Chapter 58 #2
Sophia nodded. “But I don’t remember much.” She kept the nightmares of the fire to herself. “Jelka’s second husband was an American stationed in Mannheim. Jutta said when Jelka came over, she brought Jutta too. With Mrs. Gathers’s help, I found their address in Williamsburg, Virginia.”
“You are way more resilient than I was at your age.” Ozzie stood, then cleaned off the table and poured himself a second cup of coffee. “What are your adopted parents like?”
Sophia didn’t want to tell him that they were mean, worked her like a dog, and lied to her. Instead, she said, “I never felt like I fit. It always seemed like a part of me was missing.” Then she could feel her cheeks warm with delight as she told him about her three brothers.
“And you grew up on a farm? In southern Maryland?”
She nodded just as Mrs. Gathers entered the kitchen.
“Are you two all right?” she asked, looking at Sophia, who said that she was fine.
Ozzie rose to his feet and reached for another mug. “Please join us and at least have a cup of coffee with me.”
Mrs. Gathers sat on the other side of the round table. “Black is fine.”
“Sophia was just telling me that we were only living a couple hundred miles apart from each other all this time. Unreal.”
Then he got really quiet, and Sophia wondered what part of their lives he was reliving.
To ease his mind, she said, “Jutta told me that Jelka took me to the orphanage because her first husband was a dangerous man. She left me there, even though she didn’t want to, for my safety.”
But it had the opposite effect: She could see the blood drain from his face. “It was my job to protect you. I’m so sorry that I failed. Not a day went by when I didn’t think of you.”
She looked from Mrs. Gathers back to Ozzie and asked the question that had burned inside her since this quest began. “Why did you leave? How did we get separated? Jutta said she didn’t know.”
Ozzie leaned back in his seat. “I received my reassignment orders with a thirty-minute notice. Couldn’t even let your mother know that I was leaving or where I was going.
Once I got to my new post, I had no way of getting in contact with her.
I sent letters and money to the Federal Eagle Club, where she worked, but I never received a response.
Now I know why she never wrote back. Because she had given you up. ”
“Mr. Philips, if I may interject,” said Mrs. Gathers, “I’ve worked with hundreds of German women, and it was my experience that many of the mothers wanted to keep their children, but they had no support in raising them.”
Ozzie nodded. “Even though Germany appeared to be more color-blind, I guess the truth was a lot more complicated.” He reached for Sophia’s tin canister. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Sophia watched as he fingered the letters that he had written. Then he pulled the family Polaroid close to his face. “How is Jelka doing? I bet she lost her mind when she saw you.”
Sophia looked up at him and then blinked several times. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“She died. Jutta said… she took her own life,” and the words still felt surreal as they left Sophia’s mouth.
“Oh my God.” Ozzie brought his hands to his heart. “No. Jelka.” He dropped his head, and his chest heaved. After a few moments, he pushed back from the table and went to lean over the sink. “When?”
Mrs. Gathers spoke up. “According to Jutta, it happened in September ’64.”
He turned to face Sophia. “So you never reconnected?”
Sophia told him that they hadn’t. “I have no memory of her.”
“I’m so sorry. God knows if I could rewrite history I would.”
Another moment of silence passed between them, and then Ozzie reached for a napkin and wiped his nose.
“Do you need some privacy, Mr. Philips?” Mrs. Gathers asked.
“I’m fine.”
Sophia waited until Ozzie sat back down at the table before continuing with her questions. “Could you tell me about her? Please. What was she like?”
Ozzie’s eyes were sad, but his lips pulled back into a smile. “She was kind, took really good care of her family and you. She liked to dance. I taught her how to Lindy Hop and jitterbug.”
As Ozzie talked about Jelka, Sophia watched his posture straighten and the memories flood out of him.
He went on for over an hour, telling her about her infancy and early toddlerhood.
The things they did together, how he spent every weekend with her, his time in the army, and what it was like living in Germany, away from his family, at such a young age.
And she hung on every word as he gave her the missing memories of her history, what she had always known was absent from Ma Deary’s rendering.
“As you were talking, Mr. Philips, I just realized that I hadn’t actually considered the men in this story. I have always been so focused on the women and children,” Mrs. Gathers said. “I’ve never reflected on what it was like for the Negro men to also lose their children.”
“Not a day went by when I didn’t feel Katja’s absence,” Ozzie said. “I wanted her with me.”
To Sophia’s delight, he recounted her young milestones, from the first time she crawled, to her first tooth, to the books he read to her as a little girl. Sophia clung to his every word like a life raft.
“Jelka was always speaking German to you, so I read you English books, and you loved them. Curious George was your favorite.”
This man was really her father. Her flesh and blood. They shared the same DNA.
Ozzie straightened up in his chair. “I know some men left kids behind without a second thought. But that’s not me. I’ve spent the better part of my life suffering the loss of my daughter. It sent me down a spiraling road—”
Sophia wondered what that meant, but before she could ask, Mrs. Gathers pressed on.
“I write a column in the Baltimore Afro-American newspaper. Usually, I recount the first year of the adopted child’s life in the new, happy American home.
But your story and perspective of losing contact with your child, seemingly against your will, needs to be told.
I’ve never written a story from that perspective before. ”
“I’m not too sure that people will care about the story of a black man. Especially in these times of race riots and civil rights leaders being gunned down.”
“I disagree. Oftentimes I feel like the Negro man in America needs a publicist. I’d love to be the one to showcase a veteran’s love and commitment to find his lost daughter.”
“She’s really good,” Sophia added. “I’ve collected as many of her articles as I could find.”
“Really?” Mrs. Gathers turned to Sophia.
“Yes, I admire what you do,” she said sheepishly, and then to Ozzie she said, “I think you should do it.”
“Well, let me run it by my wife first,” he said, winking, “but I’m sure she’ll be all for it.”
The day had gotten away from them; the hours Sophia spent with Ozzie and Mrs. Gathers passed like minutes.
“We had better get going. I’m sure Jutta is wondering where you are.” Mrs. Gathers got to her feet. She carried her mug to the sink, and when she reached for the sponge to wash it, Ozzie waved her away.
“Rita would have my head if she thought I let you lift a finger in our home. Just leave it.”
They walked back through the living room, and when they got to the door, Ozzie touched Sophia’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how much this visit means to me. If you’d prefer that I call you Sophia, I will, but you’ll always be Katja or Kitten to me.”
On the farm, they called her Rusty; at school, she was simply Sophia. “That’s fine.”
He blew out a nervous chuckle. “I know that I have missed a significant portion of your life. But I promise you, as God is my witness, I will be there for you from this day forward. That is, if you will let me.”
“I’d like that. To get to know you and your family better.”
“Oh, darling. Between Rita and my mother, I’m going to have to hold them back from hijacking you. They’re your family too.”
Her family. Her real family. Those were the sweetest words her ears had ever heard.
“In that case, Auf Wiedersehen.” She smiled.
“Until we meet again.”