Enemies To Lovers 16: Punished Again

Puzzled and frightened, Joanna curled her body into a ball and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Prepare to be punished!" he shouted again, but not quite as loudly as before. "Stand!"

She did so, and Jurgen bent her over his good leg. Using his good arm, he gave her several whacks which she barely felt. Had the accident weakened the strength in his entire body?

"I still have to keep you in line, you know." He gave her a half smile, then took her hand and led her into the cabin.

They slept curled up together on the cot that night, and the next day, Lilli brought them apples and cheese. Their captivity lasted several days, and then Frau Schiller showed up at the cabin.

"You can come back home now," she told them. "Reinhart has gone to France to fight the Allies."

"If I come back, Joanna will come with me," Jurgen told his mother.

"She will have to wear the wig," Frau Schiller replied. "We never know when there will be another raid."

Joanna donned the wig and accompanied Jurgen home. That evening, the three of them were sitting on the sofa, listening to the radio, when they received exciting news. "Allied troops have landed on the beach at Normandy, broken through the Atlantic Wall and are pushing inland," the announcer said. "Several cities have already been liberated as our troops have lost ground."

Jurgen looked at his artificial arm and felt depressed, but a thrill of hope went through Joanna as she realized that soon the Jews of France would be free, increasing the hope that the liberation of all European Jews would soon follow. She felt a stinging pain across her face and realized Frau Schiller had just slapped her.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, girl!" the older woman snapped.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Joanna sniffled. "I didn't even realize I was smirking."

"See that you don't!" Her eyes met those of her son. "I fear the Third Reich is doomed."

Jurgen nodded, still staring at his artificial arm through the tears in his eyes.

However, the greatest loss to face the Schiller family was yet to come, as several days later, the mailman arrived with a certified letter for Frau Schiller. She tore it open and read it, then burst into tears.

"Reinhart's dead!" she shrieked, clinging to Jurgen and sobbing on his shoulder. With his good hand, he patted his mother's back in an attempt to comfort her, as Joanna looked on awkwardly. She'd disliked Reinhart and felt intimidated by his mother, but she couldn't help being touched by the agony she saw on Jurgen's face.

The train carrying the casket with the Nazi flagged draped over it arrived several days later. It was taken to the small village church, where the funeral was held. Joanna followed Frau Schiller and Jurgen as they walked behind the flower-laden casket, stood and listened as 'Ich Hatt Einen Kameraden' was played, and watched as the casket was lowered into the ground, thinking of the day Reinhart had called her a 'filthy swine.' She remembered the dead being taken off the train upon arrival at the concentration camp and callously thrown into the back of the truck like so much cordwood to be hauled away and felt a hot surge of anger. No flowers or music for them, or family members dressed in black.

That night her head was filled with memories of Herschel and Hinda, so much so she couldn't sleep. She rose from the bed and began to pace up and down the hall. The muffled sound of sobbing came from behind one of the doors. She opened it to find Jurgen lying in bed, crying his heart out. She slipped to his side and got into bed with him, and he held her tight as he continued to sob. When the crying stopped and she heard his snoring, she slipped out from under the covers and returned to her own bedroom.

The war continued to go badly for Germany and, as Joanna had suspected, concentration camps in various places throughout Europe were liberated. She was thrilled at the news and wondered whether any of them were her former friends and neighbors. Could Hadassah be free now? The idea made her feel exhilarated.

One afternoon, she was walking back from the mercantile with Jurgen when a small brown cocker spaniel ran up to her and licked her hand. She patted its head and then began to pet its fur.

"Where did you come from?" she asked it. They walked on, and the dog followed them all the way home.

"You must be starving,' Joanna said to it. "Can I give him something to eat?" she asked Jurgen. He nodded, so she went into the kitchen and fetched a couple of wooden bowls.

"What are you going to do with those?" Frau Schiller asked her.

"A little dog followed us home, and I was going to give him something to eat and drink," Joanna told her. She filled one bowl with water and the other with crumpled stale biscuits with milk poured over them, then took both bowls outside and sat them on the ground next to the porch. She laughed as the dog began to gobble up the milk and biscuits.

"You really were starving!" she laughed as Jurgen smiled.

Watching the dog lap up its meal, she recalled the small cocker spaniel her family had owned in the shtetl.

"We used to have a dog just like that," she told Jurgen. "His name was Boychick."

"I don't know whether it's a boy or girl." Jurgen waited for the dog to finish eating, then lifted it up to check. "It's a boy."

"Hello there, Boychick!" Joanna petted the dog's fur, and he wagged his tail and squirmed, trying his best to reach her. Jurgen handed him to her, and she held him and giggled as he licked her face.