Page 33 of The Lies We Leave Behind

33

Gisela

“Tell me,” she said, struggling to sit up, the knit hat on her head too big, her dressing gown gaping open to reveal jutting collarbones and sunken skin flushed pink from either fever, the fire lit in the fireplace in her bedroom, or both. “Did my traitor of a sister help you?”

Every instinct told me to help. The sick and wounded were my responsibility. I’d taken an oath. I’d sung a song with my chosen sisters.

But I resisted.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, moving across the room to stand beside my father’s bureau, my eyes never leaving her. She, like my father, had always slept with a gun in arm’s reach. I could imagine her small silver pistol resting beneath her pillows, waiting for the moment to use it.

“When we got the news you were dead, two years after she and that husband of hers disappeared, there was a part of me that wondered,” she said. “Something about it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but...” She shrugged. “The two of you were so close. So alike. If you wanted to be dead, I decided so be it. Your escort returned with a certificate of death and your ashes. I didn’t question it. Your father had one of his contacts investigate, but he came back with the same information. We had a funeral, a gravestone was placed, and it was done.”

It had been an elaborate plan with more moving pieces than I’d known about until it was all said and done. I remembered my terror. That my parents would find out. That they’d come for me—or at least send someone to collect me. But my aunt and uncle had every possible angle covered—from my fake pen pal and her family in California, the car crash that supposedly killed me and left my body burned beyond recognition, and the news reports in the papers. The escort that had come with me was one of my uncle’s people. The man sent by my father to investigate, also one of my uncle’s men.

The truth was, there had been no body in the car that went careening off a particularly windy coastal road at night. And the people I was supposedly with, friends of the fake family my parents thought I was staying with, didn’t exist. It had been a network of people and lies, feeding my parents information that made them feel as though not only was I in safe hands, but through me, they would be making a wealthy connection in America—one they might be able to use to their advantage in the future. My death didn’t sadden them so much as disappoint them because of the contact they’d lost because of me, their eldest, who in their eyes had always failed them.

“And did you grieve?” I asked my mother now.

“I wore black for as long as I could stand it. I never did look good in dark colors. Our friends were of course devastated for us. We received a number of lovely gifts. The Seidels offered us their summer home in Spain for a month.”

“Did you go?”

“Of course. It was very therapeutic. I found a gorgeous little desk for the guest room en suite.”

I inhaled, letting her words wash over me. Her eldest child had died, or so she had been told, and she’d gone to Spain to soak up the sun and shop. I hadn’t expected anything different from her, but it was shocking nonetheless. And of course there was no mention of Cat. How she’d coped. How the loss of her sister had affected her. Our parents probably hadn’t even noticed. That would’ve been Nanny Paulina’s job.

“Light some candles,” Mother said. “I want to see you.”

I knew she would want to see what had become of me without her to guide me, keep me painfully thin, groom me into the same kind of monster she was.

I felt around on the bureau and found a candle and a box of matches. I lit one, then noticed several more placed around the room and lit them as well before standing at the foot of her bed and taking her in as she did the same of me.

For someone who had never left her bedroom without a full face of makeup and every hair in place, wearing a beautiful outfit made especially for her, to see her now was shocking. Her blond hair was white, her face sallow and sunken, pale blue eyes cloudy, body emaciated to such a degree it was hard to look at.

“You’ve gotten fat,” she said and I nearly laughed.

I was not what anyone would call fat. Unless, of course, you were my mother.

“What have you done with your life?” she asked. “Where did you go? What ridiculous things did my idiot sister get you into? You were with her, were you not? Tell me now.”

“I’m not here to talk about me. I merely came to see you.”

“Because I’m dying?” She waved a bony hand. “You were always too sentimental for your own good. Too teary and pleading and tenderhearted. Always wanting to save something or someone that wasn’t worth our time or money. Like your little friend. What was her name?”

I stiffened, sound rushing into my ears, my hands balling into fists at my side.

Ruthie.

When I didn’t speak she continued.

“You should’ve thanked me when I recommended her father be brought in for questioning. Who knows what he was doing to the Germans stupid enough to see a Jewish doctor.”

My blood ran cold, my chest burning with hatred, tears welling in my eyes. Part of me had always wondered if she’d had something to do with Mr. Friedman’s arrest, but I hadn’t wanted to believe my own mother would do such a thing to my best friend’s father.

She waved her hand again, impatient with my emotions.

“What did I always tell you about those feelings of yours?”

“Bury them,” I murmured, wiping away the tear running down my cheek. “They have no place on one’s face.”

“Good girl. Now, tell me the real reason you’re here.”

“You know why.”

“You’ve come for Catrin.” As she said it, her eyes flicked over me again, a sneer lifting one side of her dry, thin lips.

“I have.”

“Well, you’ve just missed her and I’m afraid she won’t be back for some time. She can only come when her work allows.”

I wanted to ask what kind of work my sister did, but didn’t want to give my mother the satisfaction of having information I didn’t. Even though we both knew she did.

“I might be here a while,” I said. “Perhaps I’ll see her when she’s next in town.”

“Perhaps, though I wouldn’t expect a happy reunion.”

“And why is that?”

My mother’s eyes flashed.

“You left her. You deserted her. And when she finds out it was on purpose...”

“She was meant to come too. We had a plan.”

“She’d never have gone.”

“Of course she would have. To be with me.”

“I always knew you were foolish, Gisela, but I didn’t know you were downright stupid. Catrin is not you. She is made from something different. Something stronger. She is a Holl?nder. Unlike you.”

I didn’t want to believe what she was telling me. Couldn’t even fathom what she was hinting at, and so I turned my gaze elsewhere, refusing to let her pull me in and rile me.

“Tell me what you’ve done with your life in America,” my mother said, her voice taking on the familiar tone of disinterest. “I’m assuming that’s where you’ve been all these years?”

“I’m a nurse,” I said, ignoring her question.

Her cackle filled the room and I felt acute satisfaction when she began to cough and choke, Paulina running in to help her sit up and holding a glass of water to her mouth when the fit had finally begun to subside.

“Some nurse,” my mother gasped, spittle from her sip of water spraying the air in front of her. “Clearly, you’re no good at it, the way you just stood there as the dying woman before you choked.”

“You’re no woman,” I whispered. “You’re a monster.”

I watched her for a moment more, her frail frame seizing with another coughing fit, Paulina standing by with the water glass, waiting patiently. When the coughing stopped again, Paulina pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed my mother’s thin, dry lips and helped her back onto her pillows, tucking the blankets around her as she mercifully fell asleep. When Paulina pocketed the handkerchief once more, I noticed the blood on it.

“She’ll sleep for a few hours,” she said. “The talking and coughing will have worn her out.”

I nodded, gave the woman that had given birth to me a last look, and turned on my heel.

By habit, I walked down the hall and took a right, hurrying down another corridor, anxious to put as much distance as I could between me and my mother. I was halfway to the door at the end of the hallway when I stopped, realizing where I was heading. My childhood bedroom.

The door was closed, and I paused as I reached for the knob, bracing myself for what was on the other side.

Taking a breath, I opened the door and stood on the threshold, staring in wonder.

It was like a time capsule. Everything in its place, as if I’d never left. As if I were coming back at any moment to pick up the book lying open on my vanity, or snuggle up to the white teddy bear nestled beside my pillow. Mila, I’d called it. A gift from my aunt when I’d turned four.

The air was musty, but the layer of dust I expected wasn’t there.

“She makes me dust the entire house.”

I turned at the sound of Paulina’s voice.

“How would she know?” I asked. “It doesn’t look like she gets around much anymore.”

“She doesn’t,” she said, running a hand down her uniform, which sagged on a body that had once been rounder, but was now thin from the scarcity of food. “But the truth is, I need to do something to fill the hours. She sleeps a lot, which, as I’m sure you can imagine, is a relief. When she’s awake she’s...”

“A tyrant?”

“Unpleasant.”

I smirked at the polite word and she shrugged.

“As I said, I’d have left,” she said, wandering my old room, her fingers trailing over ballerina figurines and tiny glass flowers in a tiny glass vase. “But I was willing to look the other way because of the protection it afforded me. And of course, in the beginning there was the matter of caring for your sister. And getting word to your aunt.”

“My aunt,” I said, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Someone had to get information to her when you couldn’t. Let her know you were on your way. Had made it onto the boat safely.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Do you know how your mother found me?” Paulina asked. “The year before you were born, she was asking around about nannies. Her good friend Alina recommended me. We’d met years before. At a meeting.”

Alina was the woman who had gone with me to America when I was sixteen.

“You knew,” I whispered.

“I knew,” she said.

“That’s why you didn’t seem shocked to see me at the door.”

“Oh. I was shocked. I knew you didn’t die ten years ago, but I never thought you’d return here.”

I sat on the bed that had once been my sanctuary.

“Once I learned Cat was alive... I had to. No matter what kind of danger it put me in. To know she’d been here all this time, waiting for me to make good on the promise I’d made to her the day I left... I couldn’t stay away.” I looked around the room again and then back at Paulina. “If you knew I was alive and with my aunt, how come you never let her know Catrin was alive?”

She sighed and sat in the armchair I used to curl up in with one of the many books I’d spent my allowance on.

“When the plan to get your sister out failed and the network fell apart, I took it upon myself to care for Cat the best I could, mostly from afar. I tried, Gisela. Oh, how I tried. Whenever your parents weren’t around, I told her stories I’d memorized and tried to feed her little brain the same things yours had been fed by your aunt. Kindness and empathy. Right and wrong. But Cat was— is —not you.”

“What does that mean, Paulina?”

“Did you look at the address I gave you? For where you could find her?”

I shook my head as I reached into my pocket for the piece of paper. For a moment I just held it, but then, as Paulina watched, I unfolded it and stared down at the hastily written address.

“Berlin,” I whispered.

“She is one of them,” she said. “Indoctrinated with their ideologies. A child of the Hitler Youth.”

My stomach turned over as the shock washed over me.

“No,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. “No no no...”

I covered my face with my hands, images of Catrin as a little girl filling my mind. Sweet, sunny Catrin, her rosebud lips burbling with laughter, big blue eyes filled with mirth, tiny fingers intertwined with mine.

“I’m sorry,” Paulina said, rubbing my back softly. “I failed you. I failed both of you.”

I shook my head.

It wasn’t her fault. It was my parents’.

“That’s why she was smirking at me,” I said.

“Who?”

“My mother. She is giddy at the thought of me finding out Catrin is no longer mine, but hers.”

Paulina nodded.

“She has always been cruel, your mother. And the only person she has ever served was herself. The only thing she served was a lifestyle. When your father died she insisted on a funeral, no expense spared. It was winter. The ground was frozen. But she made them dig. Requested flowers. Had me hire whoever I could find to help clean the house for guests to come and mourn. Some stayed for weeks. I was expected to cook grand meals for them all. We had more than most, of course. The Holl?nders were above the rest. And I’ll admit, I welcomed the food, knowing how so many others were suffering. But the way they wasted... The way they mocked those with less than them... Of course she is finding joy in your pain. In your ignorance. If you allow her, she’ll rub your nose in it. Don’t let her. Now that you know about Catrin, ignore her barbs.”

There was a warning in her voice.

“Why?”

“Because I fear if you rile her, she won’t be able to help herself. She’ll tell that nosy little soldier that comes by exactly who you are.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

“Keep your distance while you’re here. I’ll lie as much as I can if she asks for you, but if you are in this house, she will want to see you. She will expect it if you are under her roof and the protection of her name.”

“I don’t want you to lie,” I said. “Not for me. Not anymore. If she wants to see me...if she wants to torture me...I will let her. I will do whatever it takes to see Catrin again. And that means not getting sent to jail or killed.”

I stood then and wandered the room, touching my old things. A dollhouse, complete with a family of four, a lamp, a jewelry box, a silver-handled mirror.

“Your bureau is still filled with clothes,” Paulina said. “But I doubt any of them fit you anymore. I’ll bring you one of your mother’s nightgowns.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

I stared at her and she gave me a sad smile, understanding that there was only one thing I needed.

Catrin.

“I know, kleiner Hase ,” she said, reaching out and pressing her palm to my cheek.

As she turned toward the door, I reached for her hand.

“Thank you, Paulina.”

“For what, Gisela?”

I met her gaze and held it.

“You’re welcome,” she said.