Danke Schon

Grandmother - never granny or grandma, always grandmother - passed away two weeks ago. Emily had accepted condolences and casseroles from a handful of people. People she didn't know since she had never really lived here. Grandmother had sent her to the best boarding schools money could buy, while telling Emily that she was lucky to have this opportunity to make so many friends from all over the world, to get such a wonderful education.

With a sigh, she settles at grandmother's desk. She knows it's time, can't put off sorting through her grandmother's life any longer. Bills, receipts, bank statements, policies, old letters. It all gets set aside to review with the executor. In the third drawer of the desk, she finds a brown, carboard envelope. The top flap is held down with a string.

In the pouch are two passports, two wedding rings, a gold lady's watch, five photos and a newspaper clipping. The top photo is of a small brown-haired girl, clinging to a tall, strong-looking blond man. The little girl is crying. Emily recognizes her younger self, but who's the man? When was this picture taken? Where?

Row, row, row your boat...

She shivers.

A wedding photo. A snap of the same dark-haired couple with a baby. Another photo of the same couple with a small boy and a baby. A third photo the mother holding a baby, two boys at father's side.

Gently down the stream...

Her throat closes, her heart hurts.

The first passport tells her that the man in the photos is Martin Grand.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

The other passport tells her that the woman is Gloria Grand, nee Forrest. Three names have been added to her passport. Frank, Dillon and Emily Grand.

Life is but a dream...

But her name is Emily Forrest.

Isn't it?

She unfolds the newspaper clipping.

August 1955, Augusta GA.

It is with a heavy heart that the widow, Mrs. Graham Forrest announces the passing of her daughter, Gloria Grand - Forrest (33), her son-in-law, Martin Grand (42), her grandsons, Frank (9) and Dillon (6). All four perished in an unfortunate automobile accident in Switzerland. The lone survivor, Emily Grand (4) will reside with Mrs. Forrest.

Emily stares unseeing at the article, the photos, the passports.

Row, row, row your boat...

Fear grips her heart.

An owl - alone, cold and scared - tall mountains, patches of blue sky - clear, cold air, chocolate - running after two boys, never catching up -cuddling on a lap - cold, sacred and alone - singing, laughing, rolling in the snow, playing near a mountain stream - and being scared, alone and cold.

Gently down a lake...

Tears.

Why? Why had grandmother hidden this? Is she Emily Grand or Emily Forrest? Who is she? Why doesn't she know?

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

Who is he, the blond man in that picture? The photo slips from her fingers and falls face down. On the back are words.

Helmut und Emily.

Life's a piece of cake...

^*^*^

Row, row, row your boat." Mamma is half turned around in her seat, looking to the backseat where Frank is on Emily's right and Dillon on her left. Now Frank picks up his lines. Emily squirms on the fake leather of the seat, squashed between her two brothers. She can't stand it! But she has to wait her turn. Now Dillon sings along with mamma. Emily watches Frank.

"Row, rooooo ---

Bumps! Jolts! The speed picks up. Trees and bushes rush by, close. Too close? Everybody screams! Nobody is signing. Emily screams when both Frank and Dillon slam an arm across her.

That hurt!

She's the only one screaming. Her screams become sobs, then she stills.

Mamma? What happened?

Mamma?

MAMMA!

Daddy?

Don't lean on me, Dillon. I can't move. Sit up straight. You're too heavy.

Why isn't anyone talking?

I don't like this game.

Mamma, talk to me, please.

What did I do wrong? I'm sorry, mamma.

She cries.

Mamma? I'm hungry.

Mamma, I have to pee.

Mamma I wet my pants, I'm sorry.

Mamma? I said I was sorry.

Daddy?

The night is dark. A hoot-owl, rustling noises, critters? The front window is broken. Daddy, don't let the beasties in, okay?

Now, she can see the trees again. The hoot-owl is gone, other birds are singing.

Mamma, I'm still hungry.

Dillon you're too heavy and cold. Move, please.

Mamma let's sing again, okay?

"Gruss gott." With Dillon leaning against her, Emily can't turn to see who's talking to her. "Maidchen, was ist deine name?"

"Huh? Who are you?"

"Ah so, English. You speak English, ja?"

"Un huh."

What is your name?"

"Emily."

"Oh, what a beautiful name."

"Oh. Do you have food?"

A chuckle. "Emily. You are in Switzerland. Everybody here has chocolate. Here." He breaks off a piece and hands it to her, and then another piece. Some water.

"I wet my pants."

"That's okay. You're washable."

She giggles. "What's your name?"

"My name is Helmut. I came down the from where the car left the road. My friends are coming soon. We will cut a hole in the car to get you out. Then we will find a real bathroom and some dry clothes. Okay?"

"Daddy will be angry if you scratch up the car. Are you getting mamma and daddy and Frank and Dillon out too?"

"Yes, we will take care of them also. How old are you, Emily?"

"I'm four and a half."

"So, you are a big girl, ja? Not a baby anymore, ja? You will be brave, ja?"

Maybe, I guess." She isn't feeling all that big or brave anymore.

His hand has been holding hers ever since he gave her the chocolate. "I'll be right here, Emily. I can hear my friends coming. They have tools with them. Big tools, noisy tools. So, when the noise starts, I want you to put your fingers in your ears. Can you do that?"

"Helm, don't leave me." She whimpers.

"Oh, no! I'll hold on to you. We do this together, ja?"

Voices. Men's voices making strange sounds.

"Emily?"

"Yes?" her voice is tiny. Not brave at all.

"I have a heavy blanket here. Can you help me put it all over you? Yes, even your head. Ja. So. Sehr gut. Here is my hand. Hold on. Big noise coming, brave girl."

She screams when she first hears the cutting and tearing into the metal. Helmut's hand tightens around her wrist, his fingers stroke and pad. They feel good. She tries, really tries to only think of his hand. But...

Hands pull the blanket away. Hands pull her up from the back seat, leaving Dillon and Frank behind.

"Helm!" She screams.

"I'm here, Emily. Look at me." He's wrapping her in a warm blanket, holding her tight. He's big, blond with blue eyes. "Ja?" He nods.

He's wearing a harness and pulls on the rope that is attached. Holding her close, he walks up the mountain to the street. Emily clings to him like cello tape.

She won't let go.

Won't let go when he puts her in the back seat of a car.

Won't let go when they come to a place where someone wants to check and make sure she's not hurt.

Won't let go when he walks to his home, where she meets his wife.

Won't let go when they eat or while he bathes her and wraps her in pj's that are way too big.

Won't let go while they sit on a sofa.

Just before she dozes off, she looks at him with sleep-heavy eyes,

"Mamma is gone."

She doesn't see the tears in his eyes.

Three days later, Grandmother comes to collect her. "Now stop crying, Emily, and let the gentleman go. You are a big girl, remember? So, act like it."

*^*^*

She's sobbing, clutching that one picture, hugging herself, rocking.

She remembers.

She remembers before the accident. Saturday evenings, playing Sorry and other games. She remembers her parents and brothers. She realizes that the two of them had instinctively saved her life, only to leave her. Scared, cold and alone.

Five weeks later, after painstakingly searching through newspaper archives, Emily steps off the small mountain train, just one of the many tourists who pour into the picturesque village. She hoists her backpack and walks out of the train station. No, she doesn't remember the village. No, she's not sure where to go. No, she's not sure why she came.

Polizei. She'll start there.

The door is heavy, the room dark, but oddly cozy with the smell off coffee and sweet pastries. A forty-something woman behind a desk looks up and smiles.

"Ja?" she asks,

Suddenly, Emily feels unsure. This is crazy, right? It's been eighteen years. But there is a chance. Maybe a chance...

"Ich suche dieser Man, Helmut." She shows the photo.

"Ach, du liebe!" The woman exclaims. "Helmut, herein. Machs mal!"

A tall, blond man, a little silver at the temples, approaches from a back room. He looks at her, stops "Nu!" stares, then he smiles. "Kleine Emily, ja?"

She's not sure why, but she bursts into tears. Maybe it's because here is someone who knew her when she was still Emily Grand. Before her grandmother changed her name and erased her family. Or maybe, here is someone who, without complaint or censure took care of her. Someone who never expected anything more from her but that she lived.

"I just wanted to come and say thank you. Danke schon."