“No matter what you find on the other side of that door, know that I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
A damp spring breeze swept across Sophia’s face as she stood on the curb and stared up at the house. It was an impressive home. Tudor-style with brick on the bottom, ecru stucco on the top, and big sweeping windows. As she glanced down the block, she thought it looked like an upscale neighborhood that she could picture her classmates from West Oak Forest living in. It was a stark contrast to her home on the farm.
Her knees trembled beneath her skirt. Her mother might very well be on the other side of those walls. This was the moment she had been waiting for, yet she had a hard time making her feet move.
The iron railing was loose and wiggled from side to side beneath her hand as she made her way up the winding staircase. Sophia stood on the top landing and pressed the doorbell. It echoed through the house, and then she heard footsteps. Pulling herself to her full height, she plastered on her best smile as the door hissed open.
A pale woman with sandy brown hair loose down her back and eyes hooded under false lashes stood behind the screen door. She was thin and sprightly.
“Hello,” she said with a smile. “May I help you?”
Sophia fumbled with the sheet of paper in her sweaty palms. “I am looking for Jelka Durchdenwald.”
The woman touched her hand to her throat and took a step back. “What is this about?”
This wasn’t the reaction Sophia had planned. She assumed that her mother would take one look at her, recognize her instantly, and swallow her in her arms.
“My name is Sophia—I mean—” She felt faint and reached out for the shaky banister to hold her up. “My birth name is Katja, and I’m looking for… my mother,” she rushed out.
“Oh, dear God.” The woman unlatched the screen door and stumbled back so that Sophia could step inside the foyer. Under the light, she could see the woman better. They had the same cheekbones.
The woman stared at her, looking her over from head to toe. Then she touched the crown of Sophia’s head. “My goodness, it is you.” She thrust her arms around Sophia and rocked.
Tears sprang to Sophia’s eyes as she inhaled a scent of strawberry shampoo. She had found her. When she released Sophia, she touched her face. “After all this time.” Then she mumbled words in German that sounded like a prayer.
“Jelka?” Sophia croaked, just to be sure. She didn’t want to call her “Mother” in their first meeting.
“No, I’m Jutta. Jelka’s younger sister,” she said. “Come in.”
Her sister.
Jutta led Sophia down the hall. The floors were brick veneer, and the ceiling had a popcorn texture. Jutta turned into the living room and motioned for Sophia to take a seat on the gray plaid sofa. There were floral drapes hanging from the big bay window. An upright piano sat in the corner of the room, and Sophia could smell something piney.
“How on earth did you find me?” Jutta said. “Oh, where are my manners. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Sophia shifted in her seat. “Mrs. Ethel Gathers reached out to St. Hildegard’s orphanage in Mannheim. Jelka had left her address with the nuns, and a phone number, but it was disconnected. That’s why I didn’t call first. Sorry for dropping in like this,” she said, feeling sheepish.
“How far have you traveled?”
“From southern Maryland. I just found out that I was adopted a few months ago, and I’ve been looking for my birth mother. Is she here?” Sophia asked.
“Tell me about yourself,” Jutta said, crossing her legs in front ofher. There was an ashtray beside her, and she lifted the silver cigarette holder to her lips.
“I’m in the tenth grade, I go to boarding school in Maryland, first year. My family lives on a farm in Prince Frederick, Maryland, and I grew up with three brothers.”
“No sisters?”
Sophia shook her head.
“Pity. No one to play dress-up with or show you how to fix your makeup.” Jutta’s eyes glazed over. “Tell me more.”
Sophia didn’t know what Jutta wanted to know. So she told her how she had discovered the Brown Baby Plan and connected all the dots along the way to get to this moment. To meet her mother.
Impatience seeped from her voice when she asked again, “Is she here?”
Jutta put the cigarette holder in the ashtray. “You sure you don’t want anything to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
