Oma Eckhardt spoke up, smiling warmly. “It just happens to be a large pot roast, with plenty of carrots and potatoes.”
Again the Zeidners looked at each other. Again their two daughters moved close in, whispering their encouragement. Finally, Alemann turned to Emilee. “If you are sure we are not imposing, we would be honored.”
“Wonderful,” Emilee said. Then, with a knowing smile, she turned to her daughters. “Would you girls like to go change while we get things ready?”
Lisa could have shouted aloud, but she nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mama. That would be nice.” Then she spoke to the Zeidners. “Would you excuse us, bitte?”
5:47 p.m.
Alisa studied her face in the mirror as she picked up the brush and went to work on the tangle of her hair. Her mind was still in a whirl. While she was in the tub, she had heard more voices and realized that her Onkel Rudi and Tante Anna had brought the other children home. This was good. She hoped they would occupy at least some of the attention of the Zeidners. She knew she was going to have retell the story of what had happened yesterday, but with the younger children there, maybe she could keep it brief.
And what should she say about the Jewish thing? That question was still spinning in her head. She hadn’t told her parents about that because of her vow to Erika. But surely if she skipped over it, the Zeidners would wonder why and maybe question her about it. And then what would she say?
Another thought made her inwardly groan. And what would happen when the Zeidners, who were Jewish, found out that her father was a high-ranking official in the Nazi Party, the party that blamed the Jews for most of the problems Germany was experiencing? Lisa knew that her father was not nearly as fanatical about it as others, but he did make disparaging remarks about Jews from time to time.
And that took her mind to her own feelings, as she realized that she had picked up some of those same prejudices from her father. She still marveled at what her grandmother had taught her yesterday about judging people. And now she saw how foolish she had been. Besides, the Zeidners certainly did not look Jewish in any way. They looked more like German aristocracy.
Just then a soft knock sounded at the door. Thinking it was Jo, she called over her shoulder. “Come in.”
But when the bedroom door opened, it was Erika’s reflection in the mirror, not her sister’s, that Lisa saw. She whirled around.
Erika was smiling nervously, and to Lisa’s further surprise, the girl glanced down the hallway and then stepped inside. Again, her face colored as she did so. “I. . . . I’m sorry, Alisa. But . . . may I speak with you for a moment? Your mother said that supper won’t be ready for another half an hour.”
“Uh . . . of course.” Lisa stood. “By all means, come in. I was just . . . uh . . . brushing out my hair.”
“Danke.” Erika came in, looking around. “Is it at all right if I shut the door?” And she did so without waiting for permission. Her chin lowered as she colored even more. “Your papa and my papa are having a deep discussion on politics and history out in the living room.”
“Oh, dear,” Lisa said. Really? So quickly? “My father loves politics.”
Erika laughed softly. “And my father loves history. He’s a university professor of history and political science.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. No wonder he seemed so aristocratic. And that was why her father had introduced Erika’s father as Herr Doktor.
Erika smiled, and it was the first genuine smile Lisa had seen. “I know,” she laughed softly. “Who would have guessed?”
“Does he teach at the university near here?”
“Yes, at the Ludwig Maximillian University. And we live here in Schwabing too, just five or six blocks from you. Anyway, the two of them are talking, and my mother is helping your mother and grandmother with dinner.”
“And did my aunt and uncle stay?”
Erika shook her head. “Only for a few moments.”
Her chin dropped again, and Lisa noticed that Erika’s hands were clasped together, twisting nervously. “Uh. . . .” Lisa motioned to a chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
“I don’t want to interrupt you, but. . . .” To Lisa’s surprise, Erika looked suddenly relieved and hurriedly sat down on Lisa’s bed. Lisa went back to her dressing table and resumed working on her hair. Erika, seeing that she was directly behind Lisa, moved to the left so they could see each other in the mirror. But Lisa could see that she was still nervous and seemed quite uncomfortable.
“I . . . uh. . . .” Erika’s hands were twisting again. Lisa pretended not to notice and resumed brushing her hair. Erika took another deep breath and started again. “I told Mama that I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly yesterday and wanted to do so now.” She ducked her head. “But to be honest, there is something else that I have to talk to you about.”
As she looked in the mirror, Lisa was shocked to see real fear in Erika’s eyes. So she turned around to face her as she continued brushing her hair. “All right. I’m listening.”
Erika stared at her for a long moment, and then, cheeks coloring, she looked away. “I am guessing,” she began hesitantly, “that you have a lot of questions about now?”
“Some,” Lisa admitted. Then she smiled. “No more than a hundred.”
To her delight, Erika laughed heartily at that. “I’ll bet,” she said. Then she quickly sobered. “This must all seem very strange to you.”
“What?”
“The Jewish thing. What that boy said about me.”
“I. . . . Well, it did surprise me.” Lisa almost added, “Because you don’t look Jewish,” but she caught herself. “But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Erika.”
“No! I want to.” She lowered her eyes slightly. “I want you to understand. I was hoping that maybe. . . .” Again there was color in her cheeks, and Lisa was amazed at how shy she was and how quickly she blushed. “That maybe we could even become friends.”
Lisa answered slowly. “Really?”
Erika couldn’t meet her gaze now. “I know you already have so many friends at school. I see you and Jo eating lunch out on the playground with people all the time and—”
“Those are people I eat lunch with,” she said. “We’re friendly, but they are not really all my friends.” She flashed what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “Jo and I don’t have many real friends. Just each other. I would love it if we could be friends, Erika. Really.”
“Wunderbar.” Her smile was like a burst of sunlight. “And I think Jolanda and Leyna are going to be friends too. They’re in Jo’s bedroom now, chattering away like two little monkeys. But. . . .” Her eyes dropped again. “But that’s not why I’m here. I have a question I need to ask you. And it’s going to seem very strange to you.”
Lisa gave one last pull of the brush through her hair and then set the brush down and nodded. “Go on.”
“Did you tell anyone about what that boy said to me?” The words almost exploded from her.
“Uh . . . you mean when he called you a Jewess?” There was no answer, so after a moment, Lisa spoke again. “Erika?”
“Yes. Did you tell your parents about that?”
“No. I told my grandmother, because I. . . . I don’t know. I felt like I had to tell someone, I guess. But when I told her, I also told her that I had promised you that I wouldn’t tell anyone. She agreed that I shouldn’t share that part with my parents.”
“But you didn’t promise me. I asked you to, but then we ran away before you could answer.”
“Ah,” Lisa said. She leaned forward and briefly touched Erika’s hand. “But I made that promise to myself when you ran off. Which was strange. I’m not sure why I did. I guess it was the look on your face.”
“You mean the look of pure terror?”
“Uh . . . yes. I think so.”
“What
about Jo and your little brother?”
“No! They know nothing about that. I promised you, Erika. In my mind, at least.”
“Thank you.” The relief in her was almost palpable. “Thank you so much. And . . . uh . . . when you tell my parents about what happened from your side of things, can you not say anything about that? It’s very important.”
Completely perplexed, Lisa studied her for a moment. “Are you Jewish?” she finally asked.
A long silence, and then a barely audible, “Ja.”
It was what she had expected her to say, but that only raised more questions.
Erika seemed to read her thoughts. “My parents don’t know about that part of the story either, Lisa.” As Lisa started at that, Erika rushed on. “I didn’t tell them what that awful boy said to me. And I swore Leyna to secrecy too. Mama and Papa know nothing about that.”
“But. . . .”
“I know, I know,” she wailed. “It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s why I needed to talk to you first.” Her hands were trembling so nervously that she stuck them under her legs to stop them. Without looking up, she went on. “I want to tell you a story but I need you to promise me, even more strongly than you did yesterday, that you’ll never tell a living soul what I am about to tell you. Not even your grandmother.”
“I promise.”
The fear was back. “I mean it, Lisa. You can’t ever, ever tell anyone.”
Leaning forward, Lisa looked directly into her eyes. “Erika, I swear to you that I will never ever repeat what you are about to tell me. I make that promise before you and my God. Not ever.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes now. Then, to Lisa’s surprise, she got up and walked swiftly to the door. Very carefully, she opened it and peeked out. Then she shut it again and turned the latch. But she didn’t sit down again. She began to move about the room as she spoke in a hushed voice.
“My family is not from Munich originally. We have only lived her for eight years now.
“Papa was born in the Sudentenland. He is three-fourths German and one-fourth Czechoslovakian. Do you know where Sudentenland is?”
Lisa shook her head.
“It’s a part of Czechoslovakia that borders on Germany and Austria. It has a large population of German-speaking people. Anyway, that is where my father was born and raised. In his city there was a significant population of Jews. They fled there hundreds of years before, during the Crusades. His grandfather was actually a rabbi there. Do you know what a rabbi is?”
“Kind of. Aren’t they like a pastor or a priest?”
“Yes. My father’s family members were all what we call very observant Jews. They were very devout and religious. And Papa was too, until he left home and went to the University of Salzburg in Austria. He didn’t lose his faith there; he just stopped being observant. And then, a year later, he met my mother, who was a student there as well.”
“And was she Jewish too?”
“Nein. She was Catholic, though mostly in name only. Her father came from an aristocratic family that was quite wealthy. But when she fell in love with Papa and they decided to marry, she converted to Judaism—much to the dismay of her parents. But she did it so that Papa’s family would agree to their marriage, which they did. Her converting—and this was a real conversion, not just one so she could say she was Jewish and get married—made Mama totally acceptable to Papa’s family. They quickly came to really love my mother!
“But as my parents continued at the university, they kind of drifted away from practicing their faith. Oh, they celebrated Pesach—what you call Passover—and other Jewish holidays, but that was all. They didn’t maintain a kosher home. They didn’t welcome in the Sabbath with candles and all that. And they rarely went to the synagogue.”
Nodding as if she understood, Lisa wasn’t sure why all of this was important.
“As Papa puts it,” Erika explained, “they didn’t stop believing in their faith; it just seemed like the observing of it didn’t matter any longer.” She stopped as laughter sounded from somewhere in the house. Her face was stricken. “Oh, Lisa. I shouldn’t be telling you this. Papa would die if he knew. But I have to. It’s the only way you’ll understand.”
Taken aback by her intensity, Lisa didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Instead she got up and moved to the bed, patting the space next to her as an invitation for Erika to sit down.
To Lisa’s surprise, that seemed to pacify Erika, and she went on more calmly now. “Anyway, after my parents both graduated from university, they were offered teaching positions there in Salzburg. My father’s degree was in social studies—history and political science, mostly. My mother’s was in music. She is a wonderful concert pianist and taught master classes in piano. Anyway, it was in Salzburg that I was born. So I’m actually Austrian, even though my birth certificate says I was born here in Munich.”
“Oh?” That was odd.
Erika smiled at Lisa’s expression. “I’ll explain that in a minute. Anyway, while I was still a little baby, somehow someone found out that my parents were Jewish. There was a lot of anti-Semitism in Austria then.” The corners of her mouth pulled down. “Still is, I guess. But people were especially shocked when they learned that Papa was the grandson of a rabbi. So the university forced him to quit his job. They said they didn’t want any trouble breaking out on campus.”
“They fired him for being Jewish?” Lisa exclaimed.
“Yes! They told Mama that because she had only converted to Judaism to satisfy Papa’s family, if she renounced her Jewish ties and became a Catholic again, she could stay on as a faculty member. That infuriated her and she said no. If Papa went, she went too.”
“That’s awful!” Lisa cried.
“Yes, it is,” Erika said simply. “But it happened.” She glanced at the door nervously, listened intently for a moment, and went on. “I don’t know all the details of what happened after that. But Mama and Papa left the university and moved to Switzerland, to German-speaking Zurich. By this time, Mama’s parents—my grandparents—had come to accept and love Papa deeply. So they gave them a lot of money to help them get new identities and start a new life. Papa won’t talk about that at all. And all Mama has ever said was that it took a small fortune to get new papers showing that Papa was a German citizen born in Heidelberg and to remove all traces of their records in Salzburg and the Sudentenland. Mama also got a new name and birthplace and became a Lutheran—in name only, of course—even though by this time she had fully accepted Judaism. I got a new birth certificate showing I was born here in Munich to parents who are Lutheran.”
“What about Leyna?” Lisa whispered, still deeply shocked.
“She was born here, in the same hospital I supposedly was. So she has valid German citizenship. They even managed to get records showing that Papa had a gotten his degree in German history and political science from the University of Heidelberg. And with that, they came here and settled in. For the first few years, we lived in constant fear that my parents’ past would be discovered, but it never was.”
“I understand,” Lisa said slowly, feeling a little sick to her stomach. “Does Leyna even know?”
“Yes. Mama and Papa told her the whole story a few years ago. But no one else.” Erika was silent for a moment or two before she went on. “All of this came with a terrible cost, Lisa.”
“Like what?”
“The guilt, mostly. Papa believes that he has turned his back on God and on his faith. He went back one time to Sudentenland and told his family what he had done. They disowned him, called him a coward. That’s not all though. Because Mama came from such a prominent family in Salzburg, they had to cut all ties with them, too. Everyone knew that she was their daughter. So the story was that Mama ran off to America to marry a very rich man there but that he died in the Spanish flu epidemic. So there is no contact with
them either. Which broke their hearts.”
Erika squeezed Lisa’s hand softly. “Even after all these years, we have to be very careful. We observe a Jewish Sabbath and other holy days in our home, but without all the trappings, like the Shabbat candles or the Hanukkah menorah. We can’t. If anyone ever saw them they would know immediately that we are Jews.”
Lisa was filled with wonder, but one question was still troubling her. “So why did Bully Boy think you were Jewish?”
Erika’s head came up. “Bully Boy?”
Lisa smiled. “I gave them nicknames in my head. Little Pig and Bully Boy.”
Erika actually laughed. But instantly the smile was gone again. She shuddered as she considered Lisa’s question. “I have no idea. I don’t know what he saw in my face that made him think we were Jewish. But that frightened me almost as much as knowing that he was going to. . . .” She looked away. “To have his way with me. I knew that if Papa heard about what the boy said, he would feel like we had to disappear again. Leave our life here behind. Maybe even go to America.”
Lisa threw her arms around her new friend. “Oh, Erika, and you’ve been sick with worry that I told everyone.”
“Yes. I can’t tell you what a huge relief it is to know you didn’t.” Instantly, her face was taut with worry again. “But what if Bully Boy told the police that we were Jewish?”
“He won’t,” Lisa said right back. And she told her what she had said to him while he was writhing on the ground.
Erika’s smile grew wide. “So you knew we were Jews too?”
“No, Erika! That was the last thing I thought. But. . . .” Lisa’s mind was racing. She had asked herself this question over and over in the last twenty-four hours. Why had she felt compelled to threaten that awful boy? She still had no answer to that.
“Is it true what you said? That the Academy doesn’t accept Jews?”
Laughing ruefully, Lisa shook her head. “I have no idea. It just came into my head, I guess. I was just so angry at what he was trying to do to you. Then to hear how he said the word. Like it was some horrible thing in his mouth. It infuriated me, and I wanted to make sure that he didn’t say that to anyone else.”
Out of the Smoke Page 10