The Orphan's Tale(23)

Her smugness fades. “How did you come to have him?”

I have no reason to trust her. She hates me. But the story pours forth. “I was working at the train station in Bensheim as a cleaner.” I leave off the part about what had brought me to the station—my own pregnancy. “And one night there was this boxcar. It was full of babies, taken from their parents.” My voice cracks as I see them lying on the cold floor of the boxcar, alone in their last moments. “Theo was one of them.” I continue, explaining how I had taken him and fled.

When I finish, she stares at me for several seconds, not speaking. “So the story you told Herr Neuhoff was a lie.”

“Yes. You see now why I couldn’t say anything.” My whole body slumps with relief at having shared at least part of the story with her.

“You know, Herr Neuhoff, of all people, would understand,” she says.

“I know, but having not told him from the start... I can’t right now. Please don’t tell him.” I hear the pleading in my own voice.

“And Theo, you just grabbed him?” she asks.

“Yes.” I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction.

“That was brave,” she says finally. The compliment comes out grudgingly, almost an admission.

“I should have taken more,” I reply. The sadness that I feel whenever I think of the infants on the train wells up and threatens to burst through. “There were so many other children.” Surely they are all gone now.

“No, taking more would have attracted attention and you might not have made it as far as you did. But why didn’t you just take the baby and go home?” she asks. “Surely your family would have understood what you had done and helped you.”

I want to tell her the rest of the story and explain why my parents had been so outraged. But the words stick in my throat. “What I said about my father being awful before was true,” I manage, resorting to that part of the lie once more. “That was why I had left, why I was at the train station in the first place.”

“And your mother?”

“She is not very brave.” Another part-truth. “Also, I didn’t want to cause them trouble,” I add. Astrid eyes me evenly and I wait for her to point out that I brought my troubles instead to her and the rest of the circus. I had told her about Theo in hopes that she might be more willing to accept me. But what if the opposite is true?

Outside the practice hall there is a sudden clattering, a car of some sort screeching to a halt, followed by unfamiliar male voices. I turn to Astrid. “What on earth?” But she has turned and raced through the rear door of the dressing room, the one that leads outside.

Before I can call after her, the front door to the dressing room flies open and two uniformed men barrel in from the practice hall, followed by Peter. “Officers, I assure you...” I freeze, my legs stone. The first I have seen since coming to Darmstadt, they are not Schutzpolizei as I had seen at the station, but actual Nazi SS. Have they come for me? I had hoped that my disappearance with Theo would have been long forgotten. But it is hard to see what other business they might have with the circus.

“Fr?ulein...” One of the men, older and graying at the temples beneath his hat, steps closer. Let them take just me, I pray. Theo is thankfully not here, but well across the winter quarters. If they should see him, though...

Terrified, I look over my shoulder for Astrid. She will know what to do. I start to go after her. But behind the men, Peter’s eyes flare. He is trying to signal some sort of a caution to me.

As the officer nears, I brace myself for arrest. But he simply stands too close, leering down the low-cut front of my leotard.

“We’ve received a report,” the second officer says. Younger by a good ten years, he stands back, looking uncomfortable in the close quarters of the dressing room. “Of a Jew with the circus,” he adds. Terror shoots through me like a knife to the stomach. So they know about Theo after all.

The men begin to search the dressing room, opening the armoire and peering under the tables. Do they really think we’ve hidden the child there? I prepare myself for the questions that will surely come next. But the officers storm back out to the practice hall. I lean against the dressing room table, in a cold sweat and shaking. I have to get to Theo before they do and run. I start for the door.

There is a sudden scraping sound beneath my feet. Looking down, I glimpse Astrid. She has somehow gotten below the floorboards into the crawl space. What is she doing down there? I kneel down, assaulted by the smell of sewage and manure. “Astrid, I...”

“Shh!” She is curled up into a tight ball. Hiding.

“What are you doing...?” I stop midsentence as the older officer walks in again.

I straighten, smoothing my skirt and stepping on the crack through which I’d seen Astrid. “Excuse me!” I cry, feigning modesty. “This is the women’s dressing room and I need to change.”

But the officer continues to stare at the floorboards. Had he seen her? He lifts his head, eyeing me. “Papers?”

I falter. I’d fled the train station hastily the night I found Theo, leaving my identity card behind. Herr Neuhoff would get me papers, Astrid had promised, before we went on the road, assuming I managed the act. I do not have them yet, though. “I have to go get them,” I bluff without thinking. Peter’s look is approving: yes, draw them away from here, stall for time. I start for the door from the dressing room into the practice hall.