Mila 18 - Leon Uris

“Well now, don’t worry about that. Once you get at that woodcutter’s cottage and get fresh air and food and exercise, that damned ring will be too small for you. See if I’m not right.”

Stephan tried to smother his tears, but he could not. He wept convulsively. “I’ll try ... I’ll try ...”

“Come on now, let’s get you undressed. It’s been a long trip for any soldier.”

Stephan submitted as his uncle unbuttoned his shirt and trousers and lifted him in his arms and carried him to the sofa. He clutched the ring in his fist and buried his head in the pillow.

“Now there are parts of the orders which you will understand as a good soldier whose duty it is to survive. You’ve got to learn all this Hail Mary business, but it’s not so bad as you may think. You know Gabriela has been doing it all her life and she is a fine woman. We Jews have had to pray like that before—during the Inquisition, to fool the Spaniards—”

Andrei stopped short. The pillow was wet with the boy’s tears.

“Tell me about Batory.”

“Batory! Hah! Now there’s a horse for you. The blackest, fiercest animal in all of Poland. Only a few weeks ago I took him to England for the Grand National and he ran so fast he split the air and caused it to thunder. Well, sir, those Englishmen ...”

Father Kornelli and Gabriela waited in the tiny vestry. The priest poured two fingers of kirschwasser. She sipped it with controlled slowness, capturing its warmth.

“I was filled with unpriestly forlorn when the archbishop exiled me to limbo or purgatory or what have you. May the Holy Mother forgive me, but I am quite certain that the Lord won a battle with the archbishop. My little church has become a vital link to the partisans in the forests.” He winked with slyness. “There are grenades stored beneath the altar.”

“Shame on you, Father.”

“Gabriela Rak! I was delighted that I was able to make contact with you. I want to find places for more children. Dozens of them. Gajnow is a good man. I must find others.”

Suddenly Gabriela grimaced, paled, and drank the rest of the cherry brandy in a single swallow.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Just a little queasy spell.”

“Do you think you should be making such strenuous trips in your condition?”

Gabriela was startled at the sudden unmasking. “I didn’t realize I was being so obvious.”

“There is nothing in my vows which says I cannot recognize a pregnant woman when I see one. The first month or two is always the worst, I understand.”

Gabriela fumbled nervously with the empty glass. He poured her another drink. “I don’t want a sermon, Father. I don’t seek forgiveness, nor do I confess to sin.”

“I am offended that you look upon me as an old fishwife in whom you cannot confide.”

“I’m sorry, Father. Yes, I would like to hear my own voice speaking the thoughts I’ve held locked for so long.”

“Having a child under your circumstances is a very difficult task.”

“I’m fully aware of the consequences.”

“Does Andrei know?”

“Perhaps and perhaps not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We have had to adapt our lives to each other in a strange way. It’s full of unsaid things.”

“It is a constant source of amazement,” Father Kornelli broke in. “The capacity of the human being to live with tension. The way nerves can be controlled, thoughts and fears locked—”

“Not really, Father. Andrei and I know each other’s thoughts. A look, a touch, a sigh. A way he avoids my eyes. A way I avoid his. We read each other’s fears, though we never speak them. The sound of his breath in the darkness, the touch of his fingers are all silent couriers.”

“What a wonderful experience to be able to communicate with another human being that way.”

She sighed deeply, unevenly, and sipped the drink once more. “Yes, I suppose he knows that I am carrying his child.”

“He should hear it from your lips.”

“No, Father. It’s all part of silent understandings. Andrei returns to the ghetto now, and he will never leave it again. I accept it. I don’t challenge it and I cannot burden him with worry about me.”

“You speak against every concept we hold sacred. You cannot live without hope. That is a sin.”

Her eyes brimmed with sadness. “I know it and he knows I know. But we have never said it and we never shall. My Andrei is a man so full of pride it would be utterly impossible for him to leave so long as there is a bullet to be fired, and when the last bullet is fired he will fight them with his fists. That’s my Andrei, Father.”

The priest patted her hand. “My dear. My poor child.”

She shook off his sympathy and her own self-pity. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t think you understand. I’m deliberately having this baby.”

His expression betrayed the idea that he was immune to shock.

“I planned this with cold-blooded, meticulous calculation. Each time we part there has always been that gnawing fear that this is the last time. But you even harden to that. Now that the end has really come it is almost anti-climactic. This is the last time. I think he was hoping I’d do this, and I think he’s proud of me.”

“Do you realize what you’re doing!” he cried in panic.

“I must have his life in my body. I cannot let Andrei be destroyed. This is the only way to preserve his life. I regret I cannot bear him a hundred children.”

“This is not an act of love. It is an act of vengeance.”

“No, Father. It is an act of survival. I will not let Andrei be destroyed!”

He studied the animal fury in her eyes. She was a savage with the most basic of all instincts. And then he was puzzled. Had the absence of a prescribed ritual made their union less pure? Could a man and a woman cherish each other more deeply, sacrifice, give fidelity, truth, with a greater ability because of a prescribed ritual? Had not Andrei and Gabriela behaved in a manner completely sacred to the eyes of God? He did not like these questions of himself.

Gabriela stood and turned her back to Father Kornelli as the defiance ebbed from her, and her voice was shaky. “I have one terrible regret. I must leave the Church. Andrei’s child must be raised as a Jew.”

He was dazed and hurt, but at the same moment of anger there was admiration for the completeness of her giving. He walked to her. “I cannot condone that and I cannot be your priest,” he whispered. “But I can be your friend and I want you to know that I will help you.”

She nodded and remained rigid, then suddenly spun around and faced him in anguish. “Will I be forgiven?”

“I shall pray for you and your child as I have never prayed before.”

Andrei suspected that Gabriela and Father Kornelli would be immersed in a deep and intimate conversation. When he left Stephan he made sufficient noise upon entering the church to alert them of his presence. He entered the vestry chalky-faced.

“How is Stephan?”

“How? His heart is broken.”

“What is he doing now?”

“He’s trying very hard to be a man, but he’s doing what any fourteen-year-old boy would do. He’s crying himself to sleep.”

“Please know, Andrei, that Gajnow will protect those children. I will personally do everything in my power.”

He patted the priest on the shoulder. “I am very grateful, Father.”

Father Kornelli changed the tone by opening the curtain to the storage closet for his vestments. He took out a bottle of vodka. “Look! I have been saving this for a special occasion. Take it, Andrei.”

“Father ... I couldn’t ...”

“No. Go on. I want you to have it.”

Andrei looked toward Gabriela, who nodded that it was all right.