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And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13
I was certain that the horrors of it would stay with me forever. Leaving that building only to be dropped off at that place. There was no other place for them to put us as they retreated. The barbed fences kept us locked in, and groups apart, but the suffering was all the same. So little water, so little food.
So many cries for help.
But I couldn’t cry. Even as I sat on the ground beside that fence with my meager little piece of bread, I could muster no tears. The horrendous smell of decay was all around me from those who had died and those who were dying. I should’ve been trying to eat, but couldn’t. There was a pain in starvation that even this bit of food could not sate.
Was this to be my fate? Did I survive this long only to die here?
Why was I still alive?
That question repeated in my mind as the car passed on the road, bringing me back to reality. I was now sitting in my mother’s car, in a quiet little American town where I had spent the last ten years of my life. The memories of the past were so distant, yet in those moments, still felt so present somehow. As much as I wished to, I could not deny that fact, nor could I deny the numbers still tattooed on my arm.
I could not help thinking of how funny it was how time tended to flow on despite the tragedies of the past. By 1955, the United States was an ever-changing place. Rumblings of unrest were just under the surface of the sea of normality. Women who had been constrained were striking out more into the workforce instead of remaining in the home, and even girls my age seemed to be stretching out of the 'proper' ways of society. Even those who were subjected to horrid treatment simply for the color of their skin were beginning to rise to proclaim their rightful place.
The only thing that felt unchanging, at least on the inside, was me.
The driver's side door opened, and I looked over to see the familiar smiling face of my mother as she got into the driver’s seat.
“I’m so sorry about that Annabelle. I was doing my best to hurry along.” she apologized to me.
I was taking in her features as she settled herself into the seat. My mother was only in her mid-forties, and still quite a nice-looking woman. She always dressed nicely, and as usual, had her dark brown hair tied up in a loose bun on the top of her head.
“Did Mr. Withers want to keep talking again?” I had to ask. I already suspected the answer.
“Oh yes. You know how he gets. I swear, the poor man’s been so lonely since his wife passed. It’s the least we can do to let him talk as he likes to.” Mama answered.
“It was sudden, wasn’t it? I guess he would be lonely after so many years with her.” I commented.
Mama sighed, starting the car, “Yes, very true.” she agreed. She then changed the subject a bit, “But you know Annabelle, your grandmother and I were talking the other day, and she was a bit concerned. You mentioned that you turned Chad James down on a date the other week. Aren’t you at least a little interested in giving that a try? You are eighteen now, and it wouldn’t hurt to at least give a nice boy a chance.”
She had been on me about such things lately, as had my grandmother. But I understood why. They only wished to see me happy, and had worried since they had adopted me ten years ago that I was going to always be lonely. I confess that I’d never invited friendships, nor relationships, as I got older. I never felt that I deserved such things, even if I also would never tell them so. It was simply easier to remain aloof as I’d always trained myself to be.
“I know, but it’s okay. Chad’s a friend, and I’d rather not lose that if I gave a relationship a try and it failed.” I told her.
“I suppose.” Mama relented, “I just worry about you. You don’t seem to have anyone around outside of our little family, and I don’t want to see you be alone all your life. You really should see about finding yourself a nice young man.”
“I’m fine Mama. I don’t need a husband. I’m happy just being with the church. Perhaps I’m even well suited to become a nun.”
I confess that I only said such things to make it all sound okay. I’d never allow her or those who loved me to know my true plan for my life, or what I felt was left of it.
Mama sighed, “It’s possible, but I do wish you’d reconsider.”
Our conversation dropped from there, and we headed to the countryside where our little town is nestled in. It was a nice, serene drive, and I took in the familiar scenery consisting of many large trees and vast fields of farmland.
We lived in a tiny town called Church Creek. From what I guessed, the name was derived from the large creek that flowed through it and the beautiful little church that was the staple of our community. There wasn’t much to the place. Only a handful of homes, some large farms, and a little diner and post office.
Not that I would have ever complained. I loved the quiet life out there. It certainly was better than being around the turmoil of the bigger, but not that big, city we’d just come from.
Mama turned towards me as we pulled up to the church so that she could drop me off.
“I realize you feel that way now, but I don’t think that’s what you’d want for the rest of your life Annabelle.” she reasoned, apparently wishing to remain on the subject we’d gotten into before our drive back.
“Why? Isn’t being a nun a safe choice?” I inquired.
“I would never say it’s bad, but you are only eighteen, and after everything you went through before you came to us, I’d rather see you happy in other ways instead of living alone in solitude with only our Lord,” Mama answered.
“Are you trying to marry me off?” I teased.
Mama laughed, “Not at all, but I’d love to see you meet a nice boy who you could be happy with. Like I said, being a nun is fine, but it takes a lot of sacrifices. I just don’t like thinking that you might regret your choices later in life.”
I don’t think that I considered her words too much at the time, but looking back on them, they seem almost prophetic. But then, my mother could often be like that. I’ve always believed that she was very spiritual, and perhaps even had some insight into the other side.
“Don’t worry Mama,” I assured her as I opened the door and gave her my best smile, “Whatever happens, I’ll be fine. I’ve made it this far, so I’m certain I will.”
However, I allowed my smile to fade as I began walking toward the church. I didn’t like thinking about the future. It always led my mind back to the past.
The church loomed in front of me as I walked up the four steps to the massive oak doors. Everything was so quiet in the waning afternoon. Even the breeze was dying down a bit.
I pushed hard on the door, hearing it creak slightly as it opened for me. The smell of lavender greeted me as I stepped into the dimly lit foyer. I doubted that anyone was there at this time, although the doors were always unlocked for any who wished to come in and pray at any time.
I was not there for that though. My business at the church this afternoon was a bit of volunteer work. I'd approached Pastor Tom and offered to help clean the church on Saturday evenings. While he had insisted that I didn’t need to do so, I had insisted back that I wanted to. It would give me something fulfilling to do, and I liked being there. It calmed my soul.
This, of course, was enough to get him to relent. After all, he knew my past all too well and had done his best for many years with my parents and grandmother to help me in any way he could.
The hard soles of my shoes sounded through the thin carpet as I walked into the nearby storeroom and gathered what I’d need. It was a bit stuffy in there, but nothing too terrible.
Going over to the nearby bathroom, I took a moment to stand in front of the mirror and tie back my long black hair. No sense in having it get in the way, although I confess that I preferred keeping it down.
As I stood there, I stopped to study my reflection for a moment. At eighteen, I had grown into what many called a fine young woman. The Lord had been good to me in giving me my flawless complexion paired with my black hair.
Yet looking at my eyes, I felt the guilt within me return. My eyes were strange to others and used to even scare other children my age away when I’d entered school. While they were originally brown, they were now stained with blue.
I closed them as a sharp pain made them water. I shouldn’t have been looking so closely. Every time I did, this pain came, reminding me of the injections that had caused this discoloration. Thankfully, it hadn’t destroyed my vision, although I went through many painful times where it blurred.
I shook my head as I pulled myself from my reflection, doing my best to focus. No, I didn’t need to let myself keep thinking about all of this. I had a job to do.
Everything seemed quiet as I pulled the small cart down the hallway to the altar. I opened the door and was greeted by the soft golden lights of the high stained-glass windows. It gave me a comforting feeling as I stepped into the room.
Yet I stopped almost immediately. Someone else was now in there. A stranger was standing at the altar, looking up at the large golden cross that hung there.
I remained glued to where I was, staring at this scene. But it wasn’t for the fact that I didn’t recognize this man.
It was because, in that filtered light, I could’ve sworn that he had large blue wings coming from his back.
I stood there staring at this scene, feeling like it lasted forever, even if it was just a few minutes. Was I looking at an Angel? In my heart, I truly felt like I was.
Yet the rational part of my brain was kicking in slowly, and I closed my eyes and shook my head. No, it couldn’t have been possible. Why would I see an Angel now?
The vision of him having wings was gone as I opened my eyes. Only the man remained standing there, looking to be around my age and almost inhumanly handsome.
The man finally sensed my presence, and I continued to stare at him as he turned to face me. He had to be the most beautiful person I had ever seen. His eyes were the color of the sky, visible even at this distance, and he had wavy hair that reminded me of rays from the sun. My heart skipped a beat as he smiled pleasantly at me.
“Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come in,” he said in a voice that seemed light as air despite his being male. There was also something distinctly comforting about it to me, something I’d liken to meeting an old friend that one hasn’t seen in many years.
It took me much effort to respond, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that anyone else was in here. I was just working on a bit of cleaning, so please don’t allow me to interrupt your prayers.” I apologized.
The guy slowly walked to me, “It’s alright. You weren’t interrupting me. I just came in here and I was allowing myself to become distracted by the beauty of this place. I’ve seen many churches now, but this one is the most beautiful by far, if only for its simplicity.”
He speaks so strangely, I thought.
“You’re not from here?” I managed.
“No. I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit rude. My name is Malakai Renaldi. I just arrived in town this afternoon.” the man explained.
“Malakai.” I heard myself repeat. It was an unusual name to me.
By then, both of us were hearing footsteps joining us. We looked over to see Pastor Tom coming in. I knew that he’d been expecting me, but the way he greeted us seemed to indicate that he knew Malakai as well.
“Ah, there you are Annabelle. I see you’ve met our newest neighbor,” he said as he smiled at me.
It wasn’t a surprise that Pastor Tom would be so friendly with anyone, especially someone who had just moved to our little town. He had lived in Church Creek his entire life, and his father before him had been the pastor of this church. He knew everyone here, and they knew him.
I did my best to keep a polite smile as I regarded Pastor Tom, “Good afternoon. I didn’t realize that you had company stopping by.”
“There’s no need for apologies. The door to God’s house is always open to everyone.” Pastor Tom reminded me.
“I should be the one apologizing for startling you,” Malakai added, “I did come by here on a whim, and I have a habit of losing myself in the peaceful ambiance of churches. You could say that I love everything about them, even if not all tell of God's word the correct way.”
I was a bit surprised to hear him say that, especially in front of Pastor Tom. Yet it didn’t seem to bother him at all. He agreed with him.
“Yes, unfortunately, that can happen, especially in these troubled times,” He seemed to remember something, “Oh, I feel rude. Malakai, this is Annabelle Keller. Her family lives down the road from here, and she volunteered to help clean up the church this afternoon.”
“Ah, I see. I could help you if you like. It is quite a job for one person.” Malakai offered.
I quickly shook my head, holding up my hands, “Oh no! I’m fine doing it on my own, and it’s not that much.” I assured him.
I confess that I was a bit flustered. I had never met a man like Malakai before, and he didn’t look much older than me, perhaps only a few years. I worried about being around him too much right away too. He was so handsome and seemed so genuinely nice. That didn’t bode well for my plans of always being alone.
But as I thought this, I noticed him glance at my arm, and reality hit me hard. He had seen my tattoo. I quickly held my arm to cover it, excusing myself to get to work and moving away before any more could be said.
Yet I heard him speak to Pastor Tom as I moved the cart to the first pews.
“I feel awful now. I shouldn’t have stared like that.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure she understands, and it’s good that you’re sensitive to her feelings. Annabelle went through a lot of terrible things as a child, and we’re hopeful that we’ve been able to give her a happier life here.” Pastor Tom explained to him.
“Yes, I would hope I can continue it too.”
His words caught me off guard, and I looked back at them, but they were already walking outside.
I let out a long sigh, wishing I could just drop all of this and go home. I also hoped that I wouldn’t be running into Malakai that often. At least, not for a while.
But I also couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that wished to see him again. The vision from before was standing out in my mind like a lone portrait.
Beautiful blue wings.
It had all seemed so real for that small amount of time that I’d been staring, yet it also couldn’t have been possible. Malakai was just another human boy. He was just stunningly good-looking, and a bit mysterious because he was a newcomer to the town.
There couldn’t have been anything that special about him.
I quietly continued with my work as I convinced myself of this, not having regrets about offering to do it. I did love this church, especially at this time of day. The golden light coming through those windows was comforting, almost like seeing the gates of Heaven trying to open.
I spent the next hour quietly cleaning the floors, pews, and fixtures. But as I stood in front of the altar, I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at that cross and letting my mind wander.
The sun was lower in the sky now, and the trees were casting long shadows over the windows. As I stared at these shadows, I allowed myself to reflect on my childhood. Yes, I was a child victim of the death camps, but before that, I had simply been a child.
My original family hailed from Poland, and I’d been born as the younger twin between myself and my sister Dorothy. I had a younger brother as well named Melvin, and together, we had been a happy family.
Well, as happy as we could be. Within the first few years of my life, I understood all too well that things were only getting worse and worse around our country and others near it. Germany had risen to power along with the Nazis, and with them came all of the hatred against the Jewish communities.
These aggressions grew and grew, until that fateful day when the Nazis invaded our little town. That was the day when my sister and I were ripped away from our parents and brother. We’d never see them again after that awful train ride. Our mother and brother died in the gas chamber, and our father would be worked to death at another camp.
Dorothy and I faced a fate that felt just as awful. We were identical twins, so the Nazi doctors took a very special interest in us. The same happened with other twins like us. We were the ones pulled into the 'special' facilities, where experiments were done on us. This was what took my sister’s life, yet somehow spared mine.
I had never understood why, even as I stood there and looked at that cross. What use did I have in this world that allowed me to survive while they didn’t? It couldn’t have just been for my parents to be blessed with a child. How could that simple thing justify my life being spared?
The sound of the chapel door opening finally snapped me back to reality. I turned to see my mother coming in.
“There you are, Annabelle. I was starting to get worried.” she breathed, sounding very relieved.
Her words surprised me, and I glanced at my watch. It was nearly seven thirty now. Where in the world had the time gone?
“I’m so sorry, Mama. I guess I let time get away from me. Let me put this stuff away and we can go home.” I responded, quickly gathering my supplies in the cart.
“Why don’t I help you a bit?” Mama suggested, coming over to help make sure I had everything.
“Thanks.”
I was grateful that she was there now. At least it would help me push all of the horrible things to the back of my mind and focus on being happy with her.
It didn’t take us long to get everything put away, and the two of us headed out of the church together, walking down the road to our home.
But glancing back and taking in the sight of the shadowed steeple rising into the reddening sky, I couldn’t help having the oddest feeling of a major change coming. It was like destiny was beginning to write itself.
What I never expected was how incredible my own would turn out to be, or the purpose my continued life would take on.
