A Child Lost Read online

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  “Have you told anyone? Besides me, that is?” Melody asked incredulously, calling Elsie back to the here and now. “I knew you had a secret!”

  Elsie fingered the corner of a page in the open book before her, thinking about how to proceed. She hated lying, but it seemed the best option at the present moment. She couldn’t go prancing about on silly dates with Melody and Cynthia and Douglas and Charlie and whomever else they dragged along. “As a matter of fact, I have,” she said, clearing her throat, and looking up at Melody. “I’ve spoken to Sister Bernard.”

  “Gosh! No! What did she say?” Melody asked, grabbing up a nearby pillow and hugging it.

  “That I needed to pray about it for a year, and then, if I’m still sure, she’ll let me enter the novitiate,” she said quietly, hoping that in so doing, it would soften the blow.

  “Gosh, Elsie,” Melody said, letting out a sigh. “I knew you were a dark horse, but . . . gee whiz. A nun? I mean, good for you, I guess, but I . . . I was hoping we could have some fun times . . .” She released the pillow, tossing it on the end of the bed.

  “Well, we still can,” Elsie said eagerly, wishing now that she hadn’t gone down this path, but it was too late to change course. “Just maybe not dates and the like . . .”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s out of the question now, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, it’s probably for the best.”

  Melody’s face contorted to one of utter dejection, and Elsie’s stomach churned at how terribly she was disappointing her new friend.

  “Listen, I . . . I can still go tonight,” she said cheerfully. “I still want to be part of the gang,” she continued hesitantly. “No one . . . no one has to know my plan. And who knows . . . maybe I’ll end up changing my mind in the long run. . .”

  Melody’s face brightened instantly.

  “Gosh, really, Elsie? That’d be swell. Are you sure, though?”

  Before Elsie could answer, however, Melody stood up and looped her arm through hers. “It’s just that they’ll be here any minute, and I hate to let the boys down. Clarence is so terribly shy. That’s why I thought you’d get on. But no matter! No one need know. I won’t tell!”

  “Thanks, Melody,” she said, giving her a smile.

  Melody tilted her head back as if to more carefully observe her. “I’m happy for you, I guess,” she said, “but, gee, Elsie, are you really sure?”

  As it turned out, it was a pleasant enough afternoon. Elsie was glad when Melody explained that the excursion was to be a trip to the pictures. Apparently, the original plan had been to go ice skating, but as Cynthia had sprained her ankle just a few days ago, they proposed going to see Love Before Breakfast at the Granada instead. Elsie was secretly relieved; she knew it was probably the only activity that could successfully distract her from her current worries. And, besides that, she secretly adored the movies, though she had in actuality seen precious few—a fact she didn’t want to reveal to the gang, especially Melody, whom she suspected would never let her hear the end of it. Elsie had been stunned when Melody once told her that she and her kid sister, Bunny, had seen every single picture ever released at the little theater back in her hometown of Merriweather.

  Likewise, the gang’s afternoon plan afforded her a reason not to have to talk all that much, though, as Melody had explained, Clarence was indeed a rather shy boy, even more so than Elsie, if that were possible. They sat next to each other in the theater, of course, and though he had bought her a bag of popcorn beforehand, he kept his hands to himself and acted a perfect gentleman. She could feel the vibration of his leg jittering up and down, however, and heard him periodically clear his throat, but that was all. She felt a little sorry for him, actually, and spoke kindly to him all the way home, asking about his mother and father and siblings back in Benton Harbor, Michigan, where he said he was from. It was too bad, really, that she . . . that her heart lay elsewhere . . . because she might have once upon a time taken a shine to Clarence. She hoped they could be friends, as she suspected they would often be thrown together if Charlie and Douglas had anything to do with it. Although, maybe Melody would stop inviting her now that she had told her that she wanted to become a nun. Already Elsie was concerned that perhaps Melody was treating her differently. She couldn’t help but notice, for example, that Melody glanced over at her in the dark when Cesar Romero had kissed Carole Lombard on the big screen in front of them.

  When they finally returned to Philomena, Elsie awkwardly made an excuse and extracted herself from the gang, stiffly shaking Clarence’s hand in good-bye before she ascended the stairs, trying not to run. It wasn’t that she was desperate to get away from the gang—in fact she might have liked to join in the game of charades that someone had suggested, but she simply had to find Gunther. It had been almost a whole day since Henrietta had rung her on the telephone, and Elsie didn’t think she could wait one more minute.

  Once upstairs in her room, she hurriedly changed out of her polka-dot shirtwaist dress with the broad white collar and white cuffs—which Melody had selected for her, saying she looked simply adorable in it—and into a plain, blue-and-cream houndstooth Hooverette and sensible shoes. Thankfully, Melody was otherwise occupied, as she would have accused Elsie of dressing like a housewife if she saw her in this current ensemble, or lack of ensemble, that is. But it was comfortable and plain, which Elsie liked, and she had no desire to appear in stylish, expensive clothes in front of Gunther. As she gathered up her things, her thoughts again turned to her current woes, all thoughts of Cesar Romero and Carole Lombard trickling out of her mind as quickly as they had entered.

  How had Liesel ended up in Dunning, poor woman? Elsie wondered, looking for her gloves. Did she perhaps suffer from the same fits as Anna, and therefore been taken to an asylum? Gunther’s explanation of why he had fled with Anna from the rising Nazi sentiment in Germany seemed a bit extreme to Elsie when he had originally explained his fears, but perhaps he had not been exaggerating. If nothing else, it made her all the more worried about little Anna. If Fraulein Klinkhammer had ended up at Dunning, what did that mean for Anna?

  Quickly, Elsie bent down and pulled a brown-paper package out from under her bed where she had hidden it. Last week she had walked to Ferguson’s Bookshop on Sheridan Road and purchased an illustrated copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses, to give to Anna when next she saw her, which, she hoped, would be tonight. Though the staff at the orphanage advised against taking Anna in and out to avoid confusion and disruption to her routine—an opinion Elsie happened to share, and one which Gunther did not—she welcomed a chance to see Anna again. There had been such little contact between her and Anna since the day she had discovered her in Gunther’s hut. She seemed like a sweet, shy child, and she reminded Elsie a bit of herself.

  Taking a deep breath, she slipped on her coat then, the package tucked neatly under her arm, and crept down the back stairwell of the mansion so as to avoid the front parlor, where Melody and any number of people might still be gathered. She tiptoed through the kitchen, where she had sat for many nights with Gunther while the rest of the school had been on Christmas break, and out the back door, cutting across the back lawn.

  The temperature had dropped since even an hour ago, the sun already beginning to set, when she knocked at the hut’s wooden door. She was relieved when Gunther answered it, and even more so to see the genuinely pleased expression on his face as he gestured her in.

  “This is nice surprise,” he said with a warm smile. “See who is here, Anna.” He turned to a little bundle hiding behind and clinging to his leg.

  Elsie stepped inside and felt instantly excited but nervous, too, to be so close to him again. She wanted to blurt out her news, but she schooled herself to wait for the right moment, preferably when Anna was out of earshot.

  “Here, let me take your coat,” Gunther said, and Elsie shrugged out of her sturdy wool coat, having put her fur, which Melody insisted she wear to th
e movies (she was just like Henrietta and Julia!) hurriedly back in the closet of her dorm room when she had returned from the pictures. She managed to hold onto the brown package as she did so, however, and held it up for Gunther to see. Hesitantly, she tilted her head toward Anna, who was still hiding behind him.

  Gunther understood immediately. “What is this, Miss Von Harmon? You have brought us something, no?”

  “Yes, it’s a present for Anna. Is she here?” Elsie asked, breaking into a smile.

  Anna slowly poked her head out, then, from behind Gunther’s leg and gazed up at Elsie. At the sight of the brown-paper package, she smiled a tiny smile and looked up at Gunther. Gunther nodded, and Anna took a little step forward.

  “Here you are,” Elsie said softly and handed her the package, which looked so big in the little girl’s arms.

  Anna’s eyes grew large, and she nervously looked up at Gunther again.

  “Open it,” he encouraged. “Go on. Let us see what the good lady brings us.”

  The little girl gently tore off the paper and looked back up at Elsie, the book in her hand.

  “Oh, my!” said Gunther. “It is a fine book,” he said, clearly surprised and impressed. “What do you say, Anna?”

  “Danke schön,” she said softly.

  “You’re welcome,” Elsie said with a smile. “It’s a favorite of my little brother and sister. And they’re not too much older than you, so I thought you might like it, too.”

  “We thank you, Miss Von Harmon,” Gunther said uneasily, “but you should not have spent so much money. We could have gotten it at library.”

  “It’s only a small thing,” Elsie replied. “And we all need something of our own, don’t we?” she said to Anna.

  The girl looked at Gunther, puzzled, and he quietly translated Elsie’s last words: Wir alle brauchen etwas Eigenes, nicht wahr?

  The girl nodded shyly and then held the book up to her.

  “You want me to read some?” Elsie asked, delighted the girl seemed to like her.

  Anna nodded, and Elsie smiled.

  “Is that all right . . . Uncle Gunther?” Elsie asked awkwardly.

  “Nein. Papa,” the girl said.

  “Onkle,” Gunther corrected her gently. “Yes, it is fine.”

  Elsie held her hand out to the girl, and Anna took hold of one of her fingers and, gripping it, pulled her toward one of the only two chairs. Elsie saw no choice but to take the girl on her lap and was surprised at how light she was compared to Doris or Donny. She weighed barely more than a feather!

  Gently, Elsie cracked open the book, and the two of them spent several moments just looking at the beautiful illustrations, Elsie enjoying them as much as Anna seemed to. Elsie pointed to a cat and said “cat,” and looked expectantly at Anna who answered “Katze.” When Elsie repeated “Katze,” the little girl gave her first true smile to Elsie. Elsie then pointed to a tree and looked at Anna. “Baum,” said the little girl, and Elsie repeated it, causing Anna to let out an infectious little giggle.

  They kept at this little game while Gunther made some coffee and placed a steaming mug on the table in front of Elsie. He sat down in the other chair and watched them, his head propped on his fist. Finally, after many minutes, he said, “Perhaps we should let Miss Von Harmon read now, no?” Anna nodded and looked up expectantly at Elsie.

  “Let’s start back at the beginning, shall we?” Elsie said and could not help but look across at Gunther, wondering if he caught a deeper meaning there, as she herself did. Steadily he returned her look, though she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she felt her stomach clench anyway. She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the book. “To Alison Cunningham, from her boy,” she read, beginning with the introductory poem.

  For the long nights you lay awake

  And watched for my unworthy sake:

  For your most comfortable hand

  That led me through the uneven land:

  For all the story-books you read:

  For all the pains you comforted:

  For all you pitied, all you bore,

  In sad and happy days of yore:—

  My second Mother, my first Wife,

  The angel of my infant life—

  From the sick child, now well and old,

  Take, nurse, the little book you hold!

  And grant it, Heaven, that all who read

  May find as dear a nurse at need,

  And every child who lists my rhyme,

  In the bright, fireside, nursery clime,

  May hear it in as kind a voice

  As made my childish days rejoice!

  Elsie dared not look at Gunther when she was finished—her emotion hovered too near the surface. Already she was afraid she might cry, and to look into Gunther’s eyes right now would certainly push her over the edge, she was sure. Instead, she looked down at Anna. She probably hadn’t understood much of the poem, Elsie guessed, but still she turned the page and pointed to the next one.

  “You want me to go on?” Elsie asked, a giddy little laugh rising up for some reason and then escaping, which was answered with an eager nod from Anna. They went through the entire book this way, Elsie convinced that Anna wasn’t grasping even half of the poems’ meanings—but she seemed to enjoy it just the same. Perhaps it was just being held in someone’s lap that the girl was enjoying, Elsie speculated, remembering vividly what it felt like to be small and insignificant. Elsie gave the girl a little kiss on the head.

  “Es ist Zeit fürs Bett, jetzt, Kleines,” Gunther said softly to Anna.

  At these words, Anna nestled into Elsie tighter, clearly not wanting to let go. Elsie gave her a squeeze and another kiss.

  “I know you do not wish to sleep, but it is late,” Gunther said to Anna.

  Elsie felt the girl dig herself in deeper.

  “Is it bedtime already?” Elsie asked the small bundle in her arms, guessing the meaning of Gunther’s words. “I do hope so! Isn’t it nice to snuggle under the covers?” she asked into Anna’s hair. “And . . . oh . . .” Elsie said, shifting her now to reach into her dress pocket. “I almost forgot,” she said and pulled out a toffee wrapped in shiny pink paper and held it out to Anna. It was a trick Stanley had often used to win over Doris and the boys whenever he had come around to visit them at their shabby apartment on Armitage, and Elsie had decided to copy it.

  “First book and then sweet!” Gunther exclaimed. “What do you say?”

  “Danke schön,” Anna said as she took it and slid off of Elsie’s lap.

  “And what else?”

  “Good-night, fraulein,” she said in English as she gave her a wobbly curtsey.

  “My mother taught her this,” Gunther said to Elsie as he watched Anna, obviously pleased. “Go lie down now.” He nodded Anna toward the little trundle at the back of the room.

  “Wait,” Elsie said to her, extending the book in her hand. “You forgot this.”

  Anna looked at her and then at Gunther. When he nodded, a big smile erupted across her face. “Danke,” she said softly, and took the book from Elsie’s hands.

  “Yes, thank you,” Gunther said, standing up to refill their mugs, as Anna slipped into her nightgown at the back of the room and curled up on the trundle, her tiny head barely making a dent on her thin pillow. She lay with her arm around the book, her fingers in her mouth, watching them with her large, blue eyes.

  “Thank you for tonight,” Gunther repeated, setting down a fresh cup of coffee. “You spoil us,” he said softly. “I wish I have something more than coffee.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Elsie said, thinking of how much she preferred this to the endless glasses of wine and champagne that were handed to her at the many gala events of the gilded set that she was required, even now, to attend. “And I think Anna could use some spoiling, don’t you?”

  Gunther gave her a grateful look and sat back down across from her.

  “There’s been some news,” Elsie said quietly. “Ab
out Liesel.”

  “Already?” Gunther asked, incredulous, his previously relaxed attitude vanishing. “What is it?” he asked eagerly. “Have they found her?”

  “Apparently, yes,” Elsie said, looking over her shoulder at Anna, whom, she could see, was still watching them, albeit with very heavy eyes. “Well, they haven’t found her just yet, but they know where she is. It’s . . . it’s not good news, Gunther.”

  Elsie saw his jaw tighten. “Go on.”

  “She’s in an asylum,” she whispered. “For the . . . for the mentally unstable. A place called Dunning. It’s west of here, on Irving Park.”

  Gunther let out a deep breath. “An asylum?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Ach. Guter Gott . . .” He cradled his head in his hands. “This is much worse than I imagined.” He paused, thinking. “How did this come to be?” he asked, looking up at her. “Though now I understand why we have had no word.”

  “Henrietta telephoned me late last night to tell me that they went to the seminary in Mundelein and were able to confirm that Liesel had been living there and that she had indeed been employed as a cleaner. Apparently, though, she had some sort of fit,” she said quietly, her eyes darting to Anna, “and she was taken to the county hospital. Henrietta said they followed up at the hospital, which confirmed that one Liesel Klinkhammer had been admitted there, treated, and then transferred to Dunning. Apparently, it’s the closest institution to them.”

  “But why?” Gunther asked.

  Elsie bit her lip, dreading to tell him the next part of the story, which was certainly the worst. “She was diagnosed with schizophrenia,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry, Gunther.”

  “Schizophrenia?” Gunther asked in a hiss.

  “Papa?” Anna asked nervously from her corner, alarmed by his outburst.

  “Shhh, Anna. Schlaf ein, Kleiner—Go to sleep, little one,” he managed to say in a soothing voice. “How long has she been there?” he asked Elsie quietly, anxiously rubbing his forehead.

  “I’m not sure . . . a couple of months maybe?”