“What do you mean?” I look around to see if someone is hiding behind one of the chairs.
Kurt nudges Hans. “You tell him.”
Hans takes a long breath and looks important. “I was carrying up some packages for a man who was checking into the hotel. They weren’t wrapped very well and one of them came open. It was full of leaflets, hundreds of them.”
“What kind of a leaflet, and what’s that got to do with me?”
“You’re Jewish, aren’t you?” Hans says. “The leaflet said terrible things about Jews and how Germany was right to get rid of them and how they oughtn’t to be allowed to come back. The man arranged to have a meeting tomorrow night at the hotel. He’s distributing these leaflets to get people to come.” Hans pulls a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to me, holding it by the edge as if it might catch fire and burn him.
I read the leaflet. People of Rolfen are warned that more and more Jews are making their home here. They are building a synagogue. Soon, it says, the Jews will own the banks and take over the businesses. The leaflet instructs people to act before it’s too late and to refuse to rent or sell houses to Jews or to do business with them. It’s illustrated with ugly pictures of Jews. At first I feel fear, but soon the fear changes into anger and I’m furious. I think of Ruth’s paintings. What would it do to her if she were to see such a message? She would say she was right to paint such frightening pictures. I tear the leaflet in half, but what good does that do? There are hundreds more of them.
Hans says, “Maybe you ought to leave town, and you should tell your Jewish boss at the church.”
“Bist du verrückt? Are you crazy? Besides, Herr Schafer would never be scared into leaving town and I don’t intend to leave either.” Somehow in spite of the couple I overheard in Travemünde, I hadn’t believed Herr Schmidt and Herr Schafer when they told me that there were still people in Germany who hated Jews. Now that I had to believe them, what was I going to do? Hans and Kurt are looking at me, waiting to see. “I’m going to break up their meeting,” I say.
Kurt says, “You could get into trouble with the police,” but Hans jumps up and slaps me on the back.
“I’ll help you. I know the hotel backward and forward. We can figure out something.” I can see his mind racing. Knowing Hans, I suspect it isn’t so much a matter of stopping the meeting as the thrill of having some fun. “The meeting is at nine in the evening,” he says. “If we wait for a half hour or so, it will be dark.”
“So what? There are lights inside the room,” Kurt says.
Hans looks important. “I know where the fuse box is. All I would have to do is pull a lever and I could make the room dark in a second.”
“They’ll just light candles,” Kurt says. He isn’t convinced.
Hans says, “First they’ll have to find the candles, and I can see to it that they’re well hidden.”
I’m trying to think of something I read not long before in the Rolfen newspaper. Suddenly it comes to me. The article was about a new sprinkler system the hotel had placed in all the rooms in case of a fire. It’s the first sprinkler system to be installed in Rolfen, so the paper made a lot of it, saying the town is becoming up-to-date. I turn to Hans. “Do you know how the sprinkler system works?”
“Sure. Heat sets it off.”
I’m figuring things out as I go. “So if you hold a cigarette lighter up near the sensor, it will trigger the sprinklers?”
Hans catches on. “If you hold it up close enough, it will set the system off and everyone in the room will get soaked. Where will you get the lighter?”
“My father gave up smoking last New Year’s, so he never uses his cigarette lighter. He keeps it in his desk. You take care of the fuse box,” I say. “I’ll take care of the lighter.” We clasp hands.
Kurt looks unhappy. “What am I supposed to do?” All at once a look of inspiration lights his face. “Leave the rest to me,” he says.
Together Hans and I demand, “What are you planning?” Kurt only shakes his head. “You’ll find out tomorrow night.”
“We’re going to have to figure out everything to the minute,” I say. “It’ll have to be like an army invasion with split-second timing. Hans turns off the lights right at nine thirty. As soon as they go off, I hold the lighter up to the sprinkler system. But how am I going to get into the hotel, and how will I reach the sprinkler system? It must be up by the ceiling.”
“I’ll put a stepladder right next to the window. The windows are close to the ground and they’re always left open in the summer for meetings because the room gets hot and stinky from cigars. They won’t pay any attention to the ladder because they’re still doing a lot of repairs to the hotel. The minute the lights go out, you come in the window and climb up the ladder. I’ll put white tape on the rungs so you can see them. Use the lighter, and as soon as the sprinklers go off, climb out the window and take off.”
By the time Mother and Father get home, we have everything planned. Seeing us sitting huddled together, Mother asks, “What are the three of you up to? You all look like you got caught with your hands in the cookie jar.”
Hans gives Mom one of his goofy smiles. “We were just figuring out if we have enough money to go to the movie tomorrow night. It’s an American film about the war with Burt Lancaster.”
“The war!” Mother makes a face. “Why would you want to see a film about the war? All that is over with.”
Father pats Mother on the shoulder. “It’s only a movie, Emma. Let them have their night out; they’ve all been working hard this summer. They can’t get into mischief in a movie theater.” He pulls out some deutschmarks from his wallet and hands them to me. “The movie’s on me.”
The three of us head for the soccer field, eager to run off some of the excitement we feel. On the way we stop at the hotel kitchen to collect Gustav, who we have learned is a good soccer player. He whips off his apron and hurries away with us. “I’ve been working since five this morning. We’ve got a special dinner tomorrow night and I made Kaisersemmeln. They’re Viennese dinner rolls you have to fold in a special way. You make a little ball and then you pull out some wings from the little ball and fold them into the center with a special twist, like this—” Gustav does a little dance with his thumb and two fingers.
He wants to go into more detail about the Kaisersemmeln, but Hans interrupts him. “Hey, let’s go before it gets dark.” We don’t say anything to Gustav about our plans for the meeting. We could probably trust Gustav, but maybe he’d worry that his precious Kaisersemmeln would get all wet.
There are only the four of us, so Hans and Kurt stand together on an imaginary line, with Gustav and me across the field from them. They’re the defenders and we’re the attackers. They kick the ball to us and we try to get the ball over the line. Kurt stays back. Hans starts toward us. He’s looking for an opening to get the ball from us. After a while we switch partners and sides because Gustav is taller than we are and all over the field.
When it’s too dark to play anymore, we lay our sweaty bodies down on the cool evening grass and look up at the stars. It’s August and the time of year when you see falling stars.
Gustav says he’s dating Greta, who works as a cook’s helper at the hotel. “One day the two of us might open our own restaurant. Just a little place but everything fresh and tasty.”
I never give much thought to what I will do. I don’t want to spend my life laying bricks. Maybe I’ll be an architect like my father. I wish I knew what my birth father did. That would be something to consider as well.
Hans tells us he is taking Hilda Moser to the movies.
“She’s older than you,” Kurt says.
“Yeah, so I’ll learn something from her.”
I wonder if Ruth would go to the movies with me. I decide if she smiles at me when school starts, I’ll ask her.
Suddenly Hans shouts, “There, over there, a falling star.” Sure enough a star is hurtling down the dark sky.
K
urt says, “That’s not a star. That’s a meteoroid, little bits of rock and dust that fall into the earth’s atmosphere and burn up.”
The three of us jump on Kurt. “Say it’s a star,” we insist, pinning him down; but when we let him up he says, “Meteoroid.”
Twice the next day Herr Schafer has to get after me for not piling up the bricks properly. “What are you thinking about, Peter?” he asks. “Keep your mind on your work.” I want to confide in him, but something tells me that he wouldn’t approve.
Since I have already talked about going to the movies, there are no questions asked the next evening when I leave the house. Father calls out, “Have a good time.”
Hans is already across the street from the hotel waiting for me. A minute later Kurt arrives struggling with a big box. The box is moving in his arms and making strange sounds. “What’s in there?” Hans demands.
Kurt looks pleased with himself. “A pig.”
I can’t believe what I hear. “A pig! Where did you get a pig, and what are you doing with it here?”
“It’s only a little one. A farmer came into the butcher shop a couple of days ago with some pigs, and he had a litter of piglets in his truck. I begged Pa for one as a pet. He said I could have it until school starts and then it gets butchered.”
“I’m really happy that you can have a pig to play with,” I say, “but why is it here? We don’t have time to admire your new pet.”
Kurt waits a minute until he has our full attention. “I greased it real good with lard. After Peter climbs out of the window, the pig goes in. When it has had a little time to run around, Hans will turn the lights on and catch it.”
Hans and I look at each other and begin laughing. I clap Kurt on the shoulder. “You’re a genius.”
Kurt doesn’t deny it. “You’ll be sure and get my pig back?” he says, looking a little worried.
Hans promises, “Believe me, my one goal in life will be to get my arms around your pig.”
Across the street men, singly and in pairs, are beginning to go into the hotel. They look over their shoulders and shoot quick glances at one another. I thought the men would be ugly and threatening looking. Instead they look like everyone else. I recognize a man who has a tobacco shop where Father sometimes stops for a newspaper. I’ve often been there with Father, and the man has given me chewing gum. I begin to get cold feet. It’s one thing to break up a meeting of evil men, but these men look perfectly normal. Then I think about what the leaflets say and I get angry all over again.
“I’ve got to go,” Hans says. “The ladder is just inside the window. Have you got the lighter?”
I pat my pocket.
“Did you check to be sure it has fluid?”
“I’m not stupid,” I say. “I wasn’t planning to rub two sticks together. It’s all set to go.”
There’s no need to check my watch. The clock on the town hall is so close, it seems to look over our shoulders. When we hear it chime the quarter hour, we make our way to the window at the back of the hotel. No one is in sight. The front of the hotel is neatly landscaped, but the alley at the back is a jumble of old lumber and trash cans that stink of rotten potatoes and decaying vegetables. The kitchen must be nearby, because I can smell onions cooking. The smell makes my stomach turn over. When a rat scurries over my shoe, I have to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. Just as Hans promises, the window is open. In fact two windows are open. I haven’t planned on that. Which window is the right one? I look at Kurt.
“It must be the one that’s open all the way. You’d have trouble getting through the other one.” Crouched under the window, we can hear voices coming from the room, loud voices. “I tell you we have to act now!” someone is saying. “Why should we wait for a change in the government? By then the Jews will be in charge of all our businesses.”
The clock chimes the half hour. The lights go out. I can’t move. My feet are frozen to the ground. “Go ahead,” Kurt whispers, and gives me a little push. He bends over so I can climb on his back. The next thing I know, I’m dropping into the room. It’s pitch dark and men are moving around shouting complaints. Some of them are fumbling with their own cigarette lighters. We hadn’t counted on that. What if they see me before I can trigger the sprinklers? I feel for the ladder, and before I lose my nerve I scramble up the highlighted rungs. The first flick of the lighter doesn’t trigger a flame. I try again. The second time the flame flares up, illuminating the sprinkler pipes. I hold the lighter close to one of the sprinkler heads. For a moment nothing happens. I hear someone say, “What’s that light on the ceiling?”
Suddenly I feel a spray of water. The next minute I’m out in the alley. Kurt pushes me aside and holds up his box to the window. I hear a thud and then a loud squeal as the pig lands. There are cries of surprise and anger coming from all over the room as water gushes out of the pipes. Cries become shouts of “Catch it!” There are thuds of bodies crashing to the floor. A minute later the lights go on. We peek in the window. It’s chaos. Men are sitting or lying down, their suits soaked, their glasses at the ends of their noses, their hair plastered down with water. A couple of men are chasing the pig, but it slips out of their grasp. Suddenly right in the middle of everything there is Hans assuring the men he will catch the pig, which is trotting back and forth, squealing with terror.
Hans drops a tablecloth over the pig and scoops it up. Someone says, “That’s right. Get that fool animal out of here.” Hans hurries off with his armful of pig. A minute later he joins us, and the three of us hurry from the hotel as fast as we can, laughing so hard we can barely run.
With the pig safely in its box, we huddle together behind some houses waiting for my hair and shirt to dry in the warm summer night while keeping an eye on the movie to see when it’s over. We keep telling one another what happened. “They were falling down like bowling pins,” Hans said.
“That was my pig,” Kurt boasts.
“I just walked in and scooped it up,” Hans says, “and one of the men gave me three deutschmarks.”
“I should get half,” Kurt said. “You couldn’t have caught the pig if I hadn’t put it there.”
Hans says, “I’ve got some money saved. I’ll add it to that and buy a new size-five soccer ball and we can all use it.” Kurt, who loves soccer as much as he loves telling people what to do, is satisfied.
The doors of the movie theater open and people began to stream out. I give my wet hair a final pat and button Hans’s sweater over my damp shirt. We shake hands and solemnly promise never to reveal what we have done; then we all head in different directions, the sound of Hans whistling following me for the first block.
Mother and Father are sitting on the steps of the front porch having their nighttime cups of tea. “Well, how was the movie?” Father asks.
“It was great. Lots of excitement.”
“Not nearly as much excitement as there was at the hotel tonight.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well,” Mother says, “Herr Heintz next door was at the bar of the hotel having a beer and there was some sort of meeting in the next room. Suddenly all the lights went out. A minute later the sprinkler system was triggered. According to Heintz the men at the meeting were up to no good. Anyhow, they all got soaked, and what’s more, a greased pig got loose in their midst.”
Father says, “Whatever those men were up to, I don’t think they’ll be having any more meetings here in Rolfen. Too bad you were at the movies and missed all the fun.”
FOURTEEN
I LONG TO TELL Herr Schafer about our adventure, but I don’t want to get Hans or Kurt into trouble. I have pledged silence and I won’t break my word. Herr Schafer arrives at work with his dinner as well as his lunch pail. “Why are you bringing your dinner with you?” I ask.
“Some friends and I are turning an old building into a synagogue, and we want to finish the work before the cold weather comes. I lay bricks all day and then I do the same until dark.” He l
aughs. “At night I dream about laying bricks.”
“Dad showed me the plans for your synagogue. Maybe I could help you.” I’m curious about what a synagogue looks like. Besides, Herr Schafer works on our church, so I don’t see why I can’t work on his synagogue.
“By all means come and help, but only if it’s agreeable to your parents and only for an occasional evening. Your vacation is coming to an end, and you won’t want to spend the few evenings you have left laying bricks.”
After supper that evening I slip out of the house, saying nothing to my parents, for I could see my going to the dinner with the Kassels worried them. Every time I get ready to leave the house, they ask me in roundabout ways what I’m going to do and who I’m going to be with. I’m not going to lie to my parents, but I don’t want to cause them any more worry, so on this night I sneak out while they’re listening to the evening news on the radio.
I have no trouble finding the little house Herr Schafer and his friends are turning into a synagogue. One tumbledown wall and half of a second wall have been repaired. Herr Schafer and Herr Kassel welcome me, but the third man, a Herr Schocken, only nods in a brusk way and, glowering at me, goes on with his carpentry work.
Herr Schafer explains, “We have more than ten Jewish men now in Rolfen, which means that we can have our own house of prayer. Several gather here every day and a few men come twice a day.” Church twice a day! I am suddenly less enthusiastic about the Jewish religion. Herr Schafer sees the look on my face, and laughing, he says, “I’m afraid I’m not so observant. I come only once a week and on holidays.”
He takes me inside to show me the building, which surprises me, because the inside is nearly finished. “We’re working from the inside out so we can have services. Christians have an altar, Peter; we have the Holy Ark, which contains the Torah.” Sheltering the ark is a velvet curtain. Herr Schafer says it was sewn by Mrs. Kassel. “This stand is like a pulpit. It’s where we read the Torah.” There is a lantern with a little light in it. “The eternal light,” he explains, “to remind us of the lamp in the Temple in Jerusalem, which never went out.”
After the Train Page 9