by Liz Tolsma
And he had to go to practice yet tonight. If he could only curl up on his pallet and sleep away the war.
“Schnell, schnell.”
The German guard’s attention landed on him. The consequences if he fell too far behind were unthinkable. With everything left inside of him, he lifted his legs.
They burned. The world spun. Blackness crouched at the corners of his vision. He breathed in. Coughed. The blackness seeped further into his consciousness.
Voices around him drifted like they were underwater.
A guard shouted at Egon. “Keep going.”
“My friend.” Egon turned his attention to David. “You have to get moving. Don’t give up.”
Over Egon’s shoulder, the soldier lifted his weapon.
“Nein. Halten sie.”
A familiar voice. Who?
“What do you want?” The guard didn’t lower his gun.
“Don’t strike that man.”
Hauptmann Engel. David’s worst nightmare. Anna’s savior.
The soldier stared at the officer with hard, hazel eyes. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Hauptmann Engel peered at David as if he didn’t know who he was. Then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped into an O. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
“He can’t keep up with the others. He’s useless.”
“He’s ill.”
The guard took three steps forward until he stood mere centimeters from Hauptmann Engel. “Are you a Jew lover?”
“Nein.”
“But you care what happens to this man. That makes you a Jew lover in my book.”
“I care that you have enough men to fill your work detail.”
Hauptmann Engel’s counterpart snickered. “Look around you. There are plenty of men to work. One more or less doesn’t make a difference to me.”
“Let me take care of him, then.”
The guard glanced all around. Would he strike the officer? Kill them both? David should be frightened, but he didn’t have the energy.
After a long moment, the guard backed down. “Have it your way.” He returned to his duty. “Let’s go. Nothing more to see here.” He herded the men away.
As soon as the group marched out of hearing range, Hauptmann Engel knelt in the mucky road beside David. “What’s wrong?”
David struggled to sit, backing away. “My life is nothing to me, but yours should mean something to you. If not yours, my sister’s.” Another coughing fit stole his breath. He wiped his dirty sleeve across his bloody mouth.
“You’re the one who is sick.”
David’s head hurt. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing? You’re getting yourself labeled as a Jew lover. Good enough to get you shipped east if you’re lucky, shot if you’re not. And I’m not going to get either chance because my many roommates will beat me to a pulp first. Can’t you go away and mind your own business?”
“If I minded my own business, your sister would be here instead of safe inside my apartment. And your grandmother . . .” Without asking, he grabbed David under the shoulders and lifted him to his feet. “There is a hospital here?”
“Just take me to my room. There is nothing they can do for me at the hospital.”
“How do you know? For Anna’s sake, you have to get better. You and your grandmother are all she has left.”
“Why do you care so much about my sister?”
“I care about all people.”
If he had the strength, David would have spat. “A German who cares about all people? Impossible. They are mutually exclusive.”
They made their way through the ghetto one small step at a time. “Not all Germans are evil. My mutti isn’t. She is a good, Christian woman.”
“In my estimation, being Christian doesn’t make her good. I bet that more than ninety percent of these Nazis grew up in the church. And what a lot of good it did for me. Look at where being a Christian got me.” He would have spat again.
They walked in silence for several minutes.
“You’re surprised to hear that from me, aren’t you?” David leaned more on Hauptmann Engel the farther they walked.
“Ja, I suppose I am. After listening to Anna and your grandmother, I assumed you all to be Christians. Though she did mention you were estranged from your parents.”
“Because I didn’t share their faith. Imagine that. Aren’t Christians supposed to love everyone?” Yet, his heart twinged. His family. Gone. Everyone gone. He bit back the tears.
“Did you manage to talk to them while they were here?”
“Worried that I didn’t make my peace with them when I had the chance?” They had to stop as David coughed again. The frequent fits now lasted longer, sending cold shivers down his spine.
He had seen his parents here at the camp. They’d spoken a few times. The last time . . . Oh, if only he could go back and relive that moment. He’d stomped away after another argument with Táta. He’d give his last crumb of bread for a chance to see his parents one more time.
What would have been so hard about listening to them? Speaking kind words to them instead of shouting at them in a vain attempt to get them to listen to his philosophies?
“Won’t you let me know what is wrong?”
“You’ll run home and tell Anna and Babička, and I don’t want them to worry.” David had never met anyone so bent on giving assistance. Why had this officer singled him out?
“I won’t share it with them if you don’t want me to. But I’d like to know so I can help.”
“You can help by leaving me alone.” David sucked in his breath at the venom in his weak voice. “Go away and forget about me.”
Hauptmann Engel tightened his grip. “If you think I’m doing this for you, you’re wrong. Are you happy about that admission? I’m doing it for your sister. When I met you, I had to tell her about you. And now she wants me to keep in touch with you. She can’t receive your postcards anymore. Without me, she is cut off from the only family she has left, other than your grandmother. Think of her rather than yourself.”
“I am thinking of her.” Perhaps if the man knew the truth, he would leave him alone. “I’m dying.”
Patricie sat at her small kitchen table, her cold hands clutching a cup of bitter ersatz coffee. The chill in the flat seeped deeper than into her flesh. It permeated her very soul.
She couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept in countless nights. The little Jewish boy’s innocent face haunted her dreams. The memories of his screams blended with the memories of Eliška’s cries.
No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake the images of them being dragged away to their deaths.
She wiped a tear from her face. Why hadn’t she done more to protect either of them? One, the sister of her soul. The other, a helpless child. She’d stood by, hands at her sides, mouth clamped shut, as those vile Nazis carted them away to an uncertain fate. She was no better than the Germans who committed these crimes.
Since the day those brutes beat her dearest friend and hauled her away, Patricie had worked to stop the Nazis from hurting anyone else. Her acquaintances from the conservatory. Shopkeepers whose stores she frequented. Complete strangers.
Yet she hadn’t helped her friend. Or the little boy.
Paul in the Bible held the cloaks of those who stoned Stephen, giving his approval to the dastardly deed.
That was her.
That was what she had become.
She swirled her coffee. If only she could drown in the depths of it.
A knock came at the door. She sloshed her drink, stumbled to the door, half-drunk on lack of sleep, and opened it.
Georg stood on her threshold. On most days, her heart thrilled to see him. Not today. Not after she became a disgrace to their cause. “Come in.” She stood to the side, and he entered.
“You look worse than my cat after I give him a bath.”
“Not today, Georg.” She turned from him.
He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. “What’
s wrong?”
If she spoke, she would burst into tears. Instead, she broke from his grasp, grabbed the coffee pot from the stove, and poured him a cup. He sat at the table and drank the offering.
Patricie took a swig of the bitter brew. “I think spring is on its way very soon. No more damp, chilly days.”
“I hope you’re right. The world is a better, happier place in the sunshine.”
“Perhaps when the war is over, I’ll move to Naples. Or Barcelona. Some place where the sun always shines.” Away from her crimes.
He touched her hand. “Patricie, this isn’t like you. We don’t talk about the weather. We’ve known each other too long. We have important work to do.”
She recoiled at his touch. “What is the matter with chatting with a friend? Does it have to always be about the work?”
He gazed at her, his green eyes as dark as a pine tree. “You know I can’t stay long. I’m only here for a few minutes to check on you.”
“I needed a little bit of lightness before we got down to why you are here. Life doesn’t have to be about the war all of the time.”
“You’re wrong. The war dominates everything we do. Every part of our lives. It consumes every waking moment.”
She slid her chair away from the table and stood, knocking over her cup, spilling the last few sips of the fake coffee. She ran for a rag and wiped up the mess.
And then her tears flowed. Fast and furious. Unabated.
Georg wrenched the dish cloth from her grasp and took her in his arms. He stroked her back and whispered in her ear. He did what she’d longed for him to do for many years.
But not now. Not like this.
She broke away, leaning back on her haunches, sobbing.
He touched her knee. “Please, darling, please. Tell me what is wrong.”
She shook her head.
“Whatever it is, just say it.”
She swallowed her tears and forced her voice to work. “I want out. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
The hardest, most heart-wrenching words she ever uttered.
Anna braced herself against the wind, a breeze that hadn’t mussed her hair in a few weeks, a gust that burned her cheeks. Ah, how good. How free.
She hurried toward Doctor Skala’s office, her head down, her eyes averted. Lord, let him be trustworthy. Send a cover of protection.
So as not to draw attention to herself, she measured her steps, yet her mind raced far ahead. The Nazis didn’t allow Jews to go to Aryan doctors. According to the law, no Czech physician could treat a Jew. Even if he didn’t know about their notices and didn’t turn them in, grave danger hung over them both. If the Germans discovered them, they would take both Anna and the doctor away.
But Babička. Whatever the cost, Anna had to be brave. She had to do this so Babička would live.
Not far now. Just a few more blocks. Her racing heart calmed a little. Everything would turn out fine. No need to doubt that.
A tap at her shoulder sent her jumping almost as high as the moon. She covered her mouth to keep from screaming. She whirled around, shaking. Who would she see? An acquaintance from church? A German soldier?
“Jakub.” She took a deep breath.
David’s friend scrunched his thick eyebrows. “Your names appeared on the deportation list. I thought you left for Terezín.”
She pulled him to the side and lowered her voice. “We’re in hiding.”
Now he raised his brows as his hazel eyes widened. “You don’t look very well hidden to me.”
“It’s Babička’s heart. I need medicine for her.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you being followed?”
“Ne. I don’t think so. I don’t know why I would be. The Germans believe I’m gone.”
Was it even safe for her to speak to Jakub? She inched away.
“Who is hiding you?”
“The German officer downstairs from our flat.”
Jakub tousled his dark, curly hair. “You moved downstairs with a Nazi, and you think you’re in hiding?”
“There is a place for us in the cellar when we need to disappear. Otherwise, we don’t make noise during the day when Hauptmann Engel isn’t home.” Precious moments ticked away for Babička while she tried to make Jakub see what she did. “I have to go and get that medicine.”
“Anna, you have lost your mind. You can’t trust this man.”
“But we can trust God.”
“You sound like your grandmother. He’ll turn you in the first chance he gets.”
She leaned closer to Jakub. “What other choice did we have? Our time was up. We were on the way out the door when he took us in. So what difference does it make? If he turns us in, and why would he when he would be in trouble himself, we end up at the same place we would have if we went when our notices came. This way, I might have bought Babička some time. But only if I get her that medicine.”
Without waiting for Jakub to answer, she hurried on her way. He was right, of course. She couldn’t trust Hauptmann Engel. She couldn’t trust anyone. Even Jakub.
And certainly not Dr. Skala. Before she was ready, she reached his house on a tree-lined street. She stared at the imposing, pink-painted, three-story residence, nestled in a row of similar homes. She shouldn’t be here. Her presence spelled trouble for herself. And for him.
With feet that might as well have had weights tied to them, she climbed the stone steps to the front door. He had always been good to her family. He’d delivered her and her siblings, cared for her grand-
father when he became ill, and set Táta’s broken arm when he fell on an icy street.
But that was all before the Germans had prohibited Aryan doctors from treating Jewish patients. She squared her shoulders and lifted the knocker. A young woman answered. “May I help you?”
“I need to see Dr. Skala, please.”
The brown-haired, blue-eyed maid studied Anna’s coat. She looked down. Much to her horror, there remained the darker outline of the star. Over the years, the material around it faded. Though she took it off, the shadow of it stayed.
“I’m sorry. He can’t help you.” The maid moved to close the door.
Anna stepped on the threshold and blocked the way. “I need to speak to him. That’s all. I’m not here for treatment.” Were treatment and medication the same thing?
“What are you doing? There is nothing I can help you with. Nothing he can do for you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.”
She hadn’t come this far to fail. “I’m not going until I see Dr. Skala.”
“I can’t do this anymore.” The words burned Patricie’s tongue. “I’m not going to work with you. Or with the resistance at all.”
Georg stared at her as if she had grown two horns and a beard. “You aren’t serious.”
“I am.” She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket, wiped her nose, and then lifted the floorboard underneath her small kitchen table. She drew out stacks of ration cards and forged papers her brother had given her. “Here.” She held them out to Georg.
He shook his head. “Patricie, please. Think about this more. We need you. All those Jews in hiding depend on you. Who will take over your work? You know the names of them all, where they are, who they are with, who will accommodate more.”
“Someone will step up.”
“You know how hard that is. Not since Heydrich decimated the resistance. Even since his assassination, it’s almost impossible to recruit workers. Everyone is afraid of more reprisals, afraid of the streets running red with blood again, afraid of more towns like Lidice being wiped off the map.”
She shivered, the horror of those days less than two years ago still fresh in her mind.
“Not to mention that your brother can come and go here without anyone giving a second thought. He’s a vital link between you and the rest of the movement.”
“That’s not true anymore.”
Georg rubbed his temples. “What’s not true?”
“My brother can no longer visit me here.”
He paled. “Has something happened to him?”
She picked a string from her sleeve. “Ne.”
“Are you being watched? Do you need to move?”
“Moving me won’t make a difference.”
“Then the Germans have you under surveillance?”
“You could say that.”
“Why aren’t you being direct with me? Why am I fishing for information?” He touched her cheek.
The tears threatened to spill over once more. “Circumstances have changed.”
“We’ve been friends for more years than I can count. You know how I feel.”
And she had planned to reveal her love for him one day. But that was never going to happen now. “I’m dating a German officer.”
Patricie couldn’t look at Georg. He inhaled a sharp breath. “Ne.” He whispered the word.
She carried the dirty rag she used to mop up the coffee to the sink and washed it out, keeping her back to him. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him any of your secrets. Our secrets. But you see now why I have to cut all ties with the movement. It isn’t prudent for me to continue the work. Not for anyone.” Could he read between the lines? Tell that Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s presence in her life wasn’t her choice? Cutting off Georg like this was like cutting off one of her own fingers.
“I can’t believe you would do this to me. To us.”
If only she could tell him this wasn’t voluntary. But after what she had done, or hadn’t done, she didn’t deserve to be part of the resistance. Because she didn’t stand up for that boy, didn’t try to save his life no matter the cost to her own, she couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing in any given situation. “I’m doing this to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I’m a grown man. It’s the little kids, the old people, the helpless who need protecting. Who is going to get the identity cards for us?”
“I will give you my brother’s information. You can contact him and get the books from him. I’ll even tell him to expect you. That won’t be a problem.”