The German Wife(27)
“Why don’t you take whatever money you have left and remodel, as I did? You could sell or rent the top floors as apartments.”
“No one is buying apartments now, Aunt Adele,” I pointed out.
“A house is always worth something, Sofie, even in a bad market,” she said patronizingly. “Now, if you were really smart, you could sell the whole lot and move in here.”
“Are some of your tenants leaving?”
“No one is leaving,” she said abruptly. “I meant you could move into this apartment with me. It would be a little cramped—”
“A little cramped?” I repeated incredulously. When Jürgen was a child, she gave him the sole bedroom while she slept on the sofa in her kitchen. Did she think I could put my children in her bathtub to sleep each night? “Aunt Adele, that’s a very generous offer, but it’s just not practical. We wouldn’t fit here. And where would Mayim go?”
“She’d have to go home, of course, but the rest of you could live here for free. You could live off the profit from the sale of your home for a long time if you were careful with it, regardless of what happens with Jürgen’s job—”
“Father borrowed against the villa when the market was high,” I interrupted her, flushing. “If we sell it now, we lose my family home and we still walk away with a debt. All we can do is hold on and hope things turn around.”
“Wishful thinking is not a plan—”
“But wishful thinking is all I have left,” I snapped. I spun back to the kettle and moved it off the heat too fast, splashing drops of scalding water onto my skin. I cursed and dropped the kettle into the sink, then ran cold water over my hand. Small, angry spots appeared on my skin, but it wasn’t a bad burn—my pride hurt more than my hand. Adele rose, approached me slowly, and peered over my shoulder at my hand.
“You know it is my intention to die in this house, just as I was born here. But, Sofie, attachment to our family homes doesn’t mean we can’t adapt. You simply must find a better way forward.”
I didn’t stay for tea. I packed the children up and left to nurse my aching wrist and my bruised pride at home.
When Karl invited us to meet him and Lydia for a picnic on Saturday morning, Jürgen and I were of two minds about accepting their invitation.
“He might have news about this job, and it would be good to know one way or another,” Jürgen said heavily. “Besides, I want to ask them what their thoughts are on these new laws.” The Nazi government utilized the Enabling Act and passed the Law for Rectification of the Distress of Nation and Reich. It allowed the chancellor and his cabinet to create legislation and to enshrine it in law without the support of the parliament. Hitler argued that this was necessary to bring stability, but to me it seemed increasingly apparent that whatever instability we were suffering from was by his design and at his pleasure.
“What if we don’t like their answers?” I said hesitantly.
“Then at least we’ll know the friendship is over,” Jürgen sighed.
That was how we found ourselves spread out on a rug beneath an ancient red oak tree in the park between our homes, eating rye bread thick with cultured butter and salami with soft cheese. Karl and Lydia left their young twins, Horst and Ernst, at home with their nanny, but Georg and their four-year-old son, Hans, were running circles around the rug. I invited Mayim, but she opted to stay home with Laura.
We spent a few minutes catching up—discussing the children’s antics and swapping pleasantries. Lydia and Karl were both profusely apologetic for their unavailability over the past few months.
“This country has been adrift for far too long. We knew we needed to do our part to ensure our national future,” Lydia offered by way of explanation.
“How do you feel about...?” I began. Then I broke off. It felt so awkward to raise the subject of the new government’s tolerance for violence against the Jews, and I wasn’t quite sure why that was, given I’d always thought of Karl and Lydia as reasonable people, and I was still hopeful they were as quietly as horrified by it all as Jürgen and I were. I tried again. “I was wondering what your thoughts are on...”
“You’re concerned about the new laws, especially in the context of the Nazi racial policies, aren’t you?” Karl said, flashing me a gentle smile. I nodded, and he added, “Aligning oneself with a political party always requires a degree of compromise.”
“You aren’t concerned that Hitler now rules a dictatorship?” Jürgen asked skeptically. Karl shook his head.
“The parliament is so hostile to this new government—how else could the Party bring stability but to bypass them?”
“He promised to restore law and order,” Lydia reminded us. “That’s a difficult thing to achieve without a few hard decisions along the way.”
“And these reports of the SA barricading Jewish businesses? Of harassment of Jews on the streets? The book burnings?” Jürgen frowned. “What do you make of these things?”
“Some incidents were real—but the rest of what you speak of is mostly rumors.” Karl shrugged. “You know how whispers spread, especially in certain communities.”
“Which communities do you mean, Karl?” I asked, frowning.
“Would you look at that,” Lydia said suddenly, and we all followed her gaze to where Hans and Georg were seated side by side on the ground, a little collection of stones between them. “Sofie, we must get Hans and Georg together more. They’ll grow up to be dear friends, just as the four of us are.” Karl turned to look at them too, and he smiled softly at the sight. But Jürgen and I exchanged a glance. The conversation was clearly over, but I didn’t feel reassured at all.