Echoes

ANTOINE AND BEATA'S WEDDING DAY REMAINED A MAGI-cal memory not only for them but for everyone who had seen them. Her wedding gown was talked about in the village for months. Maria helped her put it away carefully in a box filled with tissue. She pressed some of the flowers she had carried in her bouquet. And after thinking about it for several days, she decided to write to her mother and sister. She knew that Brigitte would be in Berlin by then, and she wanted to share with her how lovely her own wedding had been, and to tell her that she still loved her. She wanted to tell her mother that she was well, and was sorry that the day she left had been so dreadful, and how much she thought about her and missed her on her wedding day.

Two weeks after she'd written to them, her letters came back to her, unopened. The one to Brigitte had nothing personal written on it. It was simply sent back with a stamp on it that said “addressee unknown.” It told Beata that even while in Berlin Brigitte was not willing to defy their father. And the letter to her mother was returned with her father's meticulous penmanship on it, saying to return the letter to sender. They wanted no contact with her. It took her two days of silent tears to admit to Antoine what had happened.

“It's still fresh,” he said quietly. “Give it time. You can write to them again in a few months. By then, things will have calmed down,” he said with confidence. He had not written to his own parents, he was still angry at the position they had taken. And he had no desire to communicate with his brother either. But he was older than Beata and far angrier than she.

“You don't know my father,” Beata said miserably. “He will never forgive me. He said that he and Mama were going to sit shiva for me.” She explained to Antoine what that meant, it was the vigil for the dead, which shocked him profoundly. “I just wanted to tell Mama and Brigitte about the wedding, and that I love them.” She wouldn't have dared write to her father. But even writing to the women in the family had gotten her nowhere. They were all too respectful of him and too afraid of him to defy him. Only she had dared to do that. And she knew he would never forgive her for it. She hoped the others would.

Antoine did his best to comfort her, and they made love every night like proper newlyweds. They made every effort to be quiet so as not to disturb the Zubers, but they were undeniably living in close quarters, so much so that Maria heard Beata vomiting in the bathroom early one morning six weeks after the wedding.

“Are you all right?” Maria asked through the door, sounding worried. The men had left the house at dawn, and the two women were alone. Beata had been about to go out to milk the cows when a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She was green when she walked into the kitchen ten minutes later and sat down.

“I'm sorry. It must have been something I ate. Antoine picked all those blackberries for me yesterday. I already felt sick last night,” Beata said, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs and obviously feeling awful. “I didn't want to hurt his feelings and tell him.”

“Are you sure it's the blackberries?” Maria asked kindly. She was not at all surprised to see Beata looking so ill. And in fact, it made her hopeful.

“I think so.” She asked Beata a few pertinent questions then, and laughed at the innocent young woman's answers.

“If memory serves, my dear, I think you're pregnant.”

“Do you?” Beata looked astonished, which made Maria smile broadly.

“Yes, I do. Why don't you wait until you're sure to tell your husband.” There was no point worrying him unduly or getting his hopes up. Men were odd about things like that, Maria knew. It was better to tell them once one was certain.

“And when will that be? When would I be sure enough to tell him?”

“In another week or two, if nothing happens, and you continue to feel poorly. You'll know soon enough.” Beata was smiling to herself as she went to milk the cows, and that afternoon she was so exhausted she came back to the house after her chores and slept for two hours before dinner.

“Is Beata all right?” Antoine asked Maria with a look of concern when he got home. His bride was usually so lively, and all she seemed to do was sleep now. He wondered if it was because he kept her up late, making love to her at night, but lying next to her, he found it impossible to keep his hands off her.

“She's fine. She's been out in the sun all day. I had her picking fruit for me,” Maria said discreetly. But in addition to covering for her recent nausea and sleepiness, Maria was finding her to be a hard worker, and the younger woman was truly helpful to her.