Читать книгу The Twins - Sheldon Cohen - Страница 11

Once again, Werner and Brigid arrived at Pastor Braun’s residence. The pastor was smiling. “It’s good to see you both. You’ve made the right decision.”

“We’ve got a lot of questions,” said Brigid.

Nodding his head, the Pastor smiled and said,” I’m sure you do.”

“We decided we’ll adopt a boy. You said that you would try to match us up with a pregnant girl, but what if she doesn’t have a boy,” said Werner.

“Here’s how it works. The children are born first before we match people up. Then we call them in to see the baby. We match up prospective parents who do not have a sex preference with a pregnant girl who has characteristics similar to the adoptive mother. The agreement is that, when the baby is born, they take the baby regardless of whether it’s a boy or a girl. They’ve agreed to that in advance, and we’ve never had a problem, assuming the baby is healthy.”

“So in our case, you’ll call us in after a boy is born so that we can come and make a decision?” said Brigid.

“Yes, that’s right. But you have to understand that it could take a long time, and we won’t be able to give you advance notice of when you’ll get your baby.”

“How long?” said Werner.

“It could be years. The way to be sure you’ll get your baby when you want it is for you to agree that you would take the child regardless of its sex. That way we can match you up with a specific pregnant girl, and you’ll know when the baby should be born. If you go along with that, I could promise you a baby in less then six months.”

“My husband wants a boy,” said Brigid.

Werner waved his hand. “Yeah, that’s what we talked about, but I’m impatient. I hoped we could have a son in a few months, but now we got some thinking to do. One thing for sure, if we match and take the baby whether it’s a boy or a girl, we have a fifty-fifty chance of a boy. That would be like a real pregnancy where we wouldn’t know what we’re going to have until the second it pops out.”

“So are you considering getting matched up and accepting whatever is born?” asked the pastor with surprise.

“It may take me a while to decide on something, but once I make up my mind I don’t wanna wait forever,” said Werner, who had his father’s admonition on his mind.

Brigid sat upright in her chair. Her eyes lit up. “Do you mean it?” she said.

“Yeah, I do. It sounds better then waiting for years.”

“That’s good thinking, Werner,” said the pastor. “Now I know you’re serious to get moving.”

Brigid said, “I never thought of anything other than a son, because I know that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re right, but now I’ll take what we can get. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all.

“But what about your father?” asked Brigid.

“What about my father? He said his piece. If I went back to him, he’d kick my ass out the door. It’s up to us now.”

The pastor took down all of Brigid’s physical characteristics: brown hair; brown eyes; height, 161.5 centimeters; weight, 47.6 kilograms. He would now try to match her if possible. They signed the necessary papers. “I’ll advise you both when we find the ideal match for you,” said the pastor

“I don’t suppose it’s possible to also try to match Werner to the man,” said Brigid.

“It’s rare that we know the man, exclaimed the pastor.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“We sometimes can get a description from the woman, but at times, the woman doesn’t know who the father is, or won’t tell us.”

“I understand,” said Brigid. “We’ll be waiting to hear from you, pastor. We can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ll hear as soon as I know.”

Several months passed before Brigid and Werner heard from Pastor Braun.

When they saw the pastor, he greeted them with a broad smile. “I’ve got good news. Expect to be parents in about four months.”

Brigid placed her hands in prayer position. “You’re sure?”

“If Mother Nature cooperates.”

“I feel as if I just got the news from a doctor that I was pregnant,” said Brigid, as she cupped her hands over her face and started to sob.

“I’ll take those as tears of joy,” said the pastor.

“They are.”

Werner asked, “What about the mother?”

“The young lady has Brigid’s features. It is a remarkable match: brown hair and brown eyes, about the same height and weight.”

“Where’s she from?” asked Werner.

“Austria.”

“Austria? Do you get girls from all over Europe?” asked Brigid.

“Once in a while. This girl was working in Germany when she got pregnant.”

“Is it possible to learn what kind of work she was doing?” asked Brigid.

“Well, since there are many thousands of them in Germany, I can tell you she was a waitress, but I can’t tell you where she worked, of course.”

Werner had remained silent since the pastor said “Austria.” Then, a waitress, too! His heart raced. Frieda, he thought. It couldn’t be. It could be. My God! He turned pale as blood rushed from his face. He felt light-headed and bent over, putting his head in his lap.

Brigid, alarmed at Werner’s sudden reaction said, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I guess I’m just excited, that’s all.”

The pastor smiled. “You’ll be fine. We see all kinds of emotions here. It tells me that you’re committed to what you have done, and may God bless you both in your soon to be greatest adventure together.”

“Do we just wait now to hear from you?” asked Brigid.

“Yes. That’s it. We’ll let you know if there are any changes, but anytime you have a question, feel free to ask.”

On the way home, Werner was silent. His mind was too busy calculating to do any talking. Four months! When was I with her? Yes, it was five months ago—right before Alfred married. It could be her. Damn. Alfred, too. He was first. Maybe it’s his. Will I be adopting my own kid or Alfred’s? Jesus!

Brigid noticed Werner’s deep silence. His facial expression told her that his mind was racing. “You seem so deep in thought. I’ll give you a penny for them,” said Brigid.

“Nothing…nothing. I’m just thinking about becoming a father. It’ll sink in.” Then he thought, Alfred doesn’t know that I was with Frieda. Or does he?

“Our lives are going to change. We’ve got a lot of planning to do,” said Brigid.

\“We better wait a while, and let it sink in. I remember my old grandmother telling me when I was a little boy that when you talk about something that’s going to happen later on, you always say, ‘God willing.’ So let’s say God willing and wait a while.” Damn, this is driving me crazy, he thought. It’s probably not Frieda anyway, but I’ve got to get this out of my head one way or another.

The next afternoon he went into town to the beer hall. He approached one of the waitresses and asked, “Is Frieda Gerlach here?”

“Frieda Gerlach? There’s nobody here by that name.”

“You know, I could have the last name wrong. Frieda was hired to do some waitress work at a party I went to, and I was wondering if she was still here? We want to hire her again. In fact, we could use two or three. Would you be interested?”

“I might be if I’m not working at the time. When and where is the party?”

“Well, we don’t know yet, but as soon as we do, I’ll come back and talk to you. Okay?”

“Sure.”

He continued. “Oh yes, about Frieda. I’m sure there was a Frieda here months ago. She served us a few times. I could swear her last name was Gerlach.” Werner was fishing for clues.

“Yes. I know who you’re talking about now. Frieda did work here then, but she quit about two or three months ago. Her last name was Brunner.”

“Brunner...that’s it…yes,” said Werner. “Do you know if she’s still around anyplace?”

“Not that I know of. She wasn’t from around here. Didn’t even say goodbye, best as I can remember. I had to find out she left when I didn’t see her for a while and a friend told me she went back home. That’s all I know.”

Werner had all the information he needed. “Sure, thanks. As soon as I know about the party, I’ll let you know.”

Frieda Brunner, Frieda Brunner, where is she?

He was at an impasse. He remembered the pastor mentioning that unmarried pregnant girls lived at Angel Sentinel in Munich. Could Frieda be there? If she were, how would he be able to find out? Would it be possible to get a glimpse of her? It was true; her hair color, eye color, height, and weight were similar to Brigid’s. He noted that when he first saw her at the Beer Hall. I’ve got to find out, he thought

Three weeks later, after growing a beard, he traveled to Angel Sentinel, taking the chance that this is where she would be. Although he doubted that Frieda would remember him, He hoped that a beard would make it even less of a chance.

I saw her once in a busy beer hall. That wouldn’t be enough for her to remember me after all these months. When I was alone with her in her hut, it was dark. The odds are she won’t recognize me now. I’m counting on it. I have to take the chance. Doing it myself is better then hiring someone to do it for me. They would want to know why, and even if I wouldn’t tell, they would figure it out. No one must ever know.

The trip to Munich was always a relaxing one. The scenery was beautiful with low, rolling hills and hazy, blue-gray mountains looming in the distance, but he could not concentrate on the scenery. His mind was racing with plans for finding out if Frieda was at Angel Sentinel. When he arrived, he found an old, but well kept, brick building in a beautiful valley. Mountains to the south framed the structure.

He entered and approached what looked like a reception office. An older woman was sitting behind the counter, enclosed by a sliding window.

“I’m here to see Frieda Brunner,” he said.

“They should be finished with lunch soon. If you’ll just sign in and have a seat in the visitor’s room, we’ll let her know you’re here.”

He signed the name “Otto Hoffman,” and took a seat that allowed him to peer into a large cafeteria. His heart raced. They knew who Frieda Brunner was. She was here. If he left then, he would have had all the information he needed, but he sat glued to his seat hoping for a glimpse of her. There were others in the room—some waiting, some talking. He would be as inconspicuous as possible.

He knew it was she as soon as she walked into the visitor’s room accompanied by the older woman at the reception office. He jutted his chin forward in an attempt to change his appearance somewhat. “Oh,” he said, “you’re not the Frieda I’m looking for. Sorry to bother you, and thanks for your trouble,” he added, speaking to the receptionist. He turned and left. As best as he could determine, there was not a glimmer of recognition from Frieda.

He had one part of the answer. She was indeed pregnant and staying at the facility. As to whether she was the one Brigid had been paired with, there was not much doubt. She had similar features as Brigid. It must be her. The pastor said she was from Austria and she worked as a waitress. This was more than mere coincidence.

This woman might be carrying his baby. The irony of it was unbelievable. Her due date was the day calculated from when he was with her. He had done his own research. He might well be arranging to adopt his own child, or Alfred’s child!