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Free Sam
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Copyright©2013byHannahHess
Thisisaworkoffiction.Anyresemblancetoanyperson,livingordead,ispurelycoincidental.HannoverandWolfenbuttelareactualtownsinGermany,andthereisaGeorgAugustHospitalinWolfenbuttel,butthestreets,restaurants,anddescriptionsaretheproductsoftheauthor’simagination.Therewas,however,duringthethirdReich,apolicyofeuthanizingtheillandthementallydisabledatSonnenstein,amongotherplaces.
Allrightsreserved.Thisbookmaynotbereproduced,inwholeorpart,inanyform,exceptbyreviewers,withoutthewrittenpermissionofthepublisher.
ISBN978-1-929355-86-0ePubISBN978-1-5457-2202-2LibraryofCongressControlNumber:2013938023
DesignbySusanRamundoCoverbyHerbStern,withLauraTolkow
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ContentsPrologue:Hannover,Germany,August1939
Chapter1:NewYorkCity,May1963
Chapter2:Hannover,August31,1939
Chapter3:Wolfenbüttel,May1963
Chapter4:NewHaven,May1963
Chapter5:Wolfenbüttel,May1963
Chapter6:Wolfenbüttel,May1963
Chapter7:NewYork,May1963
Chapter8:Wolfenbüttel,May1963
Chapter9:Wolfenbüttel,June1963
Chapter10:Hannover,September1939
Chapter11:Wolfenbüttel,July1963
Chapter12:Wolfenbüttel,July1963
Chapter13:Hannover,April1940
Chapter14:Hannover,September1963
Chapter15:HannoverandKassel,September1942
Chapter16:Wolfenbüttel,September1963
Chapter17:Wolfenbüttel,November1963
Chapter18:Kassel,May1945
Chapter19:Wolfenbüttel,November1963
Chapter20:Wolfenbüttel,November1963
Chapter21:Wolfenbüttel,December1963
Chapter22:Wolfenbüttel,December1963
Chapter23:Wolfenbüttel,August1945
Chapter24:Wolfenbüttel,January1964
Chapter25:Wolfenbüttel,January1964
Chapter26:Wolfenbüttel,February1964
Chapter27:Wolfenbüttel,March1964
Chapter28:Wolfenbüttel,April1964
Chapter29:Wolfenbüttel,April1964
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Epilogue:NewHaven,July4,1974
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PROLOGUE
Hannover,Germany,August1939Martintookalastlookaroundtheemptyapartment.Thecrates,withtheirfurnishings,hadleftforNewYork.Thesunstreamedthroughthecurtainlesswindows.Aballofdustsatinacorner,andhestoopedtopickitup,puttingit,absently,intohistrouserpocket.Thelightspaces on thewallswere ghosts of the pictures that had, until recently, hung there.Heshookoff thememoriesof thesevenyearsheandClairehadnestedhere,pickeduphismedicalbag,checkedtomakesurethepassportsweresafelystowed.Heclosedthedooronthememories,lockedit,andwentdownstairs.
He rang the super’s bell, and,wordlessly, handed the keys toHerr Julke,who tookthemgingerly,as though toavoidcontaminationwithJewishgerms.Withoutawordhegave the Nazi salute and slammed the door. Martin shrugged. There was one man hewouldn’tmiss.WhileHerrJulkehad,when they’d firstmoved into theapartment,beenobsequious, and couldn’t do enough forHerrDoktor and his family, since January 30,1933, when Hitler had become Chancellor, everything had changed. Repairs remainedundone,garbagestayeduncollected.HerrJulkehadhintedbroadly that thiswasnot theneighborhood forDreksjudenandwhilehehad,grudgingly, continued to take their rentmoney,hehadgrinnedonlywhenMartinhadtoldhimtheywereleaving.
Outside in the warm air Martin took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Hestarteddown the street towardWillie’shouse.Willie andMartinhadbeen friends sinceuniversity days, and while Willie had been saddened when Martin told him of theiremigration,hehadunderstood.ClaireandthechildrenwerewithWillie,andthefourofthemwouldstayuntiltheyleftforHamburginthemorning.
Martin,Claire,Willie,andhiswife,Eva,satintheMeinhoffdiningroom.Thediningtablewascoveredbyawhitelinencloth.Thesideboardandvitrine,aswellasthechairsonwhichtheysat,werearichmahogany,theseatsupholsteredinadarkmaroonbrocade.Onthesideboardstoodasilvercoffeeandteaservice,withsugarandcreamer.BehindtheglassofthevitrinewereMeissenfigurines—dancersandshepherds—aswellasdemitassecupsandsaucers.Thewindowswerecoveredwithheavysilkdrapesinadarkchampagnecolor.Onthewallswereportraitsofmeninthreepiecesuits,theirwatchchainsprominentontheirprotrudingbellies.Eachpatriarchboastedaduelingscar.ClearlyWillie’sfamilyhadgonetoUniversityforgenerations.
Theremainsofa farewelldinnerhadbeenclearedbySuze, theMeinhoffmaid,andonlytheirwineglassesandthecrumbsofaruhrkuchenremained.Thechildrenhadbeentuckedintotheirbeds.PeterwassharingaroomwithlittleWilly,who,atalmosttwo,wasagolden-hairedsmilingangel.While,unlikePeter,hedidnotyettalkorwalk,hewasanexceptionallygood-naturedchild.Ninemonth-oldMargotwasinacribintheroomMartinandClairehadbeensharingsincetheirfurniturehadgoneintothecrates.
“Thishasbeenwonderful,”Clairesaid,takingasipofthedessertwine.“Idon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedonewithoutyou.”
“You’d do the same for us,” Willie said. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply,accenting the dueling scar thatmerely heightened his blond good looks. His blue eyes
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lookedsincerelyatMartin.“Ihatethis,”hesaid.“Iwishwecouldgo,too.”
“It will pass,” Eva said. Shewas small, plump, like a sparrow. She patted Claire’shand.“Whenthisisoveryoucancomeback.”
“Never,”Clairesaid.“Idon’tgowhereI’mnotwanted.”
“But…you’llbewantedagain,you’llsee,”Evaprotested.“Hitlerdoesn’tspeakforallofus.”
“Iknownot foryou,personally,”Clairepersisted.“But forenoughofyou.But let’snotspoilourlasteveningtogether.You’vebeenwonderfulfriends.”
“Ouronlyfriends,”Martinsaid.
“Thatcan’tbetrue,”Evademurred.
“Itistrue.OuronlyChristianfriends.Heinrichwantedtobuymyequipment,what’sleftof it,butIhaven’theardawordfromhimsinceI toldhimyouwere takingitover,Willie.”
“Yeah,well,Heinrich.Hewasalwaysanopportunist.”
“Butsurely,”Evasaid,“whataboutHelmut?Julius?Oskar?Youwereallsuchgoodfriends.”
“Nothing,” Martin said. “I suppose I understand. They have their positions, theirfamilies.Butthat’swhyI’msogratefultoyouboth…”
“Don’t,” Willie said. “I’m embarrassed. Let’s talk about something else. Is yourposition…”
“Mama,”avoicewailedfromsomewherebackintheapartment.
“That’sPeter,”Clairesaid,rising.
“Suzewilltakecareofit,”Evasaid.
Claireshookherhead.“No,I’llgo.Hedoesn’tusuallywake.”
She came back a fewminutes later, holding her son. His cheeks were flushed, hisblondhairpastedwetlytohisforehead.
“He’sburningup,Martin.”
Martinstood,puthishandtotheboy’sforehead.“Doessomethinghurt?”
Theboyburiedhisheadinhismother’sneck.
Martin felt his neck. “Swollenglands,”he said. “Openyourmouth and say ‘Aaah,’Peter.”
Theboyshookhisheadandburieditdeeper.Clairesatdown,andplacedhimonherlapwithhisbackagainstherbreasts.
“Beagoodboy,sweetie.Openyourmouthandsay‘Aaah’forDaddy.”
Martintiltedtheboy’sheadback.“Aaah,”hesaid.
Martinshookhishead.“Flamingred.Letmegetmybag.”
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Whenhe returnedhe tookouthis stethoscope, andput it againstPeter’s chest, thenturnedhimgentlyandlistenedtohisback.
“AbigcoughforDaddy,”hesaid.Petercoughed.
Martinshookhishead.HetookoffthestethoscopeandextendedittoWillie.
“Listen.Whatdoyouthink.”
Willielistened,said,“Cough,Peter,”andlistenedagain.HehandedthescopebacktoMartin.
“Congested,”hesaid.“Andhefeelsveryhot.”
“Let’sgivehimsomeaspirin.Andacoolbath.Trytogetthefeverdown.”
They spent a sleepless night. They hadmovedMargot’s crib into littleWilliyd.Hetossedandwhimpered,hisbreathingrapidandshallow.Bymorning,whentheytookhistemperature,itwasalmost42.
“Hecan’ttravel,”Martinsaid.
“Butourboat…ourexitpasses.Ifwedon’tgo…”
“Youtakethebaby.I’llstayherewithPeter,andwhenhe’swellwe’llfollow.”
“Let’sallgo.Idon’twanttoleavewithoutyou.”
“They’dneverletustakehimlikethis.AndifyouandMargotgonowit’llbeeasierformetogetpassageforPeterandme.Youknowhowharditistogetfourplacesnow,witheveryonewantingtoleave.”
“Weshouldhavegoneyearsago,”shesaidbitterly.
“Iwanted to,”heremindedher.“But that’spointlessnow.This is thebestway. Inaweekhe’llbegoodasnew,won’tyou,Petey?Thenwe’llfollow.Andthisway,”hesaid,flashingthegrinsheloved,“you’llhavethehouseallreadyforus,anddinneronthetable.WhatshouldMamacookforuswhenwegettoNewYork,Peter?”
“Icecream,”hesaid,perkingupforamoment.
Clairefoughtbacktears.“Icecreamitis,sweetie.”
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CHAPTER1
NewYorkCity,May1963Margot looked around the empty apartment.Shedroppedher keys, alongwithher newmedicaldiploma in itsburgundy leather case,onto the shelfnext to the frontdoor.Thedustmotesdanced in the sun streaming through the living roomwindows.Through theglassdoorsshecouldseetheroomwheresheandhermotherhadspentsomanyevenings,readingandlisteningtotheclassicalmusichermotherhadloved.WhenMargothadgoneofftocollegeshehadtried,withhersummerearnings,tobuyhermotheraturntableandrecords.
“I’llnevergetthehangofit,”Clairehadsaid.“Theradioisfine.”
She had been among the last to get a television, had saved, instead, for a washingmachine so she didn’t have to put their clothes where other people’s dirty clothes hadbeen.Her friendshad thoughther strange—whoneededawashingmachinewhen therewere perfectly good ones in the basement? But Claire had never cared what peoplethought.TVshecoulddowithout.Thewashingmachinehadheldprideofplace in thekitchen.
Margotkickedoffherheels,pickedthemup,andwalkeddownthelonghallwaypastwhathadbeenhermother’sbedroomandintoherown.Shetookofftheshirtwaistdressshe’dwornunderhercapandgown,andhungit in thecloset.Thegraduationhadbeenbittersweet.While shewasproudof theM.D.next tohername,proud that itwaswithhonors,she’dhadnofamilytoshareitwith.John,herboyfriend,hadsaid,“Youcansharemy parents.Hell, you canhavemy parents,” but it wasn’t the same. Claire’s death, inJanuary,had leftherwithoutafamily, ifyoudidn’tcountauntsandunclesandcousins.Theywerefamily,shesupposed,buttheyallhadtheirownlives,theirownconcerns.Shehadnoone,anymore,forwhomshewascentral.
Sheputonapairofgymshortsanda teeshirt, thenwentback into thekitchenandpoured herself a glass of grapefruit juice. She sat down at the kitchen table and wentthroughthemail.Mainlyjunk:acoupleofgraduationcards,stiffwithcannedsentiment,fromherauntsanduncles; some letters still addressed tohermother.These sheopenedbeforetossingthemintothejunkpile.Sheknewsheneededtogothroughhermother’sthings, decidewhat to keep andwhat to throwout.Once she started her internship sheknewshe’dhavenotime—butitcouldwait’tiltomorrow.ShewasmeetingJohnandhisparents for a celebratory dinner in… she looked at herwatch…a little less than twohours.Sheneededanapandashower.
Two hours later, napped and showered and suitably dressed in a teal blue silk suitClairehadsewedforherbeforeshe’dgottentoosick,shesatatatableatDowney’sSteakHouse,facingJohn’sparents.Dr.Wattwasonhissecondglassoftop-of-the-linescotch.His shiny, florid face under carefully cut blond hair hinted that he had had somefortificationatthehotelearlier.Hiswife,everyoneofherhoney-coloredhairsobedientlyin place, sipped a Gibson. Dr. Watt wore a navy blazer with buttons that screamedeighteencarat,grayslackswithasharpcrease,anexcruciatinglystarchedshirt,aYaletie,andblacktasselloafersshinedtoaglossevenbrighterthanhisface.Hiswifewaselegant
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inasilkCastleberryknitinashadeslightlylighterthanherhair.Hermakeupwasartfullyapplied,herfacesosmooththatMargotwassureshe’dhadthebestplasticsurgeonmoneycouldbuy.Johnsatnexttoher,handsomeinhisblazerandchinos.Hisshirt,though,waslightblue,andhistiehadbeenloosened.
“Wouldyoulikeadrink?”Dr.Wattaskedaftershe’dbeenseated.
“Justsomeicedteafornow,”shesaid.“MaybeI’llhavesomewinewithdinner.”
“Wecan’ttoastyouwithicedtea,”Dr.Wattsaid.“Havesomething.Champagne?”
“Yes,let’s,darling,”Mrs.Wattsaid,exposingperfectwhiteteethinwhatcouldhavepassedforasmile.Awaiterwassummoned.
“Let’shaveabottleof thebestchampagneyouhave,”Dr.Wattcommanded.“Thesetwo… ,” he pointed his chin at John andMargot, “have just graduated frommidicalschool.Theyoungladywithhonors.”
Thewaiterbowed,notquitefromthewaist,andwentoff.
“Wouldhavebeenniceifyou’dgottenhonors,too,”Dr.Wattsaidtohisson.
“Yes,Dad.Butyouknowwhattheysayatmedschool?”
“No, son,what do they say atmed school… these days?”His teeth, also perfectlywhiteandeven,werenotquiteclenched.
“WhatdotheycallthepersonwhograduateslastinhisclassatColumbiamed?”
“What?”
“Doctor,”Johnsaidwithagrin.
Thewaiter returnedwith thebottle, flourishing the label atDr.Watt, and, therefore,sparinghimthenecessityofaretort.
Afterthecorkwaspopped,thebubblytastedandfoundsatisfactory,thewaiterpouredintofourflutesbeforesteppingbackwithanotherbow.
“Tothenewdoctors,”Dr.Wattsaid.“Mayyoumaketheprofessionproud.”
Theydrank.MargotsqueezedJohn’shandunderthetable.
“So,”Dr.Wattsaid,“Johntellsmeyou’redoingyourinternshipinpediatrics.Agoodfieldforawoman.”
“Ifshedoesn’thavechildrenofherown,”objectedMrs.Watt.“Imagine,beingcalledoutinthemiddleofthenight,awayfromyourownhusband.”Sheshookherheadatthethought.Naryahairmoved.
“Yes,” John said. “I suggesteddermatology.Noonecalls in themiddleof thenightwithanitchemergency.”
“Oropthalmology,”Dr.Wattsaid.
“Actually,Iwantedsurgery,buttheygavethespotstotwoguys.”
“Surgery’snospecialtyforawoman,”Dr.Wattpronounced.
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“Apparentlythat’swhattheSinaipeoplethoughttoo,”shesaid.“Ihadbettergrades,betterrecommendations,but…”
“Yeah,but theyhadsomethingyoudon’thave,”Johnsaid.Margotgavehimalook.Hewasn’tgoingtosay“penis”infrontofhismother,washe?
“Pull,”Johncontinued.“They’rebothsonsof.HowdoyouthinkIgotmyorthopedicsinternship? Yes, Father, I’m duly grateful. I know Yale would never have taken meotherwise.”
“Whydon’tweorder,”Mrs.Wattchirpedbrightly.
WhentheyreturnedtoherapartmentJohnpulledhertohim.
“God,I’mgoingtomissyou,”hesaid.
“Wehavealmosttwomonths,”shesaid.
“Ihavetogobackwithmyparents.Fatherlaiddownthelaw.”
“Thelaw?”
“Hewon’t paymy rent if I stay down here.Hewantsme home until I start at thehospital.Sayshispartner’sawayandheneedsmyhelp.”
“Youcouldstayhere.Ihaveanextrabedroom.”
“Iwouldn’tneedanextrabedroom.”
Theyhadmovedintothelivingroom,settledontotheoversizedvelourcouch.Theykickedofftheirshoes,andlaynexttoeachother.Shewriggledoutofherjacket,tosseditonto the armchair halfway across the room.He got up, took off his blazer and tie, andplacedthemneatlyonthechair.Hecamebacktothecouchandputhisarmsaroundher,lettinghishandslipunderherblouse,andaroundtocupherbreast.Shemovedclosertohim,putherhandsunderhis shirt.She felthimhardeningagainsther.Hishandmovedunderher skirt, strokedher thigh,movedpast thegarterbelt andunder thepanties.Hismouthfoundherbreast,hotthroughthesilkblouseandbra.Hisfingermovedintoher.Hetookherhand,putitonhiserection,hisotherfingersmakingslowcirclesinside,aroundandaroundand….God,shewantedhim.
“Takeitout,”hesaid.
Sheunzippedhim,feltthetightcurlsonhisbelly.Hispenis,fullyerect,sprangout.
“Letme,”hegroaned.
“No,Ican’t.”
His fingers continued their circling. Shemoved closer into him.He took her hand,guideditonhim,upanddown,upanddown,untilheshudderedandcame.Hishandstillinsideher,hecontinuedhis strokinguntil she tooclimaxed.Then they laynext toeachother,legsintertwined.
“God,Iwantyou,”hesaid.
“Iwantyoutoo,John.”
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“Thenwhynot?”
“Ican’taffordtogetpregnant.”
“Ihavecondoms.”
“AndIpromisedmymotherIwouldn’t,’tilI’mmarried.”
Hesaidnothing.Slowlyheunbuttonedherblouse,tookoffherbra.Shetookoffhisshirt.Hestood,tookoffhisslacksandbriefs,thenunzippedherskirt,pulledoffhergarterbeltandpanties,androlledherstockingsdownandoff.Hekissedherlegupandup,andburiedhisheadinherhair.
“You’rebeautiful,”hesaid.Sheheldhisheadagainsther,strokinghishair.
“Youcouldstay,”shesaid.“Just…notalltheway.”
Afterawhiletheymovedintoherbed,andmuchlatertheyslept.
Inthemorningshefixedbreakfastbeforehewenttomeethisparentsatthehotel.
“I’llcomedownweekends,”hesaidbeforeheleft.“Oryoucancomeuptoourplace.”
Whenhewasgoneshestraightenedupthelivingroom,pickingupherclothesfromwhere they’ddropped.Sheshookherheadatherself.Technicallyshewasstillavirgin,shesupposed.
Diditmatter?Yes,she’dpromisedhermother.
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CHAPTER2
Hannover,August31,1939Theapartmentwasunnaturallyquiet.EvahadputlittleWillytobedhoursago,andhadherselfretiredtotheirbedroom.Peter,stillfretfulwithhisfever,hadbeenhardertopacify.Martinsatbyhisbedside,strokinghisblondhairuntiltheboyfinallyfellasleep.Nowhesat inthelivingroomwithWillie.AballoonofcognacwasinWillie’shand;acigarettelayintheashtrayonthetablenexttohisarmchair,thesmokecurlingintothelightofthefloorlampbehindWillie’schair.Martin’scognacsatuntastedonthetablenexttothesofawherehesat.Thetablesweredarkmahogany,shinywithpolish,theirsurfacesinlaidinadarkbrownleather.Bothwerecoveredbyhand-crocheteddoilies.Thecoffeetableinfrontofthesofa,acompaniontotheendtables,wasalsoprotectedbyadoily,andcoveredwithmedical journals, as well as a copy of the morning’s Tageblatt. Its headline screamedaboutsomePolishperfidy.AphotoofHitleratarally,adoringcrowdswithraisedarmsbelowthebalconyonwhichhestood,tookuphalfapageundertheheadline.
“You can’t open a paper without seeing that clown.”Willie sighed, picking up hisglassandinhalingbeforetakingasip.“Ah,Martin,weshouldallhaveleftyearsago.”
Martinsaidnothing.Hisdeepbrowneyesbehindhisglassesopenedmorewidely.
“Haveyoubeenabletogetpassage?”Willieaskedhisfriend.
“Notyet.There’sapossibilityfornextTuesday.Petershouldbewellagainby then.AndIhaveadefinitereservationforSeptember12th,theTuesdayafterthat.Canyouputupwithusthatlong?”
“Aslongasyouneed.Iwishyoudidn’thavetogoatall.”
“Lifeisn’tpossibleforushereanymore,Willie.Youknowthat.”
“Of course I do. I justmean Iwish itweren’t thatway, that youdidn’t have to go.You’remybestfriend.”
“You’vebeenmorethanafriend,Willie.Abrothercouldn’thavedonemore.”
“Iwish Icoulddomore. Iwish Icouldchange thiswhole lunacy. Iused to think itwouldpass,butnow…I thinkwe’re inforsomebadyears.You’re lucky tobegettingout.”
“I’mgladClaireandthebabyareout.AndI’llbegladtobegonetoo.ButI’llmissyou,Willie.”
“Whenit’sallovermaybeyou’llcomeback.Orwe’llcometoAmerica.Andwe’llbeyourguests,Martin.”
Martinliftedhisglass.“ToourreunioninAmerica.”Hetookasip.
Soonafterwardstheyfinishedtheircognacandwenttobed.
InthemorningtheradiocrowedthenewsthatGermanforceshadinvadedPolandbyair, land, and sea. The announcers spoke of the cowardly Poles, of the brave Germansoldiers. Military music played. Nazi flags flew from all the windows. In the streets
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neighbors smiled andHeil Hitlered and congratulated each other on the return of theterritoriesthathadbeenperfidiouslytakenfromtheFatherland.Theradiospokeoflonglinesatarmycenters,ofpatrioticGermanssigninguptohelprestoreGermanytotheglorystolenfromitbyitsenemies.
Evashookherheadasshelistened.Shewasinthekitchen,feedinglunchtothetwolittleboys.Peter,forthefirsttimeinaweek,waswithoutfever,andhechatteredhappilyashespoonedsoftboiledeggintohismouthandhair.LittleWilly,inahighchairnexttoPeter,gnawedonapieceofzweiback.
“I’msogladhe’sbetter,” she said toMartin,who sat at the tabledrinkinga cupofcoffee.“Ihatetoseethemsick.”
“It’sawonderWillydidn’tcatchit.Trytellingtwo-year-oldsaboutgerms.”
“He’satoughone,”shesaid.“He’sonlyhadonecoldinhiswholelife.Funny…”
“What?”heasked.
“Thathe’ssohealthyphysically…”Shepaused,waitedforMartintosaysomething.Whenhedidn’t,shecontinued,“…andyet…”Againshepaused.
“Andyet?”
“Willie’sneversaidawordtoyou?”
“Aboutwhat?”
“Andyou’venevernoticed…thathe’s…slow?”
“Childrendevelopatdifferentrates,Eva.”
“Yes,Iknowthat,andWillieknowsthat,Martin.But,lookatthetwoofthem.”
“Ihave,Ido.”
“Andyoudon’tseeit?Hedoesn’ttalk,noteven‘Mama’and‘Papa.’Hedoesn’twalk.Hedidn’tsitupuntilhewastenmonthsold.Petersayswholesentences.Yes,Iknow.Iwasachildren’snursebeforewemarried,andIknowchildrendevelopatdifferentrates.Sometalkearly.Somewalkearly.Buttherearenormalranges,andhe’sjustnotinanyofthem.He’sawarmandwonderfulchild,alwayshappy.Buthe’snotnormal.”
“WhatdoesWilliesay?”
“Hedoesn’ttalkaboutit.Butheworries,Iknowhim.Ithoughtmaybehe’dtalkedtoyou.”
“Notaword.Notever.”
“Andnowthis,”shesaid,pointingtotheradio.“Wherewillitallend?”
“Idon’tknow.IimagineEnglandandFrancewilldosomethingnow.”
“They didn’t when the Fuehrer”—she sneered at the name— “marched intoCzechoslovakia.”
“ButEnglandandFrancehaveatreatywithPoland.”
“Thenwe’llhavewar.”
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Theyheardakeyinthelock.Williestrodeintothekitchen,hismedicalbagstillinhishand.Hetookoffhishat,andplaceditontopofthebagonachairnearthedoor.
“Iclosedtheoffice.Noonewascomingin.They’realltoobusycelebrating.WhenItoldGrete Iwas closingup, she askedwhether Iwasgoing to enlist.Hah!They’ve allgonecompletelycrazy.Theythinkthisissomekindofpicnic?”
LittleWillyheldhisarmsup.Williescoopedhimoutofhishighchair,gavehimakissontopofhisblondcurls,thensethimbackinhischair.Hewipedzweibackcrumbsoffhissuitjacket,tousledPeter’shair,wenttothesinktowashhishandsandthensatdownnexttoMartin.
“I’llhaveacupofcoffee,Eva,”hesaid.
“Iwasjustmakinglunch.”
“I’llhavesomecoffeeanyway.So…we’reinitnow.Doesn’tanyonerememberthelastwar?”
“Idon’t,really.Iwasjustachild,”Evasaid.“Irememberwedidn’thavemuchtoeat,butthat’sall.”
“Well,Iwasoldenough.Anditwasn’tapicnic.Andthiswon’tbeeither.We’reinforsomebadtimes.”HelookedatMartin.“Ihopetheshipswillstillsail.”
“Americaisn’tgoingtowar,evenifEnglandandFrancedo.”
“IfyoucangetthatshipnextTuesday…Iwouldn’twait.”
“Don’tworry.Iwon’t.”
“MaybeI’llgototheLloydofficethisafternoon,”Williesaid.“Ithinkyoushouldstayindoorstoday.”
“Iwasn’tplanningongoingout.”
“Wemayhavetooffersomeonealittlesomething.”
“Whateveryouhavetodo,Willie.Ihavesomemoneystill.”
“OfcourseGermansareincorruptible,butstill…”
“Whatiftheshipsaren’tsailinganymore?”Evaworried.
“Thenyou’restuckwithme,”Martinsaid.
AfterlunchMartinputPeterdownforanap,andEvasettledWillyinwithhisfavoriteteddybear.Willieleft,andMartinandEvasatinthekitchen.Theyhadturnedtheradiooff, tired of the jingoistic speeches andmilitarymusic, but they spoke little, each busywithhisorherownthoughts.WhenfirstWillyandthenPeterawakened,Martinplayedwiththem.BythetimeWilliereturneditwasalreadygettingdark.Hepassedthekitchen,wentintothebedroom,andchangedoutofhissuit.Whenhecamebackintothekitchenheshookhisheadsadly.
“They’vecanceledallsailings,”hesaid.
“Toeverywhere?”Martinasked.
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“For thenextweek.And therewasa signsaying that Jewish ticketswereno longervalid.”
“Howcanthatbe?”Evaasked.“Iftheyhavetickets…”
“Theycandowhatevertheywant,”Martinsaid.“Wehavenorightsanymore.”
“Thingsmaybebettertomorrow,”Williesaid.
“Andwhywouldyouthinkthat?”
“Well…theycan’tbeworse,canthey?”
“They’rebusinesspeople,”Eva said. “They’ll come to their senses. Inaweek, two,they’llrealizetheyneedthebusiness,andtheshipswillsailagain.”
“I thinkmaybeIshouldmovesomewhereelse.Idon’twant tomakethingsdifficultforyou.”
“Don’teventhinkofit,”Evasaid.“You’resafehere,andyou’renotgoinganywhere’tilwecanputyouonthatshiptoAmerica.”
After the boys were asleep, they listened to the radio. The bulletins proclaimedunresistedforwardmovement,gloriousGermanadvances.Hitlerranted.Otherswarnedoftraitors and saboteurs who would be harshly dealt with. The Jews, in particular, werewarnedtobeware.ThistimetheGermanVolkwouldnotbebetrayed.
“I’mgoingtobed,”Evasaidatten.Williekissedheronthecheek,thenturnedofftheradioandputaplatteronthegramophone.
“AlittleShubert,”hesaid,“toremindusthatnotallGermansarebarbarians.”
Hewent to thesideboard,gotout thebottleofcognacandtwoglasses.Hepouredagenerousshotintoeachglass,handedonetoMartin.Hewarmedhisglassinthepalmsofhishandsbeforetakinganappreciativesip.
“Ah,ifonlyonecouldshutouttheworld.”Hesatinhisarmchair,stretchedhislegsinfrontofhim.“EvatoldmeshespoketoyouaboutWilly?”
Martinnodded.
“Youmusthavenoticed.Butyou’veneversaidaword.”
“Childrendevelopat…”
“Yes,yes,Iknow.Butwebothknowthat’snotwhatitis.We’redoctors.He’llneverbenormal.”
“Thereareschools.”
“Therewereschools.ThisistheThirdReich.”
Martinsaidnothing.
“YouknowwhattheydowithidiotsintheThirdReich.”
“He’snotanidiot.”
“He’snotgoingtobeamemberof theMasterRace,Martin.It’s toolateforfooling
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ourselves.What’shisfuturegoingtobe?Ifwe’relucky,they’lljuststerilizehim.Ifwe’renotlucky…”
On the gramophone the hauntingly beautiful voice of JosephSchmidt sangDerErlKönig.
“He’syoung.Bythetimehe’sreadyforschoolthismightallbeover.”
“I hope you’re right. Certainly he’s not in immediate danger. Luckily he’s notmongoloid.Hedoesn’tlookdifferent,andasyousay,bythetimehehastogotoschoolmaybewe’llbelivinginasanesocietyagain.”
“Onecanonlyhope.”
“I’vetalkeditoverwithEva.”
“What?”
“Ifyou…nowthat thewarhasstarted.Thingsaregoingtogetworsefor theJews.Youknowyou’rewelcomehereaslongasyoucanstay.Butifthingschange,iftheymakeyouleave…”
“IsaidI’dgo.Idon’twanttomakethingsdifficultforyou,Willie.Youknowthat.”
“No.That’snotwhatI”msaying.Wedon’twantyoutoleave.Only,only,iftheymakeyouleave…”—hepaused,thenrushedahead—“takeWillyinsteadofPeter.They’rethesame age.They’re both blond.Peter isn’t circumcised.Let us keepPeter, and you takeWilly.”
“What?”
“Thatway,Peterwillbesafe.Andwhenthisisallover,youcancomebackandgethim.”
Martinshookhishead.
“Whynot?”Willieasked.“WhatIhear,they’renottreatingtheJewsverywellinthecollectioncenters.Andthere’stalkofshippingthemtotheeast,fortheir‘safety.’TheydiditafterKrystallnacht.Nowthatthewar’sstarted…”
“WhatifIcanstillgetonaship?”
“Thenof courseyou’ll takePeter. I’m just thinkingworst case.As longasyoucanstayherenothingchanges.It’sonlyintheeventthattheycomeforyou…”
InthebackgroundSchmidtsang.
“AndEvaisagreeable?”
“She…sheunderstandsWillyisdoomediftheNazisstayinpower.AndwhatkindoflifewouldPeterhaveifyougetsenttoacamp?ThiswayatleastPeterwillbesafe.We’lltakecareofhim;youknowwewill.Andwhenit’soveryou’llcomeback,andthenyouandPetercanjoinClaireandthebabyinAmerica.”
“Idon’thavetoansweryourightnow,doI?”
“Ofcoursenot.Nothingmayhappenanyway.Thisisonlyincase.”
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He took a slug of cognac.Martin closed his eyes, listened to Schmidt singing ‘DieForelle.’
“Justthinkaboutit.”
Martinfinishedhiscognac.Hetooktheglassintothekitchenandrinsedit.WhenhecamebackintothelivingroomWilliewassittinginhischair,hisheadinhishands.Thegramophonerecordhad finished,andwasspinningcontinuously.Hewent to theplayer,carefullyliftedtherecordandreplaceditinitssleeve.Heshutofftheplayer.
“We’veletSuzego,”Williesaid.
“Suze?Why?”
“She was making noises. Said she wasn’t comfortable working where there wereJews.”
“Itoldyouweshouldfindanotherplace.”
“No.That’s notwhy I’m telling you. I justwanted you to know, it’ll be safe. Suzewon’tbehere.Peterwillbesafe.”
“AndwhatdidSuzesaywhenyoutoldhershewasfired?”
“ShesaidshewasjoiningtheLebensbornmovement.”
“Whatintheworldisthat?”
“She’sgoingtomakeAryanbabiesfortheFatherland.”
Martinsmiled.“Well,lotsofluck.Ifthey’reallasintelligentassheis,theFatherlandmaybeinalotoftrouble.”
“One can only hope. But seriously, Martin. Think about it. It probably won’t benecessary,butintimeslikethisonehastobeprepared.”
“Andyou’rewillingtogiveupyourson?”
“Ifitcomestothat,Martin,we’dlosehimanyway.Whatdidtheyteachusinmedicalschool?Triage?Savetheonesyoucansave.IfwecansavePeter….”
Theywenttobedsoonafterward.Martindidnotsleep.Hespent longhourslookingdownathissleepingson.Free
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