“That’s a start, but we need to create a movement to find good Negro families stationed here in Germany willing to adopt, then get it done without being delayed by months of paperwork.”
They had reached Julia’s apartment building, and little birds chirped hungrily in the silver birch tree. A woman clutching a preschooler in each hand smiled as she passed them by.
“Every evening when I leave, they follow me to the gate, pleading, ‘Mummy, Mummy, we want a mummy.’ It’s heartbreaking.”
“I don’t even want to imagine. But we’ll get it done. Don’t forget, we have the Negro Wives of Mannheim.”
“But we voted to take a hiatus over the summer.”
“You and I can divvy up the list and make phone calls to see who is willing to roll up her sleeves and help.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. Now stop worrying and go get ready to pick up your daughter.”
At that Ethel smiled. Her daughter. She was about to become a mother.
On Saturday, Ethel set a fried egg over buttered grits with two pieces of toast in front of Bert, along with his black coffee. Although Bert had good intentions, he had been too busy doing fieldwork and conducting drills and training to find time to visit the orphanage until today.
After finishing, Bert pushed his empty plate away from him, satisfied. “Okay then, darling, lead the way.”
They arrived at the gates of the orphanage to children’s high-pitched voices, laughing and playing. When Ethel shouted out hello, boys and girls dressed in ill-matched clothing came running from every direction.
Sister Ursula unlocked the gate. Ethel and Bert stepped into the courtyard to children who waved and bounced on their toes, excited to see them.
“This is my husband, Albert Gathers,” Ethel introduced him to Sister Ursula as two girls wrapped their arms around Ethel’s waist.“Hallo, meine Damen,”Ethel cooed.
“Everyone just calls me Bert.” He extended his hand to Sister Ursula.
“Nice to have you here, Bert.” She smiled. “Your wife has been a godsend for us. Come with me.”
As they followed Sister Ursula, Ethel noticed that two of the older girls had younger girls fastened between their knees, styling their hair. She had purchased extra combs, brushes, and pomade and taught them a few simple hairstyles. Watching them at work pleased her. Little ones rode tricycles, and a few had sticks and were digging holes in the dirt.
Two boys ran up to Bert but stopped right in front of him. Bert leaned down and put his hand up for five. The boys tapped his hand.Then one produced a rubber ball, and within seconds, Bert had a game of catch going with several boys.
As Ethel moved deeper into the courtyard, she spotted Anke underneath the sycamore tree with one of the nuns, rolling a pram back and forth. When Anke saw Ethel, her mouth flew open, and she scooted in Ethel’s direction.
“Mum, Mum,” Anke said, holding her arms up to Ethel, and as Ethel held her against her heartbeat, all was right with the world.
Ethel and Bert stayed all morning, and Sister Ursula invited them to join the children for a simple lunch of vegetable soup and bread. Bert had taken a liking to one of the older boys, Franz, whose hair Ethel had cut on her second day of volunteering. Bert and Franz sat together during lunch. There wasn’t much food to go around, so Ethel sipped on a cup of tea while the girls fought to sit near her.
After lunch, Ethel pried herself away from the children to tell Sister Ursula that she had proposed some of the army wives help with arranging gift baskets for the local mothers in need. “Could you help me locate the mothers?”
“We keep a log of addresses inside the office. I can share them with you.”
“I’m also going to see if there are any military families willing to adopt. These children deserve parents.”
Sister Ursula squeezed her hands in agreement.
When the sun dipped in the sky, Ethel motioned to Bert that it was time to go. Sister Ursula had packed up Anke’s few things, and they had signed the necessary paperwork that gave Ethel and Bert permission to take her home.
Ethel carried Anke on her hip toward the gate, and as Bert followed, Franz was on his heels.
“Me too,” the boy pleaded, latching on to Bert’s palm.
Bert exchanged a sheepish look with Ethel. “What’s one more?”
Ethel didn’t give herself time to talk either of them out of adopting Franz too. She simply nodded in agreement. “Sister Ursula?”
