Tulips in Her Hand

Chapter Twenty

She wore her hair pulled tightly into a bun. Bits of wavy strands fell from its grasp, framing her pale, scarred yet partially healed cheeks. The sunset greeted her with the softest kiss, hues of pink and gold dancing through the periwinkle sky. A smile spread across Celina's chapped lips. She gazed down at her newly wrinkled hands, showing forty-five years of hardship and exuberance at the same time. She stood back to admire her newly budding garden of tulips---with hues of white and purple and any color one could imagine---blending with the rusty red brick house behind them. Inhaling, she picked a handful of them already past their peak, holding them against the golden sunset. A tear dripped down her cheek.

For with all of life's moments, she held tulips in her hand.

Soft footprints echoed behind her, interrupting her reverie. "Darling, dinner's ready," her husband Lukasz said. She looked up from the tulips, meeting his soft charcoal gray eyes, his vibrant brown hair. She nodded, grasping his calloused hands.

"They remembered our anniversary for once, did they?" she said slyly, biting her lip to hide her smile.

Lukasz chuckled, his vibrant laugh filling the air. "I remember the day we first met," he said, his hand draped around her shoulder as they strolled through the door of their quaint brick home, "For the instant I met you, I knew you would be the girl to save my life. Not just from the Nazis, but my heart, as well."

Celina's heart burned with passion as the words escaped his mouth. Just as she leaned in to kiss him, a stampede of little feet slid to the front entryway. She paused, eyeing the three children standing before her. "Rikki, I told you to watch them," she warned playfully, beckoning for the young woman hidden on the staircase to come out. Rikki grinned sheepishly, pulling the three girls close. "They just wanted to surprise you, Mama. A gift for all you've done for them and for taking me and Kikka and Klara in like your own," she whispered, sweeping a bronze curl out of her face.

Little Lorelai giggled. "She told us the story, Mama, of how you saved the world!"

As they led her into the dining room, the aroma of scorched turkey filling her nostrils, Celina squeezed her eyes shut, recalling the first year after the war had ended. Gold tulips were grasped in her trembling hands as she stood on that lawn for the very first time, the lawn that would belong to for the rest of her life. She recalled the day she received Anka's letter; that joyous, long anticipated day. Tulips had lied next to her on the table as she breathed in her every word.

My dearest Celina,

You cannot imagine the joyful surprise it was when I discovered you were still alive, and had an address. I am so, so sorry it took me so long to finally find you, my hero. It is you that I owe my life to, and I am forever indebted to you. I miss you more than I ever thought I could miss anyone.

Currently, I am residing in France, for it doesn't remind me so much of the war as Poland did. Whenever the nightmares come, I have my husband to pull me close and comfort me, and then they go away, even just for a little bit. Yet, in spite of my growing family, lovely cottage, and now my novels in progress(yes, I'm a writer now, Celina, can you believe it? I'll send you a copy of one of my manuscripts once I finish it), in spite of everything I still feel a large, gaping hole in my heart. I've tried so hard to mend it, but I finally realized that it could only be partially fixed. Mariusz, the war, none of that will disappear. But as I was eating supper last night, I realized that you and Wren could still be found. I realized that your absence was truly what was eating at me. So I contacted some of my friends and found your address. And now, little by little, I'm becoming whole again.

I hope all is well with you, my love, and that you've found happiness within yourself. I hope you remember to just be the beautiful, lovely you in everything you do, because I miss that wonderful you. Please write back soon, my love. And if you ever find Wren, please do send me his address. I miss him too.

Yours,

Anka

Tears bubbled in Celina's eyes as she recalled every word, every swirl of an 'S', of Anka's letter. Hope glimmered in her heart as she fingered the slip of paper in her pocket. Wren's address. After being abruptly separated after the bombing, whisked to separate ends of the world, she hoped he was content in America. Smiling, watching the excitement in her children's eyes, she sat down, grasping utensils in her hand as Lorelai brought out a platter of a steaming bird.

After they said grace, with much gleeful giggling before that, she savored the bites of burnt turkey with a mix of reminiscence and a peaceful exuberance. Once everyone had cheerfully cleaned their plates, Lukasz leaned in close. "I don't want to rush you, my love, but we should get going before it gets dark."

Silently, he led her through the exuberant meadows and enchanted forest, but not before stopping to gather the largest bouquet of tulips from her garden. Blades of grass tickled at her ankles, still wet from the morning dew. Still mist enveloped her scarred skin, rejuvenating her still broken soul. They passed the winding dirt road, empty of passersby, they passed the old grandfather tree with its looming hunched branches, and finally the crystal pond, lily pads floating on top of the second, fiery sunset. Lukasz's eyes bore into hers as they came upon a fence, asking if she was all right. Celina nodded, biting her lip.

She creaked open the gate with sorrowful determination. Stretched out before her were hundreds of stones, gravestones, wilted and new flowers lying before each one. She walked in front of her husband, walking by memory, until she reached the grave at the far corner. Lukasz stayed several feet back as she knelt upon the damp earth. Smiling, she fingered the engraved letters on the stone, tracing over the name Mariusz with her fingertips.

"In a way, you were my first love," she whispered, "I didn't know it at the time, but I loved you."

The wind answered her broken words with a subtle howl. She stood there for several minutes, tears pouring down her cheeks, reminiscing, grasping the bouquet of tulips tightly in her hands.

Celina forced a teary smile upon her lips. It was with tulips in her hand she grew up in a quaint cottage with her beloved father. It was with tulips in his hand that she slowly grew to love him, and to finally love humanity. It was with tulips in her hand that she recovered from the war in the Tulip Man's attic. With tulips in her hand she walked down the aisle to marry another man she grew to love.

And it was with tulips in her hand that she finally said goodbye to the Jew that changed her life, forever.