The Darling of Dachau
Best kept hidden
They say
Being trusted is better than being loved. [George MacDonald]
How are you supposed to feel about someone you love but cannot trust? Someone you trust but cannot love? Do the two ride hand in hand, swing side by side?
All my life I have never trusted anyone and I have never truly felt as though someone loved me. If love is worth the risk, my life has been a waste. There is always time to change, but I am frightened, so scared for a heartbreak. To love, you must trust and I ask you:
If I cannot trust, will I ever love?
Three letters came in three very different hands, all arriving in Gleeson’s thick fingertips in the late morning. The first I saw was from Mr. Bartlet. Almost a week had passed before our last meeting and during that time, through word of mouth, he had assured me his next voyage out to France would be successful. He would get my inheritance back.
Gleeson had a knife at hand. Dirk had given it to him when he first left to travel as an incentive for keeping me safe. The handle was encrusted with pretty leaves made of jade, and gold, delicate flowers were blooming all around the blade. Gleeson flashed a short smile and sliced away the sealed envelope with one fair swoop. I gave him my warmest morning smile and read.
Hanna,
Mr. Antelem turned about to be a kind-hearted man which I am sure you will enjoy in time. He was confused, as were we all with the strange circumstances, but after I explained things, he was willing to give the money back under the promise that he could meet with you. I encourage you do so- not only will we not have to call in the law to help with the issue at hand, but he does seem like an interesting character with a story to tell.
Best Regards,
Nicholas Bartlet
Hanna Leven,
Times are rough and I wanted you to know that there is a new construction project not far from the Herbertshausen house. Stay as far away as possible from the train tracks and river. Let me know of any changes that might occur. Stay safe.
Dirk
Mrs. Dirk Blasidale,
A little under an hour ago, a rather (shall we call him enthusiastic?) man appeared at my doorstep and I was delighted to hear of you and your story. Your grandmother seemed to have been a fascinating person and I am deeply sorry for your loss. I have only heard her name once before and I believe then I was only about twelve or so, visiting her neighbors in France. If Nicholas Barlet has not reached you already, we will be in touch soon.
Sincerely Yours,
Robert Antelem
“Thank you, Gleeson.” I murmured, reading the three letters until my tired mind could process what they all meant. As soon as I finished reading, I handed them one by one back to Gleeson for filing. Letters…
Mr. Bartlet promised my inheritance. Robert Antelem wanted to meet with me. And Dirk wanted me to stay safe.
I took Dirk’s letter between my fingertips and held it close to my eye. Gleeson backed away slowly as I held it under by nose. It smelled like the dark ink he had signed his name with. I recrossed my ankles under the table, mind racing. I reached to the center of the table and began to dab at it with a napkin. My eyes widened as I realized his signature was still wet. I folded the cloth napkin over and handed it to Gleeson.
“It’s stained.” I murmured. My voice was caught in my throat. He seemed to get the message and with understanding eyes, took the napkin. I watched him disappear down the hall. I made sure he wouldn’t return before taking Dirk’s letter again and reading it until every line was drilled in my mind. The second to last was what angered me most.
Let me know of any changes that might occur.
From previous experiences, I could say that we weren’t the happiest couple in the world. We were more independent than strong. We could live without each other. We just thought it was better this way. And we both felt the same way. Our marriage was more of an agreement, an alliance than anything. But what we had agreed to was to be honest and open. Had he been?
Based on the time it took his favorite ink to dry, he couldn’t have been far. And in the letter he had warned me not to come near the construction site. Was that a precaution- something involving a concern of my safety or a something completely different? What was he doing while he was positioned there- maybe ten, fifteen minutes away?
My stomach churned as Gleeson slipped a tray with tea and a scone to the center of the table.
“Ma’am?” he asked, hand outstretched to the letter. I let go reluctantly to watch him disappear one more time. During the period it took for him to return again, I had made up my mind on how to follow up to the recent events. Just as Dirk hadn’t been honest with me, I was no longer to mention anything in my life to him. I would write back and tell him everything was fine, as usual and that nothing had changed. Just the way he wanted. Nothing had changed at all.
But as I asked Gleeson to get my favorite fountain pen, I felt the complete opposite. The world had changed before my very eyes.
Being trusted is better than being loved. [George MacDonald]
How are you supposed to feel about someone you love but cannot trust? Someone you trust but cannot love? Do the two ride hand in hand, swing side by side?
All my life I have never trusted anyone and I have never truly felt as though someone loved me. If love is worth the risk, my life has been a waste. There is always time to change, but I am frightened, so scared for a heartbreak. To love, you must trust and I ask you:
If I cannot trust, will I ever love?
Three letters came in three very different hands, all arriving in Gleeson’s thick fingertips in the late morning. The first I saw was from Mr. Bartlet. Almost a week had passed before our last meeting and during that time, through word of mouth, he had assured me his next voyage out to France would be successful. He would get my inheritance back.
Gleeson had a knife at hand. Dirk had given it to him when he first left to travel as an incentive for keeping me safe. The handle was encrusted with pretty leaves made of jade, and gold, delicate flowers were blooming all around the blade. Gleeson flashed a short smile and sliced away the sealed envelope with one fair swoop. I gave him my warmest morning smile and read.
Hanna,
Mr. Antelem turned about to be a kind-hearted man which I am sure you will enjoy in time. He was confused, as were we all with the strange circumstances, but after I explained things, he was willing to give the money back under the promise that he could meet with you. I encourage you do so- not only will we not have to call in the law to help with the issue at hand, but he does seem like an interesting character with a story to tell.
Best Regards,
Nicholas Bartlet
Hanna Leven,
Times are rough and I wanted you to know that there is a new construction project not far from the Herbertshausen house. Stay as far away as possible from the train tracks and river. Let me know of any changes that might occur. Stay safe.
Dirk
Mrs. Dirk Blasidale,
A little under an hour ago, a rather (shall we call him enthusiastic?) man appeared at my doorstep and I was delighted to hear of you and your story. Your grandmother seemed to have been a fascinating person and I am deeply sorry for your loss. I have only heard her name once before and I believe then I was only about twelve or so, visiting her neighbors in France. If Nicholas Barlet has not reached you already, we will be in touch soon.
Sincerely Yours,
Robert Antelem
“Thank you, Gleeson.” I murmured, reading the three letters until my tired mind could process what they all meant. As soon as I finished reading, I handed them one by one back to Gleeson for filing. Letters…
Mr. Bartlet promised my inheritance. Robert Antelem wanted to meet with me. And Dirk wanted me to stay safe.
I took Dirk’s letter between my fingertips and held it close to my eye. Gleeson backed away slowly as I held it under by nose. It smelled like the dark ink he had signed his name with. I recrossed my ankles under the table, mind racing. I reached to the center of the table and began to dab at it with a napkin. My eyes widened as I realized his signature was still wet. I folded the cloth napkin over and handed it to Gleeson.
“It’s stained.” I murmured. My voice was caught in my throat. He seemed to get the message and with understanding eyes, took the napkin. I watched him disappear down the hall. I made sure he wouldn’t return before taking Dirk’s letter again and reading it until every line was drilled in my mind. The second to last was what angered me most.
Let me know of any changes that might occur.
From previous experiences, I could say that we weren’t the happiest couple in the world. We were more independent than strong. We could live without each other. We just thought it was better this way. And we both felt the same way. Our marriage was more of an agreement, an alliance than anything. But what we had agreed to was to be honest and open. Had he been?
Based on the time it took his favorite ink to dry, he couldn’t have been far. And in the letter he had warned me not to come near the construction site. Was that a precaution- something involving a concern of my safety or a something completely different? What was he doing while he was positioned there- maybe ten, fifteen minutes away?
My stomach churned as Gleeson slipped a tray with tea and a scone to the center of the table.
“Ma’am?” he asked, hand outstretched to the letter. I let go reluctantly to watch him disappear one more time. During the period it took for him to return again, I had made up my mind on how to follow up to the recent events. Just as Dirk hadn’t been honest with me, I was no longer to mention anything in my life to him. I would write back and tell him everything was fine, as usual and that nothing had changed. Just the way he wanted. Nothing had changed at all.
But as I asked Gleeson to get my favorite fountain pen, I felt the complete opposite. The world had changed before my very eyes.