Schicksal: Based on a True Story: Two Lives Torn Apart by War, Cradled in the Palm of Fate

By Merima Jackson

Reine is born during the chaos of World War I. She grows up in Germany unaware of the political struggles that surround her family. It seems her life is orchestrated by a dark, unseen hand. Repeatedly she struggles with tragedy and an insatiable need for love. In a Yugoslavian town, Stefan is raised among Jews, Muslim, and Orthodox Serbs who happily coexist despite their cultural differences. As he matures into adulthood, Stefan eagerly learns about the world around him, driven by a natural curiosity.

After Reine enters womanhood and becomes a nurse, she lives a cautious life until a Nazi soldier captures her heart amid increasing unrest in the world. Stefan, who is now an optimistic member of the Royal Yugoslav Army, soon finds himself in the midst of an escalating war, his charmed life unraveling as the Germans march almost unhindered into his homeland. As Reine and Stefan face heartache, uncertainty, and the daunting task of rebuilding, each bravely moves forward through travail to rebuild their lives and find a destiny that may just include each other.

In this historical novel based on true events, a Serbian soldier and a German nurse test the resilience of the human spirit, love, forgiveness, and hope for the future as World War II ravages Europe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Jan 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781452525549

Merima Jackson

Merima Jackson is a freelance writer and experienced physiotherapist. Privy to many tales, she is driven by an unquenchable interest in people’s life paths. Merima lives with her husband and children in Sunbury, Victoria, Australia.

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Copyright © 2015 Merima Jackson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2553-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2554-9 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 02/03/2015

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1    Born through Love

Chapter 2    The Magic Fades

Chapter 3    Alone and Vulnerable

Chapter 4    A Misty Dawn

Chapter 5    Careers of Convenience

Chapter 6    A Hand to Hold

Chapter 7    Reality Check

Chapter 8    Faith Wavers

Chapter 9    The Abyss

Chapter 10    Frozen Hope

Chapter 11    One Piece at a Time

Epilogue

Afterword

Glossary

To my parents, who feared they had not given me enough. Your extraordinary lives provide the basis for this story—history the setting, and fate, Schicksal, the key. You filled me with your love, encouraged my curiosity, and gifted me this tale; I will always love you both. With gratitude, respect, and love, I thank you.

Dust fairies circle my head, visible in the muted shaft of light passing through the translucent glass of a long-unwashed window. Inhabiting the body of a young child, my curiosity is stifled by my lack of stature. What lies beyond the glass I now face? Pondering the playful fairies, I lose myself in their unbounded joy, the freedom in which they revel and twist, forward-backward, hither-thither. Curiosity knows no rest as it invades my reverie, bringing me back to the present, away from the fairies and back to the dilemma of the high window.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a shape hidden in the shadow. Intense excitement floods my being as my small feet nimbly take flight into the unknown darkness. Away from the light, the shadow seems darker, and my steps, sure before, slow and become cautious, vaguely unsteady. Noticing the outline of a wooden box before me, I blink firmly, trying to see more clearly. Unable to do so, I swallow my fear and run my agile, little fingers through the silky dust. I was right. Yes, it is a box.

With firm intent, I fix my eyes again on the distant window and drag the box behind me. It scrapes on the roughly hewn floor, protesting noisily every inch of the way. Breathless and elated, I reach my destination, the box positioned under the windowsill. Hastily I leap up to look out. To my dismay, the window is milky. Rub as I might, I cannot clear the residue which clings to the other side of the glass, beyond my reach. As I begin this tale, I am that child looking out of the window to a past I cannot see.

Through your recitations, it is one I came to know.

Preface

Schicksal chronicles the lives of two central characters on either side of World War II. Faced with challenges during adolescence, the interwar period launches them, alongside much of Europe, into war.

As a child, I listened to my father’s stories about his life in Yugoslavia. He shared freely; my mother, little. Any reader fascinated by people’s stories along life’s unpredictable path will enjoy the insights revealed in this book.

After the death of my father, as an adult orphan, I began the daunting task of fashioning these memories into this work. For five years I researched, planned, and slowly assembled the pieces of a complex puzzle into a book.

Travelling from Saarbrücken, Germany, to Dala, Serbia, I sought to connect with my parent’s past. A tour of a coal mine impressed on me the ongoing uncertainties of a miner’s life. Unexpected kindness in my father’s hometown incepted certain character traits in my portrayal of Serbian women.

This book is written from the heart. I invite you to feel deeply, imagine freely, as you join my characters along their journey—gritty, and quite dark at times. Respite seems to elude them both.

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank my friend Gina, who read this book in its infancy and gave me honest and valuable feedback. Despite her own challenges, she has remained a steady source of encouragement to me. I am blessed to have you in my life.

To my children, who believed in me, searching for quotes, finding cover material, and listening to my writing, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Indeed you are my greatest gifts.

Thank you, Tristan, for listening to my concept, exploring it and creating this perfect book cover.

To my husband, thank you for your ongoing love and support. Without you standing behind me, I may never have been able to devote the time to writing this story.

Prologue

Reine tossed and turned, the endless night finally over as the rosy flush of dawn streamed through the fluttering curtains and into the bedroom. A fleeting regret tinged her relief that the night had passed and another day lay ahead. Soft puffs of coral pink carried by the gentle breeze cooled her face and floated gently over her generous bosom. At last her aching body seemed ready to yield to sleep, but she became aware of the tap running and water filling the kettle for early morning coffee in the adjoining kitchen. Sleep descended upon her silently and swiftly, a dark emptiness, an hour vanishing in what felt like a minute. Rousing herself, she attempted to shake off the ongoing fatigue, which remained untouched by the brief repose.

Groggily she reached her arm across the double bed, searching with her fingers for the warm, soft flesh of her infant daughter. Miriam rested peacefully, her beauty accentuated by the innocence of slumber, the rise and fall of each breath clearly visible through the child’s tousled nightgown. Every morning the unlikely combination of relief and fear ran successively through Reine’s body. Despite the passage of time, fear still predominated, an ink blot on the purity of each dawn. It took a concerted moment each day to firmly push the fear underground. Although wifely duty expected her to rise and make the morning coffee, the successful suppression of the serpent remained her first priority. Watching her daughter sleeping innocently, Reine focussed on Miriam, erasing the familiar aftertaste of the daily battle.

The coffee mill emitted its rhythmical drone as the freshly roasted beans submitted to the cogs spinning rapidly inside it. A delicious aroma floated on the breeze as Reine swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hoping not to wake the child. Feelings of gratitude toward her husband, a man she did not yet love but one with whom she shared her deepest secrets, cloaked her like a morning shawl. She knew that he was a good man. Keeping so much inside took continuous effort. The past was hidden deeply, layer upon layer, so thoroughly disguised that the pain almost vanished. It occurred by chance, the sharing, but once begun, momentum washed away the walls of repression. A torrent of released pain and injustice flowed out from her, filling the letters to this man, her husband.

The unlikely exchange of letters over several years emboldened Reine, allowing her to make a huge change: boldly shutting the door on one life, boarding a ship, crossing the seas, and disembarking to another. On the surface she coped, expressed thanks, and appeared to enjoy life, but the grief, pain, and suffering gnawed at her heart. Her movement had woken her daughter, and the child looked calmly up at her mother, knowing that she would be picked up. Emerging from the bedroom, child in her arms, she smiled faintly at her husband. Every morning, his heart overflowed with love for his daughter. Glowing, he revelled in the miracle that God had bestowed upon him. Through Reine, Stefan experienced fatherhood; a gift life’s twisted path had almost denied him.

Glancing at his wife’s slightly wet hair and the crumpled nightdress poking out from under her dressing gown, his eyes rested momentarily on the dark circles that ringed her huge, expressive eyes. He wondered if he could ever offer her enough love to heal a broken life. Reine felt rather than saw his fleeting gaze. Averting his eyes, she looked down, placing the child in her high chair for their breakfast together. Sensing her guilt and aversion, he knew she tried to embrace him, their new life, and motherhood. Stefan recognised the tendrils of fear which pulled at her very being, saw his daughter watch and absorb the emotions, and wondered if in time they would pull her, too, into a swirling abyss of depression.

After breakfast Reine placed Miriam on a rug on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. All of the windows were flung open, welcoming in the morning sun and breeze. The houses in this old part of the city shouldered each other, often with no more than two metres separating them. People lived in each other’s pockets, often inadvertently privy to their neighbours’ inner sanctums. Reine’s Australian Aboriginal neighbour came to the window, greeting her, enquiring about the baby, a routine they shared each day—Miriam the key to an unlikely friendship. The neighbour spoke only pigeon English, and Reine, though fluent in French and German, was just beginning to acquire English. Regardless of the language barrier, the two women united in the bond of motherhood, sharing the simple pleasure of watching each other’s children grow and develop.

Both secretly looked forward to this time of day, when breakfast was over and the dishes needed washing. It provided a pleasant interlude in difficult days marred by marginalisation and prejudice. The neighbour was ostracized by black and white alike for her choice to live with a white man, raising his half-caste children. Reine returned to the sink to do the dishes. She knew her neighbour’s husband discouraged the friendship and had often heard his drunken tirades berating her for her German ancestry. At the sink, her back ached, and she felt as if her spine were made of liquid, unable to support her or hold her upright. The sense of isolation, the incredible distance from Germany and the infrequent communication with home, weighed her down. A German song played on the ABC radio. Tears flowed into the dishwater, seemingly washing away all prospects of future happiness. Distracted and exhausted, she attended the household chores; groomed as a good wife, she kept an immaculate home.

Wearily she showered and dressed. This morning she caught sight of herself in the mirror, a neat, clean, overweight, middle-aged woman with a prematurely lined face. It took her a while to identify with the image in the mirror; who was this woman in the glass? Where had her youth gone, her curvy figure? Where was her waist? Reine’s self-esteem plummeted, and negativity rapidly consumed her. Mourning for a past she could no longer have, she lapsed into despondency. Even the child, an amazing gift, her second chance, failed to lift the rapidly descending veil of darkness. Aware that she held on by a thread, she took the baby and left the house. Walking’s wonderful rhythm often helped her to regain her equilibrium.

Unique Queensland homes high on their stumps lined both sides of the street, which sloped gently to the river. On the right side, a gasworks stood with its Boab-like metal tanks and mounds of coal. The air had a faintly petrochemical odour, and a fine layer of coal dust blanketed everything nearby. Industrial and unloved best described this end of the street. Dusty, blackened, and austere, the landscape offered little in the way of softness or solace. Unaffected by appearances, the river was an impressive lady that flowed gently onward, unceasingly moving, tantalising. Her waters were thick and murky, littered with debris from recent heavy rain floating indiscriminately here and there. The large flattened-basalt bank had distinct high- and low-water lines, even this far inland, reflecting the ebb and flow of the sea. Reine stood regarding the water, holding the baby, transfixed.

Although uninviting, the water mesmerised her, held her, its flow transfixing her. She watched it. She saw her past, her love, her family, her homeland, all of it flowing out to sea—floating, dissipating, and disappearing downstream. Again the tears slid silently down her cheeks; she cried and cried until only soft sobs escaped from her body. The burning in her throat paled in comparison to the intense pain in her chest. Yet she held Miriam firmly, barely aware of her presence as the vice in her chest crippled her, making it difficult to breathe. How much more could she endure? Why had her life taken so many twists and turns? An image of her brothers started the tears anew. Why had God taken everyone she loved away from her? An impulse enticed her to jump, to enter the water, to use this opportune moment to be reunited with all her loved ones.

She looked again at the river, the murkiness repulsing her, the smell of the coal and gas sending waves of nausea through her. Although she felt weak and vulnerable, she remained standing as the voice of reason took hold of her thoughts. It weighed the pros and cons of drowning, jumping in babe in arms and ending it all, stopping the pain, ending their lives. The water possessed her; she could not walk away, actively playing the scenario in her mind. She felt genuine anguish for the pain she would cause Stefan, taking her baby and his only child away from him. Exhausted, devoid of tears, she stood there, present but not fully aware. The baby whimpered, tiring of the restraint. Crying softly, she soon shuddered and hiccoughed, large trusting eyes looking imploringly up at her mother, attempting to reach through the fog of desperation and hopelessness.

In full faith, innocent eyes reached out into the darkness rapidly consuming her mother’s soul. The helpless infant watched sobbing, calling for help, as her mother battled demons deep within, slipping from reality and descending rapidly into a viscid pit of hopelessness and despair. An internal battle raged. Reine felt herself tearing in two; pain and confusion clouded her judgement as she struggled to form a decision. Should she jump or walk away? The murky depths of the river seemed to be a part of her, unrelenting, tempting and beseeching her to join them. Courage faltered, confusion wreaked havoc with the process of rational thought, and there she stood torn between the two thieves, past and future, the present slipping away from her. Faraway cries called her, but inertia made it difficult for her to respond. The sounds continued as the child desperately demanded her love and attention.

Reine looked down. Blinking, returning to the present, she saw her child; looking again, she noticed to her horror that she stood right at the edge of the river. A cold shudder ran up her spine and spread through her body. She recollected that she could not swim. A new baby, God had given her a new baby, one that needed love and care, one that had a bright future. Soothing the baby, she stepped back. A strong, tanned hand reached out to steady her. Taking it through the numbness, she felt it trembling slightly. Stefan had come home from work and, finding the door unlocked and the house empty, he sought and found her. Watching, undecided, frightened to startle her; he reached out to support her sapped steps. A voice from within told him to wait, guiding the timing of his touch.

His eyes held hers, wider than ever with fear and reddened by tears. Taking his daughter and then Reine’s hand, he walked them up the hill home. A burden was shared between them. Both acknowledged it, and they turned, walking away from the brink, the razor’s edge of cultural difficulties and an uncertain future in a new land. In its place, a flicker of hope ignited deep within their hearts while the tentacles of fear and a worn trust sabotaged the resolve to move forward, washing away the foundations as quickly as they were built. He held her gently, knowing that her world had fallen apart. Watching her, he felt progressively surer that he could trust her. A woman, an enigma, he had seen her step back from the abyss. From that hard space she returned to him, gifting him his child.

CHAPTER 1

Born through Love

α

Sitting with a guide on her right side, Reine doodled, fleshing out a plan for an amazing life. Caution cast aside, she wanted it all. Here the little queen played freely. Unencumbered, she created, exploring the multitude of possibilities before her, imagination and ingenuity playmates in the Garden of Eden. Supported by a sense of oneness, she knew that, no matter what transpired, she would be safe. Her essence pondered a being of light, anxiously waiting for incarnation into the place of endless limitations. Would she forget this liberation by experiencing injustice and heartache, and succumbing to unregulated chaotic emotions? In this ethereal zone, that seemed impossible. Insistently, her inner voice summoned her, as she reluctantly focussed and began to finalise the details of her next life.

Like the coming of autumn, sadness fleetingly touched her being. Joy and expectation mingled easily with regret. Soon she would forget this elevated state. Reine allowed it to pass through her, dissipating into the void. Slowing her vibration, thickness permeated her cells. Her essence spiralled purposefully downward. Joining the planetary body of earth, she scanned prospective couples, those wishing to have a child. To her surprise, despite the war in Europe, she found an ample array of prospective parents. Working purely instinctively, her intuition led her to the couple who would provide by their love the route for her incarnation and, by the hand of fate, a fertile ground for growth. From the highest vantage point, she selected to live a life full of experiences, colour, and regret.

Subconsciously she knew her parents already, but as her memories gradually slipped away, she took more time to be near them. Firstly, she concentrated her effort on finding a father, the ideal male aspect—by nature withdrawn, apparently aloof; he remained vigilant, always waiting for something to happen. Watching him, she noticed that he prided himself in being prepared, always in control, a good and dependable man. Everybody liked him, although no one actually understood that they really did not know him at all. Blending well, he barely created a ripple on the pond of life, and yet a certain tension shadowed him like a heavy winter coat, restricting his movement.

Physically he appealed to Reine. Though not conventionally handsome, his conservative clothing and medium height and build created a well-assembled aura. Looking out from the photograph on the hearth, deep-set, mystical eyes regarded the world intently. Unfathomably complex, they reflected a fiercely protective nature, a quality that would ultimately win her mother’s heart. Similarly, Paps would gain her complete trust, break her heart, and wound her so deeply that the precious gift of love would unthinkably transmute into a seething hatred. This man, a vassal, offered a multitude of opportunities, chances for her to feel the both agony and ecstasy, diametrically opposed extremes. Hatred and love, so close yet so irreconcilable, two faces of the same coin.

Seeing him on a Sunday, one could easily mistake him for a man of substance, a banker or a businessman perhaps. Like so many sitting nearby, he worked in one of the lowliest positions—that of a miner. Inside Mother Earth all year round at a steady twelve degrees, he picked away at the coal seams to provide fuel for homes and industry. Dust covered him, making him one with his surroundings, a black chameleon. His eyes observed it all, and his soul absorbed it all, especially the unspoken fear of asphyxiation. But in his suit, he fooled the world of judgement, easily mistaken as a man of means.

Reine watched her mother sitting in the church pew, sunbeams streaming through the stained glass encircling her head. Dust fairies danced innocently overhead, carried whimsically on the breath of hymns, floating upward toward heaven. Mami looked elated as the music carried her spirit to a place untouched by earthly concerns. Reine knew her destiny was about to be played out, observing the magic of the moment when her parents met for the first time. Paps looked up. On seeing Reine’s mother, his normal control slipped from his grasp. Mami’s outer beauty first caught his attention, but her inner beauty captured his heart. Small in stature, she frequently found people initially mistook her for a child. One look into her eyes revealed the presence of understated power and formidable determination.

Glancing sideways, she smiled at him. The ease of her smile seemed to illuminate the whole church. Caught unawares, he wondered if she could read the thoughts rattling noisily around inside his head. The smile touched him as if she had gently kissed his cheek, leaving him slightly dizzy and off-kilter. It triggered a vision in his mind, exploring incredible possibilities for their future that were his alone,