Enemies To Lovers 17: Depression

Christmas at the Schiller's that year was a sad mockery of the previous year's joyous celebration. All the family members, especially Frau Schiller, found the absence of Reinhart very painful. Her various sons and daughters held and comforted her as she wailed, assuring her Reinhart had given his all for the Fatherland and would surely be rewarded in the afterlife.

Jurgen sat staring morosely at his artificial arm, saying hardly a word. The only one present who felt even somewhat festive was Joanna. She laughed at Boychick's antics and tried to cheer Jurgen with funny stories, receiving only a rare lukewarm smile in return.

For three days in February, the Americans and British bombed Dresden, killing more than twenty thousand people. In March, the Fuhrer ordered all industries, military installations, machine shops, and transportation and communication facilities destroyed. On the last day of April, he killed himself, and two days after that, the Soviet Union hoisted the red flag over the Reich Chancellery. On May 7, General Alfred Jodl signed the German instrument of surrender at Reims, France.

"It's over!" Jurgen roared, advancing toward a terrified Joanna with fire blazing in his eyes. "Our cause is lost! The Third Reich has come to naught!"

In her panic, the young woman forgot she was supposed to feel relieved and happy. As Jurgen came closer to her, she scuttled to the safety of the kitchen table, scrambling beneath it to stare up at her tormentor.

"Do you know what I should do to you?" Jurgen asked. She shook her head.

"If I were still able to, I'd give you a thrashing like none you've ever had before!" Suddenly all the fury left him like a deflated balloon. "But I can't. I can't," he repeated, collapsing in tears.

As the days, then weeks and months, passed, Jurgen went through a period of depression even worse than the one he'd suffered after the loss of his arm and leg. His home country was in shambles from repeated bombings, and he was unable to help with its rebuilding.

Soon there arose a new worry, as in November, the first trial of Nazi was criminals was held at the Nuremberg Palace of Justice, causing Jurgen to shake in his shoes.

"As much as I love the Fatherland, the time has come for me to leave," he announced one evening at the dinner table.

"No!" Frau Schiller slammed her fist down onto the table, causing the glasses to quiver. "I can't lose you too, so soon after losing Reinhart!"

"It's the only way I can avoid being captured, Mama." Jurgen's voice was soft but determined. "I have spoken to Ulrich, and he has agreed to check in on you several times a day. You know I'd never leave without making sure you'd be seen to."

"You know nothing matters more to me than your safety," Frau Schiller replied. "But it will be so hard to say goodbye to you!"

"I know." Jurgen placed his hand on his mother's shoulder. "I'm going to miss you very much, and my brothers and sisters as well, but this is the way it has to be."

"But where will you go?"

"Some of my former colleagues and I have been offered asylum in Spain," Jurgen told her. "From there, plans are underway for an escape to Argentina."

"But that's so far away!" his mother cried, looking at Joanna. "And what about the girl?"

"Joanna will go with me," said Jurgen.

Frau Schiller turned away. Besides the fact she knew Jurgen's mother held her partially to blame for the situation, Joanna felt a surge of panic. The thought of being uprooted again, sent away to yet another country, was more than she could bear. Quick as a flash, she darted outside and fled to her special place.

It was a tree house in which the Schiller children had played when they were small. Built on the lowest branch of an ancient evergreen in the back yard, it was where she ran for shelter when she was overwhelmed or frightened. Within its sturdy walls, she felt safe, and a large crack in its floor allowed her to see what was going on in the back yard.

Jurgen appeared within a few minutes, just as she'd known he would. After a cursory look around, he looked straight at the crack in the tree house, and Joanna felt an icy finger trace her spine, as if he were staring straight at her. He made a bee line for the tree house and, knowing she'd been caught, Joanna stuck her head out.

"I knew I'd find you here." His voice held the hint of a smile. "You may as well come down. You can't stay up there forever."

"I don't want to go to Spain." Joanna's voice quivered.

"Why not?" asked Jurgen. "It's a beautiful country, sunny and warm with nice beaches."

"But I don't even know the language!"

"Neither do I." He smiled and held out his hand to help her down. "We'll learn it together."

Realizing she had no choice, she took his hand.

"We'll have to marry, you know." Jurgen and Joanna were roasting chestnuts in the fireplace. "An unrelated man and woman can't travel together."

Joanna couldn't believe her ears. "But marriage is a sacred vow to be taken between two people who love each other," she said. "It's a serious commitment, not something to be taken lightly."

"Are you arguing with me?" The tone of his voice made Joanna cower.

"N-no, but - "

"People get married for all kinds of reasons," Jurgen told her, sounding much calmer this time. "Love doesn't always have much to do with it. Although - " A twinkle was in his eyes and a goofy grin on his face as his finger traced her cheek, and her heart almost hammered out of her chest. "We will have to act quickly." His voice was all business once again. "The Americans and British are on a manhunt for the former employees of the concentration camps. There have already been inquiries about me." He lifted her chin with two fingers and gazed into her eyes. "You understand the urgency."

"Yes, of course." Her thought tumbled right over one another. What would it be like to be married to her former enemy, to have Frau Schiller as her mother-in-law and Jurgen's remaining siblings as her brothers and sisters-in-law? Would it mean she'd betrayed her family, her people?

Yet in the end, what choice did she have?