Enemies To Lovers 12: Reinhart

"What are you thinking about?" Jurgen asked after a few minutes.

Joanna wasn't sure how to respond. She recalled Jurgen's anger when she'd spoken of her family to him before. Although that now seemed light years ago, her fear of arousing his ire remained.

Yet he'd asked her a question, so she had to answer him.

"I was just thinking of my mother," she told him. "She would be dead now if not - if not - " She looked into his eyes, unable to actually speak the words. She knew if she made him feel awkward he'd cover it with an angry outburst.

She saw him nod in understanding and went limp with relief. "Of course you love your mother. I love mine as well."

She fidgeted with her hands. "Does she hate Jews?" she asked after awhile.

"She will approve of anyone of whom I approve," Jurgen replied.

The train ride to Schonungen was very long. Joanna couldn't stop worrying about what it would be like to meet Frau Schiller and Reinhart. Would they welcome her with open arms or be suspicious?

Whatever their reaction would be, she'd simply have to accept it, as she had no other choice. Except for Jurgen, she was alone in the world.

At last the train pulled into the station, and Jurgen and Joanna prepared to leave. Jurgen walked out of the station on his crutches, and Joanna followed behind him, carrying his wheelchair and luggage. At the station to meet them was a young man in a navy blue car who looked just a little like Jurgen but was taller and slimmer. He grinned when he saw Jurgen, and the two men embraced.

"This is the nurse I told you about, Johanna Fischer," Jurgen told the younger man, who grinned and shook Joanna's hand.

"Jurgen wrote and told us what excellent care you took of him," he told her. "Mother and I thank you."

"She can't talk," Jurgen interjected.

Everything was loaded into the car's trunk, and the young man, whom Joanna assumed to be Reinhart, drove the twenty-minute trip to what was obviously his home.

The small white cottage was half timbered, with a thatched roof and smoke stack. It was surrounded by a hedge and was picturesque against a backdrop of evergreen trees, the yard containing a variety of small shrubs, some of which bore flowers.

Compared to the tiny, dirty, shtetl shack in which Joanna had grown up, it was paradise.

The three got out of the car and walked through the gate, and Reinhart knocked on the front door.

A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman with a head full of grey curls opened the door. She had bright blue eyes like Jurgen's, but rather than being hard and cold, hers were warm and kind.

"My son!" she cried, bursting into tears at the sight of Jurgen's artificial arm.

"Mama." Jurgen's voice was soft as he embraced her and held her tight with his good arm. Joanna felt invisible.

After a very long time, Jurgen and Frau Schiller moved out of the doorway so Reinhart and Joanna could step inside. It was then that Frau Schiller noticed Joanna, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Mama, this is the nurse I told you about, Johanna Fischer," Jurgen told her.

The suspicion in her eyes disappeared right away, and her face lit up with joy. "Welcome, dear," she said, giving Joanna a warm embrace. "I don't know how to thank you for saving my son. Please, make yourself comfortable. You must be tired, and hungry as well. Dinner will be ready soon."

Joanna smiled and nodded. Frau Schiller looked confused.

"Johanna can't speak," Jurgen told his mother.

"What a shame!" Frau Schiller exclaimed. "Such a lovely girl!"

A few minutes later, Joanna joined Jurgen and Reinhart around the table as Frau Schiller brought steaming bowls of sausages and cabbage from the kitchen. When the others bowed their heads in prayer, she did the same, thinking of the chimneys at the concentration camp belching out black smoke and wondering whether the God they were thanking for their meal was really the same one her own family had revered.

Whatever the case was, the food was very tasty, and Joanna must have been even hungrier than she'd thought.

"Poor dear! You're starving!" Frau Schiller exclaimed as she piled more food onto her guest's plate. Jurgen gave Joanna a dark frown, and she forced herself to eat more slowly. Discussion at the table revolved around Mussolini and the fate of Italy, the bravery and latest accomplishments of the gestapo. Joanna wasn't sure what they were talking about and truly didn't want to know.

After the meal was over, the family gathered around the radio in the living room to listen to the Fuhrer's latest speech. The hatred spewing from the madman's mouth made Joanna want to vomit.

"Are you all right, dear?" Frau Schiller asked her. She shook her head.

"Perhaps all you need is a good night's sleep." Frau Schiller led her upstairs to a small but charming bedroom. The bed's frame was made of dark wood, and the mattress was covered by a frilly white quilt. The wallpaper was white with a purple floral design, and on the floor was a dark green carpet with a leaf pattern. Beside the bed was a small table which held a lamp and a clock, and beside that was a chair. The walls contained several needlepoint patterns of pastoral scenes.

"This was my daughter Elise's bedroom before she was married," Frau Schiller told Joanna. "You may use it while you're here."

Joanna started to say 'thank you' but remembered just in time. She smiled and nodded, and Frau Schiller smiled in acknowledgement.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, the young woman wondered that there could be compassion in the midst of hate, comfort in the midst of chaos.