The Melody of the Soul

by Liz Tolsma

  How would Meier feel if someone hunted down his loved ones like they were animals?

  A click interrupted his musings as Meier entered. “Hauptmann Engel, I’m surprised to see you here. You made your decision quite clear the last time we spoke.”

  “I want to apologize for that. I was out of line for speaking in such a manner. I am flattered by the offer. What I would like to know, before I give my final answer, is a little bit more about the position.”

  Meier stared at him for a long minute, his green eyes hard. “Why?”

  Horst squirmed under the scrutiny, taking a long drag on his smoke. “My father would be disappointed if I didn’t at least hear you out.”

  “You want to appease your father? That is why you are here? But I heard your argument with him. You sounded like your mind was pretty much made up.”

  Horst steadied his breath. Meier had cut through his façade fast enough. “You may yet be able to convince me this is the best move for me.” He offered Meier a cigarette.

  The man sat behind the metal desk and accepted, pressing his thin lips around the roll of tobacco. “Don’t flatter me. Your little sniveling visit here isn’t impressing me. You were foolish to turn down the offer, but brave enough to say so to my face. Now that you’re afraid of your father, you come groveling. Go back to him. You aren’t worthy to be an officer in the German army.”

  Horst’s heart hammered in his throat as he made his way across Theresienstadt’s ghetto in search of David. His meeting with Meier had not gone the way he’d hoped. The man was too perceptive, something Horst hadn’t counted on. How foolish to think he could waltz into that office and not have Meier see right through him.

  He thumped his head. From now on, he had to watch his every step. He couldn’t afford to be so careless.

  The sights and smells of the place no longer assaulted him the way they had on his first few visits. He had become desensitized to the eye-watering odor of decaying flesh, the stomach-churning smell of excrement. It must be the same for everyone. How could a man work here without hardening his soul? How could anyone survive here without shutting out the worst of the suffering?

  That must be why the Nazis demanded the orchestra practice and perform. For a little while, they could all erase what they had become or what was happening to them. The way the music allowed his mother to forget. Him to forget. Anna to forget.

  The early spring chill seeped through his heavy wool coat. How had Theresienstadt’s residents born the awful cold with their thin clothes in their unheated living spaces? He shivered, not entirely because of the weather.

  The full orchestra played tonight. If David were among the performers, it would make it easier to locate him and less conspicuous to talk to him. This time, Horst didn’t sit in a seat up front but leaned against the wall in the back of the concrete former warehouse. The masses huddled together, most likely glad for the reprieve from the icy wind.

  Oberleutnant Meier entered, and Horst slunk farther into the corner. Maybe the man wouldn’t notice him. From the arrogant tilt of his chin to the way he strode toward the best chair in the front, he hadn’t.

  Horst picked David from the group of musicians. He had lost weight and coughed more than the last time Horst visited. For any plan to work, they needed to act as soon as possible, before David’s condition worsened.

  The conductor stepped to the front and the music began. Horst relaxed and lost himself in Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony.

  All too soon, the performance ended. The crowd cheered. All except for the Germans in attendance. They turned a cool shoulder to their prisoners and left in much the same haughty manner as they entered.

  The room emptied little by little. Horst waited until almost everyone had left before approaching David. He tried to make his way up front in as casual a manner as possible. Even so, his stomach jumped in his midsection.

  The ideas fell together like parts of an auto. What he was about to undertake was as risky as it got. He stopped and scribbled something on a scrap of paper.

  But, if his plan succeeded, the payoff would be as big as they came.

  “Engel, what are you still doing here?”

  Horst jumped as if a gun went off next to his head. He spun around. Meier strode down the aisle. “The orchestra enticed me.”

  “For that, you are easily enticed. It makes me wonder about you. I come back for the handkerchief I left and find you moving to the front. Toward the Jews.”

  “I thought I saw a Guarneri violin. One of the most prized makers in the world. I meant to inquire where a Jew would get an instrument like that.”

  “And now you are a musical instrument expert?”

  “I know enough.”

  “You would recognize one?”

  “As you stated, I’m not an expert. But I might.”

  “Who has it?”

  A dribble of sweat rolled down Horst’s back. What now? Would pointing out a specific player send them to their death? He fingered the piece of paper in his pocket before nodding in David’s direction.

  Meier waved his hand. “You there, come here. And bring your instrument.”

  The wide-eyed young man’s hands shook as he made his way forward. Horst prayed he didn’t own a Guarneri violin.

  Meier glared at Anna’s brother. “Who is the maker of that instrument?”

  Horst held his breath.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Meier smacked him across the face.

  Horst flinched.

  “Don’t be impertinent. Tell me who made it.”

  David swallowed hard. “It isn’t labeled. Possibly German, that’s all I know.”

  “A professional with a violin of unknown origin. You want me to believe it?”

  David nodded. “My better one was confiscated. This is the one I was given to play when I arrived here.”

  Horst stepped forward. “Permit me, Oberleutnant Meier, to have a look.”

  David passed him the violin. As they made the swap, Horst pressed the piece of paper into David’s hand. Closing one eye, he peered through the F hole. He stood. “Have a look for yourself, Oberleutnant Meier. No label. If it had been a Guarneri, it would have had one. He was one of the most consistent label makers of all time.”

  Meier inspected the instrument himself. Satisfied at last, he returned the violin to David. “You may go.” Once Anna’s brother shuffled away, Meier turned to Horst. “I don’t ever want to see you here again. You have no business in this place. If I discover you, I will have to assume you have some nefarious business and will have you arrested. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly.”

  Too perfectly clear.

  Anna tucked the blanket around Babička’s shoulders and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Have a good nap.” Since the incident with her heart, Babička was more tired and spent most of the afternoon resting.

  “Thank you, beruško. You are a good girl. But isn’t it a bit chilly in here? I could use another blanket.”

  Even with winter departing and spring entering, Babička couldn’t get warm. They hadn’t been as cold this year because of Hauptmann Engel. The Germans made sure he had heat, unlike the Jews, who were forbidden from purchasing coal. She opened the wardrobe’s door and dug out the heavy quilt from the bottom. As she did so, something clattered to the floor.

  She picked up the little tin train with a string to pull it across the room. It was old, the paint chipped in several places. Well worn. Well loved.

  Still shoved in here.

  She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the child’s cries and those of his parents. Where were they? What had happened to them? Lord, don’t let them have met the same fate as Máma and Táta.

  Hauptmann Engel told her he’d found it in the flat and hid it in the cabinet. Did he have a heart? Did he wonder about the boy who spent many happy hours playing with this toy? Perhaps he’d had a train like this that he loved as a child.

  How could people be so cruel? She didn’t und
erstand what made them turn their backs on the good and do evil.

  She picked up the train and fingered the small smokestack, spun one of the wheels.

  “What do you have there?”

  Anna turned. “The little boy who lived here left it behind. Hauptmann Engel discovered it and stored it in here.”

  Babička smiled. “Your uncle had one like that as I recall. He loved it. All day long he pulled it behind himself. The clatter almost drove me crazy. I would tell him to put it away and five minutes later, he would have it out again. What I would give to have him pulling that thing around the flat once more.”

  Babička’s son, Anna’s uncle, went to America eight years ago, and Babička hadn’t seen him since. “Do you wish you would have emigrated with Uncle Ivan? He perceived what was coming, felt the undercurrents, the rumblings of persecution, and didn’t want to take any chances. He ran when he could. Do you think you should have gone, too?”

  “You can look back on your life and wish you had made different decisions, or you can look at the here and now and thank the Lord for what He has given you.”

  Anna set the toy on the bedside table and covered Babička with the red and blue quilt. “I don’t want the philosophical answer. I want your heart answer.”

  Babička worried the edge of the coverlet. “That is a difficult question.”

  “I wish we would have.”

  “Don’t you remember? At the time, you didn’t want to. You cried to your parents and you cried to me about how much you would miss your friends and how you wouldn’t be able to speak the language and not be able to go to the conservatory to study when you got old enough.”

  Yes. Anna had been a stubborn teenager who wanted her way, pouting for months until Máma and Táta dropped the idea. She sat down hard on the bed, almost on top of Babička’s legs. “It was my fault they didn’t go. They would be alive if not for me.”

  “Ne, not at all. They weren’t swayed by your theatrics.”

  “Then why didn’t they leave?”

  “It isn’t the easiest thing to pick up your life and everything you’ve ever known and move to a different country. There is a new language to learn, a new culture to adapt to. Though your uncle insisted it wasn’t the case, they were convinced that what was happening in Germany would never affect them.

  “They enjoyed a comfortable life here. Czechoslovakia was prosperous, and they benefited from that good fortune. Your father had an excellent job as head of the accounting department with Škoda autos. The city teemed with musicians, artists, philosophers, and they wanted to be a part of the vibrancy that was Prague. They weren’t ready to leave it behind.”

  “I wish they would have gone. We could be together now. What a different life we would have had.”

  “But it wasn’t the one God wanted for us. You’re dwelling on things you can’t change. Focus on what you can.”

  Anna fussed with the covers. “Have a good nap.” She shut the bedroom door behind her. Yes, Babička spoke the truth. God had a different plan for them. But her heart railed against that. Why couldn’t His plan have been for them to go to America?

  Too many questions today that didn’t have answers. Too much that left her frightened and confused.

  She lifted the violin case’s lid and stroked the silky tiger-maple wood. The instrument laughed with her and cried with her. In her hands, it came alive. She came alive.

  Images flashed in front of her. America’s big farms, grain waving in the breeze. Palm trees on sandy beaches, the scent of salt in the air. Its bustling cities and skyscrapers reaching to the heavens. A land flowing with milk and honey.

  She slammed the lid shut. Perhaps she would go lay down with Babička. She couldn’t look out of the window, couldn’t even walk around much or turn on the lights.

  “Why, Máma? Why, Táta? Why did you leave me? Why couldn’t we be together? God, why was all of this in Your will?”

  Yes, she was living in the past, trying to change things she couldn’t. But how did you let go of all you loved?

  Then someone knocked. She held her breath. Go away. Please, go away.

  The sound came again, this time accompanied by an insistent whisper. “Anna. Anna, open up.”

  “Jakub?” She tiptoed to the door.

  “Yes, it’s Jakub. Let me in before someone sees me.”

  She undid the lock, and he slipped inside.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “That’s a nice way to greet a friend.” He dropped a peck on her cheek. He’d been sweet on her for a long time, but she didn’t share his views the way David did. “It’s dangerous for you to be here.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out.” He rubbed his head, his black hair wilder than ever. “I came to see you one last time.”

  “One last time?”

  He offered her a crooked smile, but his hazel eyes held no trace of laughter. “For now, anyway.”

  “But you’re a member of the Jewish council. You have an important job. They can’t send you away.”

  “It seems that I’ve worked myself out of a position.”

  “That’s impossible, ne?”

  “The Germans have managed to cleanse Prague of almost all its Jews. It is a racially pure city, just like they wanted.”

  She clutched the back of the sofa. “No more Jews? That can’t be.”

  “I’m sure there are some in hiding. That is why you have to be more careful than ever. You cannot be seen on the streets, no matter what. You can’t use the excuse of not getting your deportation notices anymore.”

  A lump developed in the back of Anna’s throat, and she swallowed it away. Jakub’s friendship with David had caused a rift in their family, but she couldn’t deny he had been good to them, keeping her and Babička off the deportation lists for as long as he did.

  “Is there a message you want me to bring to David?”

  Her day brightened. “Oh yes, would you? Wait a moment.” She scampered to Hauptmann Engel’s little desk and drew out a sheet of paper and a pen.

  Jakub followed her. “You can’t write one. If the Nazis find it, they will know I had contact with you. They would—”

  She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  He spun her to face him, his eyes and cheeks hollow. “You have to promise me that from now on you will think. Think about every little move you make, every little word you say. Don’t do anything without thinking. Taking a moment to ponder the consequences might save your life and your grandmother’s.”

  “Oh, Jakub.”

  He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace, tears flowing down her face. At this moment, the family differences didn’t matter. Besides her grandmother, he was her last link to the past. Her last link to a way a life that was lost forever. She spoke into his age-

  softened shirt. “Tell David that I love him. That I miss him so much it hurts. Be sure he knows that we’re well and safe. Tell him that we pray for him without ceasing.”

  Jakub stroked her hair. “I’m sure that will be a comfort to him.”

  “And we’ll pray for you, too, Jakub. We’ll pray that you are able to stay off the transport lists there. And that you will know God’s peace.”

  Before all of this, Jakub would have objected to such religious sentiments. Today, he didn’t. Perhaps God was softening his heart. Perhaps God would soften David’s heart as well.

  She had to say good-bye to him. To all of them.

  “Anna.”

  She hadn’t heard the flat’s door click open.

  Hauptmann Engel stood just inside, thunder breaking across his face. He clenched his fists. Commanded her in German. “I demand to know who this man is and why he’s in my apartment.”

  Blood whooshed through her ears. She couldn’t formulate a sentence if her life depended on it.

  Did it?

  Patricie opened the door to her little flat and a gust of spring wind ushered in Hauptsturmführer Jae
ger. He wore his finest dress uniform, jet black with a red armband, a silver eagle on the right breast, and a white bow tie around his neck.

  Now that she’d stopped working for the resistance, there was no reason why he shouldn’t come here. She had tired of making up excuses to keep him away, even though she now broadcast her status as a Nazi girlfriend.

  She steeled herself.

  He kissed her cheek as he entered, his lips cold. “Hello, my little bird. You look lovely tonight.”

  She smoothed her red dress over her stomach. “Always good to see you.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

  “Why do you never seem to mean that?”

  She took out her best smile and put it on. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I always anticipate your arrival, counting down the days until you come for me.” That much was the truth.

  “But you are so sad.”

  Sad because she missed her work and hated herself for what she had become. “If that is the case, there is one thing you can do to cheer me.”

  “Name it.”

  “Take me to the store and buy me a new coat.” The words slipped unrehearsed from her lips, but as they did, she formulated a plan. She might as well get all she could from him, not for herself, but for the Jews in hiding. Perhaps at some point, all of it would come in handy. Maybe one of these days, she could be useful again.

  He tipped his head and studied her as if seeing her with fresh eyes. “You have never asked for anything before.”

  “There is a first time, isn’t there? But if I’m to be seen around the city with you, shouldn’t I look the part? You can hardly bring me to parties and concerts when I’m frumpy. Please?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you wish. Tomorrow, we shall go. Tonight, it is time for a concert. Are you ready?”

  She made great show of slipping on her truly threadbare red coat, her black peep-toes, and a pair of stained white gloves. He glanced at her hands.

  “I’ll keep them in my pockets.”

  “Perhaps we will need to add those to the shopping list.” He escorted her from the building to the car waiting at the curb. While she didn’t deserve to enjoy the good things that came her way because of her relationship with him, she couldn’t help but be glad for the warm, comfortable automobile.