Heidelberg Effect (5 page)

“We are drinking beer tonight?” Heidi asked,
as Ella ordered two pilsners and they looked over their menus.

“I thought we’d be different,” Ella
said.

Heidi laughed. “Drinking beer in Heidelberg
is different?”

“I know, right?” Ella laughed. “But we
always drink wine or Appletinis. I thought tonight we’d go
native.”

“You forget I am already native.”

“That’s where the irony comes in,
darling.”

They toasted their pilsners and relaxed into
casual office gossip and people watching. Their table was on the
outdoor terrace and the autumn air was cold.

“So,” Heidi said, sipping her beer. “What
are we up to tonight? I, for one, am ready to meet some men.”

Ella laughed. “I forget, Heidi,” she said.
“Where did you say you were from?”

“From Heidelberg, of course,” Heidi said.
“Did you know it is the sister city to Cambridge.”

“Did you ever travel much outside
Heidelberg?”

Heidi looked at her and for a moment Ella
thought she saw something uncomfortable flash past her eyes before
her happy countenance was back.

“I have not been to America,” she said.
“That, I would really love to do. When I go, should I visit the
American South first? Or the Middle West? You are from the South,
right?”

“I’m from everywhere.”

“That’s right, you travelled around a lot as
a child. Lucky you.”

“But my mother was from Heidelberg.”

“Really?” Heidi looked shocked, so much so
that Ella couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, not really Heidelberg,” she said.
“But near here. I’m thinking of taking a little field trip over the
weekend to see if there’s anybody left I might be related to.”

“Did you see Hugo?” Heidi said, craning her
neck to look down the pedestrian walkway. “I just saw him walk
past. He is totally into you, Ella.”

“No way,” Ella said, forcing a smile. “It’s
you he likes.”

“Then why did he ask me where you live?”

“I hope you didn’t tell him.”

“He’s so hot. I can’t believe you don’t like
him.”

“I like him okay but you know I’ve got this
thing back home.”

“The cowboy?”

“Yeah, him.”

Heidi giggled. “You know what the
songwriters always say…”

“I know, ‘love the one you’re with.’”

“There is truth in the poetry of song,
Ella.”

“Even crappy pop music from the
seventies?”

They both laughed, but Ella’s laugh sounded
a little hollow to her ears. On impulse, she leaned over and took
Heidi’s hand.

“Hey, Heidi? Is everything okay with
you?”

Heidi’s mouth dropped open in near shock.
She looked down to where Ella was holding her hand. Ella tried to
remember how Germans felt about people invading their space. Some
of them were not very cool about being touched.

“I…yes, of course, Ella. Is
everything okay with
you
?”

“You’d tell me, I hope. If you ever need to
talk…you know, about anything.”

“We are talking now, Ella. We talk every
day.”

“I guess I mean
really
talk. Like about
problems we may be having.”

Unless she was wrong, the always jovial
Heidi looked very close to tears. Ella prayed she wasn’t
overstepping her boundaries with her friend.

Heidi pulled her hand out of Ella’s grip and
then took Ella’s hand with both of hers.

“I knew you would be a good friend to me,”
she said, her eyes sad and watching Ella. “I knew you would be
special in that way.” She squeezed Ella’s hand and the smile
returned to her face. “Now where is that waiter? I have been
craving a tofu melt all day long.”

The next morning, her head throbbing with
the fun of the night before, Ella pulled out a map of Heidelberg
and located nearby Sandhausen, her mother’s hometown. It looked to
be just a few miles outside of Heidelberg, easily reachable by bus.
She looked at her watch. On the other hand, Hugo had offered to
drive her there and she figured that would work too.

It doesn’t mean anything, she thought. It’s
just an afternoon between friends. Although she recognized she’d
feel a little better if Heidi had been available to accompany them,
she wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. She liked Hugo. And she
could certainly handle him.

What had her father meant
last night? Was there something to be learned about her mother that
she didn’t know? Could it possibly have something to do with the
mysterious circumstances of her mother’s death? How could finding
some distant aunt or cousin possibly be cause for concern or worry
for her father? While Ella knew he had a habit of worrying over
nothing, still, there was something about the way he had approached
the topic last night that had her thinking that maybe there
was
something.

An hour later, she and Hugo were driving
through the streets of Sandhausen in his Renault. Ella knew her
mother’s maiden name was Klaus, which seemed to be the German
version of Jones. She found a Sandhausen address on the Internet
for a Klaus, but no phone number or email address. Her plan was to
knock on the door.

“Germans don’t usually like that sort of
thing,” Hugo said as he pulled up to a stop sign and read the
street sign. “Brings back memories of storm troopers coming to the
door.”

“That’s silly,” Ella said. “Don’t tell me
y’all didn’t have door-to-door salesmen in the sixties.”

“Y’all
?” Hugo grinned and gave Ella a little poke in the ribs. “You
are my own little Scarlett O’Hara, aren’t you?”

Ella forgot how annoying it could be to have
someone relentlessly come on to you. She forced herself to smile.
He was doing her a favor after all. She began to wonder how bad the
bus trip could’ve been.

“I’m not going to bang on the door and
demand identification papers,” she said.

“It will probably amount to the same thing,”
he said, driving slowly down the block. “This is the street. What’s
the number?”

“508,” she said, looking at the house
numbers. It was a typical German suburban street with the homes
built in the last twenty or thirty years. If her relatives did live
on this street, they had moved here after the war. “There it
is!”

Hugo pulled the car into the driveway. “It
will be better if I stay here,” he said.

“I was going to suggest it.” Ella smiled and
hopped out of the car.

The house was a tidy two-story with an
orange tile roof. The shutters were blue and under the windows
there were flower boxes full of geraniums. As she walked up to the
front door, Ella noticed that the flowers were dramatic and
full—even this late in the season. Whoever lived here was
conscientious and proud of their home.

As she tapped on the
door—damn that Hugo for making her nervous—she rehearsed what she
would say.
Hi! I think I’m your long-lost
American cousin…

A tall woman with red hair
and a lined face answered the door quickly, making Ella wonder if
her approach had been observed.
Could this
be someone I’m related to?
Ella felt her
heart beat faster.

“Guten
morgen
,” Ella said.

The woman frowned.
“
Guten tag
,” she
said. She looked at Ella’s empty hands and then at her
face.

“I am looking for Jane
Klaus.
Ich bin auf der suche nach
Jane
—”

“Ich weiss jenen namen
nicht
,” the woman said.
I don’t know that name
.

“Her family name was Klaus,” Ella said
hurriedly, picking up on the impression that the woman was ready to
end the interview. “They moved to America after the…after the…in
about 1950 or so? I’m just trying to find if anybody is left
because it was my mother, you see.”

The woman waved her hand at Ella as if to
make her stop talking. Ella was surprised at her unfriendly manner.
There was an awkward but brief silence.

“Many people left after the
war,” the woman said finally, looking Ella up and down.
“
Ich weiss jenen namen nicht.”

“Okay. It’s just that, on the Internet, it
says the family at this address is named Klaus. So your name isn’t
Klaus?”

Before she could finish, the woman retreated
inside the house and slammed the door in Ella’s face. Stunned, Ella
stood staring at the closed door and then caught the movement of a
curtain being yanked across the window beside the entrance.

Ella walked back to the car where Hugo was
playing a game on his cellphone.

“How did it go?” he asked as he started up
the car.

“She says she doesn’t know any Klaus.”

“Oh, too bad. How about lunch?”

“Is everybody this unfriendly in the
hinterlands?” she asked. “Or was it something I said?”

“She was rude?”

“She slammed the door in my face.”

“Well, Americans often have different
definitions of what is rude and civil behavior.”

“Really? So door slamming is a gray area
over here? How about a fork in the eyeball? People here divided on
whether that’s rude or not?”

“You are upset.” Hugo put his hand on her
thigh.

“Hands and eyes on the road, please, Hugo,”
Ella said. “Yeah, sure, let’s find a restaurant. I need to do some
more research.” She pulled out her own cellphone and opened up a
search browser.

An hour later, with the remains of a very
good Dover sole on the restaurant table, Ella knew that there was a
woman living one township over from Sandhausen who might actually
be related to her mother.

“I don’t know what that woman’s problem
was,” she said to Hugo as he poured her another glass of Rhine
wine, “and it’s true she probably wasn’t a Klaus herself but I bet
she knew something about the family. Why slam a door in someone’s
face if you’re not freaked out about sharing information?”

“Again, Ella,” Hugo said.
“Germans are not as touchy-feely. I love that word. I learned it in
Indiana. We are not as
touchy-feely
as Americans. It could well mean
nothing.”

“Hugo, how many times have you slammed a
door in the face of a stranger who came to your door?”

“I am not your typical German,” he said,
leaning toward her. “Which you would soon discover if you give me
half a chance.” She had to admit he smelled great. And he was
handsome. Maybe it was the wine or the thrill of her little quest,
but it suddenly felt like a great idea to let Hugo kiss her.

At that moment, the waiter approached to ask
about dessert.

Hugo sighed and took the dessert menu. He
ordered two coffees and a torte to share without asking Ella.

“Okay,” he said, flapping out his starched
napkin onto his lap. “Where is it we are going now?”

“Dossenheim,” Ella said. “It’s not far from
here.”

“And who is in Dossenheim?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “And, seriously,
if this is a dead end, Hugo, we’re done, okay? I honestly don’t
care that much.”

“But who do you
think
is
there?”

“It’s possible this woman,” Ella squinted at
her cellphone screen to read the name. “Erica Weiss…is related to
me somehow. Her maiden name was Klaus and she was born in
Sandhausen in 1940. Even if she isn’t a relation, she might know my
people.”

“She is pretty old,” Hugo said as the waiter
brought their coffees and dessert. “Is she in her own house?”

“It looks like the address for an old folks
home.”

“Lovely,” Hugo said.

Ella felt a surge of gratitude toward him
that he would give up his Saturday to drive her around. She knew he
was hoping to score but he was still very pleasant company and he
was doing her a big favor. There was no way she could have done all
this on the damn bus.

Erica Weiss sat in the
sunny day room of the
Sonnige Tage
nursing home
and
observed her visitors through rheumy, clouded eyes. Ella noticed
her plucking at the wool afghan across her lap.

What am I even doing
here?
Ella wondered. Hugo had accompanied
her inside but she could tell by the way he held himself and the
pinched expression on his face that he wasn’t comfortable. Frau
Weiss did not speak English. Once again, she needed Hugo to help
her if she was going to find out the answers she was
seeking.

“So,” Ella said brightly. “Thank you for
seeing me, Frau Weiss.”

The old woman smiled at Ella, the first
indication that she wasn’t totally unhappy to have her morning
routine interrupted.

“I am happy to have company,” the old woman
said by way of Hugo’s monotone, very bored translation.

“I’m here,” Ella said, “because I’m trying
to find some of my family and I think you might have known them.
Your maiden name was Klaus, right? And that was my maternal
grandmother’s name. I know it’s a common name—”

The woman leaned toward Ella as if she were
going to tell a secret that she didn’t want Hugo to know but Hugo
leaned in, too, because, of course, Ella couldn’t understand
her.

“I was born Erica Klaus,” she said. “Which
was my mother’s maiden name. She married during the war and changed
her name to Vogel. But I stayed Erica Klaus.”

Ella nodded and looked at Hugo. He appeared
to be very interested all of a sudden and she couldn’t understand
why.

“I have a memory at four years old of a
family visit,” the old woman continued. “My two older sisters, and
my brother came to visit me. My sister Jana was nearest my age. I
remember we played with paper dolls together. My other sister was a
grown woman…or so she seemed to me at the time.”