The German Wife(118)

“Calvin is out there in the foyer,” Johnson added. “He’s real upset, Lizzie. Why don’t you tell us what happened this morning with Rhodes, and then we’ll let you see him?”

I wanted to make my brother okay but I couldn’t. I wanted to make Calvin happy but I couldn’t. I just wanted to undo what had happened to Jürgen Rhodes—but I couldn’t. I wanted to help Sofie Rhodes, who, in this instance at least, was an innocent mother to innocent children.

I just wanted to make everything better for everyone around me.

I could hear my breathing echoing in that little room—shallow pants that betrayed my panic. The only way forward seemed to be for me to confess to Henry’s crime, but Calvin would see right through that.

“We might take a break,” Tucker sighed, and the two men pushed back their chairs and left me alone.

I stared up at the clock on the wall. It was almost 10:00 a.m., and the second hand kept ticking, even though it felt that time had stopped.



47


Sofie

Berlin, Germany
April 1945

The end was coming closer and the mood on the streets of Berlin was tense. Some people were stockpiling food and ammunition, others were collecting timber in piles in their yards—ostensibly for “summer projects.” Few were willing to admit they were actually preparing to barricade their windows once the conflict reached our streets.

Lydia hadn’t spoken to me since my arrest—not until the phone lines at Nordhausen and Mittelwerk went down, at which point she called and acted as if we were still close.

“Have you heard from Jürgen?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “No, not for weeks.”

“The last time I spoke to him, Karl said we have to defend ourselves and our homes at any cost and we must fight to the very last. He and I agreed we would never surrender. But...” Lydia cleared her throat. “If he was captured...well, obviously that would be different.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lydia.”

“The Soviets and the Americans will want our technology. Our knowledge. And God knows the scientists can’t manage their own way from the lunchroom to their desks. They need people like Karl to help them or they’d never achieve anything. And of course they’d take our families too. The men would insist upon it.”

“I’m not so sure about any of that,” I sighed. I knew from Jürgen that this was Karl’s expectation, but to me it seemed laughably optimistic. “If I hear anything, I’ll call you.”

A few days later, Hans called and asked to speak to Georg, and I didn’t think anything of fetching my son. I left him in the study to talk to his friend and went back to the kitchen, where I had been cataloging supplies. The city was likely to fall within weeks. Aerial bombing kept us up several nights in a row and it seemed clear this was only just beginning. I was moving every scrap of potential sustenance into the makeshift bomb shelter we’d set up in the small cellar below Adele’s building. I was scared, but I’d been scared for so long by then, I’d learned to push through it. The best thing I could do for my family was to be prepared.

The next thing I knew, Georg was in the doorway in his Hitler Youth uniform, a canvas bag hanging from his shoulder. He was fifteen, and a proud, full-fledged member of the senior ranks. His uniform was just a little too large. He inherited Jürgen’s height and needed the next size up, but he didn’t yet have the bulk to fill it out.

“I have orders, Mama,” he told me. His eyes were alight with excitement, as if he’d been summoned to play a particularly thrilling game. It was the happiest I’d seen him since my arrest. “We are deploying immediately.”

“Orders?” I repeated blankly. “Deploying?”

“My Hitler Youth division is being deployed to defend Kassel.”

He let his bag fall to the floor and he stepped toward me, a grave expression on his face. I set down the bag of flour I had been holding and turned toward him, more confused than alarmed.

“You’re fifteen,” I said blankly. “You’re a child, not a soldier. Who told you you’re being deployed?” I dusted off my hands on my apron and took a step toward the door. “You’ve misunderstood, that’s all. I’ll call the captain—”

“He’s on his way to pick me up.”

I hated to call Lydia back, but I couldn’t think of another way to straighten out this mess. Georg waited by the door as I dialed and spoke to the zu Schiller housekeeper, who went to fetch Lydia. After just a moment, she answered the phone breathlessly.

“Sofie! Do you have news about Karl?”

“No, I’m sorry—”

“Then now isn’t a good time. I’m helping Hans pack his bag.”

I turned to look at Georg. He had recently started shaving—probably a little before he needed to. The razor had inflamed the hint of acne along his jawline. He had Jürgen’s coloring and my intellect. He was handsome and proud, his boots shiny, his tie knotted perfectly—all on his own.

But his skin was red, flushed with irritation and probably more than a little embarrassment.

He was a boy. He was just a boy.

“I’ve just talked to Georg. They can’t be deploying children,” I said. I could feel the blood thundering around my body—the pulse sounding in my ears and under my skin.