For the tenth time Jacob said he would get a gun and shoot him in the head and for the tenth time, Sarah had said, “No, you won’t.”
The only light was from the candle, which threw a pool of golden light until it fluttered and burned out.
They sat in darkness until Sarah said, “It’s getting cold, let’s go to bed.”
“Put the light on,” Jacob said. He turned the switch and the room was flooded with glaring light. It was quiet.
“What time is it?” Sarah asked. Jacob shrugged. She turned the light off and took his hand. “Please. Come to bed now.” They undressed as they walked to the bed, and covered themselves with the sheet and blanket. Jacob turned away from Sarah and she hugged him from behind. They both sighed at the same time.
“We have to leave,” Sarah said. “Really. Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
“Exactly, let’s not talk about it anymore. There’s nowhere to go.”
“We’ll find somewhere. America. Palestine. We’ll get out of this damned country.”
“You go. I’ll come later.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
* * *
He had shouted at her, nearly hit her. It was horrible.
“I promised! Don’t you understand?” He had thrust his face into hers and she had pushed him away. He had raised his hand and she had jumped backward and he had brought it down on the table in frustration. “Do you know what that means? My brother died in my arms, for God’s sake, and I promised. I have to keep that promise. Don’t you understand?”
She had tried to shush him. “People are sleeping, be quiet.” He had shouted louder until she had put her hand over his mouth and held him like a baby and he had trembled until he pushed her away.
“The trouble with you,” he said, “is you don’t know how to hate.”
“They’re not all bad. They looked after me. They saved my life.”
“Well, good for you. They didn’t look after me,” he said, his voice rising. “All I saw was them beating and killing us. Okay, you had a different experience. Good for you. But don’t speak for me, don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”
“I know nothing about? How dare you.” All those years of hiding and terror, and hunger, thirst, nightmares. Her baby. Now she was shouting. “Do you have any idea what I went through? What I had to do to live?”
“No, I don’t, because you won’t tell me and you know what? I don’t want to know. Keep it to yourself. You think I can’t guess? You filthy whore!”
Sarah went icy cold, her jaw dropped. She slapped him in the face. Hard. She fell on him and kicked him. Sobbing, she beat him with her fists. He pushed her away. She threw herself down on the bed and wept in frustration and anger. “You bastard,” she said between sobs. “You absolute bastard.”
He looked at her, crumpled shadows on the bed. It’s so easy for you, go on, cry.
She didn’t deny it, though. Was it true? Why did he say that? Oh, why?
Jacob knelt by the bed and begged her forgiveness. She pushed him away with her foot.
He tried to stroke her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it…” She kicked out and caught him in the head. “Ouch!”
“Good,” she said.
“That hurt.”
“Good, it was meant to.”
“I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry, really I am, I know it’s nonsense,” he said, holding her feet so she couldn’t kick him again. He stroked her legs. “I’m sorry, really sorry.”
“It was a very stupid thing to say, even if you’re angry. And by the way, you aren’t angry with me, you’re angry with yourself. So don’t take it out on me.”
“You’re right, I love you.”
“Say you’re sorry.”
“I did.”
“Say it again.”
He held her tight and she held him, too. She had said, “Killing him won’t bring Maxie back.” She shouldn’t have mentioned Maxie. She felt him grow stiff in her arms, but she went on. “Killing all the Nazis won’t bring back a single Jew. And hating like this won’t do you any good. Hatred will destroy you. It will destroy us.”
Jacob had tried to make her understand. He didn’t have a choice. Maxie had died, dozens of friends had died, many thousands more who he had seen every day—all dead now. Only he lived. So he should forget them? Like it never happened? Do nothing? What sort of a man would that make him? Of course killing one man would be like a howl in the darkness. But not killing him? How could he live with himself?
Sarah kept trying to make him understand. “What, you’ll always hate? Don’t you see, if you kill him you will destroy yourself, too.”
“No, you don’t see,” Jacob had shouted. “It will destroy me if I don’t kill him.”
Sarah had run out of arguments, and patience. He was as stubborn as a mule. As he ranted on and on about his oath to his brother, his debt to his friends, his duty to mankind, that asshole rat, she whispered her own deepest thought, so low he didn’t hear: You will destroy me, too.
She saw it slipping away. In three weeks they had done something she could not have dreamed of: they had built a little paradise, a safe haven in the insane world around them, and now she realized it was a fool’s paradise. We can’t escape what happened, it will forever follow us. We can never forget. We can try, we can rebuild, but we are all damaged goods. We cry out at night, we shiver under the sheets, we wake up soaked in sweat. There is no escape.
But no. She shook herself. Don’t think like that. We aren’t victims anymore, we can live our own lives, we are not hostage to the evil people who slaughtered us. Do not let Jacob kill Hans Seeler. It will ruin him, ruin us, and for nothing, nothing at all, there are tens of thousands of Rats running around, all trying to hide. Let them. Who cares? It’s too late now. What counts now is the future, not the past. We have each other, that is what counts. Our love. Looking at Jacob, lying facedown, his face molded into the pillow, she said slowly to herself, stressing each syllable: I will not let him ruin us.
Because if he kills the Rat, he will be caught. Obviously. And they would both lose everything. Again. Hoppi. Sarah suddenly realized she hadn’t thought of him for days. If only she hadn’t lost her photos. She hadn’t even thought of the worst time of all, that night in the cemetery. And that was good. She didn’t want to forget but she didn’t want to remember all the time, either. She was rebuilding her life, and now Jacob was threatening to tear it apart, from hatred, from an insane need for so-called revenge, from, let’s face it, pigheaded male pride. She wouldn’t let him do it.
Hoppi was the same. She’d told him not to go out. And look what happened.
Not again.
* * *
As the very first hint of dawn lent a blue-gray hue to the black gables across the road, Jacob turned his back to the window and, with a sigh, sat in the chair. Sarah’s breathing was even and quiet, at rest at last. With her last ounce of consciousness before drifting to sleep she had murmured, “So that’s decided, then, we’re leaving Germany. Good night, baby.”
But he still hadn’t been able to shut down. In all the drama, he hadn’t been able to think about what he most needed to think about.
Ten days.
The Rat was leaving in ten days. Ten days to kill the bastard. But how? That’s what had kept him awake the last two hours as Sarah slept.
He really wasn’t any closer to a plan. Further, actually. He had made a list in his head of all the obstacles. The Rat is strong and quick. He’s usually with his two friends, who are just as big. He’d have no chance against them. He couldn’t take a room in the hotel, he could too easily be recognized. He had lost his only real weapon: surprise. And by threatening him in such a public place he would be the first suspect if the Rat really did turn up dead. He’d never get away with it.
He had looked at the plus side, too. And come up with zero. Absolutely nothing in his favor. His only way to do it was to buy a gun and shoot him dead, a
nd then be put to death himself. He realized if he committed murder, however justified in his own mind, in a public place, there was no way the Americans could get him off the hook. They would need to show the law applied to everyone or risk anarchy.
And time was running out.
TWENTY-SIX
Heidelberg,
June 5, 1945
At seven o’clock in the morning Sarah was dozing, with fragmented thoughts jumbled and jumping between lush cherries and being lost in crowded Berlin streets, people bumping her, forgetting where she lived, Hoppi’s head disappearing in the crowd, looking, looking for him, and the long jeep ride where there was no room for her legs and Isak turning around and looking at her, and the hospital, the sickly smell, the awful news. She wanted to wake but dozed off again and had horrid thoughts about their fight, she had a bad feeling, she wanted to come out of it, but was sucked back into drowsiness until, after struggling between sleep and consciousness for what seemed hours, she finally pulled herself up with a start.
Jacob? “Jacob?” she called.
The bathroom door was open. He had gone. So early? Where? Why?
She had a sinking feeling. When did he leave? What is he doing? She looked around. There was no sign that he had slept in the bed. She brushed her teeth and put the kettle on. He’s gone, she thought. He’s angry. He’s left me. She checked the closet; his clothes were still there. She went back to the bathroom. So was his toothbrush. So where is he, then? What is he doing? Why did he leave so early?
At seven twenty, just as she had talked herself again into fearing the worst, there was a knock on the door. A sharp knock.
* * *
A few minutes earlier, Adolf the hotel worker stopped at the exit of his building, sniffed the air, put a hand out to see if he felt rain, and decided he didn’t need his hat that day. He went back inside and after two minutes came out again, hatless, dragging his hand along the bush that lined the garden path, and turned left to walk to work.
Jacob fell in beside him.
“Good morning again, Adolf,” Jacob said.
“Good morning to you, too.” They walked side by side for a couple of minutes.
“Anything new at the Schwartzer Bock?” Jacob asked.
“We’re hiring a new staff person,” Adolf said. “Maybe you can apply.” Jacob’s heart jumped for a moment before he realized how impossible this would be. He had come to talk to Adolf out of desperation, hoping he would get an idea. “Who knows?” he said. “What’s the job?”
“Waitress.” Adolf laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. It was a jolting laugh, as if he didn’t have the breath for it. “Sorry, I was just making a joke.”
Jacob duly laughed. “Waitress. Funny one. Tell me,” he said. He didn’t have time to waste. “Hans. How is he? I hear he may be leaving soon, is that right? Do you know where to?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t really talk to me. He says I’m a village idiot.” He laughed again.
“I think you’re very smart.”
“Thank you. I think the same about you.”
“Thank you. So tell me, you don’t know if Hans is leaving or you don’t know where he is going?”
“I do not know where he is going. He is leaving next week. That is why we need more help. Frau Seeler thought he would work there, but he will not.”
“So he’s leaving next week.”
“Yes. I said that.”
Nine days.
No plan, no ideas. No time.
* * *
Sarah shrank from the door, out of habit. Who would knock so early? Only the police. Trying to catch people off guard. They always did. But why? What did they want? Oh no. Jacob … Had something happened to him? Did he do something stupid? So quickly? She cursed herself. Oh, why didn’t I think of that, I should never have fallen asleep. Where did he go? What did he do? Her stomach churned.
Another knock. “Open up, police.” A sharp rap-rap-rap.
Her heart jolted. How she had feared this moment in Berlin; there it was a death sentence. What did it mean here? If the window had not opened onto the street by the door she might have climbed out of it. As if in a trance, she pulled a coat over her nightclothes and heard her quavering voice say, “Just a moment.” She reached the door, drew a breath, and with a trembling hand turned the knob and opened the door a fraction. A big man stood on the doorstep, in uniform.
Sarah’s lips quivered as her hand flew to her mouth.
His smile was huge as he produced a bunch of flowers.
“I don’t understand,” she said. Her legs began to shake. “Oh … my God … Isak … is that you?” She thought she would fall. “You said the police … I thought … you have no idea…” The room spun and the ground rose as the blood drained from her brain and she swooned.
“Oh no, I was joking, it was a joke,” Isak gasped, dabbing his handkerchief into a glass of water. He wiped her face as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, all while struggling out of his coat. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, joking, I was joking. Bad joke.” He wet the cloth again and wiped her brow and cheeks. Her eyes rolled back into focus, a blush of pink returned to her cheeks.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “With comedy like that, who needs tragedy.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes. Well, no. Not really. Not at all. Oh, I don’t know. Anyway, I am better now that you’re here. Oh, Isak. You scared me. So much has happened. How did you find me? Would you like some tea?”
“I’ll make you some. But first…” He put a flask of vodka to her lips. “This is what you need now, though.” She sipped, coughed, and sat up.
“That’s better,” she said. “I think. What on earth are you doing here?”
“I’m on a liaison team with the Sixth Army. General Patton. A fine soldier. An anti-Semite, but a fine soldier. I have brought you something.”
“Not more vodka, please.”
He chortled. “No, not vodka. Something better. And not chocolate.”
Sarah watched as he reached into his satchel. He smiled, ready to enjoy her reaction, as he slowly, tantalizingly, slid out a small brown velvet purse. His mouth matched hers as it widened in surprise. She sucked in her breath as she understood. She took the purse and pressed it to her chest and looked at Isak with tears streaming from her eyes. She shook her head in wonder, could find no words. Her cheeks glistened. Silently she stretched out her arms, still holding the purse, and he came forward and she embraced him and the sobs wracked her body. She held on to his great frame and he pulled her shaking slender body to his and stroked her hair and patted her back as she wept.
“So, sweet Sarah,” he said as he kissed her brow and pushed her gently from him. Her eyes were red and wet and her cheeks glowed and she wiped away her tears. “I must look terrible,” she said.
Sarah opened the purse like a medieval manuscript that could disintegrate in her fingers. She drew out a picture of Hoppi and held it to her lips and cried some more. She cried over her mother and father and the baby photo of her with her sister Ruth, while Isak stroked her hair. When she stopped crying he gave her tea. Its heavy, sweet aroma filled the room.
“So,” Isak said, and tilted his chin toward the cupboard, “who do they belong to?” Sarah followed his gaze to Jacob’s spare shoes. Their eyes met. She blushed to the very core. “Not you, I take it,” he said. The bathroom door was open. She saw the two toothbrushes, Jacob’s trousers thrown over the chair.
“You always turn up when I need you most,” she said with a gentle smile. “You are my savior, my knight in shining armor.”
He looked down at his shapeless Soviet army uniform with its leather belt and brown jacket. “Hardly.”
“Thank you for this,” she said, hugging the purse.
“It belongs to you.”
“That doesn’t mean much these days.”
Isak nodded. “Sarah,” he said, raising his bushy eyebrows, “you’re avoiding the question. What is a
beautiful girl like you doing with a pair of black men’s shoes in dire need of a polish?”
* * *
Four hours later, Jacob walked in to find Sarah and Isak lying on the bed, holding hands, her head against his shoulder. Isak’s army jacket with the red star in the lapel was hanging over the back of the chair, his big army boots lay on the floor, and his shirt was hanging out. On the table were cups, a plate of nuts, the remains of a sandwich, and a flask of vodka. Jacob took it all in before he had shut the door.
“You’re Isak Brodsky,” he said. “Because if not, I’d have to kill you.”
“You’re as smart as Sarah says, then,” Isak said with a laugh that shook the room. He threw his feet to the floor and stood to shake Jacob’s hand. Even in socks he towered above him. His broad shoulders made Jacob look frail, and as he took Jacob’s hand he pulled him into a hug. “I feel I know you as my brother,” he said. “A drink?”
Jacob looked at the flask and smiled. “For once, why not? Sarah?” She shook her head.
“I’ve told Isak everything,” she said. “Everything.” She got up. “I’ll make some more tea.”
“Everything? I hope not.”
“Everything he needs to know.”
“Needs to know?” Jacob threw an inquiring glance at Isak. Isak raised an eyebrow—it formed a perfect arch—and he opened his arms as if to say, What can I do?
They pulled the table to the bed so that Jacob and Isak could sit on the two chairs and Sarah on the edge of the bed. Jacob’s instant suspicion had faded. Sarah had never gone into details but this man had saved her life, spirited her out of Berlin, got her a ride to Frankfurt, never asked for anything, and now he had even brought her precious purse with all its memories. He wished he had even one photo. He would go home today to ask Berger. He looked at Isak and remembered the hug. He’s all muscle, too. These Soviet officers, no wonder they won. He took another slug of vodka.
Sarah had made sandwiches and tea. As she poured it and stirred the sugar, she glanced at Isak. Jacob caught it. He stiffened. Oh yes? What’s this all about? He looked sharply at Isak, who noticed. “It isn’t that,” Isak said, “don’t worry. Look, I’ve got to go in a moment, we were hoping you’d come home, I have a meeting to go to, I’ve already been away too long. Now listen, Sarah told me what you are up to.”
Jacob's Oath: A Novel Page 21