“Looks great,” she said. “I bet it will taste just perfect.”
They sat at the small, two-person table, their knees bumping underneath. Lara served food onto both of their plates—which simply meant tearing chunks off the bread, and splitting the ham in half. Without any butter, the bread was dry and bland, but she chewed with a smile on her face anyways.
Erich sat on Rubin’s lap while they ate. In just a few hours, the boy had warmed up to his father significantly, taking cues from Lara. With their heads stacked on top of each other, Lara could really see their resemblance. Everyone had always gushed how much Erich looked like Gerald—and he did—but that’s because Rubin wasn’t there for comparison. It was the eyes—squinty and deep-set.
In between bites of ham—she’d melted the cheese on top to offset the meat’s dryness—Lara rambled on jovially about their new life together.
“First things first,” she announced, trying to sound fun, “Shall I get some groceries tomorrow?”
Rubin speared a small bite of ham with his fork and fed it to Erich, making airplane noises like a jetliner making its descent onto the tarmac. He chuckled as the boy opened wide when the meat approached his mouth.
“Rubin?” Lara said again to get his attention.
His head shot up. “Huh? Oh, yeah, groceries. Sure.” He returned his attention to Erich who expressed his satisfaction with the meal with a high-pitched “mmmmmm” after each bite.
“Okay.” Lara hoped he’d offer input on what to buy—perhaps his favorite meals, or things he often craved. Maybe he didn't want to be bothered by such chores. She supposed that was part of a woman’s job, to make those sorts of decisions. Lara folded the paper napkin on her lap.
She had a lot to learn about being a wife.
They finished in less than ten minutes. Lara’s stomach growled audibly, begging for more. She stood to wash the dishes at the sink and made a mental list of items to pick up at the store. Baking soda, for one. The ruddy stain had to go.
After watching Marlene cook for two years, Lara had learned her way around a kitchen. She felt confident she’d be able to whip up meals that would satisfy a strapping man like Rubin. What she lacked, she’d eventually gain. She thought she might also pick up a cookbook while she was out—just in case.
The dishes laid upside down on the counter to dry. Lara joined Rubin in the living room. He sat on the floor with Erich, reading the boy a book, which Lara had brought in her knapsack. Rubin spoke animatedly, giving each character its own voice, and Erich lit up at his energetic storytelling.
As the evening hours passed, fatigue took over. It was barely eight o’clock, but she felt like she’d been awake for days. Rubin, apparently unaware of her cues—multiple yawns, leaning her head on the edge of the couch—continued to play happily with Erich, who’d garnered a second wind.
She felt awkward going to bed first. Should she just excuse herself? Leave Erich there? It felt strange knowing there was a bed in the other room in which she and Rubin would sleep—together. Lara had never spent the night so close to another person.
She waited another ten minutes, but her eyelids simply would not stay open.
“I think I’m going to go to bed,” she said. “I’m exhausted.”
“Okay. I’ll let you get situated. Be in in a few minutes.” Rubin closed the picture book.
Picking up Erich, Lara walked to the bedroom and only then did it occur to her there was no crib for the little one to sleep in. He’d have to share their bed.
Still in his pajamas from the previous night, she laid him on the bed and changed him into a clean pair. Erich held onto his toes, legs in the air. A string of babbling made Lara chuckle.
“You sure don’t seem tired at all,” she said.
Lara slipped out of her clothes and put on a shapeless nightgown with a lace neckline. The contents of her bag spilled out onto the floor like lava. Normally, such a mess would have itched at her propensity for neatness and order. But she was just too tired to care. She’d unpack in the morning.
Lara pulled back the covers of the bed and slid in beside Erich. She stroked his hairline. The full-size bed would be tight for three people. How was this going to work? In her daydreams of their reunion, she hadn’t considered Erich coming between them—literally—at such a private moment. She longed to get reacquainted with Rubin, and assumed the desire was mutual. But with a baby in the bed, the idea seemed unlikely.
The door opened. Rubin entered the room wearing nothing but his undershirt and boxer shorts. Her heart skipped a beat, seeing him like this. Where had he changed? Lara wondered why he had felt uncomfortable undressing in front of her. Was it Erich? Admittedly, part of her was glad—her thin, white nightgown left little to the imagination. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to change in front of him either. At least not yet.
Rubin slipped into the other side of the bed, pulling the covers up over his waist. Laying on his side, his arm rested on top of his body, his bicep forming a mound like a little hill in a rolling field. Lara saw the outline of muscles through his shirt. A pulse flared between her legs. It had been so long since she’d felt such lust.
They lay face to face, their son between them. Erich looked back and forth, confused, and Lara suddenly felt bad for how disoriented he must be. The poor child had been ripped from the only home he knew—the parents he knew—and thrust into a new life with a strange man in a strange place. She pulled her son close to her and kissed his head.
“It’s okay, little one. Go to sleep. I’m right here.”
Erich yawned. He fought the heavy pull of his eyelids until they finally closed. Lara smiled as she watched her son drift off, thankful he felt safe within her arms. With Erich asleep, she and Rubin could finally give each other undivided attention.
Lara looked to Rubin. His mouth was parted and his eyes were still. He was comatose.
Disappointment crept back in. She’d hoped they’d spend the night staring passionately into each other’s eyes. Whispering sweet nothings. But instead, she found herself the only one awake in an unfamiliar room far from home.
Lara shifted to her back and stared at the smooth, blank ceiling. This was not at all what she had imagined. Through the darkness, she reached a hand down to her stomach and felt a cramp, a knot buried deep in her gut. It wasn’t hunger. It felt different.
It was doubt.
As badly as she wanted to sleep, Lara’s mind ran wild with thoughts and questions. Each one left her more and more unsettled.
Why had Rubin behaved so strangely?
Was he happy to have her there?
How well did she really know this man?
And most disturbing of all: Had she made a terrible mistake?
Sixteen
Normalcy was like a piece of steak tied to the end of a string and held just out of reach. Marlene was the starving animal, jumping with all her might to reach it, and—unsuccessful every time.
She attempted routine for the benefit of the children. She walked the younger ones to school and picked them up, always with a smile. But when she returned home to an empty house—Gerald at work and no little baby toddling around—despair overcame her, and she spent many hours staring into space, wondering how this could have happened.
Was it all her fault? The whole façade had been her idea in the first place. Did her attempt at saving her family actually destroy it?
It had been two days since Lara and Erich vanished. Forty-eight hours—but that was nearly three thousand seconds! Three thousand times she didn’t see Lara’s beautiful face or smell Erich’s sweet hair.
His presence was a fixture in the house, an anchor which held them all together. With Erich gone, Marlene found herself hearing phantom remnants of the little boy who stole her heart: A high-pitched squeal when she walked through the door, babble talk as he played, and even protests when something he wanted was out of reach.
They weren’t real, but she heard them just the same.
; In reality, the house was terribly quiet.
When Gerald and Felix had returned from their futile search, it was quickly decided the family must keep up appearances. There were so many unknowns, so many questions that needed answers, but what they could agree on was that unveiling their secret to the public was the last thing they needed.
So they carried on.
Gerald went to work the next morning, albeit in a much more distracted and somber state. Marlene went through the motions of making breakfast. Their daily routine continued, and Gerald instructed the children not to say a word about the previous night’s developments.
That evening, with the youngest children in the other room, Marlene again asked the only question she had left.
“What are we going to do, Gerald?”
It was the only thing on their minds. It consumed them. They never found a clear answer.
“I don’t know that there’s much we can do,” he said, unbuttoning the placket of his shirt. “But we cannot let this get out. We need to stay calm and think rationally.”
“So we’re just going to let them go?”
“What do you want me to do, Marlene?” he snapped at her, frustrated by the hopelessness of the situation.
“I don’t know, but I just can’t accept that they’re gone for good.” She dropped her head into her hands. Gerald placed his tie on the dresser and came to sit next to his wife.
“I know,” he said. For the first time, her words made the unthinkable seem possible.
“We never should have forced her to live a lie. This is our fault.” Marlene leaned her head onto his chest and gave herself over to hot and angry tears. Gerald bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. Nonetheless, he felt the hot trail of a tear roll down his face.
Their hands were tied. Calling the authorities would reveal the truth about Erich’s identity—a scandalous discovery. Following Lara into Austria was also impossible. The Weisses were fugitives, considered by many to be traitors. They couldn’t risk Gerald getting detained. Both he and Marlene knew it.
Gerald wiped Marlene’s tear-stained cheek.
“At least they’re together,” she said with a sniff, searching for a silver lining. “I pray the Lord will protect them.”
Her words were meant to ease their heartache, to soften the blow. But nothing she said could dispel the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air: they might never see Lara and Erich again.
Seventeen
Aslap on the face jolted Lara awake. She jumped and her eyes flung open. Blurry at first, her vision focused to see Erich staring back at her with a toothy grin. He let out a string of gibberish and patted Lara’s face again.
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” she mumbled. Then, when she’d had a moment to adjust to the light, she said with a laugh, “Well good morning to you, too.”
It came flooding back at once. Fled. Train ride. Crossed the border. Nazis. Apartment. Rubin.
Rubin.
It wasn’t a dream. They were really together.
She propped herself up to greet him. Peering past where Erich sat smacking his palms together, she saw that the bed was empty. Rubin wasn’t there. The covers were now folded over neatly, as if he’d slipped out without rustling them a bit.
So much for an early morning kiss to start the day.
Lara took in her surroundings in the clear morning light, noticing new details she’d overlooked the day before. An orange glow filtered into the room through the small window that looked out over the street—the only one in the entire apartment. She searched for a clock to tell her the time but there was nothing on the bare walls of the bedroom. If she were to guess based on Erich’s typical sleep schedule, it was probably somewhere around seven o’clock. The boy adhered to a strict routine—imposed mainly from Gerald’s need for order and consistency—including bedtimes and waketimes. It was very rare for Erich’s internal clock to deviate from his typical schedule.
But then again, there was nothing typical about the past two days.
Lara swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stretched her arms overhead. The sleeves of her nightgown slid down her forearms. She rolled her wrists in the air, and then dropped her head from one side to the other. The mattress was firmer than Lara was used to—the soreness in her neck was proof. She had a lot to get used to.
“La La?” Erich said as Lara stood.
“I’m right here,” she assured him.
Her moniker was all he could manage at such a young age, and Marlene had commented on the connection to music and singing, which Lara held so dear. She loved hearing him call to her in his angelic voice—La La, La La, La La—but it occurred to her now that she ought to correct him.
“I’m mama now,” she said, putting her hand on her chest and looking Erich in the eyes. “Mama. Can you say it?”
“La La.” He pointed to her.
“No, Ma-Ma. You try. Mama.”
“La. La.”
She gave up. It would take time for Erich to make the connection. But did that mean he’d have to forget Marlene altogether? Lara didn’t want to erase the rest of her family members. She just wanted their roles to be true.
A sudden thought crossed her mind. Would Erich ever know her family? Had her decision severed the tie forever?
“La, la, la, la,” Erich said.
“Silly boy,” she said, flinging him back against the pillows and tickling his ribs. He cackled. “Let’s go find your daddy.”
Lara picked him up and walked to the living room, expecting to see Rubin. Maybe he was an early riser. Perhaps he’d be waiting with a cup of steaming coffee. Maybe there would be fresh flowers in a vase on the table.
She was wrong.
The room was empty, the apartment quiet. Where she’d envisioned a bouquet, she found a note with three short sentences.
Went to work. Will be back later. Stay inside.
The final two words were underlined with a thick, dictating stroke.
Disappointment deflated her attempts at optimism. Rubin’s words were so curt, the note so impersonal—nothing like the secret correspondences they’d shared. Where was the emotion and tenderness he’d shown in his letters?
Lara glanced above the sink to a wood-framed clock with intricately carved hands. Six fifty-three. Her estimation of the time hadn’t been too far off. Children are so resilient, she thought, pleased that even in a new environment, Erich was able to get a good night’s sleep and wake close to his normal time.
Disheartened that he’d left her alone on her second day there, Lara tried to put herself in his shoes. It was unlikely he could take time off just to get her adjusted, she reasoned. But even that argument planted misgivings, as she realized she still didn’t have a clear understanding of what he did for work at all.
“Well, I guess it’s just you and me today, kiddo,” Lara said, giving Erich a kiss on the forehead. The boy wriggled in her arms so she lowered him to the floor and he crawled away. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the apartment.
Now what?
Her belly let out a rowdy gurgle. Lara was so hungry her stomach nearly folded in on itself. She found a small egg carton in the refrigerator, with three perfect brown ovals inside. The rest of the sad shelves were bare, with the exception of a bottle of milk that, upon closer inspection, had curds floating on the surface. Lara removed the glass lid, took a whiff and dumped it down the sink.
“I guess we won’t be having milk,” she mumbled.
Stay inside.
His note was clear. A command if nothing else.
Rubin had originally agreed to her getting groceries, and the sounds coming from her stomach told her she needed food—real food—soon. Surely he didn’t want Erich to go hungry. Maybe his note meant not to wander around the city other than the necessary trip to the market. Lara didn’t want to upset him. But she didn’t know when he’d be back. Could she go quickly?
Torn, she decided it was best to abide by the note and stay in the apart
ment. A proper wife follows her husband’s lead.
Lara was famished, but resolved to make due until Rubin returned. There had to be a good reason he didn’t want her to leave. Who knew what Salzburg was like now? She had been gone for two years during a tumultuous time. Perhaps Rubin knew something she didn’t about being outdoors, especially with Nazis patrolling the streets.
Thinking this, Lara’s annoyance turned to gratitude. He was protecting them.
“We can be resourceful, right?” she said to Erich, the forced pep in her voice failing to convince even herself.
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs mixed with water—the result much less fluffy and much more bland—the two played on the floor. Lara read Erich the same book Rubin had read the night before. As much as she loved books, it was the only one she’d brought with them. She made a mental note to purchase some new baby books when she went out. At the last page, she closed the book, but Erich, unsatisfied, frowned and flailed his arms.
“I’m already tired of this one, bud,” she said. “I’ve got another story instead.” She recited a fairytale she remembered from her youth about a maiden who encounters a witch that offers her three wishes. Erich watched and listened before becoming distracted, and Lara abandoned the story midway through. No sense finishing if no one was listening.
With Erich exploring the contents of a wicker basket on the bottom shelf of the end table, Lara turned her attention to the atmosphere of the apartment. It was sorely impersonalized. Not a photograph to be found, not a single indication of warmth. It was as if the place had barely been lived in. Welcome to bachelor life, she told herself.
Lara glanced back to the clock. Eight-fifteen.
It was going to be a long day.
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