THE 1999 WADE EDWARDS
SHORT FICTION CONTEST

   A PROJECT OF THE WADE EDWARDS FOUNDATION  RALEIGH, N.C.   WWW.WADE.ORG

Third Place Winner

My True Beloved One

by

Kirsten C. Brewer

Ana stood quietly at the window, wiping up and down mechanically with a soapy rag. It was obvious that she wasn't concentrating on the task at hand; if she had been, she would've noticed that she had been wiping the same spot for almost an hour now, and her rag was stuck to the window with dried soap. And she might also have noticed that Mrs. Svigals was standing at her right elbow, glaring at her.

"Ana!" she finally exclaimed vehemently, grabbing the rag from the girl's hand.

Ana jumped in fright, her green eyes wide. When she saw it was Mrs. Svigals who had yelled, her hand flew to her heart, as if she could reach in and slow it down. Instead, she smoothed out her apron and patted her plaited red curls nervously, hoping she misread the fury flashing in her employer's dark, deep-set eyes.

"I pay you to work, girl, and you daydream?" she admonished, the creases on her face deepening and growing more pronounced. She stared hard at Ana, then something in her seemed to soften, turning her from anger to weariness. "Not that anyone can concentrate in these times. Not with that lunatic, Hitler, running things the way he does in Germany. I appreciate you staying here and working even though this is a Jewish household, Ana."

It took Ana a minute to react to the sudden change in subject, but when she did, a smile spread across her face. It wasn't often that she was complimented, an orphan living in a household of strangers as a mere chambermaid. "Thank you, Mistress Svigals, for having me," she said softly, but with a touch of humor, "even though I was born a Catholic."

Mrs. Svigals gave the girl an appraising glance before letting a friendly smile escape onto her face. "What were you thinking of so long? I was standing here a good half-an-hour before I called out, and you took no notice of me." A knowing look crossed Mrs. Svigals's face. "But I bet I can guess. It is the same thing my Sadie has been daydreaming about, and most other sixteen-year-old girls, no doubt. Do you have a sweetheart?"

Ana blushed furiously. Just how much did this innocent-looking old woman know? Her cheek and mouth seemed warmer than the rest of her flushed face, and she wondered, panic-stricken, if two kiss-marks were burnt onto her face.

"Ah, I can see that you do," Mrs. Svigals said with infuriating conviction. "But who is he? Most of the available boys in this village are Jewish."

Ana's flush deepened, but she ducked her head so the woman wouldn't notice.

"And I don't know if there are any Catholic young men. He must be from the city, am I right?"

"Yes," Ana lied, ducking down to grab her spare rag and wet it. She turned her back to Mrs. Svigals and rubbed at the window pane furiously, working hard and quickly to make up for daydreaming earlier. When she chanced a glance over her shoulder, Mrs. Svigals was gone.

Ana finished her chores early and was putting the kettle on when the front doorbell rang. She hesitated, wondering whether to put her apron back on, but left it when the doorbell rang again, this time more urgently (if a doorbell can sound urgent).

The doorman had quit his post back when Hitler first began to stir things up in Germany, when it was rumored that he was going to invade Poland. But Poland was now protected by strong allies, and none of the other workers had come back. It worried Ana sometimes--could they know something she and the Svigalses did not? Was Hitler really such a threat for countries bordering Germany to be so scared?

Ana swung the door open and at once thanked God that she wasn't wearing her apron. Perchik Stahl, the Rabbi's son, was standing in the door, grinning at her. He looked as handsome as ever, tall and strong with his short brown hair softly curling on his head. His eyes were rich, dark brown with flecks of gold that sparkled and gave him a boyish, mischievous look despite his nineteen years. "Is Sadie here?"

"Sadie!" Ana frowned at him. What do you want with Sadie?"

Perchik stepped up onto the .stoop so he towered over her and kissed her. I wanted to know if she was nearby in case she goes screaming off to her mama about us and you’re driven out of the village with a very sharp pitchfork."

Ana ducked under his shoulder and took a quick glance around before pulling him inside after her and shutting the door behind him. "You seem determined to give us away all by yourself," she told him, leading the way to the kitchen, where the kettle was whistling and sputtering.

"Well, this tired old village will know eventually. I'm getting old and father is bothering me about marriage," he took the cup of tea she had poured for him and sat down.

"You know he would never let you marry me. He was upset enough when you decided not to go to school and become a rabbi, too." Perchik was a nice boy, and he meant well, but he was constantly upsetting his father and being the scandal of the village. He wasn't the type to adhere to rules and was too curious and adventurous to obey religious doctrines. He just did his own thing and often got in trouble because of it.

"Well, we must marry," he informed her. "Jewish men don't keep mistresses."

She threw the dishtowel at his head.

Then Sadie walked in. She stood in the doorway, looking suspiciously at both of them. She knew. Ana saw it in her eyes, or rather, her glare when she looked at her. Her dark brown hair was pulled severely back from her pretty but cold face. To Ana, Sadie resembled a beautiful but mysterious snake, the kind that could or could not be poisonous. And Ana was beginning to believe that Sadie had no lack of venom.

"Perchik," she said. There was a silence. "I was just on my way to your father with a theological question."

"That's nice, Sadie," Perchik replied, taking a leisurely sip of his tea.

"Will you join me? I'm sure I can be better company than a chambermaid."

Perchik's face became stormy, shadowed by anger. "As a matter of fact. . ." he started.

"I need to finish the bedrooms," Ana said, interrupting. She poured her tea, as precious as it was in these times, down the sink, and went out through the back exit. She was halfway up the stairs when she wondered if that was such a great idea. Perchik could be just as angry with her there as with her out of the room. She ran up to the window and sighed with relief when she saw Perchik walking stiffly beside Sadie across the gravel driveway. Disaster had been avoided once again, but Ana wondered how long they could keep it up.

It was an hour later when Sadie returned home, and by then Mrs. Svigals had returned also and was in the downstairs parlor, sipping tea. Ana was sitting on the floor near the fire, reading a book when Sadie stormed into the room, soaking wet.

"Sadie dear, what's the matter with you? You'll catch your death," Mrs. Svigals started.

Sadie interrupted her. "Mama, I need to talk to you."

"Ana will get you into some warm clothes and comb out your hair first, dear."

"No, Mama. I will not let that filthy rat touch me."

"Sadie!"

Cold, tremulous fear stole over Ana, and her heart stopped. Perchik!

"Mother, please tell that ... thing to leave. I can't stand the sight of her."

Ana didn't wait for Mrs. Svigals to say anything. She got up quickly, her forgotten book falling to the floor with a bang as she stood. She went immediately to her room and sat down hard on the bed, letting her head fall into her hands. What could she do? And Perchik. How could he have been so foolish?

Ana sat like that in the dark for what seemed like hours before the door opened and Mrs. Svigals walked in. "Ana?"

Ana looked up, fearing what she would see. To her surprise, Mrs. Svigals looked sad, not angry. She sat down on the stool in the comer of Ana's room and looked at her.

"Ana," she repeated, "I suppose you know what that was about."

"Yes.

"And you know why I must dismiss you?" Mrs. Svigals didn't wait for Ana to respond. "It is not because of you and Perchik. I wish you every happiness. But Sadie ... she's all I have. I cannot bear her to be hurt, and she would never forgive me if I let you stay here any longer."

Ana nodded.

"She is spoiled, I know, and selfish. She always wants to have the best, and Perchik is the best in this town, or so she thinks. Oh, Ana, please forgive her cruelty, and mine. She is crazy with anger now, she doesn't know what she is doing. She is hurt. My little baby! I would give up my life if I knew it would spare her hurt."

Ana stood up, unable to hear anymore. "Shall I leave now? It will take me an hour to get packed."

"No. She is asleep now, she won't know if you stay the night. I couldn't send you out into the night, especially with this weather. I will wake you tomorrow morning and help you pack. Sadie will never know," she babbled, almost like a child deciding in a feverish moment to disobey the express orders of a parent.

"That will be fine, Mrs. Svigals," Ana assured her, feeling surprisingly calm.

"One more thing," Mrs. Svigals told her, looking her directly in the eye, "Perchik did not betray your secret. Sadie made it quite clear that she found out on her own that you two . . ."

"Thank you, Miriam," Ana said, meaning it. She felt that she and her former employer were equals now, seeing the once commanding woman reduced to an elderly old woman with fears and concerns of her own.

"Zol zayn mit mazl un mit glik!" the old woman said, trying to smile. She raised her hand and rested it, briefly, on Ana's cheek, then turned away to leave.

Ana sighed as the door closed. "'Much luck and happiness,"' she translated aloud. "I think I am going to need it."

The next morning, it was not Mrs. Svigals who woke Ana up. It was a gunshot, followed by a pounding on the door. Ana heard someone answer, and then an angry-sounding man's voice. It was a second before Ana identified the source of the anger. The man was speaking German.

She leapt from bed and dressed, tucking her red, curly hair underneath her kerchief and grabbing the nearest thing to a weapon she could find, a small glass paperweight with a flower design inside it.

"Who are you?" someone demanded in rough Polish as soon as she came out into the hall.

"You are the one storming into other people's houses unexpectedly, sir, so I believe I have the right to ask you that same question," Ana responded angrily.

One of the soldiers said something fast and angry in German, gesturing toward the door, and another grabbed Ana roughly and pulled her outside. "March!" he ordered. Ana did so, turning back to see that Sadie and Miriam were being marched also. They stopped in the town square and Ana gasped when she saw the entire town, most in their bedclothes, clustered into the middle of the square next to five or six huge trucks.

She broke away from the soldier and plunged into the crowd. "Perchik!" she called on the top of her lungs. She was jostled and pushed over into the mud by the crowd, and someone helped her up. It was Perchik, looking very afraid.

"What are you doing here, Ana? Tell them. Tell them you're not Jewish, they will let you go!" Perchik grabbed her and tried to push through the crowd, towards the soldiers.

"Ana! You must tell them to spare my Grandfather! He is too old to be of use in work-camps. Tell them!" shouted someone else.

The volume of the crowd went up, people crowding around Ana with messages for the Germans. "Tell them!" they cried. Then Ana heard a familiar voice.

"You must help Sadie, Ana. You are not Jewish, they will listen to you," Mrs. Svigals begged, her eyes wide with fear. "Please."

A shot was fired into the air and the crowd was silenced. "You will answer to your names!" barked a soldier. He was holding an old book that Ana recognized as the town register in his hand. In it was recorded all of the town's names, birth-dates, and religions.

Perchik noticed, too. "Just answer to your name, Ana," he whispered to her. "It says you are not Jewish!"

"Aplestein, Itzhak!" the soldier cried out.

A crippled old man shuffled out of the crowd, and a soldier said something in German. Another drew his pistol and shot the man through the head.

Complete silence settled over the town square, except for the rough call of the German and the barking of the fierce dogs they held on thick leather leashes.

"Stahl, Perchik! Stahl, Rubin!" he called out. The old Rabbi stepped forward quickly and was hustled onto the first truck.

"Svigals, Miriam! Svigals, Sadie!"

Perchik kissed Ana and pushed forward, through the crowd. Ana followed, keeping right behind him. Both were shoved up to a table where a fat German soldier was writing down names.

"Stahl, Perchik," Perchik said.

"Svigals, Sadie," Ana recited, trying to keep the quaver from her voice.

Perchik turned around, eyes wide. Ana smiled.

"Third car," the soldier told them without looking up.

Ana gabbed Perchik's hand and they began to walk.

"Mayn libstn nokh gefinen," murmured Perchik, looking down on Ana lovingly.

"I had better be your 'true beloved one,' Perchik Stahl," she responded. "We're going to get married, aren't we?"

As they boarded the truck, Ana heard the soldiers call her name, and saw Sadie answer to it. They gave her papers and released her.

The next moment, the sun broke through the clouds and cast a rosy glow on the village. Ana memorized the scene and closed her eyes, nestling against Perchik and walking, without regrets into the dark car.