She was staring at her sister. Her breath caught and she was transported back to the last time they’d performed together in Berlin. A surge of love overwhelmed her. She felt drawn to Anna, desperate to touch her, to speak to her, to apologize for all of the slights over the years. She wanted to reverse time, to undo the anger and hurtful words. She wanted to return to the period when they shared more than they differed, when all that mattered was the fact that they were sisters.
Without thinking, she rushed over and stopped abruptly, suddenly self-conscious. Anna’s confused eyes looked her up and down. As recognition slowly dawned, Anna’s mouth dropped open. “What has happened to you, Ursula?”
Ursula drank in Anna’s lovely outfit, her rosy cheeks and styled hair. Her fingers flew to her own hair, unwashed and barely combed. She hadn’t seen herself in a mirror since her hair had been shaved, and she realized with embarrassment how horrendous she must appear with her sallow skin and disfigured nose. She felt foolish in her gown and realized with alarm that the dress had been a twisted joke. Hitler had planned for her to stand out among the choir members dressed in everyday clothes. He had designed her dress to be too large in order to draw attention to the diva she used to be by highlighting the pathetic waif she had become.
Humiliation crawled up her back like the lice that continued to plague her once-beautiful hair. She fought the intense urge to cry and run from the room. Instead, she lifted her chin and opened her wasted arms, silently inviting Anna to hug her.
Anna’s eyes went wide, and she looked to Himmler for guidance . . . or permission. Ursula’s arms dropped to her sides as her eyes followed Anna’s. Himmler wore a curious look, somewhere between fascination and disgust as he gazed evenly at Ursula.
“Fräulein Becker. How lovely to see you. You are looking . . . well.” He dipped his head as he finished speaking, yet his eyes remained riveted to Ursula’s. “The Führer wanted to come this evening, but duty compelled him to be elsewhere, thereby allowing me to escort Anna.”
Hitler didn’t come because he couldn’t bear to see the devastation he’s caused, Ursula thought.
“I see you received the Führer’s kind gift. It’s befitting your current stature. Wouldn’t you agree?”
But he definitely wanted to make sure that I was embarrassed when I saw my sister. He’s a bully and a coward!
Ursula desperately wanted to voice her thoughts but didn’t want to anger Himmler. However, her conscience struggled against his smugness. She glanced behind her and saw the maestro observing her interaction. His intense eyes met hers and held a caution that stopped the barbed retort sitting on her tongue. She forced a smile. “I’m grateful for the Führer’s generosity.”
Himmler turned to Anna. “You see, Anna? Your sister is faring well in this community of Jews.”
Ursula looked at Anna again. It was clear she hadn’t been made aware of Ursula’s true circumstances. She wondered what Anna was thinking, and how she would eventually reconcile what she’d been told with what she’d seen. “Ursula,
I. . .” Anna’s mouth hung open as if her voice box had suddenly stopped working.
“I’m happy to see you, Anna,” Ursula offered. “You seem well. Have you spoken to Papa?”
Himmler stood. “She has not, but he is alive and well.”
Ursula continued to look at Anna and wondered if Himmler was lying.
“Any news of Willy?” Ursula tried to sound lighthearted, but her voice rose towards the end of the question.
Himmler stepped forward, quickly closing the distance between them and blocking Ursula’s view of Anna. “None, Fräulein. Absolutely none. He has not reached out regarding your whereabouts or condition. One might assume that he has moved on.”
His words stung like individual darts puncturing her compromised soul. Her body trembled. “You’re lying,” she seethed.
Unbothered, Himmler shook his head while puckering his lips into a small moue. “I assure you that I am not. Willy continued to England after you left the ship. He has not returned to Germany. What does that tell you?”
Ursula fought the tears that flooded her eyes, but they broke through her stony façade and spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and stepped backward in order to look at Anna, who was nervously twisting her necklace chain. Anna averted her eyes, but Ursula could see that she, too, was crying. Ursula had never wanted anything more than to embrace Anna, the only remaining link to her previous life. But she knew that she shouldn’t, or couldn’t.
She dropped her gaze to her green shoes and was struck with the ridiculousness of her situation. She pictured her withering frame dressed in the glorious gown, hair askew, and realized how absurd she must appear. Color rushed to her cheeks.
“Ursula.” Schächter’s soft voice carried over the chatter of the crowd. “Shall we begin?”
Ursula turned to him and nodded. His kind eyes betrayed his empathy, and she choked back a sob.
“Anna, I would like to hug you.”
Anna glanced at Himmler whose eyes remained on Ursula as he nodded. Anna stood and approached her sister, paused, and then wrapped her arms around her. She gasped. “You’re so thin, Ursula.”
“I’m fine,” Ursula whispered back. “No matter what happens, know that I love you. Please take care of Papa. Make sure that he is alive and well. Do not forsake him because of something over which he has no control. You’re better than that.” Anna was crying openly, both of them silently acknowledging that they may never see each other again. As they separated, Ursula’s eyes dropped to Anna’s throat. “Where did you get that?”
Anna stroked the gold locket that sat at the end of a thin, box-link chain. “Adolf gave it to me. Why?”
Ursula stared at the oval locket with a rose intricately carved on it. She lost feeling in her arms and realized she was holding her breath. “It’s mine.”
Anna twittered nervously. “You’re mistaken, Ursula. Adolf said that he purchased it in Berlin.”
“When did he give it to you, Anna?”
Anna blinked several times. “Right before I came here.” Ursula glanced at Himmler, who wore a blank expression. He doesn’t know, she thought.
“He gave it to you because he knew that I’d see it.”
“Ursula!” the maestro called more urgently. “Please. We should begin.”
Ursula felt the blood coursing through her veins. At that moment she didn’t care whether she was shot or dragged away to the Little Fortress. Willy had given her the locket, and she wouldn’t have the memory of their commitment to each other flaunted in front of her.
She stared hard at Anna. “Willy gave that locket to me, Anna, when we got on the ship to go to England. I was on my way to meet him when I was told that I had a telephone call. I was speaking to you when I was abducted.”
Anna’s hand flew to her mouth. “I heard it,” she whispered. She turned to Himmler. “Did you know about this?” Her voice was breathy, disbelieving.
Himmler’s eyes hardened. “Don’t be stupid, girl. She’s a Jew who openly defied the Führer. If it had been up to me, she’d be lying dead in a pit. But the Führer is more generous than I and refuses to listen to reason when it comes to her.” He smoothed his coat and calmed himself. “She is thriving here, along with all of the other Jews. Now, sit down and be quiet.” His eyes blazed as he whirled to face Ursula. “I suggest you obey your maestro and perform.”
As they faced off, Ursula finally accepted a fact that she’d been too stupid or stubborn to acknowledge—she would most likely not survive Terezín. Even if she managed to avoid illness, starvation, or freezing to death, she understood with startling certainty that Hitler would never stop finding ways to break her. Her resemblance to Geli wouldn’t allow his conscience the luxury of killing her. Instead, he hid her away, suspending her somewhere between life and death. He was God and he had sentenced her to eternal
purgatory. His obsession to control and intimidate was monstrous, and she feared her soul couldn’t survive it. His guilt couldn’t justify overtly murdering her, but he might very well kill her through a broken spirit.
The awareness left her feeling exhausted and liberated as she glared at Himmler. “Open the locket, Anna. You’ll find a picture of Willy and me inside.”
Himmler’s eyes darted to the necklace. “Don’t open it, Anna,” he growled. Anna sat frozen in place, terrified and unsure, a trapped animal too scared to attempt an escape. Ursula’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she noted Himmler’s eye twitching. Without breaking eye contact, she said, “No need to open it, Anna. I’ll chat with you after the concert.” She turned her back and walked away, leaving Himmler seething in her stead.
Ursula found her place among the choir. Schächter caught her eye and raised his eyebrows, asking if she was alright. She smiled, surprised at how calm she felt. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d finally stood up to a Nazi and lived to tell about it. Or, maybe it was the opposite. Maybe she understood that her days were truly numbered, and she would no longer spend time worrying about things over which she held no control. Either way, she allowed her soul to be whisked away by the music. She felt the melodies flow through her as she sang with a lightness and clarity she didn’t know she possessed. Her voice had changed since arriving in Terezín. Although her body was undernourished, her voice felt full and more rounded, as if it had matured. Perhaps it was her altered mind and soul that allowed her the freedom to fully enjoy her performance. She was simply the conduit through which the glory of Verdi’s brilliant musical mind was passed. Afterwards, her body seemed weightless. As if from far away, she observed the rapt audience applaud. Himmler led a standing ovation, his gaze focused completely on her. How ironic, she thought, that he wants to murder me yet is drawn to his feet by my performance.
Ursula watched him whisper to Jakob Edelstein. Edelstein turned away quickly and slipped outside as Himmler returned his gaze to Ursula. He inclined his head in appreciation. She nodded once in return. Apparently, she would live one more day. Her vocal currency had paid her fare yet again.
Commandant Seidl burst through the door, his weapon drawn and pointed toward the choir. A panicked Edelstein followed him, accompanied by at least twenty more SS officers.
Seidl announced, “The choir will board the train that awaits outside!”
Schächter stepped forward. “Commandant, if I may, we’ve just performed the most wonderful—”
“Silence!” Seidl ordered. “To the train!”
Ursula’s euphoria evaporated like morning dew under a hot sun. The terrified choir stood frozen in place. “I said move!” Seidl roared.
The maestro faced his loyal choir. His face wore a mixture of resignation and sadness. “Thank you for your remarkable performance tonight, my friends. I will remember each and every one of you and your commitment to the music.” He bowed deeply before exiting the room. Now leaderless, the choir members exchanged glances, then slowly followed him outside.
Ursula’s lips trembled as she walked past Anna, paralyzed and impotent, a beautiful puppet in Hitler’s perverted sideshow. Ursula looked down at her dress and thought back to the note from Hitler. The surprise. He sent my sister to see me off to my death.
As she was herded toward the train, she recalled Himmler’s words regarding Willy. “He hasn’t reached out regarding your whereabouts or condition. One might assume that he has moved on.”
Could that be true? she wondered. If it is, I’ll happily board the train.
“Ursula!” She turned to find Anna walking behind her and almost laughed out loud. With her styled hair and healthy complexion, she could no more blend in with the emaciated, haggard group than if she’d donned similar clothing and adapted her erect stature to their rounded-back shuffle. They fell in step together, and Anna grabbed her hand. “Where will the train go?”
“Probably to another camp.”
“But what does that mean?” Anna pressed.
Ursula stopped walking and faced her. The people behind continued around them.
“I’m not sure what you want to hear, Anna. We’re told that the eastern camps are far worse than here. That’s the reality, created by the man whom you claim to love.”
“Anna!” They turned to find Himmler walking quickly toward them. “We’re leaving, but don’t worry. Your sister and Rafael Schächter are not traveling with the rest of the choir.” He smiled wickedly at Ursula. “Once again, your earlier insolence has resulted in others being punished. How utterly selfish.”
“No. Not this time. I want to get on the train.” Ursula was shocked as the words escaped her lips. She hadn’t planned them, nor had she known she felt that strongly about the choir. Or am I committing suicide out of spite? Either way, she had stated her choice. And it was, she thought, my choice.
Himmler’s entire body hardened. “You will remain in this camp for as long as the Führer deems appropriate.”
Anna interjected. “Ursula, don’t be foolish! Listen to Heinrich. He’s giving you a gift.”
Ursula scoffed. “Anna, living here isn’t a gift. Perhaps it would be more bearable if you were to remain here with me. Would you care for that?”
Anna dropped her head.
“I didn’t think so.”
Himmler seemed to be enjoying the sisters’ exchange. “Well, we must be going. Ursula, it was lovely to hear you sing again. Your voice has blossomed here. Come, Anna.” Without waiting he turned on his heel and walked away. Anna watched him go and turned to Ursula, stared at her a long time, then hugged her. As they separated, Anna placed something into her hand. She opened her palm to find the locket, unlatched to reveal the picture of Willy and her.
“Anna!” Himmler called. “Come!” He patted the side of his leg, and Ursula was reminded of the Führer’s dog.
Anna leaned in and whispered, “You should know that Willy has been searching for you since you were taken. Adolf has people watching him, and he has never stopped looking for you.”
Ursula’s heart skipped a beat. “Truly?” she whispered, scarcely able to contain her excitement.
Anna looked deeply into Ursula’s eyes. “Truly. I know that he won’t stop until he finds you. Don’t give up, Ursula. Do you understand?”
“Anna!” Himmler bellowed. “Now!”
Anna bit her lip. “I wish I were as strong as you, Ursula, but I’m not. You’re the woman I will never be. I love you.” She hugged her once more and then scuttled away.
Ursula’s eyes fell to the locket in her palm. Her heart surged, then plummeted, as the sound of the full train car pulling away entered her consciousness. She looked up and met the gaze of the young tenor soloist. His eyes were hard, accusatory. They said, ‘This is your fault.’ She forced herself to meet the eyes of every person who stared at her. She understood their anger. She welcomed it. Their blame fed her guilt, and she should feel guilty. What broke her heart was the resignation she saw in so many people’s vacant eyes as the train lurched forward. They knew what awaited them. They could no more change their fate than a zebra could change its stripes. She examined the details of the faces; she wanted to memorize every aspect and commit them to memory so she would never forget her role in their demise. As the train passed through the gate, a weighted knowledge settled into her soul. The world had dwindled down to basic, moment-by-moment choices.
Light or dark.
Good or evil.
Life or death.
Ursula stared at the locket in her hand, then reattached it around her neck. No matter what it took, she decided, she would choose life. For herself, as well as for the people who had died so she could live.
43
Once Willy understood that Raoul Wallenburg was offering him a chance to locate Ursula, he wanted to forget about the speaking tour and start his new positi
on as Wallenburg’s assistant. Ever practical, Otto urged him to complete the national tour.
“You will have earned a great deal of money by the time this tour is over, Willy. Ursula will be pleased when you bring her to her new home in the States. Besides,” Otto had continued, “you have a contract with Mr. Hearst, and I believe that he’ll sue you if you don’t honor it.”
“None of that matters to me. The most important thing is finding Ursula.”
“Didn’t Mr. Wallenburg say that the International Red Cross wouldn’t be visiting the camp until June of next year?” Bridget asked.
“Yes.”
“Even if you were to start right now, you wouldn’t be any closer to finding Ursula until the June visit. Why don’t you continue speaking through May and then start with Mr. Wallenburg after that? You will have fulfilled your contractual commitment to Mr. Hearst and can start your new job immediately prior to going to the camp.”
As usual, Bridget’s cool head prevailed, and Willy earned a tidy sum while motivating the American elite to continue supporting the international movement against Naziism. By the time Willy’s first day at the War Refugee Board rolled around at the end of May, he had spoken in twenty-five cities and had saved enough money to buy a house.
He waited in Wallenburg’s office, seated in the only chair that wasn’t overrun with piles of paper that threatened to overtake the small space. He ran his fedora through his moist fingers as his busy mind imagined all the ways he might find Ursula. He fought to keep his imagination from succumbing to the unending rumors of vicious atrocities camp inmates endured. His worst fear was that Ursula was dead, that she had died long ago, alone and afraid. His troubled subconscious played out every imaginable horror as he slept, leaving him exhausted and anxious upon awakening. He looked forward to finally taking action after planning for so long.
Wallenburg rushed in and slammed a portfolio on the desk in front of Willy, interrupting his reverie. Willy stood and proffered his hand.
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