Q narrowed his eyes. “But you said you were full.”
The waiter brought out a platter of desserts, fried bananas in honey, dumplings filled with poppy seeds and little pink, green, and white slimy balls Hilde couldn’t identify. She licked her lips and armed herself with the chopsticks, saying, “If you didn’t know it, I have one stomach for food and an entirely different one for dessert. And that one is still empty.”
Everyone around the table laughed and deferred to the bride to take the first serving. Once both stomachs were full, her head whirled with the lively conversation, and she couldn’t imagine a better way to end the day.
Jakob and Otto, though, could. They had discovered a new bar just a few short blocks away that served the most delicious Hungarian wines. The walk felt good. Hilde loved the way Q tenderly and possessively wrapped his arm around her shoulders. But even more, she loved the knowledge that from now on, they’d be going home together at the end of the night.
After more than one round of sweet Hungarian wine, Q leaned over to Leopold and reminded his friend of the first night he’d seen Hilde at the movie theater. “Told you she was going to be my wife.”
Leopold sipped his wine. “Yes, you did. And I didn’t believe it.”
“You did what?” Hilde asked, but before she could say more, Erika produced a small package and gave it to the bridal couple.
Hilde opened the wrapping to reveal a book titled 1000 Spoonerisms and Shuffle Rhymes.
After thanking Erika for the gift, Q took the book from Hilde’s hand and said with a serious voice, “Let’s see what we find in here.” Then he opened the book on page twenty-four and recited the first verse:
Ich hoff’, dass diese heile Welt
noch eine ganze Weile hält.
(I hope this perfect world
Will stay perfect for another while)
Hilde leaned against Q, tears of emotion filling her eyes. The outer world had stopped being perfect a long while ago, but her personal world had fallen into place like a puzzle. Admiring the ring on her finger, she thought, Yes. It’s a perfect world with Q, and I hope it’ll last a lifetime.
Then she opened the booklet on page twenty-seven, his birthday, and recited:
It is kisstomary to cuss the bride.
Everyone laughed as Q mockingly cursed her before taking her in his arms and kissing her. Hilde felt slightly tipsy, and she had no idea if it was the slaphappy atmosphere, the wine, or both.
Jacob took the book from her hand, and everyone took turns reciting verses, amidst much laughter and fun.
Do you see the butterfly, flutter by?
The Hungarian owners of the bar, as well as some of their countrymen, became curious about those hilarious Germans and joined them with more wine and their own funny rhymes until a dark-haired, bearded guy with the physique of a bull produced a guitar and started playing energetic melodies with passionate gypsy sounds.
After listening to the first song, Q asked the man if he could play the “Hungarian Dance No. 5” by Johannes Brahms for them. The man nodded. “Sure I can.”
Q looked at Hilde with a mischievous grin.
“What?” she asked.
“I believe this is our traditional bridal waltz.”
The man had started to play the captivating yet simple melody, and Q dragged Hilde to the makeshift dance floor beside the bar. “But this is not a waltz…” she protested faintly.
“And this wedding is not traditional,” Q answered and captured her in his arms, leaving her no other recourse than to hold on for dear life and follow his steps. Soon everyone joined them, dancing, singing, and having fun.
Shortly before midnight, the group bid their new Hungarian friends goodbye, and the owner of the bar said, “I never thought Germans could be so funny. Keep this joy in your hearts, and your marriage will always prosper.”
Back at home – their mutual home – they slipped into bed, tired after a long and exciting day. Q stroked her hair. “Did you have a good day?”
Hilde nodded. “The best. How about you?”
“Spectacular.” He grew silent for a moment and then asked, “Are you terribly upset that we cannot embark on our honeymoon right away?”
She thought for a moment and then shook her head. “No. I like the idea of traipsing around Europe in the springtime much better than in the winter.”
“Good. Oh, I forgot something.” Q slipped from the bed and returned moments later with a leather-clad box in his hands. “This was delivered yesterday. It’s from Carl and Emma.”
Hilde sat up on the bed and took the box, opening it to reveal an elegant yet simple silver cutlery set. She trailed a finger over the smooth material that quickly warmed under her touch.
“It’s not engraved…” he said.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want it to be. My father would have known that. It’s perfect.”
“So are you.”
Hilde returned the spoon to the leather box. “I love you, Dr. Wilhelm Quedlin. Thank you for this wonderful day.”
Chapter 3
Q and Hilde paid a visit to his mother, recounting the happenings of their wedding day.
Ingrid greeted them with hot tea and home-baked gingerbread cookies. Her entire apartment smelled of cinnamon, ginger, and clove. It was early December, but in Q’s opinion, it was never too early to eat Christmas cookies. He inhaled deeply, his mouth watering as he sat at the small kitchen table.
“When will you go on your honeymoon?” his mother asked.
Q glanced at Hilde in her simple midnight-blue turtleneck sweater and black pants. It was still a miracle to him that they were finally married. “Not before springtime. We want to travel across Europe for at least three months.”
“Three months? That’s a rather long time. How did you get that much vacation, Hilde?”
Q was a freelancer at the Biological Reich Institute and had both the possibility and the means to take extended time off, but Hilde was employed at an insurance company, processing claims.
Hilde’s face lit up. “I’ve requested an unpaid leave of absence from my work, and the company agreed.”
Because the Nazi ideology doesn’t want married women working, Q thought bitterly.
For once, the Nazi ideology actually worked in their favor, which might be the part that angered him most. He’d come to hate the Nazis so much, he just couldn’t enjoy Hilde’s vacation the way she did.
His mother, perceptive as ever, took his hand and searched his eyes. “Darling, you should be thankful for this opportunity. Leaving Berlin for a bit will be a relief for you both, I would imagine.”
A shiver ran down his spine, and he wondered how much his mother really knew or suspected of his subversive work.
“Yes, Mom, we’re looking forward to it, aren’t we?” Q said, reaching over and squeezing Hilde’s hand.
She all but hopped up and down on her chair. “I’m so excited. We’ve planned a Grand Tour starting in Spain and then working our way back through France, Switzerland, and Italy. We’ll get to see all those fantastic places like the Alhambra, Madrid, Barcelona, Paris, the Pyrenees, the Alps, and the Mediterranean of course...”
Ingrid smiled at the obvious enthusiasm Hilde showed. “You’ve had such a hard time getting married. Enjoy yourselves while you still can. Soon enough, you’ll have the patter of little feet demanding your attention which will make trips like this much more difficult.”
Children? Me? Prior to meeting Hilde, he’d never given it much thought, but now he imagined a sweet little girl with her blue eyes and the same enthusiasm. Sounds of laughter. The smell of baby.
Before they left, Ingrid gave each of them a wedding gift.
“Mom, you shouldn’t have,” Q protested, but his mother would hear nothing of it.
“Open it!”
Hilde unwrapped her small parcel and found a beautiful red jasper pendant with a golden necklace inside. Ingrid helped her to put it on and explained, “This is the lucky
stone for your zodiac sign. And God knows we all are in need of some luck during these difficult times.”
Then it was Q’s turn to open his present. He found a letter opener adorned with a purple amethyst and grinned. He hated the way most people opened their letters. It left rugged edges. “Thank you so much, Mom. It’s beautiful. And practical.”
***
For a while, everything returned to normal. But preparing for an extended trip outside the country had proved to be almost as troublesome as obtaining their marriage license.
Once again, they made the trip to various offices and embassies to request passports, visas, and travel permissions. Q’s previous trips to other European countries – including the last one four years ago to Paris, helping French warfare chemists – had been a piece of cake in comparison.
All those little obstacles showed Q just how much the Nazi’s had already tightened their grip around Germany and her citizens, and how much the neighboring countries were in alarm. His mother was right; they should see the world while they still could, but the real threat to their freedom of travel was war, not children.
One day, Q attended one of the conspiratorial meetings with like-minded people who supported the idea of communism. It was disguised as a literature club, and he left the laboratory with The Robbers by Friedrich Schiller in his briefcase.
The walk to the Technical University of Berlin was short, and as always, they shut the doors tightly after everyone had arrived. Just today, everyone meant him, old Reinhard, and Johanna, a twenty-something blonde.
Q asked them, “Where’s everyone else?”
Reinhard shook his head, but Johanna offered some information. “Kurt and Wilfried were arrested earlier this week.”
“Arrested? What for?” Q asked, feeling the shock spread through his body.
Johanna scoffed. “For reading the wrong kind of books.”
“You’re kidding me,” he said, but the sad shake of her head told him otherwise.
“The Gestapo found several books of Erich Maria Remarque and other banned authors in their possession and hauled them away. We haven’t heard anything about their fates in three days.”
Q swallowed a lump in his throat. Vivid images of bloody flesh and the rancid smell of mortal fear entered his mind. He shivered. “And the rest…?”
Reinhard answered, “It’s not safe anymore to come here. We should stop meeting.”
Johanna nodded.
“You can’t just give up. Not now, when we’re needed the most. It’s no longer just about helping Russia, it’s about tearing Germany from the clutches of evil and destruction.” Q ran a hand through his curls, pacing up and down the small study room in the University building.
“It’s just the three of us. The others have already decided not to come anymore.” It was the knowing voice of someone who’d seen unimaginable terrors in the Great War that made Q realize the extent of the decision being discussed. “I’m nearing eighty,” Reinhard continued, “and Johanna is just a young girl. And you – you’re recently married. We’re not the material heroes are made of.”
“You’re serious…” Q whispered.
Johanna cast her eyes to the ground, unable to meet Q’s. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I want to live.” Then she picked up her volume of The Robbers and left.
Q looked into the knowing eyes of Reinhard, who took his cane and prepared to leave as well. Before he reached the door, he turned once more to stare at Q and said, “I’m not of much use for our cause anymore, but you my son, you go ahead and do what you must.”
When the door closed behind the old man, Q closed his eyes to keep tears from falling. Suddenly, he felt desolate.
The last man standing.
Chapter 4
Late in April 1937, Hilde and Q finally finished their preparations and were set to travel when another escalation in the Spanish Civil War – the bombing of Guernica – caused them to change their plans at the last minute. Q even asked his Russian contact about the situation. The agent had enough background information to advise strongly against visiting Spain or France at that time.
Hilde looked out the window as the train pulled into the station at Breuil-Cervinia ski resort in northwestern Italy, her eyes going wide at the sight of the majestic mountains rising up from the valley floor. Lush greens at the bottom gave way to rugged grey escarpment topped by white dollops of whipped cream.
During the long hours of their two-day journey, she amused herself by looking out the window and cataloging the things she saw. Breathtaking scenery with rolling hills, dark forests, and small villages. Fields of daffodils and roadside poppies announcing spring. Quaint little lake and fields that looked so perfect, it was hard to place them as existing only a few hundred miles from Berlin where dread and terror lurked behind every corner.
Far away from the capital, the only shadows obscuring her light-hearted mind had been the occasional stops along the way where police officers would board the train to ask the passengers for a brief inspection of paperwork.
Each time Q handed over their papers, she involuntarily held her breath, not relaxing until the officer handed them back and left their compartment.
As they crossed the Swiss border, Hilde finally relaxed. But now, after being cooped up inside the train for so many hours, she longed to breathe fresh air once again.
The train stopped.
“We’re here!” Hilde exclaimed and grabbed her bag to jump off the train in a hurry.
“I can see that,” Q answered with a grin. He slowed her down by placing a hand upon her lower back and together they made their way off the train.
Q collected their suitcases from the luggage wagon and then gestured for her to join him as they went in search of their hotel. The valley floor was showing signs of spring, but despite the blinding sun, the air carried a definite chill.
“Look, the mountains are still covered with snow,” she said with a glance at the breathtaking scenery surrounding them. “Doesn’t it look exactly like the pictures we’ve seen?”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked good-naturedly.
Hilde laughed and skipped ahead a bit. “I want to go skiing.”
“Skiing will have to wait until tomorrow. It’s way past lunchtime already.”
“Oh,” she said with a pout, but then brightened, determined to only see the bright side of things. “That’s okay, we’ll be much more rested tomorrow.”
They arrived at the hotel, and while not a grand structure, it impressed with sand colored stone walls that had weathered over the centuries and flower boxes at the windows filled with blossoming geraniums in orange and red hues.
“Isn’t that lovely?” Hilde exclaimed as they entered the cozy building and the receptionist led them upstairs to their room.
“I hope this room will be okay?” the young man inquired as he opened the door to let them inside.
Q nodded. “I’m sure it will be fine.” But Hilde rushed inside and plopped onto the queen sized bed, stretching out her limbs. “I love the place.”
Their host nodded and helped Q carry in the rest of their luggage before bowing his head and leaving them to explore the room by themselves. Hilde stood again, wandered over to the closest window and pushed the curtains wide, gasping at the sight before her.
“Q, you have to see this, the Matterhorn is right over there,” she said, pointing to the large mountain peak framed by the wooden window. While Breuil-Cervinia lay in Italy, the impressive mountain range in the Northeast belonged to Switzerland.
He joined her at the window to appreciate the panorama, giving her a smile before returning to unpack their belongings.
Hilde let her eyes wander over the small village spread out below her, and a sense of excitement and adventure made her giggle like a schoolgirl.
“What’s so funny?” Q asked, setting a pair of shoes just inside the armoire tucked in the corner of the room.
“I can’t believe we’re finally here,” Hilde answered
, spreading her arms wide and spinning in a small circle.
Q grinned at her, catching her around the waist and dancing her across the room. “Believe it.”
She nodded, dizzy with joy and spinning in circles. This was paradise. Unpacking could wait, she had to explore first and walked towards the other window of their corner room. The mountain chain that spread out before her now wasn’t nearly as magnificent, but Hilde had read in the travel guide that the highest peaks were nearly eleven thousand feet above sea level and were covered with glacier ice year round.
Great fissures and treacherous slopes awaited those foolish enough to climb outside of the groomed areas, but she didn’t feel afraid to venture up the mountain. Instead, she felt a sense of freedom she hadn’t experienced since knowing about Q’s subversive intelligence activities.
In Berlin, she lived with a constant fear that he would be found out. Every time she spied an SS or Gestapo officer on the streets, she felt a chill run down her spine, always terrified she’d hear the dreaded words, “Stop. You’re traitors working against the Führer and Fatherland.”
More than once, she’d stopped breathing until they had walked on by, just to come up breathless with a red face. What a way to act unsuspicious. Those moments had become a common occurrence, and it wasn’t until now that she realized how tense her life had become.
She hadn’t heard Q’s steps and started when he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Love, you can watch that panorama all you want in the next days, but I’m starving. Why don’t you unpack, and we’ll go in search of dinner? Our host suggested a little Italian place in the village that serves excellent pasta.”
Did he? When? Hilde turned in Q’s arms and kissed him. “Hmm. Pasta sounds perfect. I’m hungry, too.” She made short work of emptying her suitcase. She set her shoes alongside Q’s, hung up her dresses, skirts, blouses, and slacks, and used the top drawer of the bureau with the large oval mirror attached to stash her unmentionables.
Unyielding: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany (World War II Trilogy) Page 2