The German Wife(83)

“Mama...” Felix said uncertainly. “Mama, is that a bad man?”

The car roared to life. I pulled out onto the street and turned the car toward home.

“Something awful happened today.”

As soon as Jürgen came home from work, I pulled him into our bedroom and shut the door. He cupped my face in his palms and stared down at me, concern in his gaze.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I took a cake to Calvin’s house for Lizzie,” I whispered. “A peace offering.”

“Sofie!” Jürgen groaned as his face fell. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“It was me who argued with her at that picnic, but it was you the police came for. I thought I could apologize before she stirred up any more trouble.” My voice grew more desperate as I tried to explain myself. “I want to build a home here, Jürgen. I don’t want some woman whispering to other Americans about me, telling them not to talk to me, telling their kids not to play with ours—gossiping about the worst moments of our lives. We need to build bridges here—not let rifts develop between us and your colleagues’ wives. So I tried to reach out to her.”

Jürgen dropped his hands from my face and rubbed his eyes. “Christ.”

“I don’t think she was home, but there was a man there.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Do you remember the second time the road was graffitied? The man in the brown uniform who was staring at us while you painted?” Jürgen nodded slowly, and I whispered, “He comes past all the time. I just assumed he was walking to work since he’s always in the uniform. But sometimes I see him several times in the one day, and not just in the morning and night. He stares at me.” I shivered anxiously.

“You haven’t mentioned this before.”

“Well, it’s not just him. Lots of people stare at me,” I said, laughing weakly. “You must notice it too.”

“Maybe I’ve grown used to it,” he sighed. “So what happened, my love? Did he say something to you about your disagreement with Lizzie Miller?”

“I didn’t get a chance to say my name, but he already knew who I was anyway, and he knew about my argument with Lizzie. I asked him to give her the cake and he called me a Nazi, then threw the cake against the pillar right behind me. Plate and all,” I blurted. Jürgen’s jaw dropped as his nostrils flared, and I hastened to explain, “He didn’t hurt me, Jürgen, and he could have if he’d thrown the cake a little to the left of where I was standing. I think he just wanted to give me a fright.”

Jürgen nodded slowly, his expression dark.

“Calvin did mention Lizzie’s brother lives with them.”

“His shirt says his name is Henry.”

“That rings a bell.”

“Lizzie Miller must have told her brother you broke into her house. He told me today we ‘need to stop coming round there,’” I said, shivering.

“I have to talk to Calvin, don’t I?” Jürgen sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You said you wanted to stay out of this,” I whispered.

“I want to stay out of a disagreement between you and Mrs. Miller.” He pursed his lips. “I will not remain quiet when someone threatens my wife.”



32


Lizzie

El Paso, Texas
1938

The night before my wedding, Henry and I sat on wooden chairs side by side on the porch of my new Federal-style house.

“Are you worried about this business in Europe?” I asked. He shrugged.

“Why would I be worried?”

“Cal seems to think Hitler is spoiling for war.”

“Cal is a pretty smart fellow, so he might be right, but even if he is, I can’t see us getting involved. It’s the other side of the world, for heaven’s sakes. All that trouble has nothing to do with America.”

Henry was stretched out beside me, his legs propped up on the outdoor coffee table. In one hand, he held a beer, and in the other, a lit cigarette. This was a new habit he’d picked up during his year in the Army, and one I was not fond of. We sat in silence for a moment, and I was worrying about Hitler and Europe and just hoping that Henry was right—but was startled when my brother suddenly burst out laughing.

“What?” I said, alarmed.

“Sorry...sorry. It’s just that I’m sitting here on the porch of this fancy house and I can’t believe you’re really going to live here. Mother and Daddy wouldn’t believe their eyes if they could see you now. Your new kitchen is as big as our old house.”

I couldn’t believe I was going to live there either. My new house was every bit as grand as the Hilton, although of course, on a smaller scale. But at four thousand square feet, with four expansive bedrooms and, to my bewilderment, two bathrooms and an indoor laundry, it still didn’t feel real to me. I knew Calvin was well-off, but we were engaged before I discovered the extent of his wealth. It wasn’t just his high-paying job. It turned out his parents were wealthy too.

“Who would have thought you, my roughhousing, horse-breaking, fence-fixing, tractor-driving sister, would become the well-to-do wife of some airplane genius?” Henry chuckled.

“It is a surprising turn,” I admitted.