Tears in the Eyes of My Enemy

By Margot Webb

This unusual book takes place in Arnstadt, Germany between the years 1998 and 2008. It involves Meryam, the only Jewish person visiting the town. She lived there with her grandparents during her last two years in the country just before she and her parents were fortunate enough to move to America.

Various episodes and experiences happen because of an accidental friendship with a Minister, famed for his disagreements with the Third Reich.

Meryam becomes involved in the lives of his congregation and young people that he introduced to her. She faces friendly people with many doubts about their sincerity. The Minister convinces her to return the following year to give lectures, to form relationships with young people, to participate in directing plays, and to gently show the evils of fascism.

That one year turned into three-week visits for ten consecutive years and ends in a surprisingly positive and spiritual manner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Post Hill Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637583227

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Fear and anxiety had surrounded Meryam during the past two hours. She had always suffered some claustrophobia, but sitting in a taxi with two other people in heavy winter coats just added to her near hysteria. Soon, they would be at an old hotel in Arnstadt, Germany. Their driver, a careful man, manipulated his tiny car through heavy snow without complaint. Meryam and her cousin Ilse tried to look out of the window, but dancing dense snowflakes prevented it. From time to time, Ilse tried to hold Meryam’s hand, but she pulled it away almost roughly. She had wrapped herself in a cocoon of misery.

Why did she agree to go with her cousin to a country which had murdered most of her family, tortured her, and did not allow her to live a normal little girl’s life? The Holocaust had happened over sixty years ago. She would never understand why it had occurred, but logic could never apply to Hitler’s Reich.

Meryam now lived in America. She had gone to London to visit her cousin Ilse, who convinced her to come once more to her Fatherland. She had lived with the knowledge that she had been spared death while her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins had perished She was already worn out with anxiety from the moment of her arrival at Leipzig’s Airport. Her emotions played havoc with her head and heart. This trip was just beginning!

The taxi neared their destination. Ilse pointed out a faint light. Within minutes, their driver stopped in front of an ancient hotel. He moved quickly as he carried their suitcases into the lobby, returned, and opened the door for his passengers. They stepped into ankle-deep snow.

I’m sorry, he told them, but tonight is quite a storm.

You must be tired, Meryam said, shivering as she spoke to the driver. Two hours in this weather had to be difficult. I had forgotten how far Leipzig and Arnstadt are apart.

Ilse had her wallet out, ready to pay.

Their driver shook his head, jumped into his taxi, rolled the window down, and announced, No charge. Welcome! May you find a kinder Germany. I heard your conversation. He drove off in a whirl of snow.

Ilse and Meryam walked slowly to the door of the hotel, shaking their heads at such unexpected generosity.

As they walked into the lobby, a cheerful round man shouted, Guten Abend, willkommen. He introduced himself as Herr Schmidt, owner of the hotel and told them he was pleased to have guests, one from England and one from America. He was ready to go on talking, but Ilse reminded him gently that they were very tired and would appreciate going to their room. As soon as Mery entered the lobby, unexpected guilt overwhelmed her because she felt perfectly at home. It began with feeling the snow at her ankles and continued with Herr Schmidt’s boisterous greeting as all-too-familiar aromas wafted from the kitchen. Her home was no longer here.

Ilse climbed the rickety old steps to their room and Meryam followed with their host. Herr Schmidt opened the door, handed the key to Ilse and told her that he left a carafe of hot chocolate on the table. Meryam thanked him and shut the door, trying to hold tears back.

Two huge feather beds invited both women to rest. With their last bit of energy Ilse and Meryam readied for the night. Herr Schmidt’s hot chocolate felt like a childhood good-night kiss.

As soon as Ilse lay down, her eyes closed. Meryam, not quite ready for sleep, unpacked her suitcase. All was quiet, a kind of quiet one senses on cold, snowy nights, as though the world held still.

Suddenly, she heard the door of the lobby creak open, then shut with a slam, while men’s voices asked for a room. Their heavy footsteps hit the ancient, delicate staircase and one of them complained, Verdammter Schnee (Damned snow).

Meryam had heard such voices before. She had heard them often, especially during the night on which all Jewish men in the country were arrested by Nazis. She had never forgotten the loud voices demanding the immediate appearance of her grandfather. A truck had waited outside filled with Jewish men, some of them still dressed in their pajamas, shivering in the icy night.

Now, Meryam imagined she heard it again. She slid under her feather cover, hardly able to breathe. A second later, pounding on their door began and didn’t let up. Ilse, now fully awake, got out of bed, threw her bathrobe on and opened a tiny space to see who would dare make such noise. Herr Schmidt’s voice came through and Ilse opened the door wider.

I’m so sorry about these rowdy students who have just come in. Please forgive me for disturbing you. He held a tray with two glasses of brandy, To help you go back to sleep. He explained students from a nearby university often are stuck in deep snow, and since this was the only hotel in Arnstadt, they came during winter storms and had no idea how loud they could be. He planned to talk to them about their lack of manners. With that, he backed into the hallway.

Meryam fell asleep at last, exhausted and angry for having shown herself in naked pain.

In the morning, it still snowed. The grey sky promised even more cold weather. Meryam had always loved winter. She got up and sat near the window. She admired the snow’s white softness, which gave the impression that the world contained no evil.

When the two women were ready, Ilse opened the door to the small hallway and bumped directly into a tall young man. Since Meryam stood behind her, she inadvertently pushed her cousin, and a domino effect began and could have ended with all of them falling down the stairs. They held on to the nearby railing and leaned on the man, who kept them from falling.

And to think I was going to apologize as soon as I saw you two ladies, he said. I’m Otto and here comes my friend Sigi. I’m sorry we were noisy last night. Now I’m doubly sorry for almost having pushed you both down the stairs.

Drama is Otto’s way of speaking, Sigi laughed and shook Ilse’s and Meryam’s hands.

As they walked carefully down the old steps, Otto suggested they might have breakfast together in the nearly empty restaurant of the hotel.

Ilse accepted and the four guests sat at the only large table in the room. Coffee, much needed by all, appeared quickly and Sigi explained they were stuck in the snow last night. Their car refused to budge, so they decided to spend the night in Arnstadt.

What brings you here in the middle of winter? Otto wanted to know.

I lived here as a child with my grandparents and my cousin and I wanted to see Arnstadt again, Meryam answered.

Why did your family leave? Sigi asked.

Were you in the Hitler Youth? Otto chimed in.

No, of course not, Meryam answered heatedly. Can we just have breakfast without an interview?

Otto’s face turned red with embarrassment. I seem to have to apologize again. You are right, of course. We are students from Ilmenau, which built a wonderful university and we were foolish enough to try to go to Erfurt, the next city over, to have some fun. The weather looked forbidding all day long, but we ignored it.

They spoke easily about their studies. Meryam told them that she had been a teacher in California for many years.

Ilse spoke about her life in London and her love of classical music.

Then you must know that Johann Sebastian Bach had played the organ here in Arnstadt and in Leipzig. But he actually had lived here.

And had twenty-two children, Sigi announced.

Ilse looked excited and asked if they knew in which house the composer had lived. They did and gave directions, which she wrote down immediately. She was always prepared with a little notebook and pen in her purse.

They also advised the ladies to see the Christopherus House, which was almost five hundred years old. When Meryam explained she’d not only seen it but lived in it, they couldn’t believe it. They knew from history that the owners had left suddenly. Sigi guessed, after a few minutes, that these ladies might be Jewish. Could they have been driven from Germany?

Hesitantly, he asked them. He was right. He stood up almost in a military fashion, took their hands in his and said, I’m so honored. I never met a Jewish person before but read a good deal about the Holocaust. It is the greatest tragedy in the world to me.

Ilse told him he didn’t need to stand. She felt his respect.

You were much too young to have had anything to do with it, she comforted him.

Sigi thanked them both while Otto pointed out that their car, still stuck in the snow, had to be moved. It was time to go.

Please, he said, if you should come to Ilmenau, give us a call, and we could have a meal together. With that, he added his phone number to Ilse’s note.

As they left the restaurant, Sigi looked back several times. He had been quite a bit more affected by their short talk. Meryam wondered what his family’s story might have been.

Herr Schmidt gave Ilse a newspaper after breakfast because she wanted to stay in front of the fireplace in the lobby. Meryam planned to take a walk by herself. She went upstairs, put her warm winter coat on as well as her boots. On her way out, she told Ilse she wanted to go to the Christopherus House, just to look at it. So far, it hadn’t been an easy morning. As she walked, she realized her body took her in the right direction. She’d been a little afraid that she might not be able to remember exactly how to get to the house. Her boots felt cobblestones under some spots where the snow had been pushed aside by a car or a sled. After only minutes, she stood in front of her former home.

No one opened its huge door to kiss her!

No one told her how much she’d grown!

No one held her in safety and love!

She stood still in the falling snow.

Alone. Alone.

As she turned around, Meryam took one more look at St. Christopherus. She knew that travelers hundreds of years ago always crossed themselves when they passed by or stopped in the house for the night. He had been a saint and she’d never noticed before that this huge painting showed that he carried Jesus on his back.

She waited for a few minutes before returning to the hotel. Suddenly, she recalled the last Chanukah celebrated by her family in that house. A beautiful tiny Menorah filled with eight candles looked unusual on this first Chanukah night. Oma had decided eight candles should be used instead of only one, which had been the rule. For eight days, one more candle was usually added to the first one until they all blazed their message of love and victory. This time, Meryam lit the entire menorah while Opa chanted the prayers.

Now, a visitor to her former home, she wondered how different the world might have been without hatred. She stared once more at St. Christopherus and left. Time to return to her hotel to keep Ilse company. Her loneliness slowed her walk as she trudged along. Love for that huge old house, anger at having been forced out and guilt for having survived surrounded her.

When she opened the door to the lobby, she saw her cousin appeared ready to leave. She wore a heavy coat, warm gloves and a knitted hat.

Where are you going? A curious Meryam asked.

Nowhere alone. I thought you might show me Arnstadt as you had known it when you were a child. She had forgotten that Ilse had come from Halle, as she had, but that Arnstadt was not a place she had ever visited. It was the home of Meryam’s grandparents.

Although Meryam had hoped for time alone, she had no intention of disappointing Ilse. They left promptly. Sunshine glistened on the snow, making it appear as though jewels covered everything. They walked past little shops and Meryam pointed to one in particular.

This used to be a tiny grocery store, where I loved their licorice candy. There were long sticks and some were rolled into animal shapes. Ilse smiled, admitting that she, too, loved that candy.

Arnstadt is a hilly town and when they passed one street, which looked especially steep, Meryam became excited and recalled how she and her friends had used their sleds there. All their parents forbade them to use that street because it ended in traffic. She didn’t listen, nor did her friends, because they watched for cars before they took off from the top. The bubbly account of her misdeeds suddenly ended.

She told Ilse her group stood together, seeming to wait for her, but she had been wrong. They waited to inform her that a new sign posted at the very top of the street announced, NO JEWS ALLOWED. This memory made her walk faster and faster and her cousin had trouble keeping up with her. One memory followed another as she thought about a small lake where she’d skated with her best friend, Gretl. The same thing had happened again. One day, when she went there, she saw a sign, NO JEWS ALLOWED. More signs began to appear everywhere. At a movie theater, at an ice cream store, and at the bakery. Meryam shrank into herself. Her steps slowed down.

After a few more minutes, they arrived at a church. Its unlocked door, tested by Ilse, invited them inside. Though it felt icy cold, muted colors gave a sense of peace. A long aisle led to the altar. Surprisingly, a woman bundled up in several coats stood before a book-filled table next to the first row of benches. They walked hesitantly down the aisle, but the woman’s hearty voice rang out, Willkommen, as they moved toward her.

They shook hands and introduced themselves. It was difficult as the woman had several pairs of gloves on.

I’m Frau Olmer, she smiled. With all these clothes on, I’m sure I look strange, but it is so cold in this church.

We can feel it too, Meryam answered and wondered how long she’d been standing there with all those books.

Just an hour. Frankly, we had been told that two Jewish ladies were staying at the hotel, and I hoped that you might come by this church. My husband, Dr. Olmer, is the pastor here.

Why didn’t you come to the hotel? Ilse asked. It would have been much warmer.

First of all, I had no right to invade your privacy. Secondly, my husband thought it rude of me to even contemplate visiting you. You see, we have never seen a Jewish person before, though we fought and fought for their rights.

No one knew how to go on.

Frau Olmer wordlessly gave each one a copy of the books piled on the table. Shock swept through Meryam. The book, compiled by Dr. Olmer, told of the fate of all Jewish citizens of Arnstadt. It mentioned those who had been murdered, those who had been able to leave Germany, those who had returned and those who had been in concentration camps. She turned page after page. She found her grandparents’ names and where they had been killed. She found her mother’s and father’s names and even her own. The pastor had considered her a citizen of Arnstadt, although she’d lived there only two years.

Yet, he had never met a Jew. The town had been racially cleansed of them during the Hitler days.

Meryam approached Frau Olmer, threw her arms around her and whispered, I think your husband must be an angel, as well as you. You are standing here to show us a truth we needed to know. You are here in an icy cold church but felt you could not come to the hotel? I feel so honored, so unbelievably fortunate to have met you.

Ilse, too, deeply touched, asked her if it could be possible to meet her husband. Would they be kind enough to have dinner at the hotel this evening?

Frau Olmer simply answered, Yes, it would be our pleasure. I do not even have to ask my husband because I’m familiar with his busy schedule. He is free tonight. I also promise not to wear three coats and two pairs of gloves.

Only after Meryam and Ilse had returned to speak to Herr Schmidt did they discover that this pastor was famous. He had been decorated as an Honor Citizen, had refused to participate in Hitler’s plan of destruction and had done all the research for the book by himself.

When Herr Schmidt heard that the Olmers were coming to dinner at his little restaurant, his face flushed while orders were shouted to his staff. The dining room was to be cleared of any other guests. All tables were to have white tablecloths and crystal wine glasses. He would choose the menu as well as the wines. He rushed to do everything just right and he excused himself to Meryam and to Ilse because he would be busy until seven o’clock that evening when the couple was to arrive.

Meryam and Ilse quickly left to find a restaurant for lunch elsewhere. The last they saw of Herr Schmidt before the evening was his rushing from the hotel, so excited was he that he left the door open and was running as fast as he could toward a store without a hat or gloves. They were sure he didn’t feel the cold. His excitement kept him warm.

Shortly before seven o’clock Meryam and Ilse walked downstairs and could hardly believe their eyes. Tables gleamed with freshly washed white tablecloths and one table set for four had multi-colored flowers, cut crystal wine glasses and beautiful dishes all ready for the evening’s meal with Ilse’s invited guests. They didn’t have to wait long.

Moments after they had admired Herr Schmidt’s work, a cold breeze almost flew Dr. and Frau Olmer into the lobby. Herr Schmidt ran to them first. Guten Abend, Willkommen. He bowed, then helped the pair out of their coats and hung them carefully into an open cupboard. It looked as if he might be about to give a little speech to them. Apparently, Dr. Olmer knew him well.

Herr Schmidt, thank you for your overwhelming greeting. The pastor’s voice sounded deep and calm. He had an air of kindly authority about him.