The German Wife(55)

“How is that good?”

“I can keep you safe, Lizzie. I’ll keep an eye on the house while you sleep.”

He was walking away, beer in hand, already at the kitchen door—his swollen body straining the largest uniform the lumberyard had to offer, his shoulders slumped. My heart ached for Henry.

“No one was here last night, Henry,” I said hesitantly.

“Sis,” he said, glancing back at me to force a tight smile. “I know what I saw.”

When Cal got home that evening, Henry was in the living room, chuckling at something on TV. Cal motioned for me to follow him into his study, then closed the door.

“Have you spoken to Henry about a doctor?”

“I tried,” I said.

Calvin gave me a searching look. The compassion and sympathy in his eyes was so intense, it moved me to tears. Calvin Miller truly was the best man I knew.

“Can we just give Henry a few more days, Cal?” I whispered. “Please? Let’s just let him settle in more before we make a big deal out of what was probably just a vivid nightmare.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Cal said carefully, even though I could see he was unconvinced. “We can give him a bit more time to settle back in—but if there’s any more trouble like last night, we’ll have to force the issue.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t want to embarrass him—I truly don’t. But it might just be that Henry’s problems are finally bad enough that he needs to accept some help.”



24


Sofie

Berlin, Germany
1935

Jürgen and I talked until after midnight that night, trying to consider every possibility. Which border might we run for? How would we make sure we didn’t arouse suspicion, especially with Dietger keeping such a close watch on us? What would Adele do? She would encourage us to flee without her—but we were anxious about leaving her behind. Would there be consequences for her?

There were too many questions we couldn’t answer, and with Jürgen’s eyes red from fatigue, we decided we’d sleep on it. I tossed and turned, asking myself a million variations of are we really going to do this? The last time I looked at the alarm clock, it was 2:33 a.m.

I was roused from sleep less than half an hour later by a thumping from the front door, the sound loud enough that the windows in our room rattled. Bleary-eyed and bewildered, I rolled toward Jürgen and shook him.

“What’s going on?”

He groaned as he pushed himself upright, then slipped his glasses on, looked at the alarm clock, and turned back to me.

“A knock at the door at this hour can only mean one thing, my love.”

We stared at one another in the dim light. My heart was pounding against my chest, static ringing in my ears.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he whispered. “I’m assuming you haven’t either.”

“Mayim,” I choked out, closing my eyes.

“We need to answer the door before the children wake up.”

I pulled on my housecoat and followed Jürgen down the stairs, my heart racing so fast I felt light-headed. When we reached the ground floor, he reached for the handle and I caught his elbow.

“We can’t just let them take her!” I cried, belatedly panicking as I imagined Mayim being dragged out into the night. Jürgen hesitated, glancing between me and the door. The thumping returned.

“Open up!” someone shouted.

“I’m sorry, Sofie,” Jürgen whispered, voice breaking. “We can’t not answer.”

Above us, a floorboard creaked. I looked up to find Mayim on the landing above us.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Go into the closet in Laura’s room!” I whispered fiercely. We could tell them Mayim wasn’t home...tell them only our little girl was in that room... Maybe they’d believe us? Surely it was worth a shot. We had to do something. “Hide! Please!”

Mayim gasped, and a sudden terror crossed her face, but she didn’t move.

“If I hide in there, Laura may wake up and see them take me!” she whispered back. She pursed her lips, then closed her eyes and whispered weakly, “I can’t let that happen.”

“Sofie...” Jürgen said. I looked at him, and his gaze was calm. “I’m sorry, my love. We can’t hide her. We just can’t.”

I looked upstairs again to see Mayim walking away, but she returned just a second later, pulling on her coat, her chin high and her eyes clear.

“But she hasn’t done anything wrong!” I cried as Jürgen threw open the door to reveal a group of men on the doorstep.

The Gestapo did not wear a uniform—they worked by stealth. These men could have just been a social group out for a late-night stroll but for the murder in their expressions. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw Dietger hovering on the sidewalk behind them.

“Jürgen Rhodes?” the man at the front said. Jürgen nodded silently. “You need to come with us.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“But—wait. What?” I choked out, stepping forward. Jürgen looked at me in alarm. Then he shook his head and shot me a frantic look as I took a step closer. I pressed a hand to my mouth, suddenly terrified I was going to be sick.