Just like...

The sudden sound of squeaking brakes and screaming tires arose Dr. Magda Heller from her reverie as she walked down the main street of Hrynyava. She turned her head, but she was too late to see what happened exactly. A startled cry of pain already echoed through the narrow street.

"How on earth do people manage to get under a car in this nearly trafficless town..." was the thought that ran through Magda´s mind as she hurried to the spot to assist with first aid.

But as she rounded the car, her breath caught, and for an instant, she stood motionless. It was a girl lying there on the cobblestones. A girl in school-uniform, with the dirty track of car-tire across her chest, and a strangely twisted right-arm. It was Davita. Her Davita.

The next moment Magda fell on her knees beside her little protégée. The girl was lying there, so white and still... Was she...? With a lump in her throat Magda felt for the girl´s pulse. It was still there. But it was irratic, and fairly weak. But she was still alive. For how long...?

A small crowd started gathering around them. Voices whispered in horror and curiosity, and Magda snapped at no one in particular: "For God´s sake: call an ambulance instead of staring at her! Hurry!"

Someone rushed into the nearest store, and Magda unzipped Davita´s jacket. Her fingers carefully felt the girl´s chest. It was completely caved in, and most ribs were clearly broken. She heard how Davita suddenly with difficulty drew in her breath as she touched a particularly sore spot. Anxiously, Magda bit her lip. It was quite possible that those broken ribs had punctured the lungs. Both of them, in more than one place. Back in Germany, little Davita would have a fair chance: quickly to hospital, major surgery, intensive care... But here, with the rudimentary facilities in these backward outskirts of the Ukraine...?! And what if those ribs had punctured the heart...? She didn´t dare to think of...

"Oh God, please...!" Magda begged as she felt for Davita´s pulse again. Weaker, and even more irratic this time. Where was that ambulance?! There was nothing she could do here!

By a miracle, Davita´s face hardly had a scratch. Magda brushed away a strand of hair from the girl´s forehead, and suddenly, Davita opened up her eyes. A slight smile curled her lips as she saw Magda bent down over her; then she swallowed with great difficulty.

"Don´t worry, dear, you´re going to be allright," Magda struggled out.

Davita lifted up her left arm and proudly signed: "I´ve got something for you in my bag!"

Magda tried to swallow. "We´ll see to that later. You concentrate on your breathing." For whether she wanted to or not, Magda couldn´t help but notice that the girl´s breathing became more and more shallow with every breath she took. She caressed Davita´s cheek and checked her pulse again. It was terribly irregular and very weak. With horror, Magda realized that the girl was dying. But she just couldn´t accept it: in despair she bent down over Davita and tried to help her breathing by resuscitation. Davita moaned of pain as Magda blew the breath into her wounded lungs, and on breathing out a wave of blood came up as well. And as the terrible truth was creeping into Magda´s heart, Davita stretched out her hand to her. And her lips, those lips that never had uttered a single word, formed the word "mamma".

"No! Noooo!!" Magda cried out. Blinded by sudden tears, she pulled the dying girl in her arms. Davita´s head rested against her shoulder. Another wave of blood flowed down her back. With her left hand, Davita tried to hold on to Magda´s coat. But as her breathing started coming in fits and starts, she lacked the strength to hold on to it. Powerless, the arm fell down again.

Magda pulled her close. Her tears dropped down on Davita´s brown ponytail. And within seconds, she felt how the girl - with a last shallow sigh - stopped breathing...

"Noooo!!" she screamed out rawly. It couldn´t be! Not Davita... Not her Davita! She buried her face in the girl´s soft hair and cried heart-broken. It couldn´t be, it just couldn´t...! Not Davita...!

One of the bystanders kneeled down beside her and put a comforting arm around her. Another tried to carefully untangle the dead girl from her arms. But she refused to let go of her; she held on to her Davita for dear life and cried violently. This couldn´t be true...

When the ambulance arrived, the two male nurses only had to take Davita´s pulse to realize that they had come too late. They tried to take her from Magda, to take the body to the mortuary at the hospital. But again Magda refused to let go of her.

"I´m taking her home," she managed to get out in between two cries.

One of the nurses insisted, but a bystander took him aside and whispered that this was Dr. Heller from St. Paul´s children´s home. So she´d know what she was doing. There was a bit of arguing, but in the end the nurses gave in and the ambulance drove off silently.

The bystanders helped Magda to scramble to her feet. Her violent screaming had stopped, but as the town´s people escorted her to the children´s home, she kept crying without a sound.

Someone had run ahead to warn sister Evguenia about what happened. So when Magda carried Davita up to the house, a pale sister Evguenia was waiting for them in the doorway. She offered to take over Davita and pray for her. But Magda turned away and went up to her room. She closed the door behind her and carefully laid down her dear load on her bed. She looked at the girl´s pale face. A line of blood went from the corner of her mouth down her cheek. Magda took a wet washing-glove and wiped it away. She felt the girl´s cheek. It was cold, and the skin felt somewhat stiff. And suddenly, she broke into violent tears again and thrusted herself onto the bed. Davita...

Seventeen years ago, she had lost the love of her life. It had left her deeply hurt, and the wound had never really healed.

Years later, little Davita had served as a kind of consoling band-aid on that wound. But now Davita had been cruelly taken away from her, too, ripping open the old wound as well, with a force that nearly choked her. And she cried and cried...

It had been a strange day already. With David taking off - for the second time - without even a word to her, and her remorse of not having talked with him the night before when she had the chance... And now there was the determination to go after him, of which she had been thinking whenever there was a second of spare time in between two patients. The determination to go after him, to get at least a definite answer as to his returning her feelings or not. And if nothing else: to get a proper explanation about his leaving.

But to be able to go after him, she was in need of some time-off. So with the purpose of getting a week´s holiday - no matter what it cost - she had gone to see Geoff at the base that afternoon during coffee-break.

But Geoff hadn´t been there. Only Clare.

"Where´s Geoff?" she had asked the elderly lady.

Clare had looked up from the radio. "He´s out on an emergency-call. From David."

A cold hand closed around Magda´s heart. "David?! Is he hurt again?"

"No, not David. He´s with a man who had fallen down a cliff. Broken leg. No, David´s allright."

Magda heaved a quiet sigh of relief. "Will he be coming back with Geoff then?"

Clare had shrugged. "I don´t know. I don´t suppose it´s necessary. Kate and Geoff can handle a broken leg by themselves, I think." She had cast a mischievous glance at Magda. "Still, it´s funny to see how he gets himself into such things over and over again, even now that he wants to quit medicine."

Magda couldn´t help chuckling. "Once a doctor, always a doctor, Clare!"

She had pulled up a chair. Now that she couldn´t go and see Geoff yet, she might as well pass her break in pleasant chat with Clare instead of listening to Guy´s annoying boast.

After a while Guy had come in though. With a lot of noise as usual. "So here you are! May I remind you, Dr. Heller, that you´re on duty in the hospital?"

Magda had merely glanced at the clock on the wall. "And may I remind you, Dr. Reid, that it still is my coffee-break? Or does your clock go ahead, too, when you have your breaks?"

"My clocks do not go ahead," Guy had started indignantly, but Clare interrupted him with a determined: "Stop it, you two! Can you please bury that hatchet? For everybody´s sake?! There is no need to fly at each other at every turn! I´ve had quite enough of it!"

Her outburst was followed by a long silence. Then Magda put her hand on Clare´s arm. "I´m sorry, Clare. I´ll try to better myself."

Guy snorted and turned away. "Sorry to upset you, Clare," was all he grunted.

At that moment a call from the Nomad had come through. "Mike Sierra Foxtrot to Victor Charlie Charlie." It was Geoff. But he sounded rather constrained, and in the background they heard faint crying.

"Victor Charlie Charlie, go ahead, Geoff," Clare answered.

It took a moment before they heard Geoff again. And he sounded so strange, that even Guy turned back to the radio with interest.

"We´re on our way. E.T.A. about two hours. The patient is okay; apart from the broken leg just some cuts and bruises. But..." They heard him take a deep breath. "Clare, could you please get in touch with David´s parents? When he tried to loosen the stretcher, he sort of slipped... He fell down the cliff. And he´s... he´s dead..."

Clare´s face turned livid. And Magda felt a cold shiver going down her spine. David dead?! He couldn´t be!

She backed away a little from the radio in disbelief. Her mind tried to comprehend what she´d just heard: slipped, fallen down a cliff, dead... But it seemed her brain couldn´t quite grasp the connexion between those words and David. Her feelings for him were so very much alive... how could he be dead?

"Whoa..." she heard Guy utter quietly behind her. It was the first time she heard him really impressed.

Clare had finished talking with Geoff over the radio, and for a moment she buried her face in her hands. Magda saw how Guy bent over her and kindly asked whether she was allright. Clare looked up and nodded. "Just a bit shocked; that´s all." There were tears in her eyes, Magda noticed. It was strange. It was like she wasn´t really part of what was happening around her. It wasn´t real to her. Like Guy and Clare and even Geoff were putting on a play, and she was nothing but a spectator. She saw and heard very clearly what happened around her. But she had no part in it.

She saw how Clare got up and went to get a file. She saw how she leafed through the folder and sat down again with a sigh. She saw how she slowly dialed a number. And she felt how Guy´s hand gently took her by the shoulder. "Come on, we´ve got to get back to work. There is nothing more we can do here. Are you allright?" he asked.

She looked up to him. Calm, almost cool. "I´m fine." She got up and followed him outside, back to the hospital.

Guy was quiet for a change. A blackbird sang, beautifully clear. The sun was grilling hot. The grass in front of the base seemed to be more yellow every time she passed it. A cat sat and dozed in a window-pane. Everything was so clear. So normal. It couldn´t possibly be for real that David had fallen off a cliff and died. So back at the hospital, she put on her white coat and got to work. Everything was normal, so why shouldn´t she?

But a few hours later, Guy had come to get her. "They´re here," was all he said.

Indeed: the ambulance was coming up the driveway to the emergency entrance. The word about David´s presumed death had obviously got round, for quite some shocked town´s people had come to watch.

The ambulance stopped and its back door was opened. Geoff climbed out, pulling a still crying Kate with him. There were two stretchers in the car. One had a young man on it with a cast on his leg and a shattered look on his face. The other one had a human shape, covered by a white sheet with a few bloodstains on it. The second one was offloaded first, and got everyone´s attention. Guy and one of the ambulance-brothers carried him inside, and everyone followed: Nancy, Vic, Clare, Jim, Jackie... A sudden gust of wind blew away the sheet from the dead person´s face. But Magda, walking next to the bier, got hold of it immediately and pulled it back in place again. One, maybe two seconds she had seen the person underneath. Stiff. White. Still. It was David; no doubt about that. But to her, it was all still not for real. Every step she took beside that bier, she sort of expected him to thrust aside the sheet with a mischievous grin, chuckling: "Fooled you!" And everybody would be laughing.

They entered the mortuary together. They just stood about while Geoff in short sentences told them more precisely what had happened. Kate kept crying against his chest, and Geoff himself looked rather shattered, too, Magda noticed. She looked at her other colleagues. They all looked shocked. Shattered. Upset. No one else seemed to understand that this wasn´t for real. Or who knows: perhaps they were very good at acting?

Hesitantly Guy drew back the sheet. There he was. Still and white. Blood on his clothes and in his neck. Guy only looked at the wounds and stated emotionally: "He must have been dead immediately."

Geoff nodded. But suddenly he looked up. "The organs! David is probably registered as organdonor!"

Guy looked at him. Almost frightened. "I don´t think I could do that, Geoff."

"No, we´d have to get a team from Broken Hill. And fast. I don´t want any of us to do a thing like that on a colleague."

Magda stared at him in horror. He couldn´t be serious, could he!? Taking out David´s vital organs?! They couldn´t do that! This wasn´t for real, was it!?

Carefully Guy searched through David´s pockets till he got hold of his wallet. And indeed: the wellknown sign of donorship was on his driver´s licence.

"Clare, get on to Broken Hill and tell them to send over a special team. And fast!"

Clare nodded. She couldn´t speak, and seemed only too happy to be able to leave.

They all followed her out of the room, with a final quiet farewell to their colleague and friend. Geoff took Kate home, and Guy and Magda continued with their usual tasks. Both of them were extremely quiet, though for different reasons. Guy was struggling with the fact that young people could die, too. Including himself. To Magda on the other hand, the whole thing still wasn´t for real. David couldn´t be dead. She just had to find a way to prove it before those Broken Hill butchers would come and cut him up. Perhaps, if this was genuine, if he wasn´t fooling everyone, perhaps he had come under some kind of magic spell? To sleep for a hundred years, like the Sleeping Beauty? Or something had got stuck in his throat, and he had simply lost consciousness? Like Snowwhite? Everything was possible. But not death. Her mind simply refused to take that option into consideration. He couldn´t be.

As soon as she had a quiet moment therefore, she sneaked back to the mortuary. There was no one around; she could enter unseen. But first she listened at the door. Was David in there, waiting behind the door, to scare her with a sudden "boo"? But all seemed quiet, and carefully she opened the door ajar. The room was but scarcely lit, and she could barely make out something. At least David seemed not to be hiding behind the door to scare the wits out of her.

Slowly she pushed the door open till she could go in sideways. And quickly she shut the door behind her; least of all she wanted to be disturbed now.

She tiptoed towards the bier. Everything seemed to be exactly the way they had left it: the still human figure, covered by a white sheet. Carefully she pulled back the sheet. There he was, unnaturally pale in the vague cold light. She looked at his face. So familiar, so dear it was to her. Its shape, its lines, its expressions... She caressed his face with her eyes, as she had done sometimes before, when he hadn´t been aware of her looking at him. Somehow she didn´t see the wounds, nor the blood. She just saw her dear David, her dear flying fisherman, and it looked like he was just sleeping. She still remembered that time he had fallen asleep in the Nomad. He had looked exactly the same that time. She remembered how she had been tempted to kiss him at the time. Or to caress his cheek. Or just to stroke through his hair. He was so sweet. So innocent. So dear to her. But she hadn´t dared to, afraid that he might wake up and... She had just kept looking at him, caressing him with her eyes. Like she was doing now.

Time stood still. She just stood there, waiting for him to wake up. But slowly she started to realize that indeed it was a bit odd the way he was lying there, without moving a single muscle. And in that cold room, somewhere outside reality, there seemed to be only one logical explanation: obviously, David was suffering from a similar problem as Snowwhite and the Sleeping Beauty. Which meant there was but one way to save him: the woman who loved him would have to kiss him.

Lovingly she caressed his cheek and his forehead. It seemed weird to just bend over him and kiss him on the mouth. Instead, she let her fingers run through his hair, and back to his face, stroking his eyebrow and his other cheek. There was no reaction as yet. And he felt rather cold. Well, no wonder in a chilly room like this. She let her fingers get acquainted with his ears. His jaw, towards the chin. And then his lips. Still no reaction. She had to kiss him; it was the only way!

Carefully she bent down over him. It was now or never! Her face so close to his...!

For one more moment she hesitated. She had to say the magic words first. Of course; how could she forget?!

"David," she whispered at but a few inches from his face, "David, lieber, lieber David... I love you..."

No reaction yet.

"I love you so very very much... I believe I have loved you from the very first day I met you..." She stopped to look at his dear face. His eyes were still closed. "David, please forgive me for being so stubborn yesterday...? For I really love you. I do. I love you!" That last ´I love you´ came out as a whispered jubilation. And with eager tenderness, she bent down and kissed him on the mouth the way the princes used to do with Snowwhite and the Sleeping Beauty.

It felt strange. Stiff. Not that she had much experience with that kind of kisses, but somehow she felt something wasn´t right. She pulled back and looked at the still pale figure lying there. What was wrong?

And all of a sudden the doctor in her revived. She felt for a pulse. But there was none. No heartbeat. No breath. He was just lying there, cold and stiff, with a ghastly wound in his neck. Not responding to any stimulae. There was but one possible conclusion: David, the man she truly loved so dearly, was dead.

And she fled.

There was a modest knocking on the door. But Magda was crying so heart-broken, and so absorbed in her own memories and misery, that she didn´t notice the knocking. Nor the second time. Nor the third, more urgent knocking got through to her. So in the end, sister Evguenia, the wise and understanding sister Evguenia, took the liberty of going in without permission.

Sister Evguenia had witnessed a lot of grief in her life. So as soon as she entered the room, she understood that Magda was not susceptible to words of comfort yet. All she could do was be there for her and hold her.

Carefully she sat down on the bed and put a supporting hand on Magda´s back. A moan came up between the desperate cries: "David...!" It made sister Evguenia frown incomprehensively. David?! Who was that?

But she didn´t dwell on that question; there were more pressing things at hand. "Come, my child."

"No," was all Magda struggled out. "No. I won´t leave her."

"I understand your grief, my dear, but we can´t keep her. She´s with God now."

Magda sat up. With eyes flashing. "Then why didn´t He take me instead!? I would have been glad to go!"

Sister Evguenia wanted to say something in gentle reproof, but Magda jumped off the bed and ranted on: "It´s not fair! Why Davita?! Why me?! Why can´t He just leave me alone! Why does He have to destroy my every little happiness! Why does He have to take everyone away from me! It´s not fair!! Wasn´t it enough to have me go through all this once!? I can´t take it anymore: I don´t want to live anymore! Not when He takes away everyone I love!!"

Sister Evguenia sat quietly. A sudden apprehension dawned upon her; something she had seen glimpses of without ever realizing that she did. This wasn´t just about Davita. There was an older, even deeper grief Magda had carried inside her, at least for as long as she had known her. A grief over a man she had loved with all her heart - this David? A man she loved, but a man who had died. Too.

Magda herself was pacing around the room like an imprisoned tiger, and sister Evguenia stretched out her hand and took hold of hers. That was all it took to have Magda break down in tears again, and sister Evguenia pulled her down next to her on the bed and took Magda in her arms.

"I can´t take it anymore... How can I go on, now that I´ve lost Davita, too?!" Magda cried.

Sister Evguenia softly rocked her in her arms, as if she were a little child herself. "It´s hard, my dear, but you´ll find the strength. Somehow. The Lord never gives us more to carry than we can bear. Even though it may not seem that way at first."

Magda just kept crying.

"I don´t know, dear, but maybe He took away Davita in order to spare her more pain and grief. For certainly with a handicap like hers, she wouldn´t have had it easy in life. Perhaps He judged that she had had her share of sorrow..."

It had been one of those black days. In fact, it had been the blackest day of the year for her. No matter where she was or what she did, February the 13th was a day to be dreaded. A day she would rather hop over. A day she would prefer to sleep through completely, just to avoid living through it all together. And preferably even the day following: Valentine´s Day. The universal lover´s day. The day David had been buried. The day her love had been buried alongside with him.

It had been ten years now. Ten years of longing for the dearest man in the world, knowing full well that he would never come back to her. Ten years of loneliness that had to be fought by hard work. Ten years of living her life solely for others, simply because she herself had nothing left to live for. Not without David. And so, desperately trying to discover what other meaning might be in stock for her life, she kept fleeing from one place to another. From Coopers Crossing to Germany. From Germany to Romania. From Romania to Russia. From Russia to Zambia. And now from Zambia to the Ukraine.

She hadn´t been here long. A few weeks. She was just getting to know the place, the people, the children. Magda loved working with children. And more so now, since she recently had come to realize that - at the age of 43, with no man in her life - it was very unlikely that she´d ever have children of her own. It hurt. She had always dreamt of having children. Actually, she even had contemplated artificial insemination. But she had decided against it, realizing that it would be a very selfish measure in her case. Having a child to make up for the loss of the man she loved; what kind of a motive was that!? And besides: she wasn´t quite sure whether she´d want a child who did not have David as its father. A child who didn´t have a father at all...

It had been busy day, this February 13th. Apart from the standard treatment of the children suffering from leukemia, HIV, diabetes and hemofilia, an epidemic of the measles had broken out a few days ago. Further she had had to quaranteen a child whom she suspected to have tuberculosis, and the little boy that had been left as a foundling on their doorstep a few days ago seemed to be suffering from HIV, too. And then there had been this girl with a terrifying asthma-attack this morning, and on top of that she had had to call around half the country to get hold of a certain medicine that appeared to be more scarce than gold.

It was good; it had kept her from drowning in gloomy thoughts. But now that the children had gone off to bed, and things had finally calmed down a little, she felt the need of being on her own for a while. She could have gone up to her room of course, but she preferred to brave the cold and go outside. To really be on her own.

She had put on all her warmest clothes. She loved breathing in the fresh, icy air after two years in the African heat, but she hadn´t quite gotten used to the temperatures again. Minus twenty at least. Maybe thirty. No sensible soul would venture to go out on a night like this, with the danger of frozen limbs and faces. But people who desperately need to be on their own might do such a thing. So Magda did.

Well wrapped up she sauntered along the frozen track leading out of town. The icy wind howled around her over the desolate highlands. The night was dark. There was no moon; just hundreds of thousands of stars shining down on her. Unconsciously she searched for the Southern Cross. It had been sort of comforting to be able to see it again when she was in Zambia. But the Ukraine was in the northern hemisphere of course.

She sighed. She still remembered that night at the pub, when she had gone outside in a sudden wave of homesickness. David had come after her. Of course he had. And that had been the first time he had pointed out the Southern Cross to her; how could she ever forget? His body so close to hers, her mind going haywire sensing this man so close to her... And then there had been that night at a property, where he had taken her for a nocturnal strawl, under a nightsky spangled with stars from one horizon to the other. She had felt so incredibly at ease with him. At home. As if she had known him all her life. And when she had seen a shooting star, she had silently wished for a happy life here in Australia, together with David. It had been the first time she had been thinking of him as her possible partner for life, even though they had only met a few days before.

Nevertheless, her wish hadn´t come true. David had left and... She shivered. She didn´t want to think about what had happened that day. It hurt too much. She´d better concentrate on the many happy memories she shared with him. The hilarious evening of the Sauerkraut mit Bratwurst, for example. Or their combined German-Australian Christmas. His delicious cooking. His twinkling eyes and mischievous smile. The way he looked at her sometimes.

She brushed away a trickling tear with her woollen mitten. She wasn´t sure whether the wind caused it, or whether she was crying. But she knew she still loved him. She still loved him so very much. She still missed him like hell. Why! Why did he have to die!?

More tears came streaming down her cheek. So it probably wasn´t just the wind. She tried to brush them away. Her cheeks felt all tingly. Better seek a little shelter, out of the wind, before the tears would freeze to her skin.

She huddled down under the poor lee of a lonely tree. Not that it offered much shelter, but at least her face was out of the wind, so that she could spill her tears freely.

She had spilled a lot of tears over the years. Always alone. On the outside, people knew her as the grave Dr. Heller, dedicated to her work and always ready to help and care for those in need. On the inside however, invisible for others, she carried the pain of losing David, and with him all her chance of happiness. She was alone, always alone. Lonely as hell, longing for something she knew she would never get back. Why! Why did he have to be taken away from her!? Why did she have to go through this life alone!? Why couldn´t she simply have died, too? Of a broken heart, to name a likely example?!

"Because there are still people here who need you."

Magda sat stockstill. That voice, that grave tone... "David?" she whispered between hope and disbelief. "David? Is that you?"

She listened with close attention. The howling wind, the faint rattle of the branches overhead... no trace of the dearest voice in the world.

"David, where are you?"

She scrambled to her feet. Was she imagining things? But she had heard a voice! A voice that had spoken to her in English: "Because there are still people here who need you." And she had yet to meet the first person in Hrynyava who spoke English...

It couldn´t have been a ghost, could it? David´s ghost?! She didn´t believe in ghosts, but the thought frightened her stiff all the same. She peered around in the dark, ready to run if indeed there was something like a ghost; David´s or not. But the voice couldn´t possibly have come from far; the howling wind would have drowned it. Perhaps... perhaps from behind the tree? Cautiously, with her heart in her mouth, she looked around the trunk. The icy wind cut off her breath. She had to blink furiously to keep her eyes from watering in order to make out something. But there seemed to be nothing but some dead branches there.

Carefully, holding on to the trunk, she worked her way around the bald tree. Just to make sure. But there was no one there. Perhaps she had just heard his voice in her mind. Sort of wishful thinking. "Because there are still people here who need you." Ha. Bulldust. As if she didn´t need him! And yet he had died all the same. So why couldn´t she...? It would be easy: just sit down under this tree all night, and by the time they´d find her tomorrow, she would have frozen to death. Piece of cake.

She sighed. No. She couldn´t do that. It wasn´t up to her to decide when her life was over. But still: she longed to be reunited with David. To be able to touch him, embrace him... To tell him face to face how much she loved him. Even if it only was to his ghost.

Perhaps in that ditch a few steps ahead? Perhaps that was where he was lurking? It wouldn´t hurt to take a look, would it? Carefully she approached the ditch along the road. And sighed. Nothing but frozen reed and some junk there: paper, a plastic bag, a carton box... She wanted to turn away and go home. Her teeth were clattering; and she had calmed down a bit.

But for some reason her eyes were hooked to that box. What was in that box? She felt stupid, but for some reason she felt compelled to go and take a look. She just had to know what was in that carton. Cautiously she stepped down between the frozen reed and bent down over the carton. She shuddered at the thought of what she might find in there. On the other hand, it could just as well be empty. Still, it was with some hesitation that she opened up the flaps.

Yes, there was something in the box. A still figure. Magda drew in her breath as she realized it was a small child. Out here in the freezing cold, thrown out in a box?!

She knelt down and felt for the child´s pulse. It was still alive. How long had it been lying here?! The child felt pretty cold. Hypothermia probably. No wonder, dressed in nothing but a sweater and tights.

"Because there are still people here who need you."

She looked up. The voice was in her mind; she was quite sure about that now. But if it hadn´t been for that voice, she would never have gone looking around. Never have found this child. So whether it had been David or God speaking to her, they had been right. There were still people here who needed her. And at this very moment especially this little child!

"Thank you," she mumbled.

And then she bursted into action. She unzipped her jacket, her fleece vest, lifted up the child and holding it close to her chest, she tried to zip up her vest and jacket again. A few times the zipper just zipped down again as soon as she let go of it to adjust the child´s position. But she managed to get it right in the end, making sure that the child was able to breathe. She had some trouble getting its legs under her jacket as well. They weren´t stable; it felt like they were broken. On purpose?!

She didn´t dwell on horrible presumptions why someone would throw away a child in this beastly manner. Instead, she managed to stabilize the little legs around her hips, and then struggled to get up. Which wasn´t exactly an easy task: the child was about two, three years old, so it was a pretty heavy dead weight on her. And she had to hold at least one arm, but preferably both arms around it to prevent it from sliding down out of her jacket. But once she had scrambled to her feet, she discovered that an even more demanding task awaited her. How was she going to climb out of the ditch, with its sides reaching up almost to her waist?!

She tried different strategies, but without being able to use her hands freely, it turned out to be impossible to climb out of the ditch. Would she be forced to take out the child and climb out seperately? She would prefer not to expose him to the cold again... But maybe there was another way out? A place where the ditch was less deep and the sides less steep?

Carefully she started finding her way through the tawny reed, her arms protectively around the child under her jacket. It was quite heavy carrying him like that, but at least she was right: some fifty meters further, the ditch became significantly shallower. By sitting down on the edge, and swinging up her legs while at the same time rolling over on her side, she managed to get out. Panting with the effort, she remained lying there for a moment. But she had to get this child out of the cold as soon as possible. So once again she struggled to her feet, and started off along the track back to town.

She had no idea how far it was. It might have been a few hundred meters she walked tonight, or perhaps a kilometer or two. But she needed to get this child inside as soon as possible!

She tried to run. But she found that she couldn´t: the child was too heavy, and carrying it restricted her own movements considerably. It was probably what it was like to be very pregnant.

All of a sudden she stood stockstill and looked down. It looked indeed as if she had a huge baby-belly. She was carrying David´s child. For if it hadn´t been for his voice, she would never have gone looking around, and she would never have found this child. It was as if David had given her this child! It was his child she was carrying, in a belly that seemed ready to give birth!

Carefully she let go of her breath. She looked down, in the opening of her jacket. A little patch of brown hair could be seen there. "Hold on, little one," she whispered. "I´m going to get you home. And you´re going to be allright. You were a gift from David, and I´m not going to let you die." She heaved a cautious sigh. "You are going to stay with me, and I shall love you as if you really were conceived out of David and me. For somehow, I think you are. So hold on!"

She continued walking down the road. Fortunately, she had the wind mostly behind her now. For the child seemed to get heavier with every step she took. The muscles in her arms and her back ached, but she would not let go. She didn´t even want to stop for a rest; she just wanted to get this child inside! Sweat was running down her face and down her back. Every now and then she panted some words of comfort to the child. And when she started getting tired, she sometimes staggered and almost lost her balance under the heavy load she was carrying. But she told herself that all pregnant women experienced this in the last stage of their pregnancy. So she should be able to put up with it for what... half an hour, forty-five minutes? No matter what, she was not going to give up; she had to save this child! Her child. David´s child!

"I´ll call you David, too," she panted to the child at her chest. "Hold on! I can see the first houses of Hrynyava! We´re almost there!"

She tried to step on it again, but her legs wouldn´t really cooperate. And so, half frozen on the outside, but hot, sweaty, happy and exhausted on the inside, she reached the children´s home. She did have the key. Somewhere in a pocket. But that meant she´d have to search for it, and she didn´t quite trust herself in letting go of the child, not even with one hand. But knocking on the door she could manage.

The door was opened by sister Evguenia. "Magda! Where have you been!?"

"I´ve got a child," Magda answered the Russian question in English, for she was still thinking in English after her reverie about David. "I found it by the wayside. It has two broken legs and probably hypothermia. We have to get it warm."

Sister Evguenia didn´t understand the words Magda was uttering. But her eyes did understand the implication of what Magda was carrying under her jacket. So she ushered her inside to the living-room, where the remains of a fire were still glowing.

"Elena, get that fire going properly. Natasja, go and get some blankets." Sister Evguenia knew what to do. And as she went off to fetch some hot-water bottles, Magda unzipped her jacket and her vest. The child was lying still to her chest. But Magda noticed a faint breathing, and she caressed the child´s head.

Natasja returned with three blankets. "We have to get him out of those cold clothes," she said. She helped Magda to take off the sweater and the tights. No diaper, no underwear, no nothing.

"It´s a girl!" Natasja noted with some surprise.

And Magda smiled with tears in her eyes. It was a bit like giving birth: the doctor telling the mother she had just got a little girl...

"Then I´ll call her Davita," she said hoarse with emotion, and kissed the little girl on her short brown hair.

"Davita?" Natasja commented with a frown. "What kind of a name is that? It´s not known around here. And besides: the child is old enough to tell us her name as soon as she´s recovered a bit."

"I don´t care," was Magda´s proud answer. "I´m calling her Davita and that´s final."

It was a foregone conclusion: years ago she had already decided that - if she ever were to have a child - a boy would be named David and a girl Davita. And since this was her child - well, more or less - the question was simply not open to discussion. Davita it was. And Natasja, noticing the determined lines on Magda´s face, could do nothing but shrug and let it be for now.

"Are you coming down for dinner?" sister Evguenia asked quietly.

Magda sat silent now, her head buried to the nun´s chest. But she shook her head. "I´m staying here," she whispered quavery.

Sister Evguenia nodded. She understood. "You stay here with Davita then." Once more she hugged Magda tight. Then she got up and quietly left the room.

And Magda turned back to the still figure on her bed. Just a little girl. Only about ten years old. Run down by a car and died...

She swallowed. She felt numb; she couldn´t cry anymore. All she could do now was crouch down beside the girl, to keep her warm. To keep her with the living. Just like...

Everyone had gone off to bed. In the end, even sister Evguenia had retired for the night. Magda was left alone in the twilight of the fire, with the child in her arms.

She had cuddled up on the couch, the child tightly into her and wrapped up in the blankets. So far, little Davita had hardly moved. She just lay in Magda´s arms with her eyes closed, breathing shallowly. She was still cold.

But Magda had dealt with hypothermia before. She knew it could take hours to get the patient´s temperature back to normal. Still, that was her first task now. When she´d have the child back to the living tomorrow, she´d have time enough to check those legs and look for any other injuries the child might have. What the heck had they been doing with her!? Who could be so barbaric as to throw out an injured toddler in a carton box, especially in these temperatures?! She felt a fiery hatred blushing up in her heart. How could they! This innocent little girl, her little Davita...!

She held her even tighter, and kissed the pale little forehead. "Hold on," she whispered lovingly. "Hold on, little one! You´re going to be allright, I promise! Just hold on!"

The night was long. But Magda couldn´t sleep. She didn´t want to sleep. She wanted to stay alert in case there´d be a change in Davita´s condition. For the better or for the worse, either way. And it gave her the opportunity of experiencing the feeling of having David´s little girl at her chest, and to familiarize herself with Davita´s features. Davita. Her daughter!

It wasn´t until around five o´clock in the morning that little Davita started to show signs of being conscious though. The first sound Magda heard from her was a faint groan. She caressed the girl´s head. "It´s okay, dear. Are you in pain?"

There was no reaction. But a few more faint groans followed, and the child tried to turn her head. That was obviously too great an effort for her, and Magda felt how she gave up and resigned. But a little later, the girl slowly opened up her eyes.

Magda smiled at her. A warm smile of welcome. "Don´t worry, dear. You´re safe."

Little Davita looked back at her, with distrust written all over her face. Magda felt how she strained her muscles to pull away from her. But her face twitched with pain and she started crying. Strange crying: tight, and sort of suppressed. Mostly it was the girl´s breath you heard, sometimes rasping, sometimes with a hoarse beeping sound.

Magda looked at her. Compassionate and astonished. This was not normal... Not even for a child suffering from pneumonia! What on earth was the matter with this girl? Was something wrong with her vocal cords perhaps?

She caressed her again. "Don´t worry, dear," she whispered. "You´re going to be allright. I´ll check you out first thing in the morning; it´s too dark now. But tomorrow we´ll have your poor little legs fixed, and I´ll see if there are any other injuries. But you´re going to be allright, okay? Nothing to worry about."

The girl just kept crying with that weird rasping sound. Again Magda wanted to stroke her head, but little Davita brushed her hand away and protectively held her arm over her head.

Magda sighed. "You are used to being beaten, aren´t you? I understand your anxiety, dearest, but you won´t get hit here. Not by me. You´ll find out in time." She pondered a little. "How about some warm milk?"

The girl did not respond. She was still lying there, crying, with her arm over her head and her eyes squeezed shut, ready to receive the blow. Instead, Magda softly patted her on the hand as she slid off the couch to go and warm some milk for her. And when she returned with a small bottle of milk and two cookies, she found Davita watching her wide-eyed. The suspicion had not subsided yet - far from it - but now there was wonder in her eyes as well.

Magda smiled at her. "Are you hungry?" She held out the milk and the cookies to her. There was one hasty distrustful glance; then Davita snatched the two cookies out of her hand and stuffed them into her mouth.

Magda couldn´t help laughing a little when she saw the child wrestling to chew and swallow them without choking on them. "I´ll get you some more later, okay? First drink this." She handed her the bottle of milk. Davita eyed it quizzically.

"It´s to drink," Magda explained. She sat down beside the girl and showed her. As soon as Davita discovered that a good tasting warm drink came out of that bottle when you sucked it, she pulled it free from Magda´s hand and vigorously emptied the entire bottle.

Magda sat watching her quietly, and neither Davita´s eyes left Magda´s face for an instant. It was obvious that she didn´t trust her at all, but it seemed she didn´t really know what to think of a person who gave her milk and cookies and didn´t even hit her...

To be continued...

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Magda´s Diary: the tragic lovestory of Magda & David

Stories about Magda´s life after her leaving the RFDS

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