The Kommandant's Girl

by Pam Jenoff

  I look up in surprise from the towel I had been folding. My breath catches. “Really, with whom?”

  “Jozef. He was the boy who brought you here from the ghetto.”

  I nod, picturing his face. I have never heard his name before. “Did he say anything about…?”

  She interrupts me gently. “I asked him about Jacob first thing. He didn’t have any information beyond what we already knew. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” My heart sinks.

  “But the good news is that I was able to speak with him about getting you out of Kraków. He thinks he can arrange an exit route for you during the last week of March. Do you think you can manage until then?”

  I hesitate, doing the math in my head. Three weeks. Three more weeks of pretending and praying that the Kommandant would not find out my secret. My mind flashes back to my encounter with Malgorzata. Maybe it was my imagination and she did not notice anything, I think now. She and I had not spoken again that day and I have avoided her ever since, arriving at work early and remaining at my desk each day until after I knew she had gone. I do not want to face another confrontation. Or maybe she does know but will not tell the Kommandant. No, I realize suddenly, the ridiculousness of this last thought snapping me back to reality. I saw the look of astonishment on her face, quickly followed by smug triumph. She knows my secret, and is poised like a cat, waiting to strike. I am sure that she would have told the Kommandant already, had he not been out in meetings all week.

  “Emma…” Krysia says gently, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you listening to me?”

  I pause uncertainly. I should have told Krysia about my encounter with Malgorzata, but I did not, in part because I did not want to worry her further, in part because I am ashamed I had been so careless as to be caught. I do not know how to tell her now. It feels awkward, like I have hidden something that should have been disclosed much earlier. “I’m listening,” I reply at last.

  “Can you manage three weeks?” she repeats.

  I swallow hard. “I think so.”

  “Good. That is probably the optimal time, anyway. Hopefully the weather will have let up, but you will not be too much farther along. Jozef said he can arrange an escort for you then.”

  My heart sinks. An escort likely means that I will not be going with Jacob. I start to ask Krysia, then stop. She has already said there is no further news about Jacob and I do not want to be difficult. “What about you and Lukasz?” I ask instead. She cocks her head, puzzled. “I mean, if I disappear, there will be questions, especially from the Kommandant.”

  “I have thought about that, of course. If I stay behind, I can make excuses. That you went to visit another relative or something.”

  I shake my head. He will never believe that I just left without saying goodbye. “But, Krysia, it won’t be safe once I am gone. When the Kommandant realizes what has happened, there will be repercussions,” I persist. “I can’t leave you two behind to face that.”

  “It is a chance we have to take. We cannot all disappear at the same time. It would be too difficult—you cannot escape through the woods with an old woman and a child, and all of us traveling together publicly would attract too much attention.” I search desperately for a response, but cannot find one. Krysia is right. She continues, “Anyway, I can’t leave. I’m an old woman. This is my home.” Her eyes are stormy.

  I think of all the older people who have been ripped from their homes by the Nazis. They were not given the choice to stay, and her comment seems self-indulgent in light of all that has happened. I know, though, that this is not the principal reason for her refusal to leave. She is trying to do what is best for all of us. If that meant leaving, I have no doubt that she would be packed and at the door in an instant, ready to take on an escape through the woods in her cashmere coat and fine shoes.

  I walk over to the chair where she is sitting, determined to try once more. I kneel beside her and take her hand. “Krysia, come with me,” I plead. But she shakes her head and I know there will be no further debate. “What about Lukasz?” I ask. “He really shouldn’t be here if the Gestapo comes looking for me.”

  She does not answer right away and I can see her mind working, considering what I have just said. It is not an easy dilemma. The child must be kept safe, and it is hard to know which would be riskier, keeping him here and facing questions when the Gestapo comes or taking him with me to face possible capture as we escape. “Taking the child would slow you down,” she says at last. “And be riskier for you.”

  “I can manage,” I insist.

  “You have more than yourself to consider now. You have your own child.”

  “But…” I want to tell her Lukasz is my child, too, but Krysia raises her hand.

  “Let’s not argue. We don’t have to decide now.”

  “Okay,” I reply. I return to the sofa and pick up the towel I had been folding. A moment later, I look up again. Krysia is staring out the window into the darkness, the pile of clothing in front of her untouched. “What is it?” I ask.

  She turns to me and I notice for the first time a deep sadness in her eyes. “After Marcin died, I found the loneliness unbearable. I became used to it after time, but it’s a dull ache that never really left me. Until the night you arrived.” Her eyes are moist now. “I just realized how much I have enjoyed this time, having you and Lukasz with me. How much I will miss you when you are gone.”

  “Oh, Krysia.” I walk back over to her and put my arm around her shoulder. I had not considered until that moment how my leaving might affect her. I wanted to tell her that things would not change, that we would always be close. But I could not. The three of us living together had been an unexpected arrangement, strange and lovely and born out of necessity. By necessity it would all soon end.

  “He’s already asked for you twice,” Malgorzata informs me smugly as I enter reception the next morning. Surprised, I look quickly at the clock behind her desk, wondering if I am late. But the clock reads seven-forty-five, a full quarter of an hour before I am scheduled to arrive. The Kommandant is early. My stomach plunges.

  Stay calm, I tell myself as I enter the anteroom hurriedly. He probably just has a lot of paperwork to catch up on or an early meeting. But even as I think this, I know that something is wrong. The Kommandant is as precise about time as he is about everything else; he always leaves his apartment at exactly eight o’clock and enters the office approximately fifteen minutes later, unless there is traffic. The Kommandant being early is as unthinkable as him being late.

  My heart racing, I take off my coat and grab my notebook from the desk. The door to the Kommandant’s office is ajar. I knock softly. “Herr Kommandant?” I call through the opening. There is no answer. I repeat the words, louder this time.

  “Come in.”

  I open the door a few more inches and slide through. The Kommandant is standing at the far side of the office, looking out the window. “Malgorzata said you wished to see me.” The door clicks shut behind me.

  “Yes, sit down.” I perch on the edge of the sofa, pen poised. The Kommandant does not look in my direction, but continues staring out at the river.

  I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to turn and run from the room. Another minute of silence passes, then two. Finally I can stand it no longer. “Is something wrong, Herr Kommandant?”

  “Wrong?” he repeats softly. He turns and begins walking toward me, his face stormy. He exhales hard through his teeth. “Everything is wrong. Partisans blow up cafés at will, killing our men. We are losing the war.” I am surprised by his last statement; it is the first time I have ever heard the Kommandant, or any other German, admit that the war is going poorly for them—until now, it had only been a rumor, whispered by Polish staff in the corridors of Wawel or heard on the street. The Kommandant continues speaking, just feet away from me now. “And my enemies would like to blame both of these matters on me in order to see me ousted.”

  A wave of hope arises within me. Perhaps politi
cal matters are all that are troubling the Kommandant. “These are difficult times,” I offer, trying to sound supportive.

  “Yes.” He sits down in the chair beside me, still looking away. “And then there is you.”

  My stomach drops. “M-me?” I stammer. My heart is pounding so loudly I can barely hear my own voice.

  “Yes, Anna. You.” He turns to face me then. “Is there something you would like to tell me?”

  I hesitate, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. He knows something. But what? In my despair over my pregnancy these past few weeks, I had almost forgotten that I have a much larger secret. Now I wonder if my true identity has been revealed. “No, Herr Kommandant,” I reply at last, looking down.

  “Anna.” He reaches down and lifts my chin with his fingers, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Call me Georg.” Though he had given me permission some time ago to use his first name when we are alone in his apartment, it is the first time he has ever bade me to do so in the office. His eyes are soft, I realize, without any sign of anger toward me. He would not look at me this way if he had discovered who I really am. Suddenly, in that moment of attempted intimacy, I know exactly which secret he has learned.

  So he knows about my pregnancy, I think, and he does not seem angry about it. I am still not sure what to say. “Georg…” The name feels heavy and strange on my tongue. “How did you find out?” I know the answer of course, but I am stalling for time in order to figure out what to say.

  “Malgorzata told me.”

  “Oh?” I try to sound surprised at this.

  “Yes, she came to me with the news, thinking that I would be angry that you were unmarried and with child and cast you out from this office.” I look up. “Oh, don’t worry, I know she has long had designs on your job. Of course, she had no way of knowing that the child is mine.” His face turns serious. “I wish I had heard it from you, though.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, shifting uncomfortably.

  “No, Anna, it is I who needs to apologize.” He takes both of my hands in his much larger ones. “I have been so preoccupied with this war business, I did not notice, and I did not give you a chance to tell me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter how I found out. I know now.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me on the forehead.

  “You mean you aren’t angry?” I ask, my surprise genuine.

  “Angry?” he exclaims, smiling broadly. “Anna, I couldn’t be happier! You know that I always wanted children.” I nod. “And with Margot, well, we never got the chance…” A picture flashes through my mind of Margot, lying on the floor, blood from the self-inflicted gunshot wound covering her pregnant, full stomach. I feel suddenly nauseous. Concentrate, I think, forcing the image from my mind. “I would have liked things to happen for us in the traditional sequence, of course—marriage, then children,” he replies. “But it is no matter.”

  “But what will people think? I mean, your career…”

  I watch the Kommandant’s face as he considers for the first time the stigma of having a baby with his unmarried assistant, the ammunition it will give his political enemies. “Yes,” he says slowly. “We must get you out of Kraków before anyone else notices.” How ironic, I think; that is exactly what Krysia said when she learned of my pregnancy. The Kommandant leaps up and begins pacing the floor, as though dictating a memorandum. “I would like to send you to my home in Hamburg,” he says, thinking aloud. “But that’s impossible right now. The enemy bombings make it too dangerous. I know…” He stops and turns to face me. “My sister Hannah lives in the countryside near Salzburg. I will send you there.”

  My stomach drops. Austria is even deeper into Nazi territory. How will I ever find Jacob or my parents again if I am sent there? He is watching me now, waiting for a reaction. “Herr Kommandant, I mean, Georg, that is very kind of you.” I hesitate, searching for the appropriate response. “But I cannot leave my family….”

  “No, of course not,” he replies. “And you cannot travel alone. Krysia and Lukasz shall go with you.” I marvel at how he thinks he can rearrange the lives of so many with just a few words, though of course he has been doing that to the Jews for years now. “Colonel Diedrichson will escort the three of you as far as Vienna and I will have my sister’s driver meet you there. How does that sound?”

  It sounds like a death sentence. I cannot let him send me away. “Georg…” I try again.

  He sits down in the chair beside me. “What is it, Anna?” I can hear the impatience in his voice.

  I take a deep breath. “What about you?” I ask.

  A look of realization crosses his face, followed by a smile. “About us, you mean?”

  “Yes,” I say quickly, running with the lie. “I would hate to be so far from you.”

  “And I, you,” he replies, touching my cheek.

  “Perhaps I can remain in Kraków, hidden from sight….”

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but it is impossible. The chance of someone finding out would be too great. And with the way the war is going…” He hesitates, looking away. “Well, I don’t want you and the baby here if something should happen in the city.” I want to ask what he means by this: does he think that Kraków will become under siege, a battleground when the Allies advance? He continues, “Anyway, the medical care is much better in Austria. No, it is for the best. You are leaving tomorrow.” He takes my hands once more. “And then after the war, as soon as I can arrange it, I will join you there and we will be married. Okay?”

  I start to open my mouth to raise another point, then close it again. The Kommandant is like Jacob in that regard—there is no point in arguing further once his mind is made up. “Good,” he says, taking my silence as agreement. “Then it’s settled. I’ll make the arrangements. You will leave tomorrow morning at nine.”

  I look up at the clock. Twenty-four hours. I need to get out of the office and tell Krysia immediately. “Georg,” I say, standing up. “I apologize, but I am feeling rather weary. If there is nothing pressing, would you mind if I go home?”

  He rises. “Of course, of course. It is your condition, I am sure. Go home and rest for the day. You will need your strength for the journey.”

  “Thank you.” I start for the door.

  “Anna,” he calls after me. I turn back. “There is one other thing.”

  Reluctantly, I walk back to where he is standing. “Yes?”

  “Will you see me tonight?” He looks away, runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s been so long since we’ve had any time alone together, and now, with you leaving tomorrow, it may be some time…” He turns back to face me again. “What do you think?”

  I stare at him, puzzled. With everything that has happened, he cannot possibly be thinking of romance. “I—I don’t know,” I reply.

  “Please,” he persists. “Just for a little while.”

  I pause, considering his request. The last thing I want is to spend the night with the Kommandant. But I cannot afford any suspicion, not now after all that has happened. Seeing my hesitation, the Kommandant looks quickly at the door to make sure that no one is there, then draws me into his arms and looks into my eyes intensely. My heart beats hard against my chest as it always does when I am close to him. I wonder if he can feel it. He presses his lips against mine, quick and hard. A moment later, he releases me. I step back, smoothing my dress. “What do you say?” he asks, as though his kiss should have magically persuaded me.

  “Okay,” I relent quickly. Anything that will get me out of the office and back to Krysia’s house.

  “Excellent. Stanislaw will come for you tonight at eight. Do you want him to drive you home now?”

  I shake my head. “No, thank you. I have some errands to run on the way.”

  “Very well, then I will see you tonight.” He turns and begins walking toward his desk. “Send Malgorzata in on your way out, will you?” he calls over his shoulder.

  “Yes, sir.” His request is routine, as though it was any other workday and our excha
nge had not taken place. But I can tell from the Kommandant’s tone that this day would be Malgorzata’s last at Wawel, because she had tried to betray me, and because she knew too much.

  In the anteroom, I put on my coat and scarf quickly. Taking only my bag with me, I step into the reception area. “The Kommandant wishes to see you,” I inform Malgorzata coldly. Avoiding my eyes, she leaps from her chair and scurries into the Kommandant’s office. I realize that, seeing me leaving the office in my outerwear so early in the morning, she probably thinks I have been fired, and that she is being called in to replace me. I am almost too weary to pity her. I try not to run as I leave the office and walk out of Nazi headquarters for the last time.

  CHAPTER 23

  “You are leaving at dawn,” Krysia announces at two o’clock that afternoon.

  Four hours earlier, I had entered the house, breathless from running, with the news that the Kommandant knew of my pregnancy and wanted to send us all to Austria. “I was afraid that might happen,” Krysia said when I had finished the story. “Stay here with Lukasz.” Krysia had thrown on her coat and boots and raced out into the street. A few minutes ago, she had returned and, without saying where she had been, told me breathlessly that I was leaving.

  Now, walking up the stairs, she briefly outlines the plan for me. “Someone will come here to escort you to Myslenice.” I nod; I am familiar with the small town, thirty kilometers south of Kraków. “You will be hidden there until tomorrow night when it is dark and then smuggled by wagon over the border to a safe house in the mountains of Czechoslovakia. It’s a risky plan, not nearly as good as the one we would have had if we had been able to wait another month, but there is no choice.”

  “I’m sorry,” I reply, following her into the kitchen and dropping into a chair.

  She waves her hand. “There is no point in worrying about what can’t be changed. We just need to get you out of here.” She carries the empty teakettle to the sink and turns on the water. “Lukasz is napping?”