Mama exhaled heavily into the phone. "America? Oh, Charlie, I don't know. Maybe someday, but remember that everything in life takes time."
"I plan to do whatever it takes, Mama. I want the life of freedom. America is the dream, ja?"
"Charlie, you are a smart boy, and I know good things come to those who work for them. Therefore, if that is your dream, then I believe it will happen."
"I will work hard, Mama. I will make you proud."
"You have already made me so very proud, Charlie. I can hear your papa now. He would be saying:That is my sohn,” Mama sighs into the phone. “Charlie, nothing got in your Papa’s way and I would expect nothing less from you."
"You aren't angry at me for not coming home, Mama?"
"I miss you, Charlie, I do, but I will not hold you back. A mother's job is to raise her sohn and watch him fly on his own." There was silence following her statement. I wish I could have pretended she was truthful with her words, but I could hear the pain. We were both in pain for different reasons.
"Thank you for understanding," I offered.
"Please try to phone me as often as you can because I will always miss my boy."
"I miss you too, Mama."
"Anja," I hear Mama’s name shouted from the background. The voice sounded like it belonged to Frau Taylor. "We're going to be late for tea."
"Charlie, Frau Taylor is calling for me so I must be going. Oh, and Claude has some exciting news to share with you. Write to him when you can, sohn. Take care of yourself, please. I love you, and I am thinking of you always."
"Ich liebe dich1, Mama."I love you too.
Mama took the news better than I expected she might. I also suspected after she gave the information some time to settle in, she might think differently of me not coming home. Part of me wondered if Mama had convinced herself that I was never coming back. If that were true, knowing I was alive and out of prison might have been the relief she needed.
Upon ending the call with Mama, I made my way into the hallway near the kitchen where I retrieved a broom from the small closet. Sweeping the stairs was the first task on my list.
I started at the top step and worked my way down, trying my best to keep the broom steady with my one hand. I hadn't done much in the last year to notice how many tasks would give me trouble without two hands. Sitting in a cell hardly required one good hand, never mind two.
The framed photos on the wall caught my attention as I swept. It seemed the years of guests were blended as some photos appeared more recent than others. Most were pictures of lone people, and it made me wonder if they were missing someone too. Were they on the run or searching?
One photo stood out because it was the only photo that had two people posing. The woman was smiling, when most of the other images showed people with straight-lined mouths. The portrait was of a mother and a child.
When I took a closer look, tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes, I dropped the broomstick against the wall.
The thud seemed muted next to the sound of my drumming heart.It couldn't be.I removed the framed portrait from the wall and inspected it for a moment longer. I shook my head in disbelief as I hiked down the stairs, holding the broom under my arm. "Frau Joel?" I called out.
"In here," she hollered from the kitchen. I knew where she was, but I was hardly thinking straight while staring at the woman in the picture.Could it be possible?
I nearly tripped on the black and red oriental runner as I entered the kitchen, finding Frau Joel stirring a wooden spoon around an open pot on the stove.
"Who is this?" I asked her, holding the picture out. "Did she stay here too?" I already assumed the answer since she mentioned taking photographs of all her guests.
"Guten tag2, Herr Crane," Herr Pierce spoke from the small table, shoveling oatmeal into his mouth.
"Guten tag," I responded with haste, refocusing my attention on Frau Joel.
She took the portrait from my hand and peered down at the image, smiling faintly. "Do you know this woman? It's been a few months since she left here—Amelia and her baby girl."
"Amelia?" My voice broke, my chest heaved, and my knees gave out as I fell to the wooden floor.
"Charlie! Are you all right?" Frau Joel exclaimed, lunging for me with her hand outstretched.
"She was here?" I questioned. "Amelia Baylin?"
"Ja, ja, she was here for almost a year, in fact. Amelia—oh, that girl—the poor thing. She was starving and weak, and yet it was as if her heart hurt more than her belly. She was more concerned about waiting here for the love of her life to find her than she was for her health. Come to think of it, she was much like you, ja?"
