by Liz Tolsma
She stopped breathing mid-gasp. Her papers labeled her as a Jew. And Hauptmann Engel had returned them to the upstairs flat soon after he’d taken her and her grandmother in, to make it appear as if they’d fled and changed their identities. She kept her back to the man. “I have lost them.”
“No papers?”
“Ne.”
He twirled her around to face him, his grasp tight on her upper arm. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. His breath heated her cheek. “What shall I do with you, then?” His words carried a sneer.
“You can ask Hauptmann Engel when he returns. He saw my papers before I lost them.”
The officer touched the length of her dark hair. “And I suppose he confirmed you were Aryan?”
“Yes, sir.”
He stroked her cheek. She fought the urge to vomit.
“You are the darkest Aryan I have ever met.”
“I am Eastern European.”
“Slovak, then?”
She fisted her hands. Had she made a fatal mistake? The Germans hated the Slovaks almost as much as they despised the Jews. The Nazis didn’t spare their wrath on their eastern neighbors. “Ne. Not Slovak at all. Just Bohemian.”
He whispered in her ear. “A filthy Jew pig.”
The bile in her throat threatened to bubble over. “Ne.”
“Not even a little bit?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
He stepped back, and she allowed herself to breathe again. With his hands behind his back, he walked the perimeter of the small living room. What if he went to the bedroom and discovered Babička in the bed? Or Anna’s clothes in her suitcase? Thankfully, they hadn’t unpacked or put their clothes in the wardrobe. Too hard to explain away. And she’d finished the dishes and put them all in the cupboard, so he wouldn’t question why so many were out.
He wandered to the alcove. At the same moment she did, he spied what lay on the chair there. He picked up her violin case. “And what would this be?”
“A violin.”
He took two long strides in her direction, his jaw firm. “Do not toy with me. I know what it is. What is it doing here? Hauptmann Engel told me that, though he enjoys music, he does not play an instrument. Who does this belong to?”
“To me.” Her voice squeaked.
“And why is it here? Has Engel gone and gotten himself a Jew whore?”
Not only did her blood drain from her face, but from her entire body. “I would thank you not to use such crude language in front of a lady.”
His hard features didn’t soften. “Are you his Jewish mistress?”
“Ne. Not at all.” She trembled under his gaze. “I told you, I lost my papers.” A weak argument, even to her ears.
The officer once again stood right in front of her. He pushed her against the wall, pinned her shoulders to the plaster, nose to nose with her. “You are lying to me.”
“Would Hauptmann Engel be pleased to come home and find you harassing his Czech maid?” Where had that chutzpah come from?
But he stepped backward. “If that is indeed what you are.”
“I am. And it would anger my employer to find out that you have accused me of such vile deeds. A good, Christian woman such as I am. You know that man. You know he would have nothing to do with the Jews.”
“And where do you live?” He furrowed his brows.
“A few blocks from here.”
“In the heart of the Jewish quarter?”
“Ne. Just the opposite. Farther from it.”
He eyed her a bit more, then stepped closer yet again. She willed her soft knees to support her.
“You think you are so smart. What is your name?”
Zadoková couldn’t be more Jewish. If she told him her real name, she would find herself on the very next transport to Terezín. “Anna.”
“You try my patience. Full name.”
“Anna Maria Kostachek.” She stared at him.
Footsteps thumped in the hall. The Nazi pulled away.
The door to the flat swung open.
Hauptmann Engel stood on the threshold.
He paled.
She wilted.
Their stories wouldn’t match.
Anna stood rooted to the spot when Hauptmann Engel flung open the apartment’s door. The Nazi officer who interrogated her faced him, his back to her.
“Hauptsturmführer Jaeger. How good to see you.” Hauptmann Engel sounded more confident than his wide-eyed expression painted him.
“Heil Hitler.”
A bit of red seeped into her protector’s face. “Heil Hitler.”
“Who is this woman?”
And now this Hauptsturmführer Jaeger would discover their secret, because Hauptmann Engel would give the wrong answer. She mouthed maid. He had to understand her. Had to.
“Who do you think she is?”
Behind Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s back, Anna wrote the letters in the air.
“Your little Jewish secret.”
He roared with laughter. “You think she and I . . . Danke, Stefan. After the day I had today, I needed a good chuckle. As if I would ever have anything to do with the likes of them.”
“This woman plays the violin.”
“Very well, too, I might add.”
“You listened to the concert at Terezín. Asked me to keep your neighbor’s name from the transport list so you could continue to listen to her music.”
He doubled over in peals of laughter. Quite the actor. “And that makes me a Jew lover? Stop it, Stefan, stop it. You’re giving me a stitch in my side. You were at that concert, too.”
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s face darkened. “Is this your maid?”
Anna bobbed her head.
“Yes, she is.”
“You didn’t tell me you hired one.”
“It slipped my mind. Now, come on, you look like you could use something to drink. And you,” he peeked over Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s shoulder at her, “go and put my coat in my wardrobe.” He tossed it to her, and she scampered away, grateful to no longer be in the room with the man.
And how had Hauptmann Engel known she wanted to check on Babička? Or did he intend to treat her like the maid? Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. It gave her the chance to leave and see to her grandmother.
She slipped inside the bedroom without opening the door too much.
“Anna, what is going on?” Babička sat in bed, her hairbrush in her hand, her thin gray hair around her shoulders.
“We were almost caught. It’s too dangerous for us to stay here any longer. That friend of Hauptmann Engel discovered me. I told him I was the maid, but I don’t think he believes me. He asked me all kinds of questions, and called me the worst of names.” Tears clogged her throat, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to keep them from spilling over.
“As it is, we might not be out of the woods yet. Hauptmann Engel doesn’t know the story I told. If he tells this man my name, my true name, he’ll haul us out of here within minutes.” She pounded down the fluttering rising in her chest.
Even Babička’s eyes grew wide. “You used a false name?”
“I couldn’t very well tell him I was Anna Zadoková. Why did Máma and Táta have to use such a Jewish name for me?”
“Because you have been chosen by God. Twice. Chosen to be born of Jewish descent and chosen as a true daughter of Abraham.”
Anna sat on the bed and rubbed her face. “When did you get to be so wise?”
“I only became wise when you started listening to me.” She hid her laugh behind her hand.
“Hush, or you’ll alert that Nazi you’re here. I don’t think he’ll believe you’re the cook.”
Anna moved to the wardrobe to put away Hauptmann Engel’s coat. She would return it to his room when Hauptsturmführer Jaeger left. As she pushed aside the various uniforms, pressed pants, and starched shirts he kept in this wardrobe, something flashed black.
She moved a jacket. What was this?
A worn tin train. She pulled it out and examined it. Judging by the flaking paint, many children had loved it throughout the years.
What was it doing in here?
Wait a minute. Where had she seen this before? Yes, when she visited Paní Schniz.
This was her little boy’s train. Anna had sat on the floor with him, making whistle sounds. He’d laughed his little baby laugh. Such a sweet child. Where was he? Was he even alive?
But a larger question loomed. Why did Hauptmann Engel keep it?
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s voice sounded from the lounge. “Where is that maid? Tell her I need a stiff drink. We have business to discuss.”
Anna rubbed her hands.
Babička looked to the ceiling. Ne, to the heavens. “Protect us, Lord.” Then she nodded in the direction of the door. “You had better go.”
Anna stumbled out of the room on shaky legs, wishing Babička would have prayed for steady hands for her. “Yes, sir?”
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger cocked his head. “A glass of water. I forgot that Engel here is a teetotaler.”
Thankful that she didn’t have to mix a cocktail she had no idea how to prepare, she moved to the kitchen and took a glass from the cabinet.
“What is it that’s so important?” Hauptmann Engel’s voice was as casual as if he sat on a beach by the sea. How could he remain so calm? Perhaps if Hauptsturmführer Jaeger discovered her Jewish roots, Hauptmann Engel would act shocked at the revelation and save his own skin.
“A little bit of interesting news.”
“You have my curiosity piqued.”
Anna turned on the faucet and let the water rise to the cup’s brim.
“You know that Jew you spoke to after the Terezín concert?”
“Ja. I congratulated him on a job well done. I’ve always had an affinity for good music.”
“Did you catch his name?”
A moment of silence. Hauptmann Engel must be shaking his head.
“It’s David Zadok.”
“You don’t say.”
“The brother of the Jew living above you. The Jew who, according to you, disappeared into thin air.”
The glass of water slid from Anna’s hand and crashed to the floor.
Patricie settled the picnic basket handle over the crook of her arm and lifted her face to the sun. If only she could enjoy the day. With the chilly temperatures, Hauptsturmführer Jaeger was crazy for this suggestion. Though her hamper boasted nuts, cheese, and koláček bought with his extra ration coupons, she couldn’t summon any excitement for this outing.
He’d insisted on having the picnic in his office.
She spotted his headquarters in a rather modern building and took the paternoster lift to his floor. Nazis in dark uniforms filled the halls, moving with long strides, shoulders back, a proud set to their chins. Chills ran up and down her arms. The medals on the officers’ chests glinted in the lights. German words swirled in the air.
Patricie’s stomach roiled. She stood outside of his office door, her hands trembling. Why had he picked her, of all people, to be his special pet? Why had he singled her out? She wasn’t pretty by any means, nothing to attract such an important and powerful man. He could have any woman in the Reich. Why her?
The problem was, she couldn’t refuse him. Doing so would set off suspicion, perhaps an investigation of her and her activities.
Although he had already dug into her past, and probably continued to dig. And investigated her present, as well.
He suddenly appeared at her side. She gasped and clutched her chest.
He grinned, a strange look in his eyes. “Did I surprise you, my little bird?”
She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow its rapid pace. “Ja. I didn’t see you coming. I’m a bit early.”
He ushered her into his office and shut the door with a soft click. “I like to keep you on your toes.”
The words came off more threatening than playful. She needed to keep the atmosphere light. “No more than my brothers did when we were young.”
“And where are your brothers now?” He pulled two chairs up to the desk, flipped open the basket’s lid, and rummaged through its contents.
“One brother works for an engineering consulting firm in Dresden. The other I haven’t heard from since the beginning of the war.” But she had. He assisted in her illicit activities.
“You must be so afraid for him.” He drew out a bottle of apple juice, his thunderous look telling her the beverage choice displeased him.
She stared at her best green dress, worrying the hem. Truth be told, she was afraid for her brother. Afraid Hauptsturmführer Jaeger would catch him counterfeiting papers and passports and printing underground fliers that would have him on the next train east if the Gestapo caught him. “I am.”
He patted her hand. “I would be frantic if I didn’t know where my sister was. If you want, I could help you find your brother. I have sources.”
She held her breath to keep from sucking in the air. Why had she mentioned her brothers at all? “Ne.” She exhaled bit by bit. “I mean, that is very kind of you, but not necessary. He will come home when he is ready.”
“He has run away before?”
She bit the inside of her cheek before sitting back. “Let’s not talk of him anymore. It makes me too sad.” She swallowed like the thought of him brought her to tears. “Today is a day to enjoy.”
“Perhaps, by the time we have another picnic, spring will have arrived.” He winked.
Her arms broke out in goose flesh. “Let’s hope it comes soon.”
He poured two glasses of juice and handed one to her. “Cheers. Though you know I prefer a drink with a bit more punch.”
“Cheers.”
“Relax. I don’t bite.” He gazed at her hand.
She clutched the glass in a death grip. As she loosened her hold, she giggled.
“Do I make you nervous?”
More than he would ever know. “Not at all.”
“Then look at me.”
Steeling herself, she peered into his chilly blue eyes.
“You have nothing to fear from me. I’m just a boy from a small German village.”
“Of course you are.” One with the power to send countless people to their deaths. How many warrants had he already signed?
“Unless you have something to hide.”
“Why would you think that?”
“We all do, don’t we?”
“You have me there. I’m ready to confess.”
If possible, his eyes turned harder.
“When I was seven, I ate all of the cookies from Máma’s cookie jar. I blamed my brothers, and she never found out it was me.”
He roared with laughter. “And I have a confession. My sister didn’t push me into the river. I went there all on my own to wade, though Mutti warned me not to do so right before church.”
“The things we blame on our siblings. Will they ever forgive us?”
“My sister adores me. She said there was nothing to forgive. And I adore her right back.”
What was this? A tender side to the man?
He polished off the remainder of the basket’s contents. “I knew there was a less-serious side to you. I’m glad you showed me.”
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger was handsome, intelligent, and charming. He had a quick wit and knew how to carry a conversation. Everything she wanted in a man.
Everything she already had in Georg.
She shook her head.
As the sun slipped behind Prague’s colorful, time-worn buildings, the slight warmth of the day fled. The office darkened. Patricie shivered. “I need to get home. There are things I must attend to.”
He slid off his military jacket and slipped it around her shoulders. “Let me walk you there. You have never showed me your apartment.”
What did it matter? Most likely, he already knew. “That would be delightful. Thank you.”
He picked up the hamper and helped Patricie to her
feet. He held her hand the entire walk. It was warm and smooth yet strong. The stroll was only a couple of blocks, and they arrived in short order.
He nodded in approval. “Very nice. But I’ve seen the outside. It’s the inside I want a peek at.”
She shivered. “It’s an older building. The flats are small, but it’s just me, so I don’t mind. Nothing to see in there. The area was too good to pass up, with the shops and parks and restaurants nearby. I love to be in the middle of people. Máma always said I could never stand to miss out on anything.”
He pulled her closer and shushed her with a finger to her lips. “I do make you nervous.”
She shook her head. Her scalp prickled.
He leaned over and brushed her lips with his own. She quaked, and he tugged her even closer, his mouth pressing harder on hers.
He pulled away without warning. Then he stepped into the street where a child walked, his head down. “You filthy, vile Jew-boy. What are you doing here?”
The youngster kept his gaze focused on the cobblestone street. Hauptsturmführer Jaeger took a step toward him. “I asked you a question.”
“My apologies.”
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger spit at him.
Patricie wiped her mouth, bile rising in her throat. She should do something.
“You are nothing but trash. I should have you hauled away right here and now.”
The boy cowered.
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger slapped him on the cheek.
The screams piercing Patricie’s ears arose from her memory. From the day they took Eliška away. Her best friend. Her confidant. They had played together as children, grown up together, dreamed of their futures together.
Eliška had shrieked that day. Had cried as the officers led her away from the only place she’d ever called home. And what did they do to her? Bashed her on the head until she bled.
But still she wept.
And Patricie had done nothing but stand by and watch.
She wiped a tear from her cheek.
Her pulse pounded. She vaulted forward. “Stop it. He’s only a child.”
Tears streaked the boy’s gaunt face.
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger turned in her direction, his face hard and dark. “He’s vermin. Not fit to walk the same street as you. Women and children need to be protected from such as him.”