A Trespass in Time (6 page)

            “I’m here,” Ella said, “because I’m trying to find some of my family and I think you might have known them. Your maiden name was Klaus, right? And that was my maternal grandmother’s name. I know it’s a common name—”

            The woman leaned toward Ella as if she were going to tell a secret that she didn’t want Hugo to know but Hugo leaned in, too, because, of course, Ella couldn’t understand her.

            “I was born Erica Klaus,” she said. “Which was my mother’s maiden name. She married during the war and changed her name to Vogel. But I stayed Erica Klaus.”

            Ella nodded and looked at Hugo. He appeared to be very interested all of a sudden and she couldn’t understand why.

            “I have a memory at four years old of a family visit,” the old woman continued. “My two older sisters, and my brother came to visit me. My sister Jana was nearest my age. I remember we played with paper dolls together. My other sister was a grown woman…or so she seemed to me at the time.”

            Came to visit her?

            “You did not all live together?” Ella asked.

            Frau Weiss smiled sadly. “Mine was not a sad childhood,” she said. “I knew love. I was cared for.”

            Ella looked at Hugo and her eyes were wide with concern. He was not looking at Ella. He was focused on the old woman. Ella watched him lean out and take her hand and she smiled at him and patted his own hand with her withered, spotted one.

            “What’s going on, Hugo?” Ella asked. “I’m confused. I don’t know any
Vogel
in my family tree. Does this make any sense?”

            Hugo spoke softly to the old woman and she nodded and turned to Ella. She spoke in slow, methodical German and Ella understood only snatches of it.

            “She says when the war ended, she saw her mother and Jana a final time. She was ten years old and Jana told her that they were going by the name
Klaus
again which made Frau Weiss happy because they all had the same name again.”

            Ella looked at Hugo. “Who was Klaus?” she asked. “I thought he was my mother’s father. But then who’s Vogel? And why call themselves Klaus again?”

            “We don’t yet know the relationship between your mother and Frau Weiss,” Hugo reminded her. Ella could see he was not one bit bored and she wondered what had changed and what she had missed.

            “My mother had a little brother named Hans,” Ella said to her. “My grandmother’s name was Elise.” Ella held her breath as she waited for the old woman’s response.

            Frau Weiss said simply, as if she had known it all along:
“Sie sind meine Nichte.”  

            “She says you’re her niece,” Hugo said, frowning.

            Ella reached out and took the old lady’s hand. “That’s amazing! How come you’re not acting like this is incredible, Hugo?”

            Hugo shook his head. “No, of course, it is wonderful. Truly.”

            “My name is Ella Stevens,” Ella said and the woman clapped her hands together in delight.

            “
Abe rich heisse Ella
.”

            “
Mein Gott
,” Hugo said. Ella looked at him in surprise.

            “She says her nickname is Ella.”

            Ella felt as if her mother had reached out beyond the grave to the two Ellas sitting there and touched them. Ella searched the woman’s face for any trace or resemblance of her mother.

            “I can’t believe I’ve found you,” Ella said, tears filling her eyes. “Ask her why she didn’t live with my mother. Why they didn’t live as a family.”

            “Are you sure, Ella?” Hugo said. “It may be embarrassing to her.”

            “Then ask her who visits her here,” Ella said. “What family comes to see her.”

            Frau Weiss listened intently to Hugo’s question and then turned back to Ella.

            “They are all dead,” she said. “My husband had a large family but all I had was my mother, my sisters and my brother.”

            “What happened to them?” Ella asked.

            “My brother, Hans, died as a little boy,” Frau Weiss said. Ella knew that her mother’s brother died young. “The rest emigrated to America after the war.”

            “Ask her why she didn’t come too,” Ella said.

            “Ella,” Hugo protested. “It may be too painful for her.”

            “It was seventy years ago,” Ella said. “Please ask her.”

            When Hugo asked, Frau Weiss began to cry.

            “I was to stay in the orphanage in Germany,” she said. “It was my mother’s wish.”

           
Orphanage?
Ella looked at Hugo and he made a face.

            “I knew there couldn’t be a happy reason why she wasn’t with the rest of the family,” he said. “Since she obviously wasn’t mentally impaired or crippled. I figured it meant she was probably illegitimate.”

            Ella looked back at her aunt who was looking at Hugo as if trying to figure out what he was saying.

            “So, my grandmother had a child by another man,” Ella said, “while married to my grandfather? Couldn’t she have just passed her off as his?”

            “Love the way your mind runs,” Hugo said wryly. “Good to know. But if her husband was away because of the war, he probably would have figured out it couldn’t be his.”

            “So she was institutionalized. This is sad, Hugo.
Really
sad.”

            “A lot about that war was sad,” Hugo said. Ella had to look twice to register that the always-jolly Hugo was making such a serious comment.

            “So they just left her here in Germany.”

            “Appears so.”

            Ella leaned out of her chair and put her arms around the woman and hugged her tight and felt the shaky arms of her aunt clutching tightly around her. With a shock, Ella realized that, for the first time ever, she felt like she was embracing her mother.

            An hour later, after assuring her aunt that she would be back to see her, Ella and Hugo were in his car and heading back to Heidelberg. Ella was emotionally exhausted but exhilarated.

           
She had found a piece of her mother!
She had found the woman she had been named after.
Her
blood ran in Ella and vice versa. For an only child, whose only family had come from her father’s side of the family—and none of them had she ever had anything in common with—it was nothing short of a miracle. Ella could not stop smiling.

            “Well, I’m probably not going to do it right away,” she said to Hugo, “but now I’ve got another name to track down to see if I have any more relatives around here. Who did she say my Grandmother married? Rudolf Vogel? I cannot thank you enough, Hugo, for spending the full day doing this with me. I definitely owe you dinner.”

            “You really don’t know who Rudolf Vogel is?”

            Ella looked at him. “You recognize that name?”

            “Every school child in Germany would recognize that name,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel. “It is the name of the
Butcher of
Auschwitz
who was hanged by the Allies at the Nuremberg Trials in 1945.”

Chapter Four

            Well, it explained a lot.

            Ella stood in her kitchen late that evening and fried up a couple of eggs for dinner.

It explained why her mother’s family left Germany, why they changed their name—and why it had been impossible to do a successful genealogy search before now.

            Ella sat down with her eggs and a can of lager and stared out the window into the dark. It also explained why her mother had taken every dangerous assignment the CIA could possibly hand out. She had been wracked with shame and determined to make it up in some impossible way—right up to the moment she gave her life for her new country.

            Ella thought about calling Rowan but resisted picking up the phone and found herself wondering why. It was true that the last couple of calls had been awkward. She realized that she’d found excuses not to call him in the last week or so and more than once she had screened calls from him. So now when she had a real reason to talk with him, to someone she was genuinely and personally connected to, she no longer felt comfortable doing it. Somewhere between the boring drudge that was her nine to five and the shallow activities that were her evenings, she realized she had let go the idea of him, let go of the magic, the warmth, the wonder of him.

            She pushed her uneaten plate of eggs away and sat down on the couch with her beer. Her cellphone was on the coffee table but she tried to remember the last time he had called. Had
she
pulled away first or did he?

            He had been back in Dothan three weeks by now. If she looked at the situation realistically for just a minute, she couldn’t imagine a hot guy like Rowan sleeping alone every night. Even if he had intended to, there’d always be somebody winking or flirting with him.
You don’t get to be that cute without a lot of women paying attention to you. No way he was still alone
. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was sure
he
was the one who had stopped calling
her
. What a fool she was to think he was back home waiting for her. He’d obviously hooked up with someone in Dothan—someone real and in his own continent—and like every other guy she ever met, he didn’t want to break the news to her.

            She thought back on her college boyfriend. She had been convinced that he was
the One
. And for awhile it had been pretty perfect. But when he dumped her—taking her totally by surprise—he said it wasn’t because he didn’t love her any more.
How’s that for an original dump line?
she thought, ruefully. He said it was because she didn’t need him and he needed a girl who did. Bizarre. She thought so then. She thought so now.

            As for Rowan, it probably was never real anyway.
How could it be?
How could you know a person in just one weekend? She glanced over at the lamp table where she kept a framed photo of the two of them. A waiter had taken it the Saturday before she left. Sure, he was good looking. The crooked smile, the twinkle in the eyes, she could see how she—or some other love-starved woman—would be charmed by that.

            Doesn’t mean it’s real.

            Feeling more alone than she had since she first moved to Heidelberg, Ella ate her cold dinner in front of the television set and focused on trying to decipher the German dialogue to keep herself from thinking.

            Even though he’d officially been back on the job three weeks, the guys were just now getting around to the official welcome at their local Dothan watering hole. It was great to be back. Not that he needed an enforced administrative leave of absence to tell him he didn’t like to be idle. But the time away from work had been particularly hard on him. He joked with the guys at the bar tonight that the next time he was shot, he’d remember that the bullet was the least painful part of the whole process. That got a few wry laughs. Fact is, he was the only one in his office to ever take a bullet. That put him in sort of a special class as far as the other Deputy Marshals were concerned.

            “How ya doing, sport?” Gary Shipley smacked another frosted beer bottle down on the bar in front of Rowan to join the dozen or so other full bottles that people had been buying him all evening. “Pacing yourself, I hope?”

            Rowan grinned at him and took a long pull on the beer. He felt talked out and was happy to just sit and drink tonight. Fact is, the more he drank, the less he felt like talking.

            Gary had been on assignment the last month and this was the first time Rowan had seen him since before he was shot. Gary looked different. He was tan and lean, like he’d been working out instead of just bragging about it. His hair was cropped close but not shaved like it often was. And there was something else.

            Gary settled himself down on the barstool next to Rowan.

            “Seriously, man,” he said. “You really ready to come back? You look kinda…I don’t know, unhappy.”

            Now that was different. Gary was the least perceptive person Rowan knew.

            “I’m great,” Rowan said.

            “Well, no sir, anyone can see that you are
not
great. You look all hangdog and…holy shit. You’re in love. Son of a bitch!”

            Rowan stared at him.

            “Who the fuck is it?” Gary said. “Do I know her? Did I
do
her?” He laughed. “No, seriously, Ro, who is she? You meet her in Atlanta?”

            “Stop talking.”

            “Soon as you
start
talking.”

            “You don’t know her.”

            “So it
is
a woman. I knew it! She in Dothan?”

            “No.”

            “So, Atlanta. Well? What’s the problem?”

            “There is no problem.”

            “Okay, Ro, I’ve never seen you like this, like ever. You look like some kind of fucking poster child for lovesick puppies or something. Talk to Uncle Gary.”

            “Go fuck yourself.”

            “Well, it’s a start. Hey, you hear I’m engaged?”

            Rowan’s hand was poised in midair as he lifted the bottle to his lips. He brought it down without drinking. So that’s the difference he was seeing. Gary was in love. Rowan smiled and tapped his bottle to the heel of Gary’s bottle.

            “Cheers, man,” he said. “That’s great. Who’s the lucky girl?”

            “It’s me that’s lucky, man,” Gary said, his eyes glittering as he thought about his girl. “She’s an angel. I can’t believe she said yes.”

           
Wow
, Rowan thought. The transformative power of love. It truly was a sight to behold.