The Watcher

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  As soon as I entered the dentist’s office, I was marched into the big chair that I dreaded so much. The assistant, a tall blond woman, placed a bib around my neck without a word. She then arranged sharp-looking frightening instruments onto a tray, along with a paper cup of water. I could have used a smile or encouragement—but I never got either from her.

  “Frieda!” I called loudly, realizing Frieda was not in the room with me. “Kommen Sie her!”

  Frieda peeked in through the door and put her finger to her lips. “Shh.”

  The dentist, dressed in white, came into the room. “Ah, Wendy,” he said. “I’m Dr. Kempka.”

  “You speak English?”

  “Yes. I went to college in the States. Your mother called and said you chipped a tooth.”

  “Yes, I chipped a back tooth. Please, don’t remove it. I’ve never even had a cavity.”

  “I’ll need to see it before we decide anything,” Dr. Kempka said. He came closer, turned on the light over my head, and then picked up a small mirror. “Open your mouth.”

  I lay stiffly in the chair while the doctor prodded and poked. He stuffed objects that felt like hard blocks of canvas into my mouth, put a lead apron over me, and then took X-rays of my teeth. I had never had X-rays before, and I felt I would either choke on or throw up the clumps in my mouth.

  Finally Dr. Kempka turned out the light and stepped back. “I can easily fix that tooth with a filling. The nerve is okay, but a large chip broke off. I’ll repair it right now, and then you can go home.” He patted my shoulder. “I’m going to give you Novocain. You won’t feel a thing while I repair that tooth.” He was holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax.” He pushed something cold and metallic into my mouth and I felt a deep stab.

  “Ow!” I yelped. “That hurt.”

  “We’ll look at your X-rays while we wait for that Novocain to numb your tooth,” Dr. Kempka said, ignoring me. The assistant handed him negatives, which he looked at over lighted glass. “Hmm, you have an anomaly, Wendy. Did your regular dentist tell you that?”

  “What’s an anomaly?”

  “Well, my child, you have a tooth that is missing. It’s a genetic deformity.”

  “What do you mean a deformity?”

  Dr. Kempka grinned. “No one, not even you, would know you have this problem just by looking at you. Not yet, that is. Perhaps you’ve noticed that your tooth . . . Here . . . this lateral incisor . . .” He tapped on his own tooth. “This one that’s next to the center front tooth—on the right side—this is what you call a baby tooth in America. Here we call it ein Milchzahn—a milk tooth. In any case, it is a first tooth. You never lost it. Perhaps you’ve noticed it’s smaller than your other teeth.”

  I thought for a moment. “Why, that’s right. I don’t remember ever losing that tooth.”

  “There’s no adult tooth under it to push it out. The one that should be underneath is absent—congenitally absent—meaning you never had it. For now we will leave that milk tooth right where it is, but eventually it may come out by itself. Or it will need to be pulled. Then you’ll need to have some correction—braces—and a false tooth on a bridge will be inserted. You’ll never know it is false.”

  “A false tooth? Me? No, never!”

  “If you don’t, you’ll have a gaping hole where it should be, and then your front teeth will move to the right, and your front teeth will be crooked. That wouldn’t be at all becoming for a nice-looking girl like you.”

  Deformity? False teeth? I wanted to weep.

  “Don’t worry. That baby tooth is holding the space. But once that tooth does come out or is pulled out, you’ll get it fixed then.” Dr. Kempka set the chair back and adjusted the light. “Now we will fix that molar. You won’t feel a thing.”

  Once the doctor had finished, I went out to the waiting room where Frieda was reading a magazine. The assistant spoke to Frieda in German, explaining what the doctor had done.

  We were about to leave when Dr. Kempka came out. “Remember to keep an eye on that lateral incisor, Wendy.”

  “How did this happen?” I asked. “Why didn’t that second tooth grow?”

  “We don’t really know why, but we do know it’s hereditary. You probably got it from your mother or your father or even your grandparents.”

  “Adrie has perfect teeth. And my father’s smile was beautiful.”

  “Then your grandparents might carry that gene. Take a good look at family photos and ask around the kinfolk. Perhaps you will find someone with a missing tooth who never had it fixed. You can tell—if the teeth are slanted to one side, if the missing tooth is in the same place as yours, that is.”

  He spoke to Frieda in German and then said to me. “You were a good patient, Wendy. Your mother left a number in Munich for me to call. Good-bye for now.”

  As usual, Watcher was so happy to have me home, he followed me everywhere. I got down on my knees and hugged my dog. “You and I are not perfect, Watcher,” I told him. “Your ear doesn’t stand up straight, and I have a missing tooth.” He whined and lapped my face as if he understood. I kissed his floppy ear. “I love you just the same,” I whispered.

  Later that afternoon, when the Novocain wore off, I went around the house gathering the framed photographs of my father. I laid the photos on the kitchen table and turned the overhead light on high. Then, taking a magnifying glass from the drawer, I held it over my father’s handsome face. Sure enough, in one picture where he was actually smiling, his teeth were perfectly even.

  I didn’t see anything that resembled a missing tooth or an off-center smile. So the dentist must have been wrong. I did not get that gene from my mother or my father. Hm. Of course, my father might have had a false tooth that didn’t look like a false tooth. I would ask Adrie when she came home.

  Then, with a start, I recalled the hidden photo of Adrie and that stranger. I grabbed the magnifying glass and darted into the library. I found the picture in the book where I had hidden it and brought it to the reading desk. I turned on the light and held the picture under the glass.

  He sure was handsome, whoever he was, I thought as I held the glass to the face of the young man looking out at the sea from the yacht. Waves splashed against the bow, and the wind tousled his blond hair. I moved the magnifying glass away a bit to see his face even more clearly.

  He had a nice smile and seemed to be having fun and laughing. No wonder my father wasn’t smiling in many pictures if he knew Adrie was in love with this other man.

  I looked again through the glass, studying the man’s face and wide smile. I held the glass at another angle and concentrated on his teeth. Suddenly I felt my heart make an extra beat. His teeth were clearly visible in this photograph. I suddenly realized his teeth were not totally centered. They tilted to the right.

  I checked more closely. The two front teeth were there, and on the left side was another tooth, which the dentist called the lateral incisor. Next to it I could see his eyetooth, but on the right side, he had no lateral incisor—only the eyetooth. The lateral incisor was missing! Mine wasn’t missing yet, but if that baby tooth came out, I would have the same smile.

  I grabbed the other photograph and paid attention to his teeth again. Yes, his teeth were exactly like mine would be once my baby tooth came out. I sat back in the chair while answers fell bit by bit into place, like a jigsaw puzzle.

  The man in these pictures was my father!

  23

  My Heritage

  I plopped down on my bed, suddenly tired, sad, and lonely.

  Why did Adrie lie about my father? It seemed as if my whole life had been lies. Should I demand she tell me everything, based upon what I found out in the albums? Adrie would be furious that I had searched those off-limits books. Still, I had a right to know who my father was, didn’t I?

  I decided to do nothing at all. I would not say a word. I would just go on keeping my own secrets—as Adrie had all these years.

 
I thought about Herr Strohkirch, who seemed to know everything about me. What had he said about my father? I closed my eyes and tried to recall his words . . . a kind, gentle man. He was not the man you think he was. That certainly turned out to be the truth!

  Herr Strohkirch had said he would be there when I was ready to listen. Well, I am ready, and the only place I knew to reach him is in the park. Therefore, I must go to the park today and hope that he or Barret will be there, I decided.

  After dressing I went to the kitchen where Frieda had made oatmeal. Watcher came out from his bed under the table to greet me, his tail wagging.

  “We’re going for a walk,” I told him, “right after breakfast.” I filled his dish with a can of horse meat, which he gobbled up eagerly. Then he went to the door and looked back at me, as if to ask, Shall we go?

  I let him out into the fenced-in yard. Then I ate my breakfast while Frieda sat opposite me, sipping on coffee and reading the morning newspaper. She was shaking her head at the headlines. I had no idea what was going on with the war, but from Frieda’s expression, the news was not good. Of course, that would depend on whose side you were on. I wasn’t on any side. I was neutral, like Johanna.

  Frieda spoke to me in little German phrases, and I was able to answer her. I could tell she was proud that I had learned so many words, as well as the expressions she had taught me. Now I was finding that words came without my even trying. Still, I could not come up with the total language yet; it was hard to understand Frieda, or anyone, when they spoke German rapidly.

  After breakfast I called “Ich gehe!” to Frieda to let her know Watcher and I were taking a walk, and then we headed out to the park. I tucked the photograph of the man I believed to be my father deep into the pocket of my sweater. Would Barret and his grandfather be there?

  When I entered the park, I noticed how empty and still it was. The birds were silent. As Watcher and I walked through each vacant pathway, our footsteps clicked noisily on the pavement. There was no one there but us.

  If only I had made a definite arrangement to meet them! However, at the time, I couldn’t really be certain of what Herr Strohkirch was trying to tell me.

  Disappointed, I sat on the bench by the fountain, still hoping that Herr Strohkirch and Barret would show up. Since I had not slept the night before, the warm sun made me drowsy. Watcher had already stretched out, his head on his paws, his eyes closed.

  Then . . . there they were! Barret leaned on his grandfather’s arm as they walked slowly into the park. In his other hand, instead of holding Heidi’s leash, Barret carried a white cane.

  I jumped up as they came through the gate. “Thank goodness, you’re here. I have so much to tell you.”

  Barret did not have his dark glasses on, and I noticed how he looked toward my voice. His eyes were a deep blue. “Wendy?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Wendy,” I said. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “We didn’t know, but we have walked here every day wondering if we would ever see you again,” Herr Strohkirch said as he led Barret to my bench. Barret felt for the seat with his hand, and then we sat together.

  “Where’s Heidi?” I asked.

  Barret’s face saddened. “The SS took Heidi away from me and gave her to a soldier who lost his sight in combat. The SS officer who took Heidi said, ‘A brave soldier has given his sight for the Reich. The least you can do is give him your dog.’ He was right, of course.”

  “Oh, Barret, I’m so sorry. What will you do?” I reached for his hand.

  “I don’t know. I feel useless without her. She was my best friend.”

  “Watcher and I are your friends,” I said, feeling his sadness. I snapped my fingers, and Watcher sat up and put his chin on Barret’s lap. “See? Watcher is reminding you he is still your friend.”

  Barret patted my dog’s head and ears. “Watcher, you still have that floppy ear,” he said, managing a grin.

  Herr Strohkirch sat down with us. “Time is becoming more and more urgent, Wendy. I am old and do not have much time left in this world. The way things are, I will not be sorry to leave. I have helped Jews and others leave this country, so who knows when my own questionable acts will be found out by the police. Now I must fulfill my promise to your father. But first I am sure you have questions.”

  “Yes, I do have many questions.”

  “I must again stress that Adrie must never know about our meeting or that I have divulged the information I’m about to give you.”

  “I don’t understand why it’s such a secret or why she hasn’t told me herself.”

  “One of her missions in life is to protect you.”

  “Why do I need protection?”

  Herr Strohkirch looked uncomfortable. “Because of who you are.”

  I pulled the photograph from my pocket with my free hand and handed it to Herr Strohkirch. “Who is this man?”

  He took a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and put them on. He smiled as he examined the photograph and then looked up at me. “This is David Dressner, your father.”

  I sat between Barret and his grandfather. I stared at the photograph of my father while I listened at last to the story of my heritage.

  “Your mother was very young when she met David. She was extremely bright and had learned several languages at the University of Munich. At that time she met a brilliant young geology professor and they fell in love.” Herr Strohkirch cleared his throat and then added, “But then, as now, it was a complicated and dangerous thing for a young German woman to fall in love—with a Jewish man.”

  “Jewish?” I pointed to the photo. “Was this man . . . my father . . . a Jew?”

  Herr Strohkirch nodded. “Ja. Your father, David Dressner, was indeed a Jew.”

  My father was a Jew and that made me Jewish, too. Jews were hated in Germany. Johanna had whispered to me that terrible things were happening to the Jews.

  I was a Jewish girl living in Nazi Germany. Fear crept over me like the pitiless spider weaving its evil web.

  24

  The Whole Truth

  For fifteen years, I was Wendy Taylor, then I was Wendy Dekker, and now I discover I am really Wendy Dressner and the daughter of a Jew. I was beginning to understand why Adrie did not want me to know. It was dangerous to be Jewish here in Germany.

  Barret’s grandfather continued. “At first it didn’t matter to Adrie that David was Jewish, but it did matter to Adrie’s family. Throughout history, people in many nations have persecuted Jews. Whenever a predicament arose, be it a crime or a plague, an official government crisis, or some small issue, it was usually Jews who were accused. That hatred was handed down from generation to generation. Then along came Adrie and David—and none of it mattered. They were in love. Still, they were aware of the controversies this would cause for their families so they kept their relationship and marriage a secret.”

  Barret’s grandfather paused to take out his pipe and stuff it with tobacco. Then, after lighting it, he continued with the story—my story.

  “So despite everything, they did get married?” I asked.

  “Let me see.” He counted on his fingers. “About seven years before you were born—back in 1920, Hitler announced to the Nazi party that no Jews should be considered citizens. David predicted what would soon happen to Jews and he was right, because in 1935, the Nuremberg Laws were passed, and Jews lost their rights as German citizens. Shortly after that, marriage between Jews and non-Jews was forbidden. Before long, Jews were removed from all the universities.”

  “And it got worse, didn’t it, Opa?” Barret added. “Shops and restaurants stopped serving Jews. There were signs in restaurants and hotels: JEWS NOT ADMITTED. In some places they couldn’t use public transportation or parks.”

  “Like our negros in the South,” I admitted. “I’ve never been in the South, but I’ve been told they still separate blacks from whites in public parks and restaurants and buses.” None of this had meant much to me, as I had been growing up in
northern New York. Now that I discovered I was Jewish, I began to realize how it must feel to be singled out and hated.

  “I don’t feel any different than I ever did, and I don’t mind being Jewish. But I’m living here and now I am scared.” Tears suddenly brimmed in my eyes, and I struggled to keep them from slipping down my cheeks. “This must be the reason Adrie stressed to me over and over that I am pure German and pure Aryan. She’s afraid someone might find out I’m Jewish.”

  “Adrie would be in deep trouble, too, especially considering her position in the Abwehr, which is similar to the Office of Strategic Services in your country.” Herr Strohkirch shook his head. “She has many reasons to keep this secret, and she’ll be furious if she finds out I’ve revealed all this to you.”

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” I said. “Why is Adrie so loyal to Hitler? She adores her Führer. She believes in the Socialist Party Master Race and a thousand-year order ruled by Germans.”

  Herr Strohkirch took a puff of his pipe and looked thoughtful. “You need to realize how destitute Germany was after the Great War. When the Treaty of Versailles was signed, Germany was blamed for everything. Germans had to pay for all the damages and costs of the war. There were other reparations too. We were allowed only a small army; we could not fly planes. The country was poor and hated. No one had money. There were no jobs.

  “Then along came Adolf Hitler and his socialist party. He made promises; he reminded the German people they were ‘the master race.’ He built up the country with work and jobs—and gave everyone hope. People listened to his speeches and gained confidence again. They came to believe and have faith in Hitler, as if he were a prophet from God who had come to save the nation. Brilliant scientists and educators look to him, believe in him, and are willing to do anything he asks.”

  “And that’s what happened to Adrie?”

  “She is one of the strongest believers of all. She even turned away from David—your father—when he was imprisoned.”