The first time I saw the Leman daughter was after one of Max Vandenburg and Walter Kuglar's famous fist fights, one of the rare fights that Max Vandenburg won. I was in the neighborhood as a result of the death of a small child down the street when I spotted the Jewish Fist Fighter. He reached down to help his friend – and foe – up from the ground, both were bleeding and bruised but smiling all the same. Walter didn't take the hand of the Jewish fist fighter, instead he pushed himself up, careful not to put weight on his badly bruised right hand.
"Think your friend with patch me up again Max? Lord knows Mama won't do it." Walter grinned.
"Ja, I think Deena will, you know she'll give you a lecture to rival your Mama's though." Max warned, both of them had been patched up by the young Deena Leman before and both had been given one of her stern lectures before.
***A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE LEMAN DAUGHTER***
She was a year younger then max
She did not approve of fist fights
She wasn't what one would call pretty
She had two curses in this life
One was Max Vandenburg
The other was being a Jew
The Leman family lived in a small apartment 2 buildings down from the Vandenburgs, and they were often the subject of building gossip, this was due to two facts. No one was quite sure just how many children the Leman family had (guesses ran from 8 children to 20, the real number was 14) for now one saw more than a few children at a time, it was only known that they were all twins, for twins seemed to be Annalies Leman's curse in this life. The other was that Jacob Leman seemed to care very little for his wife or daughters, this wasn't true of course but to an outsider his strict ways and orthodox beliefs could seem more than a little cruel.
Jacob Leman wrote for the Jewish newspaper before it had been shut down, and now he took odd jobs writing letters for the illiterate and occasionally sending in articles under psydonems (which was dangerous enough) to the Stuttgart newspapers. He avoided conflict, or interaction with his neighbors as much as he could and he always held prayer groups in his family's small home. Under his tough outward appearance, he really was a kind man who loved his wife and his children, he read to them every night and kissed each child before bed. His curse in this life, his kindness, he was all too kind for a Jew in Nazi Germany.
His wife was every bit as kind as he was. Annalies had been to nursing school before she got married but had never worked in a hospital, not that Jews could do that sort of thing these days. She worked more privately in the community and had taught her oldest daughter, Deena, everything she knew when it came to caring for people. Her curse in this life was twins, lots of them, seven sets for 14 children, 5 boys, 9 girls.
When Max and Walter knocked on the door it wasn't Deena or her mother who answered, it was 7-year-old Naideen Leman. "Deena's making dinner in the kitchen." She announced proudly leading Max and Walter through the crowded apartment and into the kitchen. "Max is bleeding again."
Deena Leman turned around, her green eyes looked both over quickly. "Naideen go get the medical kit from Mama's room. You two, sit." She cleared the table and motioned Walter to take a seat on it. "Have you learned nothing from all the fist fighting?"
"What do you mean?" Max asked.
"You know what I mean." She shot him a look. "That fighting brings you two nothing but pain and your mother's nothing but upset."
"Maybe it brings Max's mother nothing but upset," Walted grinned. "But my mother doesn't care so long as I win."
Deena bit back a comment, everyone knew what Walter's parents thought of Jews. They were less than happy that his best friend was one and even less happy that he let a Jew patch him up. So long as he won the fights, his father wouldn't say anything.
"Well you've brought your mother upset this time haven't you?" Max grins back despite a quickly swelling eye.
Deena pulls a bag of frozen peas from the ice box and hands it to Max. "Put that on your eye. Naideen!"
"Sorry, it's heavy." Naideen dropped the medical kit on the table next to Walter and skipped off to play.
Deena rummages through it and pulls out the cotton balls and rubbing alcohol. "You know one day one of you is going to get seriously hurt." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "Neither one of your mothers is in good enough healthy to handle you boys. Max your mother has had a cough for nine years and Walter, I don't believe I've ever known yours to get out of bed and I've worked for your family since I was 13."
Yes, at 13 the Leman daughter had had to leave school, she'd taken up cleaning for families that could pay her, Walters was one of them. At the time she could've found better money elsewhere but she had been desperate and now the Kuglars were the only family who would keep her employed, which she was sure was due in large part to Frau Kuglar's poor health and Herr Kuglar's opposition to any sort of house work.
"She gets out of bed, once a week when we have family dinners." Walter grinned, he too had never known his mother to be in good health, she'd been sick most of his life, leaving his sister to care for his 3 younger brothers and himself to be a good boy. Not that he was.
"My mother's cough isn't due to my fist fighting Leman." Max grinned. "It's due to my Aunt's inability to keep house."
"Maybe your Aunt should hire me." Deena shot back.
Despite the arguing that went on between the three of them they were good friends, at least Deena and Max were. Deena wouldn't say it to his face but Walter Kuglar made her nervous, His family had been members of the Nazi party for years, but the two were civil at least. Max and Deena had known each other since they were nine years old, they went to the same synagogue, the same school and for a time Max's mother took him to the prayer nights at the Leman house hold. They'd not gotten on much as children but as the years wore on and times got harder they had bigger enemies to face, and now though neither would admit to it, they really were quite fond of each other.
Deena wrapped Walter's hand in gauze after cleaning it and announced; "You're done, sit Vandenburg."
Walter and Max switched places and Deena began work on Max. "You know Leman, you should really be a nurse rather than a maid."
The Leman house isn't the cleanest at the moment, she's been cooking all day and the kitchen is over run with pots and pans and what little food the family has for the prayer group tonight. The laundry was brought in from the line but never folded and Deena's own dress looked as if it was badly in need of a wash.
"Shut up Max. You know Jews can't be nurses any more. Only Germans can. And Jews can't be German either." She'd like to be a nurse certainly but she'd never be able to get employed as one or go to school for it.
"Fair enough but if we were allowed to be German you could be. I wouldn't mind you patching me up at a hospital."
"Shut up." She wiped his hands with rubbing alcohol to clean them and then began to wrap them as well. Without speaking to him again she moved on to his face and cleaned and bandaged each of the cuts. "There you're both fine. You'll both be fine. Now go home both of you before you worry your mothers."
Max hopped off the table and Deena wiped her hands on her apron before walking them to the door.
"Thanks Deena." Walter grinned sloppily at her. "See you next week."
"You better not." Deena glared.
"Thanks Deena, I'll see you tonight at prayer." Max turned and walked out the door.
"Goodbye Max, I'll see you tonight."
But she wouldn't, she wouldn't see either of them together again. It's the afternoon of Wednesday November 9, 1938, and by 1:20 am on Thursday November 10, 1938, Max Vandenburg would be hiding in a warehouse, Deena Leman's kitchen would be full of wounded Jews from the street and Walter Kuglar would be looking for a man named Hans Hubberman.
I would see Walter Kuglar buried deep in Soviet Snow, freezing to death, not that he knew it. No he hoped it would be a bullet that got him, bullets were after all so much faster than hypothermia or starvation. He wasn't that lucky anymore, he'd used all his luck up on Max.
As for the Leman family, they were never the same. I saw them several more times, three times in the Frankfurt Ghetto, when little Naideen and two of the boys died of pneumonia. Jacob Leman I saw when I carried him away from Dachau. Deena I saw in Poland, the will to live beaten out of her, her family dead, Max gone, praying for me, begging me to come and when I did, her soul greeted me with open arms.
A/N - I wrote this for a friend a few years ago and decided to post it here, it was a quick write and I'm not entirely happy with how it turned out but I figured I'd upload it because I would like to do something more with Max and Walter and Deena in the future.
Thank you for reading and if you review I try to respond to each one by way of PM
- Galia