I Believe

“Mama, please don’t make me, please, Mama!” Wendla Bergmann sat up in her bed, her own screams jolting her awake. She clutched her blankets tightly, the fear from the nightmare making her shake.

“Wendla! What is it, darling?” Her mother said, swooping into the room and sitting on the bed next to her. Wendla began sobbing, burying her face in her mother’s chest. Her mother didn’t say anything, just wrapped her arms around the crying girl, rubbing her back soothingly.

“It was only a dream, Wendla. It wasn’t real. Do you want to tell me what it was?” Wendla looked up, and tried speaking through her sobs.

“Melchior, sweet, sweet Melchior, he was being tortured in this awful place and I...oh, Mama, I was having a baby, but the doctor called it anemia, but you took me to this man, this awful, awful man, who was going to cut me up and kill the baby, oh, Mama, it was awful!” She said, a fresh wave of tears starting. Her mother looked at her with a concerned frown.

“Wendla, dear, I would never do that to you. You could never have a baby, you aren’t married yet.”

“I know, Mama, but it was still so scary,” Wendla choked out. “Melchior, he looked so upset.”

“Don’t you worry about him; he’s fine asleep in his bed. You can see him in the morning when you walk to school. Go back to sleep.” She said, standing up and kissing her daughter on the forehead. Comforted, Wendla smiled and nodded, lying back down in the bed. She fell asleep quickly, her dreams filled with nothing.

The next morning she woke up and got out of bed, her nightmare a distant memory. She quickly got dressed, wanting to see Melchior early. She flew down the stairs, sitting at the kitchen table impatiently.

“You are certainly in a rush this morning, Wendla.” Her father commented, looking up from his book to chuckle at her.

“I’m going to meet Melchior, Papa.” She explained.

“Ah, the Gabor boy? He’s a nice boy. Very intelligent. I like him.” Her father said, nodding in approval. Wendla smiled, glad her father liked him.

“Here now. Don’t eat it too fast, you’ll get a stomachache.” Her mother said, placing a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. Despite her mother’s words, Wendla ate quickly, finishing her food and standing up, smiling brightly.

“I’m going to go meet Melchior now. Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Papa.” She said, kissing each of them in turn before grabbing her books and walking out the door. Her father chuckled as she left.

“She’s quite enamored with that boy, isn’t she?” Her mother smiled, nodding.

“He’s good for her.” She said, standing behind her husband.

Wendla rushed out of the house, dashing down the pathway that connected the Bergmann house to the Gabor house. It seemed that Melchior had also wanted to talk to Wendla, because he was waiting outside his house with an anxious expression.

“Melchior!”

“Wendla!” He walked over to her quickly, looking down at her with worry. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“Why not? We walk together every day.” She said, smiling slightly.

“I was afraid you would be mad at me, after what happened in the hayloft.” He said quietly. “I was pushing you, Wendla. I shouldn’t have.” Wendla shook her head, smiling to reassure him.

“It’s alright, Melchior. I forgive you.” Melchior exhaled with relief and smiled crookedly.

“Shall we walk then?”

“We shall.” Wendla said with a giggle, looping her arm through the crook of his. They had walked like this every morning for the past few weeks, after Wendla had found Melchior that one evening under the tree they used to play around.

“Melchior, I had a terrifying dream last night.” Wendla admitted, looking up at him.

“Did you want to tell me what it was?” He asked, looking down at her.

“You were in this awful place, a reformatory I believe, and you looked so upset, and I, oh Melchior, I was having a baby. And my mama took me to this awful man, who was going to kill the baby, and Melchior, the baby was yours, and oh,” Wendla said, starting to shake again. Melchior stopped walking, turning Wendla so she was facing him.

“We…we were having a baby?” Wendla nodded sadly, her face tragic.

“Yes, Melchior. But I don’t know how it happened, but I know it was yours,” She said, thinking of her nightmare.

“And I was sent away?” Wendla nodded again.

“And you…you died?” Melchior whispered, as if speaking it out loud would cause it to happen. Wendla nodded for the third time, feeling like she was about to cry once more.

“Yes, Melchior, it was awful.” She said, her voice wavering. Melchior looked at her for a second, before tightly wrapping his arms around her, holding her close to him. Wendla didn’t hesitate, sliding her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat racing, and she knew hers was doing the same.

“I am so sorry. If we had…in the hayloft, I…I’m so sorry, Wendla.” He murmured, his arms tightening around her.

“Melchior, I already told you that I forgave you. You don’t have to worry about that.” She said, looking up at him with an innocent smile. He felt guilt in his stomach. He had known what could have happened and he had almost caused her nightmare to come true. He was so grateful that she had said no, so grateful that he hadn’t actually…

“Melchior?” Wendla asked softly, looking up at his pained face. She thought it had to do with her telling him her dream. “Melchior, it’s alright, we’re fine.” She said, resting her head against his chest again, listening to his heartbeat as it slowly began to return to a normal pace.

“Yes, we are.” He said, nodding his head. He let go of her gently, lifting her chin with two fingers so she was looking at him. “I will never let anything hurt you.” He said, quietly but fiercely. “I will never lose you.” Wendla nodded, comforted by his words. Melchior was intelligent, as her father said. He would keep his word.

“Come on. We should go before we’re late.” Melchior said, reaching for Wendla’s hand. She smiled, lacing their fingers together. They began walking again, and Wendla knew that she would no longer have nightmares, but dreams about growing up with Melchior, happily together.