Kitty was gazing at the ruby. She was suddenly transported back to the Christmas market in Vienna, to the glitter of falling snow against the jewel-colored lanterns strung across the stalls. She could smell the sweet, earthy scent of roasting chestnuts and hear the wheezing notes of an accordion. She felt the tickle of fur on her cheek as her mother guided her across the square. And there was a glimpse of something else—something that she had tried so hard to picture but had always evaded her: her mother’s eyes, the pale, clear blue of a mountain lake, smiling as she broke off a chunk of gingerbread and popped it into Kitty’s mouth.
“Oh, honey, don’t cry!” Charlie snapped the box shut. “I never meant to upset you!”
She shook her head. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I . . . I’m not crying. I’m just . . . remembering.”
“Good memories?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Can I try it on?”
“Which hand?”
“That depends.”
“Well, it’s not the most romantic place, but here goes.” He dropped down onto one knee. “Will you marry me, Kitty?”
“You said yes?” Delphine took Kitty’s outstretched hand, angling it to the light. The diamonds cast rainbow beams across the wall of the cabin.
“I said I would marry him, but not yet,” Kitty said.
“Wouldn’t it be lovely to get married in our little chapel.” Delphine was gazing out the window, a wistful look on her face.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Kitty twisted her ring around on her finger. “Charlie’s Welsh Presbyterian and I’m Jewish. I know Father Josef’s pretty liberal minded, but I think even he would have to draw the line at that. I think we’d have to ask the army chaplain at the base. If he says no, it’d have to be the town hall in Fürstenfeldbruck.”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic,” Delphine said.
“Well, there’s no point even thinking about it yet.” Kitty smiled.
Martha sensed that Kitty’s mask was back on. There was a defensive quality about her smile—a brittleness that hid a depth of feeling Kitty was reluctant to reveal. Martha wondered if she was secretly hoping her parents would be able to attend the wedding.
From the little news available, the situation in China sounded even worse than Kitty’s letter had suggested. Now that the Japanese had been defeated, there were rumblings about a Communist takeover—like what had happened in Poland.
Martha hadn’t breathed a word of any of this to Kitty. But it was more than likely she’d heard it herself. Charlie would be alert to any talk of that kind at the base—especially as his own family was part Chinese. What would they do if Kitty got the news she was longing for, but her parents were unable to get back? Would she risk her own future to go to them?
CHAPTER 25
Signs of spring appeared in Seidenmühle less than a month after the last of the snow had disappeared. Clumps of wild narcissus sprouted among the trees, and the hawthorn bushes along the river burst into blossom. But the change of seasons also brought the unwelcome news that another transport would be leaving for Poland in the first week of April.
If the DPs had been hesitant back in September, they were now outright scared of what awaited them if they returned to their homeland. The newspapers carried headlines of Churchill’s speech, delivered in Fulton, Missouri, warning of the menace of Soviet Communism and an iron curtain descending on Eastern Europe.
Some of the DPs had acquired radios, which were continuously tuned to Radio Moscow. They heard Stalin denounce Churchill’s warning as warmongering. There was a sinister sense of battle lines being drawn.
To make matters worse, reports came through that food prices in Poland had skyrocketed. According to the latest information, a pound of lard cost two hundred zlotys—the equivalent of twenty dollars, more than a man could expect to earn for a day’s labor.
Martha read the major’s memorandum about the transport to Kitty and Delphine as they gathered for their evening meal.
“Did I hear right?” Delphine frowned. “He’s offering sixty days’ worth of extra rations to anyone who volunteers for the transport?”
Martha nodded. “The army’s calling it Operation Carrot. It’s the equivalent of ninety-four pounds of food per person—distributed on arrival in Poland. When I spoke to him on the phone, he suggested that we put up a display of what they’d get and have them file through the mess hall to take a good look at it.”