Echoes

nor would they have been able to marry when they did, or provide a home for Amadea. Both of them had been left penniless when their families banished them. And now, the job Antoine had been offered in Germany would save them.

Beata spent many nights before they left the farm teaching Antoine German, although his employer was French. But the grooms and trainers he would have to hire and the builders he would use for the restoration would all be German. He needed to know the language, and he was not overly skilled at it. But by the time they left, he was nearly fluent. And they had long since agreed that Antoine would speak to Amadea in French, and Beata in German. They wanted their daughter to be completely bilingual. And in time, Beata was determined to add English. If they could afford it once in Germany, Beata wanted to hire a young English girl to help her, so Amadea would also be fluent in English. She and Antoine both agreed that languages were always useful.

Their financial situation was far from secure, although the salary he'd been offered was respectable. And the job he was going to was something Antoine loved and did well. The opportunity they'd been offered was a great blessing. And Beata was thinking of doing some sewing for some of the elegant women she had known, if they were interested. And she hoped that, in an indirect way, it might be a conduit back to her mother.

Antoine also mentioned that Madame Daubigny had a great deal of money. It was undoubtedly her money that Gerard was using to do the restoration of the Schloss, as he had very little himself. He was from an aristocratic family that had been impoverished even before the war. Veronique's family had a considerable fortune. And Gerard had promised Antoine he could buy all the horses he wanted. They were starting a new life.

The Daubignys and Beata had never met, and they had no idea who she'd been before she married Antoine. She and Antoine discussed it and decided it was simpler if they didn't know she'd been Jewish. It was a piece of her history, and theirs, that they decided to keep to themselves. They felt private about that, and their family difficulties before they married. Without the Wittgensteins in their lives, there was no need to explain that Beata had been born Jewish, and she certainly didn't look it. Nor did Amadea. She was as blond and blue-eyed as babies came, and she had perfect cameo features like her mother. Beata's fam-ily's rejection of her was still a source of great sorrow and shame to her, and she didn't want anyone to know.

All five of them cried the day the Vallerands left the Zubers. Even Amadea wailed miserably as she held her arms out to Maria. The Zubers drove them to Lausanne to the train, and Beata couldn't stop crying as she hugged them both. It reminded her of the day nearly three years before when she had left her parents. They arrived in Cologne on Amadea's second birthday. And when they arrived at the Schloss, although Antoine was pleased to see his old friend, he had to confess to Beata that night that he found the project daunting.

The Schloss itself was in terrible shape and had been allowed to go to rack and ruin. The noble family who had owned it for centuries had long since run out of money, and the place had been uninhabited and was crumbling and had been allowed to deteriorate to a shocking degree during the war, and even before that. And the stables were even worse. It was going to take months, or even years, to get the place clean, whole, and up and running. But Antoine had to admit after a month or two, he found what he was doing exciting. And he couldn't wait to start buying horses for them. Beata loved hearing his plans when they talked about it at night.

In the end, their progress went faster than expected. By Christmas, there was an army of carpenters, painters, architects, builders, stonemasons, gardeners, glaziers, and master craftsmen hard at work on the place. Veronique and Gerard Daubigny were relentless. According to Antoine, Veronique was building a palace. And much to his delight, they spared nothing on the stables. They were heated, immaculate, modern, beautifully built, and could house up to sixty horses. By the following spring, Antoine was buying horses at fabulous prices all over Europe for them. He made several trips to England, Scotland, and Ireland, and took Beata with him. She loved it. He also took several trips to France, and bought three beautiful hunters in Dordogne, within ten miles of the chateau where he had grown up, and where his family continued to refuse to see him. He was quiet as they drove past the house on the way to an auction in Perigord, and Beata could see how much it upset him. She saw him look at the gates in sorrow as they rode by. Their families were as good as dead to them.

She had had the same experience herself when they returned to Cologne. She couldn't resist taking a taxi past her old house one day, and cried as she stood on the street outside, knowing that all the people she had once loved were there, and they wouldn't see her. She had written to them all again, when they returned to Cologne, and once again her letters had come back to her unopened. Her father had not relented. It was something she and Antoine had learned to live with, but it was still painful, like a scar that throbbed at times, or a limb that was no longer there. She was grateful that she had Antoine and Amadea, and somewhat disappointed that there was no second baby. Amadea was three by then, and Beata still hadn't gotten pregnant, although they'd tried. Things were busier and more stressful than they had been in Switzerland. And sometimes she wondered if that was the problem. Whatever the reason, Beata had begun to believe that a second baby would never come. But she was happy with Antoine and Amadea, and their new home. Gerard was not only a reasonable employer for Antoine, but the Daubignys were great friends to both of them.

It took another year for Antoine to fill the stables. He had bought fifty-eight Thoroughbreds for the Daubignys, including several Arabians, and when Amadea was five, he bought her a pony. She was an excellent rider. And often he and Beata went on long rides in the countryside and took Amadea with them. Antoine wanted her to be an exceptional horsewoman. They lavished all their love and attention on her. And by then, she was as accomplished in the languages she spoke as Beata had hoped she would be. The child spoke fluent French, German, and English. And the following year she went to the local school with the Daubigny children. Veronique and Beata didn't spend a great deal of time together, as they were both busy, but they were always friendly to each other. Beata made evening gowns for her and several of her friends, at reasonable prices. She and Antoine hadn't amassed a fortune, but they were comfortable, and thanks to the house the Daubignys had given them, as part of Antoine's job, they lived extremely well, in a house that was handsome and impressive. It was a pleasant life in beautiful surroundings, and Antoine loved what he was doing, which was important to Beata. She was happy and at peace with her husband and daughter.

And only now and then were there reminders of her lost world, which inevitably distressed her. She saw her sister on the street in Cologne one day, and wondered if she was living there. She was with her husband and two small children, one of whom was the same age as, and looked almost exactly like, Amadea. Beata was alone, and she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her. She had gone into town on the train to buy some fabric, and the moment she saw her sister, without thinking or hesitating, Beata called her name and approached her. Brigitte paused only for an instant, looked Beata in the eye, and then turned away, while saying something to her husband. She climbed hurriedly into a waiting limousine, while he lifted the children in beside her. And a moment later, they sped away, never having acknowledged Beata. It was a devastating feeling, she didn't even go to the fabric shop after that, and rode home on the train crying. She told Antoine about it that night, and he felt sorry for her. Neither of their families had relented in the seven years since they'd been married. They were heartless.

There had been another incident after that when she had seen her brothers leaving a restaurant with two women she assumed were their wives. Ulm had looked directly at her, and she could see that he had recognized her. His eyes met hers, and he looked right through her and walked past her with a pained expression. Horst had turned and walked away as he and his family got into a cab. She had cried that night, too, but this time she was angry. What right did they have to do that to her? How dare they? But more than anger, she felt sorrow, and the same loss she had felt the day she left her father's house to marry Antoine. It was a wound that she knew would never heal completely.

But the worst of all was the day she saw her mother, two years before she saw Brigitte. It was two years after they had returned to Cologne, and she had Amadea with her. She had taken her with her to do an errand in town, and unable to stop herself, she went to stand outside their old house for a moment, while Amadea asked her what they were doing.

“Nothing, darling. I just want to see something.”

“Do you know the people who live in that house?”

It was cold and Amadea was hungry, but Beata looked sadly at the windows where her room had been, and then at her mother's, and she saw her at the window. Without even thinking of what she was doing, she raised a hand and waved, and her mother stopped and saw her. Beata waved frantically then, as her daughter watched her. Beata's mother paused only for a moment, bowed her head as though in pain, and quietly pulled the curtains