The German Wife(78)

“Out for some exercise?” I tried to keep my tone light, but I was unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

“Oh yes, Mrs. von Meyer Rhodes. Today is such an exciting day for our class.”

“Mama, we are going to see the house that has been liberated. A Jewish family had been occupying it,” Laura said sweetly, her blue eyes alight with excitement. “Did you know we had a Jewish family so close to our house? It is scary to think, isn’t it, Mama? But they are gone now, so it’s okay.”

“Yes, Laura. It’s all okay,” I said. A Jewish woman was the second person to hold her when she was born. A Jewish woman was the first person she ever smiled at. Her very first word was May. “I’ll see you at home a bit later.”

I flashed a tight smile at my daughter, then at her teacher, and pushed the stroller forward, walking briskly home. But my footsteps stumbled just a few steps later, when I heard the schoolchildren cheer as they reached the ransacked house.

“The Jews are our misfortune!” they chanted in a singsong, joyous fashion. “They are finally put in their place!”

The violence continued the next night and into the next day. Hundreds of Jews were murdered, still more suicided. Tens of thousands of Jewish men were arrested and imprisoned in concentration camps, the first time arrests were ever openly made on the basis of ethnicity, and the newspapers suggested that all of this had the full support of the German people. But I sensed a different sentiment in the air—that perhaps this time, the Nazi party had gone too far.

But no one said it. No one could say it. We had so long been afraid of the consequences of dissent that even as the nation descended into madness, any moral call to rise up against the chaos went unheeded.

The city was finally quiet after two nights of violence. I went to bed early, Gisela beside me in the hopes that we’d get a little more rest, but woke to the shrill burst of the phone ringing just after eleven o’clock. Jürgen often called late like this if he was especially busy and we hadn’t spoken in a while, so I was certain he would be at the other end.

“Hello?” I asked breathlessly.

“I hope I didn’t wake you, Sofie.”

It was Adele, and she sounded weak. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“What is it?” I asked urgently. She didn’t answer. “Adele—are you sick? I’ll come right over—”

“Yes, I am quite unwell, Sofie,” she said, slow and labored, as if it were an effort to speak.

“I’m coming—”

“Wait,” she interrupted. “Please be sure to bundle up—put your coat on and your warmest winter boots, maybe a nice warm hat too. I really don’t want you to catch a chill.”

I looked along the hall to the windows above the stairwell. There was ice around the windowpane. Even so, it was unlike Adele to baby me. Something was going on.

I ran back to my bedroom and stared at Gisela on the bed. Georg and Laura were asleep down the hall—but they never woke up when she cried. I couldn’t take her with me. I couldn’t leave her behind. I groaned and ran to Georg’s bedroom.

“Georg? Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

He was sleep-rumpled and innocent, and even as I shook his shoulder gently, I felt a tug of love for him in my chest.

“Darling, I have to go next door. Oma needs some help with something. Can you please come and sleep in my bed in case Gisela wakes up?”

He was half-asleep as we walked down the hallway, dragging his feet and squinting his eyes against the light. In my room, he flopped down onto my side of the bed and rested his hand gently on Gisela’s back, as if to console her in advance. I propped a pillow beside her to keep her from rolling off the bed. Adele’s words were ringing in my ears as I pulled on a felt hat and heavy coat, along with a pair of snow boots.

At the last minute, I stopped at the safe in Jürgen’s study and withdrew every Reichsmark, stuffing them into the pockets of my coat.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, just for a heartbeat, thinking of my children asleep upstairs. If love was the antidote to hate, surely the vastness of the love I felt for them could make some difference, even with everything else they were exposed to. The streets were calm, but it felt like the eye of a storm. I was terrified, but I’d heard the urgency in Adele’s voice. There was no option to refuse her.

The clouds above were low and heavy, and light snow was falling—just enough to make the path icy. I slipped through the courtyard gate and into Adele’s yard, then her apartment. I found her in the kitchen, where she often was. The fire was roaring, and she was slumped at the table, watching the steam rise from a teacup. She looked as weary as I’d ever seen her.

“Oma...” I whispered, rushing to her side.

“Thank you for coming, Sofie... I’m fine. I just... I can’t find my medication. Could you look for me? Perhaps in my bedroom...and I’m going to go take a bath while you look. That sometimes helps too.” Her voice was uncertain, her breaths coming in pants between words. She was so pale her skin had taken on a blue-gray tone, and when I looked at her hands, they were trembling. But even as she spoke, she was pointing—drawing my attention to a scrap of paper on the table.

I’m fine. Go quietly to the bathroom. Run the water to make some noise. I put the wireless in there too—turn it on and whisper just in case.