The Ring (28 page)

Ruth Liebman knew full well by now that there was much about these people one never knew and never would know, much that one had no right to ask. Are you feeling any better? The doctor had told Ruth that they could find no reason for the exhaustion, the deep sleep, the weakness, except of course for the vomiting and the fever when she had been on the ship. But now they felt that it was urgent that someone make the effort to pull the girl back from the edge of the abyss where she lingered still. It was their official opinion that the girl was simply quietly giving up the fight to go on living, and it was crucial now that someone step in and pull her back before it was too late. As the head of volunteers of the New York Women's Relief Organization, Ruth Liebman had come to see the girl herself. This was the second time she had been back to visit. The first time, despite the soft stroking of her hair and the persistent calling, Ariana hadn't stirred. Quietly Ruth had looked her over, and stealthily she had looked for the numbers tattooed inside the girl's right arm. But there had been nothing. She had been one of the very lucky ones if she had escaped that fate. Perhaps she had been hidden somewhere by a family, or perhaps she had been one of their special victims, those they left unmarked by numbers but used in other ways. The peaceful, sleeping face of the tiny blond beauty told her nothing, and all they knew of her was her name and that her sponsorship had been arranged through Saint Marne's refugee organization in France. Ruth knew of the man slightly, a cripple who had lost his wife and daughter to the war.

She had endured her own tragedies since Pearl Harbor had dragged America into the war. When the war broke out, she had had four healthy, happy children; now she had two daughters and only one son. Simon had been shot down over Okinawa, and they had almost lost Paul in Guam. When the telegram had come, Ruth had almost fainted, but with stern face and trembling hands she had closeted herself in her husband's den. Sam was at the office. The girls had been upstairs somewhere, and in her hands she held the paper that looked so much like the first one ' the paper that would reveal to her her last son's fate. Ruth had decided to face the news alone. But when she read the telegram, the shock was that of relief. Paul had only been injured and he would return stateside in the next few weeks. When she called Sam, there had been the hysterics of rejoicing. She no longer had to maintain her iron calm. For them, the war was over. Her joy had given fresh vigor to her every move, her every thought. She had been distraught over reports of German horrors and stricken with a special kind of guilt, which came of not having suffered as the Jews in Europe had. She threw herself into her volunteer work. She saw these people now with even greater love and compassion, and the gratitude she felt over Paul's survival spilled over into her hours with them helping them to locate the unknown sponsors, putting them on trains to distant cities in the South and Midwest, and now, visiting this small, frightened girl. Ariana stared at her intently and then closed her eyes.

Why am I here?

Because you were very sick on the ship, Ariana. We wanted to be sure that there wasn't something wrong. , But at this Ariana smiled at her in tired irony. How could they be sure of that? Everything was wrong.

With the older woman's help she sat up slowly and sipped a little of the warm broth the nurse had left, and then Ariana fell back exhausted. Even that small effort had been too much. Gently, Ruth Liebman smoothed the girl's pillows and looked into the troubled blue eyes. And then she understood what the doctors had been saying. There was something terrifying in those eyes that said the girl who lay there had already given up hope.

You're German, Ariana? She nodded in answer and closed her eyes. What did being German mean now? She was only a refugee like those others, running away from Berlin three weeks before. Ruth saw the eyelids flutter as the girl remembered, and she gently touched her hand as Ariana once more opened her eyes. Perhaps she needed to talk it out with someone, perhaps she needed to say it, so that the ghosts would not haunt her anymore. Did you leave Germany alone, Ariana? Again Ariana only nodded. That was very brave of you to do that. She spoke carefully and precisely. The nurse had told her that Ariana spoke English, but she was not yet sure how well. How far did you travel?

Ariana looked into the kindly face with suspicion, and then she decided to answer. If this woman was with the army or the police or immigration, that didn't matter either anymore. For an instant she thought of her endless interrogation at the hands of Captain von Rheinhardt, but that only brought back thoughts of Manfred once again. She pressed her eyes shut for an instant, and then opened them again as two huge tears slid slowly down her cheeks. I traveled six hundred miles ' into France. Six hundred miles? ' And from where? Ruth didn't dare to ask her. It was obvious that just barely touching on the memories, the girl was gripped with fresh anguish.

Ruth Liebman was a woman who never gave up hope. It was an attitude she communicated to others, which was why she was so extraordinary at this kind of work. She had always wanted to be a social worker when she was younger, but as the wife of Samuel Liebman, she had her work cut out for her in other ways.

She sat very still now, watching Ariana, wanting to understand the young girl's sorrow, wanting to know how she could help. Your family, Ariana? The words were spoken very gently, yet it was clear that to Ariana they were words she was not yet ready to hear. Crying more freely, she sat up now and shook her head.

They're all gone now ' all of them ' my father ' my brother ' my She started to say husband, but she was unable to go on, and without thinking further Ruth took Ariana in her arms. All of them ' all of them. I have no one ' nowhere ' nothing' Fresh waves of grief and terror overtook her. She felt tormented by all of it as she lay there and prayed for her life to end.

You can't look back now, Ariana. Ruth Liebman spoke to her softly as she held her, and for an instant Ariana felt as though she had found a mother as she lay in the woman's arms and sobbed. You must look ahead. This is a new life for you, a new country ' and the people whom you loved in that other life will never leave you. They are here with you. In spirit, Ariana, you will always take them along. Just as she did Simon ' just as she would never lose her first-born son. She believed that, and Ariana caught a glimpse of hope as she clung to the tall, spare woman whose optimism and strength seemed almost tangible as their eyes met and held.

But what will I do now?

What did you do before? But even Ruth understood quickly that it was a foolish question. Despite the look of added years and fatigue around her eyes now, it was obvious that the girl was probably no more than eighteen. Did you work at all?

Ariana shook her head slowly. My father was a banker. And then she sighed. It was all a joke now, All those shattered unimportant dreams. I was to go on to the university after the war. But even she knew that she would never have used the education. She would have married and had children, given luncheons and played cards, like the other women. Even with Manfred, she would have done nothing more, except travel between their town house and the schloss on weekends and vacations, where she would have had to see that all was in order for her husband ' and then of course there would have been children ' She had to squeeze her eyes shut again. But all of that was so long ago. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing did. And it showed.

How old are you, Ariana?

Twenty. Paul was only two years older, and Simon would have been twenty-four. Could she really only have been twenty and come so far? And how had she gotten separated from her family? But as Ruth watched her, she understood the answer to the question, and a fresh ache was born in her heart for the girl. Ariana was so devastatingly pretty, even in her present condition, with those huge, sad blue eyes. Ruth suddenly felt certain that the Nazis had used her. It was clear to her in an instant what had befallen Ariana during the war. And that was why they hadn't killed her, why they hadn't marked her body, tattooed her arms. As the full realization came to her, her heart went out to the girl, and she had to fight the tears that pushed from behind her eyes. It was as though they had taken one of Ruth's own beloved girls and used her as they had Ariana; the thought of it almost made Ruth Liebman ill.

For a long moment there was silence between the two women, and then Ruth gently took Ariana's hand. You must forget all that's behind you. All of it. You must allow yourself to have a new life. Otherwise it would taint her forever. She was obviously a girl of good breeding, but if she let it, her nightmare with the Nazis would destroy her life. She could wind up a drunk, a whore, disturbed, in some institution, or she could lie in her bed in Beth David Hospital and choose to die. But as she held Ariana's hand, Ruth made a silent promise to give this tiny, broken child a fresh chance in life. From today, Ariana, everything is new. A new home, new country, new friends, new world.

What about my sponsors? Ariana stared bleakly at Ruth, whose answer to her was vague.

We still have to call them. First we wanted to make sure you were all right. We didn't want to frighten them by calling before we knew. But the truth was that they had called them, a Jewish family in New Jersey who had done what they considered their duty, but they were less than thrilled. A young girl was going to be a problem; they ran a business and she would be of little help; besides, they hated Germans. They had told the Women's Relief Organization that they wanted someone French. And what the hell were they going to do with her if she was lying in a hospital bed in New York? ' Just a precaution, Ruth had assured them, nothing major, we're almost sure. But the people had been curt and unpleasant. And Ruth wasn't sure they'd take her. Unless ' A thought suddenly came to her as she sat there unless she could convince Sam to let Ariana come to them. As a matter of fact Ruth Liebman looked pensively down at Ariana and stood to her considerable height. A smile dawned slowly on the large, kindly features and she patted Ariana's hand again. As a matter of fact, I have to see them later this morning. I'm sure everything will work out just fine.

How long do I have to stay here? Ariana looked around the small bleak room. They had continued to keep her in isolation, mostly because of the endless shrieking nightmares, but they wouldn't keep her there much longer. Ruth had heard them talking that morning of putting her out in the ward.

You'll probably only be in the hospital for a few more days. Until we know that you're stronger. She smiled gently at Ariana. You don't want to leave too quickly, Ariana, you'd just go out and really get sick. Enjoy the rest here. But as she prepared to leave, she saw a fresh wave of panic wash over Ariana, who looked in terror around the empty room.

My God, my things where are they? Her eyes flew to Ruth Liebman's, who reassured her quickly with a warm smile.

They're safe, Ariana. The nurse on the ship gave your suitcase to the ambulance driver, and I understand that they have it locked up here. I'm sure you'll find everything in it that you had there, Ariana. There's no need to worry. But she was worried her mother's rings! And with that, she looked down at her hands. Her wedding band and her engagement ring from Manfred were both gone as well as his signet ring. She looked wildly at the older woman, who immediately understood. The nurse put all your valuables in the safe, Ariana.

Trust us a little. And then more softly, The war is over, child. You're safe now.

But was she? Ariana wondered. Was she safe and did it matter?

A few minutes later she rang for the nurse, who came running. She was curious to see the girl they had all been talking about. The one who had escaped the camps in Germany and who had slept for four days straight.

Ariana waited nervously until the woman brought the suitcase.

Where are my rings? From my hands? Her English was slightly rusty. She hadn't had her English tutor to give her lessons since before the war. I'm sorry ' I was wearing rings.

You were? The nurse looked vague and hurried off to check. She was back a moment later with a small envelope, which Ariana took from her and held tightly in her hand, and then she opened it slowly after the nurse had left the room. They were all there, the narrow gold band that had joined her to Manfred, the engagement ring he'd given her at Christmas, and his own signet ring, which she had been wearing behind the rest so it wouldn't fall off. Her eyes filled with tears again as she slipped them on her hands. And when she did, she realized that she had in fact been sicker than she'd realized in the twenty-two days since she had left Berlin. When she pointed her fingers downward, the rings fell swiftly into her lap. Nine days getting to Paris, two days sick with exhaustion and grief and terror there, seven days desperately ill on the ocean, and now four days in this hospital ' twenty-two days ' that seemed more like twenty-two years' Four weeks earlier she had been in the arms of her husband, and now she would never see him again. She held the rings tightly in the palm of her left hand as, sobbing with determination, she pulled herself together. She opened the suitcase.

The clothes Jean-Pierre de Saint Marne's housekeeper had provided were still packed neatly. After the first two days on the ship, she had been too sick to move or change. Beneath them was an extra pair of shoes, and beneath that the bundle she was desperately seeking, the envelope with the photographs, and the small leather book with the secret compartment in which still rested her mother's jewels. Slowly she brought them out into the open, the large, handsome emerald, and the smaller diamond signet her father had given to her the night before he left. But she didn't put either ring on, she only stared at them as she held them. They were her only possessions, her only security, her only tangible memories of the past. They were all she had of the past. They were all she had of that lost world now. The two rings of her mother's, her rings from Manfred, his simply carved gold signet ring, and a packet of photographs that showed a man in full dress uniform and a happy, smiling nineteen-year-old girl.