“I came back to visit my father’s grave, and for the reading of his will.”
“Yes, of course, I saw his name on the list of dead from the last Allied bombing raid. I am sorry for your loss. Those animals don’t care how many of our citizens they massacre. I long for the day when we might avenge the deaths of your father and the hundreds of thousands of German citizens murdered by the Allies.”
Franka could feel her whole body shaking. “As do I, Daniel.” Berkel seemed convinced.
“And I also wanted to express how sorry I was to hear about you.” He took a drag from the cigarette. Franka didn’t know what to say, how to answer. “I heard about what happened in Munich.” She wanted to ask how but knew that he probably knew everything about everyone from Freiburg. “It’s a tragedy that you were brought under the influence of those despicable traitors to the Reich.”
Her heart hardened. Hans was a hundred times the man Daniel or any of his Nazi cronies would ever be. She sat still, focusing on controlling the terror below her calm surface.
“Thank you, Daniel.”
“I’m so glad that the judge recognized the fact that, as a woman, you needed to be protected. Your good nature left you more susceptible to the horrific lies and propaganda that scum were spreading. I’m sorry that you went through that.” He took a drag on his cigarette before continuing. “It must have been a horrible experience. I know it might be hard to recognize sometimes, but the National Socialists do want what’s best for the German people.”
Franka didn’t react. She could tell by the earnest look on his face that he meant every word. “I was lucky. That much is certain.”
“Yes. I was glad to see that you didn’t end up going to the guillotine, as those other traitors did. You still have a future ahead of you as a wife and mother, and one day you’ll produce sons to serve the Reich.”
Daniel finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the table between them. Franka had taken about three drags from hers. He leaned forward. “I know you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Of course. I was foolish, led astray. I should have reported those swine, but I was frightened.” She took a deep breath in a vain attempt to douse the pain that saying those words brought.
An elderly woman approached the table. Berkel stood up to greet her.
“Herr Berkel, it’s so good to see you,” she said.
“And you, Frau Goetsch. You look wonderful.”
“I’m so thankful to you.”
“Think nothing of it. It was my pleasure.”
The old woman lifted up a bag. “I have something for you and your family.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly accept.”
“Take it, for your boys. It’s for them—for all you’ve done for my family.”
Berkel took the bag. “Thank you. I’ll be sure and let the boys know you were thinking of them this Christmas.”
“Bless you, Herr Berkel,” she said, backing away. “Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler,” Berkel said, and sat back down.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“Who was that woman?”
“An old friend of the family who was in need. I was happy to help. I wish you’d let me help you, that you had come to me when those traitors tried to manipulate you.”
“Perhaps if you had been there, I might have been more comfortable going to you.”
“It’s so good to hear you say that. I know now the judge made the right decision. It’s time to get on with your life. Have you thought about how you might give back to the Reich? Nurses are always in demand, especially with our brave troops on the front getting wounded every day in Russia.”
“I had that thought. I only got out of jail three weeks ago, however. I need a little time. Perhaps when Christmas is over.”
“I understand. Where will you be spending Christmas?”
“Munich. That’s where my life is now. I’m only back for a few days.”
“Yet you have your skis with you?” he said as he glanced at the floor beside the table.
Suddenly she became aware of the morphine in her backpack, the gauze and the plaster of paris. If he searched it, this would all end.
“My father’s apartment was destroyed in the bombing raid. I’m staying in our old summerhouse in the mountains. I can’t say I expected to get snowed in, however.”
“Yes, this weather has been quite something. But you say that you intend to make your way back to Munich for Christmas? That’s just nine days away.”
“That’s my plan. I don’t want to spend Christmas alone in that old cabin. I want to get back to Munich as soon as I can.”
“I remember that cabin. We had some good times there.”
Franka tried not to shudder as she remembered weekends spent in her father’s cabin with him. Those college days when he was the dashing local Hitler Youth leader seemed like eons ago. Most of the other girls had been jealous. They could have him now. She noticed a wedding ring on his finger.
“So you’re married?”
“Yes, for four years now. You remember Helga Dagover?”
“Of course.”
“We have two sons, Bastian and Jürgen.”
“Many congratulations.”
“Yes, they are fine Aryan boys, just what this country needs. Of course, by the time they’re grown this war will be over, and they’ll be able to reap the benefits of what we’re trying to sow.”
Franka didn’t answer. The desire to run, to escape, was almost beyond her control, and it took every fragment of strength within her to sit still.
“Would you like to see a picture of them?”
“Of course.”
Berkel reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. A proud smile cracked across his face as he drew out the photograph, and his eyes lit up in a way she hadn’t thought possible.
“Are they not the most beautiful boys in the world?”
“Yes.”
“I do love them so. The worst part of my job is that I’m away from them so much, but they’re always in my heart.”
He returned the photo to his wallet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver-plated cigarette case. Franka noticed the initials on it weren’t his. He offered one to her once more, but she refused. It had been years since she had smoked, and the previous cigarette had added to the nausea spreading through her like scum across a stagnant pond. Berkel lit the cigarette and sat back. The man in the cabin emerged in her mind.
“You never married, Franka.”
“No. I never did.”
“What age are you now, twenty-six? You have so much to offer. You don’t want to end up an old maid, do you? Your childbearing days are slipping by. You won’t see the flower of your youth again once it’s gone, you know.”
“I’m aware of my age, Daniel.”
“I don’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to cause any offense. You’re more beautiful now than ever.”
“That’s quite all right, Daniel, and thank you again,” she said, unable to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds.
“You were quite the catch in your teenage years.” He sat back in his wooden chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Oh, yes, I remember well. All the other boys were jealous of me. I had the most beautiful girl in all of Freiburg. I felt like the luckiest boy alive. What happened to us? You never explained. You just dropped me.”
I saw who you really were. I realized whom they’d turned you into. She wondered whether he was being deliberately ignorant, if this was some ploy to test her loyalties, or if he truly didn’t know. Had he not figured it out by now? They had broken up in 1936, when she was nineteen. He had tried to get back with her after that, and while she was adamant about not being his girlfriend, she was careful not to push him too far away. She was fearful of his growing power and influence as a member of the local Gestapo.
On Kristallnacht in 1938, he had joined with the mobs, when the streets of Freiburg and every other t
own and city in Germany glistened with broken glass from the windows and storefronts of Jewish-owned businesses, when the night sky burned red from the flames of burning synagogues. Thousands died in a state-sponsored, nationwide riot against Jewish Germans, and Daniel Berkel was one of the leaders of the marauding pack of dogs dragging Jewish business owners onto the streets to be kicked and beaten. That night opened her eyes to what the Nazis were really trying to achieve in Germany. She felt changed. Much of the reason she left Freiburg was to get away from him. She abandoned Fredi to get away from him.
“That’s ancient history now. Why mire ourselves in the past when the German people have such a sparkling future to look forward to?”
He smiled, but his eyes darkened. He took another drag on the cigarette before speaking again. “You’ve something to hide? Why not tell, so we can put the past behind us and go on as friends from here? If you’re going to be living in Freiburg—”
“I’m not going to be in Freiburg. I’m moving back to Munich in the next few days, as soon as the roads clear.”
Berkel took another drag from the cigarette just as the waitress came over. He ordered a beer, and Franka felt her insides tighten.
“So you found someone else?”
“It wasn’t that. We grew apart. We were just children then.”
“Many of the men I work with—good, loyal men, dedicated to the betterment of this country and the protection of the Reich—were married by that age. Some had children earlier than that.”
“That wasn’t to be for us.”
The waitress came back with his beer and told him it was on the house, as it always was for the Gestapo. He didn’t thank her, just leaned forward to stare at Franka again.
“So I read that you were involved with the head of those traitors in Munich. Was he to be the father of your children?”
Hans’s name felt sullied by Berkel mentioning it. She brought her hands under the table, balling them into fists so tight she almost drew blood.
“That part of my life is over now.” She fought back the tears. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. She’d rather die than cry in front of him.
“You were lucky. You should thank the Gestapo agents that caught him and the others. You should thank the executioner too. They did you the greatest favor the government could ever do for a person. They set you free. They set you free from the madness of the ideas those criminals were preaching, and they even had the mercy and the magnanimity to spare your life.”
Each word hurt. Was she meant to be grateful to that judge for sparing her life? She’d wished so many times since for the opposite.
“It sickens me to think that such people exist.” He said the word “people” as if it were a curse word. “But it’s heartening to know that they received the swift justice they deserved, and that further innocents were protected from their vile influence.”
“They did what they thought was best for the German people,” she said. Her voice was so low that she barely heard herself.
He shook his head and took a generous mouthful of beer. “Naïve fools. Were they trying to take us back to the days of mass unemployment and social disorder in the streets? Democracy was the biggest calamity ever casted upon this country. The führer rescued us from the curse of Versailles, delivered us from the November criminals, and has cemented our place among the greatest nations in the world again.”
Franka wanted to ask why he wasn’t fighting on the front if he was so committed to the cause. The Gestapo didn’t operate under any rule of law. He could bring her downtown to Gestapo headquarters right now, and she might never be seen again. No one would ask questions. She’d be one more disappeared enemy of the state. Her life depended entirely on the whim of this man whose heart she’d once broken.
“You’re right—I was misled. I’m grateful I was spared. The leaders pressured me into attending meetings. They made it seem like it was the patriotic thing to do.”
“When it was the opposite. I’m glad to see that you never fell completely under their spell. It’s heartening to know that you have a second chance to make up for your mistakes.”
“It was a pleasure catching up with you, Daniel, but I really should be going. I have to get back to the cabin before nightfall.”
He stared across the table at her for a few seconds before he answered. “Of course. It would be a most hazardous journey in the dark of night. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for holding you up.”
“Quite, Daniel. If you’ll excuse me,” she said as she stood up.
He didn’t move, just glared at her from his seat. “But wait, the roads up there are snowbound, are they not? That’s why you have your skis with you.”
“Yes, so I really should get going . . .”
“How did you intend to get back? You can hardly ski ten miles back up there.”
“I have that all taken care of.”
“How? You can’t have a car with you. It must be stuck up in the snow, at the cabin.”
“It is, but—”
“So how were you planning to get back?”
“I have someone waiting to give me a ride.”
“Who? You don’t know anyone here anymore, and after your time in jail, you can’t have the best reputation.”
“Well, I was going to—”
“Hitch a ride? Nonsense, I will take you.”
Franka felt her heart jump. “No, I couldn’t possibly inconvenience you. That would take more than an hour away from your busy schedule.”
“I’m on my lunch. I can make up the time later.” His eyes were boring a hole through her. She went to answer, but it was no good. He stood up. “All right, then; it’s settled. I have a car outside. Are you ready to go now?”
“I just need to pay the bill.”
“Leave the money on the table.”
Franka threw down a few crumpled notes. Berkel didn’t say another word as he led her out of the café. A black Mercedes sat outside, and he opened the back door for her to squeeze her skis and poles in. She kept the backpack with her, putting it at her feet as she sat in the passenger seat.
Just keep your mouth shut. Agree with whatever he says.
They spoke about people they’d known and old times as they drove through the city. Franka wondered whether he was investigating her, or genuinely under some illusion that they were old friends. Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps it was both, or perhaps it was something else. Franka still had to present her papers to the guard at the checkpoint. Berkel greeted him with a lazy salute, underscoring the fact that he was a superior officer. She waited until they were out of the city, and on the highway, to ask her question.
“What are your boys like?”
“Wonderful, just wonderful. They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. They’re strong young Aryans too. We’re proud of them. Jürgen is just three, and he can already sing ‘Deutschland Über Alles.’”
Franka went silent as Berkel told her about his sons. It gave her pause, but soon he was back preaching about the greatness of the Reich and the genius of Hitler. The minutes dragged out agonizingly. The place where he needed to drop her off came and looked like an oasis.
“I’d appreciate it if you let me out here, Daniel. You’ve been so kind. Lesser men would have held what I did against me forever. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m determined to live the best life I can from here.”
Berkel pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to her. “It is my job to be suspicious at all times, Franka, and I remain so. It was fantastic to see you, but you are not just an old friend to me. You are a convicted enemy of the state, and while I think that almost every Aryan deserves a second chance, you will need to prove your loyalty to the Reich and to our beloved führer. I hope that we will never meet in an official capacity, but know that I am watching you.”
“As I said, I’m moving back to Munich within days . . .”
“And if that is the case, I wish you good luck, and I’ll say, Heil
Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler,” Franka said. Her voice was weak. She put the backpack on. He got out to help her with her skis and handed them to her.
“I enjoyed seeing you, Franka. I hope you find the peace you’re searching for. Be careful who you mix with.”
She nodded, and he got back into the car. She stood still as the car left.
She felt violated, reviled, disgusted. The cabin no longer felt safe, or free from the Nazi regime she despised more than ever. With little daylight left, she had not the time to stand at the side of the road analyzing their conversation, and she was glad of that. She slipped on the skis again and started up the trail toward the cabin.
Surely the fact that she’d told him that she was moving back to Munich would prevent any intrusions by the Gestapo. But what if they were looking for the man? Someone could have seen his parachute.
The journey back up the hill, with the provisions on her back weighing her down, was far more difficult than the way down, and she had to stop halfway for a rest. The light of day was shrinking to nothing, the air darkening by the moment as the cabin finally came into view. Flakes of snow meandered down. The bedroom window was unlit. Franka wondered if the man was asleep. Would he finally begin to trust her now that she’d gone all the way into town on his behalf? How much longer was the Werner Graf charade going to last? How could she trust him when she knew he was lying to her about who he was? She took off her skis as she reached the front door, and shook them off before resting them against the house. The door opened with a creak. The light of the fire colored the living room walls orange and yellow, and she wondered how the man had stocked the fireplace with wood. When she saw him, he was sitting in the rocking chair by the fire, her father’s pistol in his hand, the barrel pointed at her.
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