The Stranger From Berlin

by Melissa Amateis

  ‘Well, what I’m going to tell you next isn’t going to make it any easier, that’s for sure.’

  All thoughts of intimacy fled. Oh no. There was more?

  ‘I am almost afraid to ask.’

  ‘It’s about you working at the museum.’

  Here it came. The news that he’d been banished from one of the few bright spots in his life.

  ‘The board doesn’t want you to work in the museum right now.’

  It stung, painfully so. He’d been given a glimpse of joy and sanctuary only to have darkness blot it out.

  ‘And,’ Jenni continued, ‘they want all of the German books removed from the library.’

  The absurdity of the situation hit him and he couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

  ‘Mein Gott. I should have stayed in Germany!’

  ‘I know it’s completely ridiculous,’ Jenni said, ‘but Celia has decided to just put the books in the cottage. That way you can still catalogue them if you want. And it will give you something to do until all of this’ – she waved her hands in the air – ‘is sorted out.’

  The only way ‘this’ would ever be sorted out was if he just gave up, gave them the confession they wanted, and let Williams put him in jail or an internment camp.

  My little pessimist. Always so negative.

  Max’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. Why did he still hear Ilsa’s voice? Why couldn’t she just leave him the hell alone? He hated this defeatist thinking, but changing it required more strength than he had right now.

  ‘Please give Mrs Draper my thanks for arranging that,’ he said. ‘But am I correct in assuming the board does not know of this plan?’

  ‘Of course not. And they don’t need to know.’ Jenni covered a yawn with her hand and glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘I need to go.’

  Exhaustion came off her in waves and he instinctively put his arm around her waist to help her up. For just a moment, she leaned against him and, suddenly, she felt so very small and vulnerable, nothing like the whirlwind of fierce energy he’d grown accustomed to.

  ‘Jenni, are you all right?’

  He expected her to wave him off and say she was fine, thank you very much, but instead, her chin dropped to her chest and she let out a long sigh.

  ‘Oh, Max, I am so very tired.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  That brought her head up and she chuckled. ‘Now you’re the one offering help?’

  ‘Of course. I consider you a friend. And friends help one another.’

  A small smile played at the corner of her lips. ‘Thank you, Max.’ Her smile faded. ‘But I’m afraid there isn’t much anyone can do. I have to be going now. I’ll stop by soon, all right?’

  Max could do nothing but accept her cryptic answer. After she’d gone, he lit a cigarette and then poured himself a shot of whisky. He downed it, then poured another, larger one. There’d been desperation in Jenni’s gaze just now. Something was wrong but she wasn’t talking. And why should she share her troubles with him? She knew what he faced, and she wasn’t the type of person to add her own worries to the pile.

  Trudy used to confide in him. As a child, his little sister had delighted in regaling him with her fantastical dreams full of rabbits and canaries and tiny tea parties, and more than once she’d pulled him into her fairy-tale games at Oma and Opa’s house in the Black Forest where they wielded sword branches against giant tree spiders. But as she grew older and the girls at school teased her for her intricate drawings of fairies and magical beings, Max became her champion and her confidant. When Mama told her to quit crying over such foolishness, Trudy would immediately run to Max and he would hold her on his lap while she told him the sordid tales of how Helga Thiessen called her names or how Johann Von Loomis kept pinching her arm and calling her a dumpkopf.

  By the time Max left to go to Berlin, Trudy had bloomed into a beautiful young woman and an incredibly gifted artist. He hated to leave her behind. When he came home for the first time after meeting Ilsa, it was Trudy who knew something fundamental had changed in her brother. And she did not approve.

  Now, Trudy was most likely dead, blown to bits by Allied bombing raids over Stuttgart. Last fall, one of the professors had left his issue of LIFE magazine in the department office, and Max had read about a photographer’s adventure riding along in a B-17 Flying Fortress on a bombing raid over Stuttgart. To the photographer and the B-17 crew, it was a mission. To Max, it was a death run, one of many.

  Max sank into the couch and tried to ignore the rawness in his throat. But the tears pressed at his eyes and he let them trickle a path down his cheeks. His entire family – Mutter, Vatter and Trudy – didn’t know his fate. He’d failed them as a son and as a brother in so many ways. How ashamed they’d be of him – if they were still alive.

  But it would be second only to the shame he felt himself.

  * * *

  Shouting filtered through her in-laws’ apartment door. Jenni tensed. Why did they have to fight like this in front of Marty? Danny had told her numerous times about his parents’ spectacular bouts, and though he’d joked that it was like a Joe Louis and Max Schmeling match, she saw his pain whenever he recalled the memory.

  Jenni squared her shoulders. Time to find someone else to watch Marty for those few hours after school. She wouldn’t continue to expose him to this. He’d heard enough from her and Danny.

  But then she heard her name in the argument, and she put her ear to the door. Now what?

  ‘She had that German in her home!’ Sue shrieked. ‘She is a traitor!’

  ‘That is plain foolish,’ Tony Fields said. ‘You’re making up things when they’re not there. You know Jenni isn’t no traitor. Plenty of Germans don’t like Hitler.’

  ‘One German is the same as another. I won’t have my grandson around any of ’em.’

  ‘Then you might as well send him to Timbuktu! You know well as I do that there are lots of Germans in this town. Did you forget?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘No, it’s not. This professor left Germany because he wasn’t a Nazi. He didn’t have nothing to do with our Danny’s death.’

  A loud sob, then: ‘My boy is dead! He’s dead! And his wife has betrayed him!’

  Aghast, Jenni’s fingers flew to her mouth. Oh dear God. What would Sue say if she knew that Jenni had betrayed her son, just not in the way she thought?

  Guilt punched her every muscle and with a heavy hand, Jenni knocked on the door, hoping to God that Marty wasn’t in the room listening to all this, hoping even more that Celia would have news about a job in New York so Jenni could scram out of this town.

  Tony opened the door and she could see the strain in the lines of his face, his eyes swimming with fatigue and pain.

  ‘Hello, Jenni. Come in.’

  ‘Actually…’ She broke off, peered inside and saw Sue staring out of the window, weeping brokenly. ‘It might be best if you just send Marty out. I don’t think Sue wants to see me.’

  Instead of shoving aside her concern as she’d expected, Tony nodded, but then murmured, ‘You know she doesn’t mean it. She loves you very much. It’s just…’

  Jenni put a hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right. I understand. Nothing has been the same.’

  He bit his lip. ‘It will never be the same again. I don’t know how much longer she can go on like this. She won’t eat now. I may have to take her to the hospital.’

  ‘That might be the best thing for her.’

  ‘We might not have a choice.’ He glanced at his wife before turning back to Jenni. ‘I’ll go get Marty.’

  But before he could move, she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. She turned to see Marty running up them.

  ‘Marty! What are you doing?’

  He avoided her anxious gaze. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘But why are you out here? How did you get out of Grandpa Tony’s apartment?’

  When he remained silent,
Jenni crouched in front of him. ‘Marty Fields, you tell me what’s going on this instant.’

  He finally raised his defiant eyes. ‘I went down the fire escape. I couldn’t stand to listen to them fight anymore.’

  Jenni heard Tony’s indrawn breath and he quickly came onto the landing, shutting the door behind him. He put a hand on Marty’s shoulder and squeezed it.

  ‘I’m sorry, son. You know we love you very much.’

  ‘But Granny Sue was saying bad things about my mom! She’s not a traitor.’ Tears suddenly sprang into his eyes and he scrubbed at them with dirt-covered knuckles. ‘She didn’t do anything wrong! The professor is a swell guy. Honest, he is. He told me my dad was braver than Captain America.’

  ‘And he was right.’ Tony’s voice broke. ‘He sure was brave.’

  Fighting tears herself, Jenni pulled Marty into her arms and held him tight. ‘I’m so sorry that you had to hear those things. Granny Sue isn’t well and she doesn’t know what she’s saying. Do you understand that?’

  She felt him nod against her chest and looked up at Tony. ‘I think it’d be best if we give you some time to settle things, get her the help she needs.’

  ‘But won’t you need someone to watch him after school?’

  ‘I’ll figure something out. It’ll be all right.’

  After Tony had hugged his grandson goodbye and pressed a kiss on Jenni’s cheek, he retreated back into the apartment and Jenni immediately heard Sue’s hysterical voice chastising him for speaking to ‘that woman’.

  Jenni took Marty’s hand and steered him down the stairs, forcing lightness into her voice as she asked him about school and if he’d eaten all of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He seemed relieved to be discussing normal things and while they drove home, he talked about the kickball game he’d played during recess.

  Jenni half-heartedly listened. Her worst fears about having Max over that night had been confirmed, only she had no idea that the consequences would spill over onto her son too.

  Good thing she was leaving. Sue would go over the edge if she found out about the baby, and Jenni wasn’t sure she’d still have her father-in-law on side either.

  It was time to go.

  * * *

  By mid-morning the next day, Max had finished putting the last of Dietrich’s books in the cottage’s glass-encased bookshelf. He’d removed many of Mrs Stanwick’s novels to make room, and the effect was stunning. The ornate silver letters caught the sun through the glass and sparkled like the jewels they were.

  He glanced at his watch. Nearly 10 a.m. and time for the morning news. He turned up the volume on the wireless and listened to reports of Allied forces near Rome pushing back the Germans. Field Marshal Kesselring fought alongside his men, supposedly representative of the fierce German fighting spirit and their refusal to submit. Max grimaced. If only more German people had refused to submit to Hitler’s tyranny, this war might never have happened.

  Dwelling on such thoughts only caused the blackness to start seeping in again. He was so very tired of the dark. He wanted light in his life. And when he thought of light, he thought of Jenni.

  Yet something was troubling her. What had she said?

  There isn’t much anyone can do.

  What a familiar phrase. But what could she possibly mean? When he truly thought about it, what did he know about this woman? What were her personal struggles, her fears, her demons? If only they could help each other somehow. Except that would require them to share their secrets…

  The phone jangled. He picked it up, surprised and pleased to hear Bruce’s voice on the other end.

  ‘How are you doing, pal?’ Bruce said. ‘Surviving in the sticks?’

  The colloquialism confused him. ‘Pardon?’

  Bruce laughed. ‘Are you getting by all right in that nice small town?’

  Max opened his mouth to give Bruce an earful of just how ‘nice’ this small town was when something made him shut it again. He didn’t want to drag Bruce into this bloody mess.

  ‘Oh, its fine, Bruce.’

  ‘Good, good. Say, I got some news you might be interested to hear. Elijah Goldberg is gone.’

  Max frowned. ‘Gone? What do you mean? Did he leave the university?’

  ‘No. I mean he’s vanished. Disappeared. No one knows where he went.’

  ‘He always was rather erratic. When did this happen?’

  ‘A few days after you went to Meadow Hills.’

  Max’s stomach dropped. This meant it might very well be Goldberg behind the theft of the diary and the vandalism. It made sense. Was Goldberg the one Jenni had seen at the cottage and in the crowd?

  ‘Are they looking for him?’ he asked.

  ‘The university is making enquiries, and they told the Lincoln Police Department about it. But since there was no evidence of foul play, they don’t see anything too alarming, especially considering Goldberg’s past actions.’

  ‘Yes,’ Max murmured, his brain swirling with this new information. He tried to remember Jenni’s description of the man who’d supposedly taken the diary. Short and stocky, glasses, dark hair, a beard. Goldberg didn’t have a beard the last time he saw him, but that could have easily changed. And the other descriptions fit. Plus, Goldberg had a motive.

  ‘Just thought you’d want to know about it,’ Bruce said. ‘But the real reason I called is that I’ve asked Professor Watkins if there’s any chance of you coming back to the university.’

  Max caught his breath, almost afraid to hear the answer. ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘Not good, Max.’ Bruce sighed. ‘Maybe when the war’s over.’

  But he heard the resignation in Bruce’s voice and knew the door to the university had been sealed, perhaps forever. Damn Goldberg for his interference!

  After he hung up the phone, Max stared thoughtfully at the books lining the shelves. If it was Goldberg doing all of these things in town, then Jenni was right. It was just a matter of time before he slipped up. Max could bide his time, wait for that to happen. He’d been witness to Goldberg’s less than stable mental health on numerous occasions. Goldberg would eventually crack and then this would all be over.

  A glimmer of hope surfaced. It might be that easy.

  But if Goldberg wasn’t the one behind it all…

  Then he was right back where he’d started.

  Katya wandered into the room and nudged against his leg. He ruffled her fur and accepted a kiss from her wet tongue, and then turned at a knock on the door.

  When he opened it and saw the black derby and gloved hands of Mayor Lowe, Max wanted to slam the door in his face. Was he here because of the books? Damn it!

  ‘I see you haven’t stopped leeching off the museum yet,’ Lowe said. ‘How revolting of you.’

  Max didn’t reply. It’d be worth a few broken knuckles to wipe that smug smile off the man’s face. Instead, he pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it, making Lowe wait on the front steps where the cold turned his cheeks red.

  ‘What do you want, Lowe?’

  ‘I’m here with a proposition.’

  Max relaxed a little. Perhaps this impromptu visit wasn’t about the books after all. ‘I’m not sure I want to hear what kind of proposition you’d offer me.’

  ‘It would be in your best interest to hear it.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Max flicked the ash off his cigarette. ‘But as it seems you plan to tell me anyway, I might as well listen.’

  Irritation flashed across Lowe’s face as he came inside and Max was glad to have ruffled the bastard’s feathers, if only a little. After he closed the door, he declined to offer Lowe a seat. The man would probably refuse anyway.

  ‘What is this about?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s about the diary.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘I want to know what’s in it.’

  ‘Apparently you and every other person in this town.’

  Lowe glared at him. ‘Stop fiddling about. What d
oes it say?’

  For the first time, Max noted a hint of panic in the mayor. Was it wrong to feel glee at the other man’s discomfort?

  He took another drag on his cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke, watching as Lowe squirmed at the delay. ‘Why didn’t you look at it when you had the chance? You’re the president of the museum board, after all.’

  ‘Because Mrs Draper didn’t show it to me. Besides, I don’t read your despicable language.’

  Your son knew how to read it.

  Max almost blurted out the words, but pulled them back just in time. Letting Lowe know about his son’s traitorous activities might bring him a great deal of satisfaction, but it would only enrage Lowe in the end and cause Max further trouble. It just wasn’t worth the momentary pleasure.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to inform you that I only read a few pages before it was stolen.’

  ‘Damn it, stop lying!’ Lowe took a step towards him, but Max refused to back down. ‘No one stole it. You still have it and you know it!’

  Max couldn’t help his hysterical laughter. ‘You can’t be serious! Do you honestly think I would put myself through all of this if I had the damn thing?’

  Lowe swore and stuck his finger into Max’s chest. ‘Listen. You give me the diary and I’ll give you enough money to scram to whatever hole in the ground you crawled out of.’

  Max gaped at him. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Completely. Now where is it?’

  ‘Much as I’d love to take you up on your offer, I don’t have it.’

  Katya, apparently upset at the increased agitation in both their voices, began to bark. Lowe cowered, throwing his hands up to protect his face, even though Katya was nowhere near him. Max watched terror drain Lowe’s cheeks of colour as he backed towards the door.

  ‘Get it away from me!’

  Katya kept barking, and Max wasn’t inclined to stop her. Lowe hurried out of the door without a backwards glance and fled. Just as abruptly, Katya fell silent.

  Dog and human stared at each other and then Katya, apparently tired of the whole situation, went off to gobble food out of her bowl.

  Suddenly light-headed, Max sank into the leather chair and gripped his trembling hands. What had just happened? For one thing, Lowe still thought Max had taken the diary. But even more curious, he’d wanted to pay Max to give it to him? Did this have anything to do with Phillip Janssen’s letter? Max discarded the thought almost immediately. No. This had to do with something in the diary itself, and it could very well be the reason someone stole it.