ETHEL
Bert left earlier than usual to oversee a shipment of materials scheduled to arrive on base. Alone and with the sun pouring through the thin curtains at the bedroom window, Ethel rose with her nightgown tangled around her knees. In the kitchen, she perked herself coffee, fried two slabs of bacon, and boiled a bowl of hominy grits for breakfast.
Deep down, she was much too excited about her day with the children to eat, but since she had no idea how long she’d be helping at the orphanage, she needed to fill her belly with something that would stick. After she ate and tidied the kitchen, she considered phoning Julia but knew she’d have a sleep hangover from being up all night with her infant daughter, who was colicky most evenings. As she fastened the buttons on her black-and-white tea dress, she noted that it would have been nice to take a friend with her, but every woman she knew had her own children to mind. Today Ethel had children to care for too, and this thought put a little extra pep in her stride. She slipped her feet into her most comfortable flatties and then pinnedher beaver felt hat in place. Inside her crochet bag she stashed scissors, two combs, one brush, and a jar of Dixie Peach hair pomade. On the way, she would stop by the new commissary in Benjamin Franklin Village to pick up rubber bands, ribbons, and anything else she could find to make the girls feel lovely and cared for. As a last thought, she reached under the bathroom sink and grabbed Bert’s barbering clippers in case any of the boys needed their hair fixed too.
When she arrived at the wrought-iron gate, Sister Ursula unlatched the lock and greeted her warmly. “Thank you so much for coming back.” She patted Ethel’s hand. As Ethel trailed Sister Ursula through the courtyard, she knew that she was in the right place.
“The older children have gone off to the local school, but they will be back for lunch.” Sister Ursula pointed to a folding chair underneath a wide-branched tree next to a tiny milking stool. “I assumed you would prefer to sit out in the fresh air with the children. The breeze this time of day feels lovely.”
It was then that Ethel noticed a small girl in a yellow sundress, around the age of three or four, watching her every move. When Ethel sat down in the chair, the little girl meandered up to her and raised her arms to be lifted. Joy swept through Ethel as she pulled the girl into her lap. She was so tiny and sweet in her arms and smelled like cinnamon. Ethel let out a long sigh as the girl twisted to get comfortable.
“This is Anke,” said Sister Ursula. “As you can see, she enjoys a nice cuddle. Please start with her while I check on the others.”
Warmth flooded through Ethel’s chest as Anke placed her tiny head against Ethel’s heart. Then Anke looked up at Ethel with squinty eyes and opened her mouth. “Hallo.” She pointed her finger, then stuck it between her lips.
“Hello.” Ethel smiled, and just like that, Anke squirmed back down to the ground.
“Come.” Ethel beckoned while showing Anke the stool. WhenAnke didn’t move, Ethel reached into her pocket for a piece of strawberry licorice. It was quite early for a treat, but she gave it to Anke anyway, then propped her on the stool and ran her fingers through the girl’s wavy hair.
Tender-headed herself, Ethel tried being as gentle as possible. Once Ethel had finished raking through Anke’s hair, she swapped her out for the next little girl. Although the children were not bilingual, Ethel used a lot of facial expressions and hand gestures to communicate, and the candy helped. One after the other, the girls came for chewy licorice and a hairdo, all leaving the space between Ethel’s knees with edges brushed, scalps oiled, and pink ribbons tied in elegant bows.
While Ethel parted, prodded, and massaged the kinks from matted hair, Anke played at Ethel’s feet atop an old towel. Anke occasionally reached for the hem of Ethel’s dress and twirled it between her fingers with her head resting on Ethel’s shin.
Around noon, the older children returned for their afternoon meal, and Sister Ursula brought two girls over to Ethel’s little salon under the tree. When Ethel looked up, she stifled a gasp. “What happened here?” she asked, nodding toward the two girls.
Sister Ursula’s face blanched. “We didn’t know what to do when it got knotted. We thought it best to cut it off.”
Both girls looked to be around ten years old, and their hair was cut so short that they looked like boys. Nonetheless, Ethel nodded that she understood. That didn’t make it right, but she understood.
“Sit, sweetie.” She motioned to the stool and took her time with the first girl’s hair, combing it and massaging her scalp before tying a ribbon around the base of her crown. Then she did the same for the second girl. Once she was finished, she held up a mirror so they could see themselves.
“See. Pretty,” Ethel cooed until the girls grinned, and she saw that they were both missing teeth.
“Danke,” the girls said in unison, and took turns throwing their arms around Ethel before lining up with the other kids for afternoon school.
When Ethel had styled as many heads as her hands would allow, Anke found her way back into her lap. She had found the edge of Ethel’s sleeve and balled it between her fingers. The movement seemed to soothe her.
“She’s taken a liking to you.” Sister Ursula handed Ethel a cool glass of lemonade.
“How long do the children stay here at the orphanage?” Ethel shifted Anke to the crook of her arm.
“What do you mean?”
“Do their mothers come back for them? Are they adopted?”
Sister Ursula’s face went slack. “Some mothers visit, but adoption is not common. It is hard for the brown babies. Unfortunately.”
Ethel could feel the weight of the half-Negro orphans’ fate, living in a country that didn’t know what to do with them. Did the American government even know these children existed? Holed up here and hidden away? She rocked Anke, and as the little girl looked up into her eyes, Ethel knew that something needed to be done.
When the schoolchildren returned later that afternoon, Ethel had abandoned her comb and brush in favor of playing games during their free time before supper. The kids circled her like a new toy, and she taught several of the older children the hand games she had played as a child. “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,” Ethel showed them while clapping and flipping her hands against theirs.
“She never came back, back, back, till the Fourth of July,” she said, and then started chasing the group around the yard to loud squeals and peals of laughter. When Ethel saw that the sun had moved acrossthe yard, she realized that she didn’t want to leave, but she had to get dinner going before Bert came home.
Ethel left the circle of children and packed her crocheted bag to go. As she walked through the courtyard, at least ten children trailed behind her. At the gate, a few grabbed her by the arms, while others threw their small bodies to the ground and wrapped themselves around her limbs. Anke was one of the children at her feet and tugging on her dress.
“Mummy,” Anke cooed. “Mummy.”
Ethel felt her throat close, and tears strained against her eyelids. She patted the sweet girl on the head.
