the window of his raised office, wearing a white jacket and dark-rimmed glasses as he filled prescriptions. A teenage couple sat on swiveling stools at the soda fountain, gazing into each other’s eyes and sipping from the same malted milk through two straws.

My panic soared. I couldn’t spend eight hours a day trapped in here, smiling at customers and making ice cream sodas. I was used to the outdoors, with open spaces and views of the mountains. When I had worked for Pop, I never stayed in his office a moment longer than I had to. And the only reason I could work inside the IBM plant all day was because I had wanted to help win the war.

Joanie returned with the application and a pen. “You can sit at the soda fountain and fill it out if you want to, Peggy.” She emphasized my name as if to let me know that she recognized me now. I wondered if she was going to bark and howl at me like she used to do.

My hand shook as I took the application from her. “Thanks. I’ll fill it out at home and bring it back.”