White Rose Black Forest(17)

“I understand. Where will you be spending Christmas?”

“Munich. That’s where my life is now. I’m only back for a few days.”

“Yet you have your skis with you?” he said as he glanced at the floor beside the table.

Suddenly she became aware of the morphine in her backpack, the gauze and the plaster of paris. If he searched it, this would all end.

“My father’s apartment was destroyed in the bombing raid. I’m staying in our old summerhouse in the mountains. I can’t say I expected to get snowed in, however.”

“Yes, this weather has been quite something. But you say that you intend to make your way back to Munich for Christmas? That’s just nine days away.”

“That’s my plan. I don’t want to spend Christmas alone in that old cabin. I want to get back to Munich as soon as I can.”

“I remember that cabin. We had some good times there.”

Franka tried not to shudder as she remembered weekends spent in her father’s cabin with him. Those college days when he was the dashing local Hitler Youth leader seemed like eons ago. Most of the other girls had been jealous. They could have him now. She noticed a wedding ring on his finger.

“So you’re married?”

“Yes, for four years now. You remember Helga Dagover?”

“Of course.”

“We have two sons, Bastian and Jürgen.”

“Many congratulations.”

“Yes, they are fine Aryan boys, just what this country needs. Of course, by the time they’re grown this war will be over, and they’ll be able to reap the benefits of what we’re trying to sow.”

Franka didn’t answer. The desire to run, to escape, was almost beyond her control, and it took every fragment of strength within her to sit still.

“Would you like to see a picture of them?”

“Of course.”

Berkel reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. A proud smile cracked across his face as he drew out the photograph, and his eyes lit up in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

“Are they not the most beautiful boys in the world?”

“Yes.”

“I do love them so. The worst part of my job is that I’m away from them so much, but they’re always in my heart.”

He returned the photo to his wallet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver-plated cigarette case. Franka noticed the initials on it weren’t his. He offered one to her once more, but she refused. It had been years since she had smoked, and the previous cigarette had added to the nausea spreading through her like scum across a stagnant pond. Berkel lit the cigarette and sat back. The man in the cabin emerged in her mind.

“You never married, Franka.”

“No. I never did.”

“What age are you now, twenty-six? You have so much to offer. You don’t want to end up an old maid, do you? Your childbearing days are slipping by. You won’t see the flower of your youth again once it’s gone, you know.”

“I’m aware of my age, Daniel.”

“I don’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to cause any offense. You’re more beautiful now than ever.”

“That’s quite all right, Daniel, and thank you again,” she said, unable to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds.

“You were quite the catch in your teenage years.” He sat back in his wooden chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Oh, yes, I remember well. All the other boys were jealous of me. I had the most beautiful girl in all of Freiburg. I felt like the luckiest boy alive. What happened to us? You never explained. You just dropped me.”

I saw who you really were. I realized whom they’d turned you into. She wondered whether he was being deliberately ignorant, if this was some ploy to test her loyalties, or if he truly didn’t know. Had he not figured it out by now? They had broken up in 1936, when she was nineteen. He had tried to get back with her after that, and while she was adamant about not being his girlfriend, she was careful not to push him too far away. She was fearful of his growing power and influence as a member of the local Gestapo.

On Kristallnacht in 1938, he had joined with the mobs, when the streets of Freiburg and every other town and city in Germany glistened with broken glass from the windows and storefronts of Jewish-owned businesses, when the night sky burned red from the flames of burning synagogues. Thousands died in a state-sponsored, nationwide riot against Jewish Germans, and Daniel Berkel was one of the leaders of the marauding pack of dogs dragging Jewish business owners onto the streets to be kicked and beaten. That night opened her eyes to what the Nazis were really trying to achieve in Germany. She felt changed. Much of the reason she left Freiburg was to get away from him. She abandoned Fredi to get away from him.

“That’s ancient history now. Why mire ourselves in the past when the German people have such a sparkling future to look forward to?”

He smiled, but his eyes darkened. He took another drag on the cigarette before speaking again. “You’ve something to hide? Why not tell, so we can put the past behind us and go on as friends from here? If you’re going to be living in Freiburg—”

“I’m not going to be in Freiburg. I’m moving back to Munich in the next few days, as soon as the roads clear.”

Berkel took another drag from the cigarette just as the waitress came over. He ordered a beer, and Franka felt her insides tighten.