Chocolate Lies Part 1

Rain fell steadily and softly, barely audible through the open windows of the quiet kitchen.

Marie glanced at the little playing-card pictures of wartime airplanes. Sighing, she flicked them across the oilcloth table cover, one by one, until they all fell over the far side and onto the linoleum floor. She didn’t care about identifying airplanes and didn’t believe that any enemy aircraft would try to attack Hershey, Pennsylvania. She tired of it all, really. ‘Weary’ was a good word for her to use. She was weary of hearing about coffee rationing, Hitler, gas coupons, and that brutal big-chinned dictator from Italy, whatever his name was. She was sick of dinners without meat and scary headlines announcing the latest names of schoolboy soldiers who would never return home.

Rising from the table, she sighed and walked over to the stove. However, things would be better. She and Mom had escaped the withering heat of Philadelphia and would be able spend the entire summer here in Hershey with Grandad. Since her father had left for the war, Marie and her mom spent every summer at Grandad’s vast orchard, and it was enjoyable if not a bit boring. The war was wearing people down, and the fatigue was even evident in people of this little town. Still, Mom would be home this afternoon and they’d make the best of the evening, a day at a time.

The bean soup heated silently, slowly sending a good smell wafting through the kitchen. Marie stirred the thick soup and added some flaky bits of yellow-white cheese. The soup heated enough to begin making little bubbles that rose to the surface and popped without a noise. The rainclouds made the kitchen dark, so she turned on a lamp near the refrigerator.

Hey, I need to cheer up. Maria reached over to the radio perched on the small table next to the heavy black phone. She switched the radio’s cracked plastic dial and waited for the set to warm up. Putting out a small thick loaf of bread, she decided to make the table extra nice for this meal, no matter how scanty it was. She put down two plates and two spoons while a song by Benny Goodman’s band was playing a fast swing time number. Maybe I can get a flower or two from the garden ...where would Grandad have an extra vase?

The little bubbles in the soup popped faster and Maria nodded her head in time to the music. She set two glasses and napkins next to the plates. Grandad was with his workers out at the very end of the orchard and wouldn’t be home before dark, so there were only two for dinner. I’ll make it extra special - Mom’s going to be pretty tired after all that walking...

The phone rang as Marie laid bowls on top of the plates. She went over and picked up the phone, tucking it against her shoulder and chin as she pulled on oven mitts so she could carry the bean soup to the table without burning her hands. The voice was soft but energetic.

"Marie? How are you doing?"Marie smiled.
"Mom? Is that you? Please come home now. I’m bored."
"Well, honey, have you been enjoying the rain?"
"Mom, really, what is there about rain to make it enjoyable? Look, I’ve made dinner, and we can eat early. Come home now, okay? It’s almost four o-clock. " She put down the bean soup and took off the mitts.

Her mother laughed. "Marie Warwick, you wear me down, you do. I bet you’d rather be back in Philadelphia, wouldn’t you? The newspaper said that it’s cleared one hundred degrees for the third day in a row, one hundred degrees! I guess you’d rather have hanging out the apartment window, panting like dogs and sticking our feet in cold water all day?"
Marie giggled. "Okay, Mom, but see, it’s only enjoyable at Grandad’s if you’re here. So when are you coming back to the orchard? Grandad said he wouldn’t be home until dark and you said the job-hunting would only take a couple of hours. And don’t forget, you promised that we could go take a look at the factory tomorrow and then go over to Hershey Park and ride the Wildcat roller coaster. "

Her mother coughed lightly. "Well, that’s why I called you, sweetheart. I found a job! A small place down here on Cocoa Avenue, near the department store. "

"Is it a Hershey factory store? Are you working for the Hershey corporation?"

"No, it’s a mom-and-pop operation but they do sell Hershey’s and Reese’s candy. I know you’d like it if you saw it. It has a pretty name - ‘Illusions’ - and the owners are wonderful. They’re a nice elderly couple who need some help keeping things going, ‘cause they sell other stuff besides candy, like egg salad sandwiches, tomato soup, stuff like that. They have a little lunch counter here, and a lot of people come by for lunchtime. That’s where I’ll help out. I make sandwiches, cook soup, help out at the grill, you know? Get this - I even make ice cream sundaes! The pay’s not great, but it’s what we need."

"Well, okay, but that means..."

Her mom sighed. "Yes, Marie, it’s going to cut into some of our vacation trips, but we’re in wartime, and without your father’s paycheck..."

"All right, all right," Marie replied sharply, "everyone seems to want to remind me that a war is going on, as if I didn’t know."

"Marie, that tone of voice is not acceptable, you know that."

Marie closed her eyes and nodded as she gripped the phone. "You’re right, Mom. You’re right. Sorry. I know you’re working hard, and I can handle it. So... when will you be home?"
"Uh, let’s see. Later than I thought, it seems. Maybe seven, possibly eight o’clock. The owners are going to teach me the routine, so I start right away, isn’t that great? I’ll pick up extra hours but I won’t be home before dark. Don’t worry, I have Grandad’s pickup and it’s parked right next door to the shop, so I’m not in any danger. I’ll get something to eat here, so you don’t need to make anything."

Marie looked at the prepared food on the table. "Oh. No problem, really, I can make it here on my own. Yeah, okay, that’s fine. But ... Mom?"

"Listen, I’ve gotta run now. What did you need, Marie?"

"I just wanted to say that I’m proud of you getting that job."

Her mom laughed lightly. "Well, that’s a sweet thing to say, but I’ll just let God take the credit for getting me this job. Say, you’ll really like it, it’s a cute store. I’ll show you around when I can get you over to see the place." A voice could be heard in the background. "Oops, customers coming in. Gotta run. Love you, honey!"

"Love you, too, Mom. Bye."
"Bye."

Marie frowned hard as she hung up the receiver. So God got the credit for giving Mom a job? I suppose God also gets credit for taking Mom away from me for the summer, she thought bitterly. She flung the oven mitt across the room and shoved a chair against the wall.

"Th-thank you."

Marie whirled around and looked at the screen door. There was a tall silhouette standing in the doorway. She couldn’t make out the features, but the voice told her that the person was a boy in his teens. He was slightly stooped in the shoulders but still could not hide the fact that he was well over six and a half feet tall.She blushed.
"What did you say?"
The shadow moved uneasily. "I said ‘thank you’ for making me meal."

Marie detected a European accent in the voice. The head turned to one side and she was taken aback at the handsome profile. His chin was sharp, his nose was Romanesque, and he had a thick crop of hair. She squinted. "A...a meal, you say?"
The shadow nodded vigorously. "Ja, meal. Mr. Warwick ... your opa ... er, grandfather told me that you would make me a meal for working in the orchards, and I see you have already set plates. Thank you. Smells gute."

Marie paused to think. Yes, Grandad would sometimes send a worker into the house for a meal if they seemed down on their luck. She remembered last summer - she and Mom must have given meals to ten different workers over the course of the three months.

She was still flustered, unsure if he had seen her little tantrum. "S-sure, okay. Come on in, don’t just stand on the porch. Th-the meal’s ready and it’s starting to cool, so come on in."
"Again, thank you."
He pushed the flimsy screen door and stepped in, still stooping his shoulders as if apologizing for being in the room. He was clinging to a small cigar box that was wrapped in a thick white tape. During the school Marie had entertained fleeting thoughts of a summer friendship with a boy from Hershey. At study hall she played with the fantasy of a mysterious stranger... She had never dated anyone from her school in Philly - in fact she had only had two dates in her teen years, and both were with Edward Bostick, the overweight boy who asked her to both church socials. Edward had a problem with letting corn get stuck between his front teeth whenever he ate it off the cob. However, this stranger...I mean, I’ve read stories of things like this happening. A girl meets a handsome shy young man and they spend the summer nights walking through country meadows...

Then as he stepped into the room next to the kitchen lamp, she felt her heart flutter. However, the light revealed the truth. The boy had a scar that ran from the top of his left eyebrow through a droopy eyelid and downward across his nose. Half of the left eyebrow was chewed away and discolored from black to white. The scar was purplish-pink and about a half-inch wide. The tip of his nose was beet-red and crumpled like a piece of tinfoil. A part of his earlobe was missing. It looked like someone had torn it off violently, and even in the quick glance, her stomach tightened.

Bravely, Marie steeled herself to show no emotion.

He seemed unaware of her emotions. "So nice here. So comfortable and safe..." She felt it curious that he would use the word "safe" to describe the room, but she attended to the task at hand.

"W-would you sit down here?" She pulled out a chair, but he shifted his cigar box, waved his hand slightly and shook his head.
"No, no, for you must sit first. Always with a lady, she seats first, ja. Then the man, he sits."
He pulled out a chair and involuntarily, she sat. She had never been called a lady before. He quietly slipped into chair and stared at the food. Unable to think of what to say, Marie fell silent and for a full minute the only sound in the room was the soft patter of rain. As he looked at the food hungrily, she stared at the hideous scar and the crushed nose. She was unsure of her feelings. Disgust? Pity? However, she knew that he wouldn’t stand for someone gawking at him.
"You may put your box here on the corner of the table," Marie reached out her hand.
He withdrew and clung to the box. "Nein, no, please. I will hold the box here, please."
Without waiting for an answer, he placed the box on his lap and bowed his head. He glanced up and met her gaze with that one frightful eye. "We can pray, is that okay? You are a Christian?"
Marie nodded slowly. "Yes, I am."
He nodded his head vigorously. "Gute, very good. I am also. The it’s best that beten...um, to pray. Uh, I am not sure... my English. Bleaching?"
Marie giggled. "You mean ‘blessing’ Yes, we can pray and ask a blessing over the food."
He nodded again. "And would you do a blessing, ma’am?"
Marie laughed again. "No, not ma’am. May name is Marie Warwick. And yours?"
He looked up and smiled and she could read it in his eyes. He could have shouted it out and she would not have heard it any clearer. She’s not repulsed by me. She’s treating me as a human. That smile creased his wide face and she caught a glimpse of a beautiful set of white teeth.
"I am Dietrich. Marie, it is good to know you. Might... um..." He was searching for the right words. "May you pray for us? I am not good in English, I am afraid."
Marie returned the smile. "No, Dietrich, I would ask you to pray. You see, my German is not good, I’m afraid."His grin grew even broader and he bowed his head deeply. After a moment’s pause, he flowed forth in a cascade of German words of praise and thanksgiving to the Lord with such power that Marie was certain that she knew exactly what he was saying even though she knew not a word of German. His head dipped and bowed with compassion as he spoke. Tears formed in his eyes as she watched him issue a prayer that was from the very depths of his soul. By the time he raised his head she too was quietly weeping.
"Ah, Marie Warwick, do not cry for the wrong reason. It is because of God my father who helped us escape. I cry for joy for my family. We are here, we are free. Germany is a bad memory, very bad. Your opa is very kind to let me work." He devoured the soup and ate anything that Marie could place in front of him, and his laugh was like bells ringing in the small kitchen. His attempts at trying new English words had Marie in fits of laughter. She sat exhausted as Dietrich consumed a piece of jelly-bread.
"You are putting food to the side, Dietrich. You don’t need to save any, I will make you the next meal as well." He smiled broadly and shook his head. "Thank you, ja, but Marie, this is for someone else. Is okay, is it?"
She nodded. "Well, of course it’s okay."
He grinned and tucked the food in a small brown wrapper he pulled from his pocket. "Dietrich, you are welcome any time. But tell me something?" she asked lightly. He stuffed the final bits of bread in his mouth and wiped the crumbs from his shirt. "Yes, Marie Warwick?"
"Dietrich, you never told me your last name. What is it?" His relaxed happy face changed immediately. His eyes took on a deep, deep sadness and his mouth settled into a mournful line. His scar seemed to deepen in color. "I must go, Marie. Time to go back in orchard."

Before she could say anything, he grabbed his box and was out the door."Dietrich, wait!" But by the time she was at the door, he was already at the orchard’s edge, striding hard between the apple trees, heading toward a tiny strange man she had never seen before. Maybe his grandfather...but that old man...something odd about him... his posture... Her mind was a whirl, not sure what to think.
What is in that box?

And why did he run away when I asked his name?