Where hands touch- aftermath

Two

June 3rd, 1946

Kerstin was exceptionally late to the factory the next morning, running with pace as Leyna struggled to keep up; the new shoes her father had bought her were rubbing against her feet and she could feel blisters.

But nevertheless, she ran with her mother, stopping every once in a while to greet passersby; American business-men and soldiers occupied the country now, and there were even a few American children in Koen's school.

"We'll be late, Leyna," Kerstin murmured as she stopped at a blinking light to let a car turn. She held tightly to her daughter's hand as the light changed color and they ran to the factory.

Five Reichsmarks were given each week to the workers, so Leyna saved her earnings to hopefully move out with Marisol and continue an education.

The factory was loud and overwhelming; the stench of the fires going in the ovens made Leyna dizzy. They no long made weaponry, but breads.

Every kinds of breads were made. Sweet, buttered, honey-glazed, blueberry, wheat. Leyna would sometimes hide bread in her coat pocket, taking it home to Koen for a dessert.

But what Leyna wanted most, was something unattainable. She wanted Lutz.

~~~

She worked like a machine until 5 in the afternoon, when all factory workers, all women, were allowed to go home. If anyone was caught out after curfew, they'd be shot on sight.

Most Nazis were either dead or imprisoned. But the President was still in power. Just last week, he held his gun to Gunter's mother's head before shooting her. Her corpse laid on the sidewalk for days.

"Let's go, Leyna," Kerstin rushed as Leyna grabbed two whole chucks of blueberry bread and stuffed it into her coat.

"I'm ready," she said before following her mother out onto the streets.

The walk home was quiet; the whole town of Berlin was filled with the memories of Lutz riding his bicycle and stopping to look at Leyna.

She smiled softly, recalling the time he hit her with his bicycle. It was the first time they'd met.

She wished he was here. Walking with her home. She missed everything about him.

Her father smiled kindly as he greeted his wife and daughter.

Koen hugged Leyna, smiling when she unwrapped the warm bread.

"For later," she whispered as he nodded and took the bread up to his room. They'd share it later when their parents had gone to bed.

"Marisol's hungry," Kerstin said as she handed over the crying baby to Leyna.

Leyna kissed her head and went to the sunroom to feed her.

"The casket was closed," she whispered to herself as Marisol drank her bottle; she'd now rather want the bottled formula rather than the breast milk.

"He's dead! He's not coming back, Leyna," her mother said as she tutted away in the sunroom, dusting the piano off.

"The casket was closed," Leyna referred again. "He could be alive!"

"You're scaring the child! He's dead, and anyway, if that Lutz Weismueller were alive, he'd have come looking for you already!" Kerstin reasoned.

Leyna felt the hot tears slipping down her face. She retreated to her room with Marisol on her hip and the empty bottle on the side table.

~~~

Later on during the night, the doorbell rang. It was only Leyna and her mother in the house as her father and Koen had gone out to a boys' function at the school.

Kerstin played smooth jazz in the foyer, eating cookies and drinking wine. She had a magazine in her hands and repeatedly laughed out loud at the corny stories.

Leyna, meanwhile, sat in the sunroom with a book on the Atlantic Ocean in her lap, mindlessly watching Marisol sleep in her cot.

Kerstin had moved the cot that Koen had had as a baby from the attic to the sunroom when Marisol was born. It proved to treat her just right.

The doorbell rang. Leyna's hair on her neck stood up; neither were yet accustomed to the noise. The ding, dong of the doorbell.

Kerstin could be heard lowering the sound of the record player and shuffling her feet to the door.

It was half past nine already. Curfew. Who could be calling at this hour?

Leyna grabbed Marisol into her arms, ready to run to the cellar if it was an intruder. Marisol whimpered against her neck.

Kerstin looked towards her daughter and granddaughter before opening the door.

~~~

Earlier in the day, Lutz had been discharged from the war veterans hospital in Frankfurt, startled to see his father waiting for him at the train station when he'd retrieved his briefcase that contained the bare essentials: toothbrush and paste, a comb, a change of clothes, a pair of pajamas, and a worn photograph of Leyna.

"Hello," he greeted. His father gave him a curt nod: everyone had thought he had died from the gunshot wound. He had fooled them all.

It wasn't Lutz's body in the casket, but rather Hermine's body. She deserved a burial. So, while he was healing from the wound that barely missed his heart, his father was plotting a fake funeral.

The two had returned back to Berlin in silence, making their way to the office.

Lutz smiled softly as he recalled his and Leyna's time in the office; it seemed a distant memory.

"You've been gone for a year now," Weismueller said. Lutz nodded.

"I have," he said. His tone was calm; the establishment had treated him to the best of their ability.

"Any word from Leyna?" he asked.

His father shook his head.

"No. Although I did see her mother and father on the streets the other day with a little girl in her pram. I suppose that's the child?"

Lutz smiled before nodding. "Has to be."

His father grimaced. "You can't stay here, Lutz. I have to be in Hamburg in the morning for meetings. I've given the house to Jann. He can tend the house and furniture; he made the cradle for Leyna."

"Where would I go?" Lutz asked.

"Find somewhere, boy. Now if you must excuse me, I will be uptown for a while," his father replied.

He clapped a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "Do stay out of trouble."

~~~

Leyna could hardly believe her eyes. Surely, she could try to catch a breath. But one wasn't coming.

Lutz's eyes focused on her; then to the child in her arms. A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her. She was beautiful.

"Lutz," Leyna breathed finally, handing Marisol over to her mother.

Kerstin kissed Marisol's cheek as she watched the two reunite.

Lutz hung on to her frame, letting himself soak in this moment.

He was home.