Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [300]
“What should we do, Uncle?”
“He is your father ... my brother ... our burden, our cross.”
Bruno advanced toward his daughter, took her hand, patted it. “It was good of you to come, Erna,” he said, his voice choking with emotion.
“Froeliche Weinachten, Vater,” she whispered.
Herta ran from the room in order not to show tears.
“Sit, sit,” her father said.
His old pinstripe suit was worn out, but there was still a trace of grandness in it. It hung on him poorly. Even by candlelight she was struck by how he had aged. It was this that gave her a sudden knowledge that a parent was slipping away.
They lived in the same rooms, but the rooms were warm while the others in the building were freezing. The candlesticks were silver. The windows were not covered with tin and boards, but by heavy drapes. The little alcove shared by Erna and Hilde was a tiny luxury of leather couch and desk for Gerd.
As they spoke of small things she realized that his age, his illness, had caused a loss of anger.
“I have learned that you are not well these days, Father.”
“The wear and tear of life. Fate has dealt us cruel blows.”
“Gerd told me it is not necessary for you to work any longer. How do your days pass?”
“I am growing old. I make my peace with God.” He rubbed the back of his hand nervously ... faltered. “How is Hilde’s health?”
“She is happy. She lives in Wiesbaden and works for an American family.”
“The Amis are not too bad. They have paid back much for how they ruined Berlin with their bombs.”
Gerd arrived with his fiancée, Renate Hessler. The girl was only nineteen years of age; Herta assured Erna she was from a “good” German family.
Renate was waxen-faced and moved with the forced gestures of a mannequin. Gerd had her lavishly decorated in a way that belied the hardships outside. Her speech was superficial. She could talk about almost nothing other than clothes.
Ernestine saw her as decorative ornament for Gerd to parade in public. Renate would be trained in the German manner to serve her man. The luxuries Gerd would be able to bring her was ransom enough to assure him he would be allowed innumerable mistresses.
After an exchange of drivel, Erna was tempted to ask Gerd if Renate was a member of the new Germany or the old.
“Ulrich will come?” her father asked for a third time.
“Yes, but Christmas is a bad time for the Oberburgermeister of Berlin. He has many orphanages and hospitals to call upon.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
The electricity in Steglitz Borough was turned on an hour early as a Christmas gift from the Americans. Herta scampered to the stove to prepare the meal.
At long last the car of the Oberburgermeister stopped before the building. A number of passing people stopped, surrounded him. They stood in the snow to shake the hand of Ulrich Falkenstein ... their new “father.”
Erna watched all this from the window above and looked at Gerd and her mother and Renate, and wondered if anything had really changed at all.
As Ulrich disappeared into the building, Erna watched the excitement rise in her father. He stood, adjusted his dress, a shadow of the old pomp, shoulders back, erect.
Gerd welcomed his uncle at the door with a proper bow, then the brothers stood face to face. Ulrich opened his arms and Bruno came to him and they embraced.
“Froeliche Weinachten, Bruno.”
For the first time in her memory, Erna saw her father cry.
Chapter Thirty-six
HILDEGAARD THOUGHT THAT IT was cruel of the Americans to order Colonel Loveless away on Christmas Eve. Clint came home in the afternoon and informed the family that he had to go to the Erding Base. There was a foul-up on the small-parts assembly lines.
Hilde rushed the dinner of goose. It was eaten half-heartedly, the opening of gifts around the tree became confused and miserable. Clint pulled out when the staff car came.