The German Wife(72)
“It’s plain as day that you must all be normal Germans who had no idea what was really going on over there. Our government would never let Nazis into this country. You’re all about as safe as houses, and I’m telling everyone who asks that they can be sure of that too.”
I smiled quietly and left the store, heart heavy as I went. The bookstore owner had been so kind—and he was right. People like Jürgen and I meant no threat to his town or his country.
But how could I possibly explain how complex our situation back home had been? The deception was necessary. That didn’t mean it was comfortable.
Another bright spark in those first difficult weeks was Avril Walters. She came round for coffee one day and promised she’d get her daughter Patty to look out for Gisela in the playground. Then she came back the next day with a bag of groceries to help me pack a more American-style lunch for Gisela. White bread and peanut butter featured much more heavily than I anticipated. She returned again later in the week with a bag of Patty’s old clothes for Gisela and helped me cut some of the length from Gisela’s hair so she could wear it down at school like the American girls.
Gisela and Patty hadn’t really clicked, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. Patty liked sports and dancing; Gisela preferred reading and drawing. The language barrier was just the final straw. I had a feeling that, but for Avril’s encouragement, Patty would have given up on Gisela right away, and I was grateful that she hadn’t. She seemed Gisela’s best chance for a friend, now that Claudia was still refusing to let Mila play with my daughter.
Avril insisted on taking me for driving lessons to help me learn the differences in road rules. She loaned me her camera, so that I could take some photos of Felix, Gisela, and Jürgen, then drove me to the store so I could get the film developed. When the photos were ready, I wrote a note to Laura, and Avril drove me to the post office. She came around for coffee or cake or lunch several times a week, and even once it became apparent the children had different interests, she still organized playdates with us. She was a godsend—my guide to all things American.
Avril and I were walking through the grocery store together one morning when I noticed Claudia Schmidt at the counter. She looked close to tears, frustrated as she tried to communicate with the clerk, who was visibly annoyed.
“Like I already told you,” the store clerk said, speaking slowly as if that would translate his words. “We won’t have any until next week.”
Claudia drew in a deep breath and held up a card. She pointed to it, nodding hopefully.
“Ma’am,” the clerk said again, drawing the word out even more. “We. Do. Not. Have—”
“Please excuse me a moment,” I said to Avril. Then I walked over and tapped Claudia on the shoulder. She scowled at me, then looked back to the clerk and pointed to the cardboard again.
“Let me help, Claudia,” I said, switching to German. She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.
“I have no idea what the problem is,” she admitted. “I just want to pick up some confectioners’ sugar.”
“He’s saying that they’ve run out and won’t have any in until next week.”
“Oh,” she said, her expression clearing. “Oh good. I thought he was telling me which aisle to look in.” She smiled at the clerk and nodded as she said in heavily accented English, “Please.”
“Thank you,” I corrected her. Claudia sighed miserably.
“I’m never going to learn this language.”
“You’ll get there,” I told her gently. “You just need time and practice.”
She turned as if she was going to leave but paused at the last minute and looked at me hesitantly. “Could you ask him which day I should come back?”
“I have some at home,” I said. “I’ll bring it over this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Please,” I said. “I want to.”
After she was gone, I went back to Avril, and we continued walking through the aisles, Todd and Felix walking ahead of us. At least the little boys didn’t mind too much that they couldn’t converse. They found other ways to amuse themselves, like giggling together and running ahead when Todd dropped an apple and it rolled down the aisle.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” Avril said quietly, “but I get the distinct impression those other German women are not especially kind to you. And Patty says that the German kids all play together, the girls all in their braids and those dresses and the boys wearing those odd little shorts—”
“Lederhosen,” I said. I wasn’t the only German mother struggling to figure out how to help her children adjust to American school.
“I understand that the local kids are a bit wary, but the German kids all seem to be looking after each other...except poor Gisela. Patty says she sits by herself to read her books. Do you know why that is?”
“I have my suspicions,” I muttered, picking up a box of flour and adding it to my cart. Avril cleared her throat, and I looked back to find her gaze troubled.
“I’ve told everyone it couldn’t possibly be true,” she blurted. “But people are talking about you and Jürgen. Lizzie Miller said that you and Jürgen were members of the Nazi party. I only hope that the German women haven’t heard such vicious lies, but being married to Calvin, her words do carry some extra weight.” I was so shocked, I found myself momentarily lost for words. “There was more, but it’s too terrible to say.”