The Stranger From Berlin

by Melissa Amateis

  Jenni hung up the phone and she rubbed her belly, more to assuage the pit that had formed in her stomach than anything else. Telling her mother would be hard, although not as hard as it would be to tell Dad. At least she’d know Mom’s thoughts immediately. Her displeasure would no doubt be out in full force. But seeing the disappointment and hurt on Dad’s face…

  She thought about Max. How wonderful he’d been tonight. To not have him condemn her… it was a gift. There was no other explanation for it. He’d become a close friend these past few weeks, a person she could trust.

  And what about the FBI agent snooping around? What about the accusations against him? What if he’s a spy? What if he’s a traitor?

  ‘Jennifer Constance Fields!’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Stop it this instant!’

  Whatever Max had done in Germany, he couldn’t be that same person anymore. People changed. Look at her! Was she the same person of ten, even five years ago? No. So Chief Thompson or that FBI agent might tell her differently, but she’d refuse to believe it.

  Virginia arrived a short time later, eyes shuttered, no hint of emotion pinching her cheeks. She took off her coat and laid it on the chair beside Jenni’s bed, then sat on the mattress next to her daughter.

  ‘Where did you fall?’

  ‘The front steps. They were icy.’

  ‘You should have put salt on them like I suggested.’ Virginia sat back and surveyed Jenni from head to foot. ‘Well? Did you hit your head? Break a leg? What?’

  Sheesh. She knew her mother was no-nonsense, but Jenni could really do with a bit of motherly love right about now. That was unlikely though – Jenni was probably in for a lecture the likes of which she’d never experienced before. A fresh tingling of nerves needled her ribs.

  ‘No,’ she said, gathering as much courage as she could, ‘nothing like that.’ She swallowed. ‘I – I’m going to have a baby.’

  Virginia gasped, and then her entire body wilted like a thirsty flower in the summer sun.

  ‘It was that fellow from New Orleans, wasn’t it?’

  The condemnation in her mother’s voice hurt more than if she’d hurled insults. Jenni pulled at a loose piece of yarn on the quilt, unable to look at her, too afraid of what she’d see.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured.

  ‘I knew there was a reason he was calling us at the house,’ Virginia said. ‘Did he offer to marry you?’

  ‘Hardly. When I called to tell him, he’d already got married. He told me he’d send me money to get rid of the baby.’

  ‘Then you don’t need him.’ She paused. ‘So did you really fall or was that call just a way to get me to come here?’

  Jenni sighed. ‘Yes, I fell. There was a little bit of blood, but Dr Harvey said the baby should be fine. But he said I have to be on bed rest for a week.’

  ‘So now he knows. Who else does?’

  ‘Celia and Hank.’ She didn’t mention Max. Lord knew what her mother would say about that.

  Virginia rose to her feet and stared down at her daughter, shaking her head. ‘You’ve done it this time, haven’t you? You’re going to bring even more shame on this family.’

  Jenni winced. ‘More shame? Are you still upset that I married Danny?’

  ‘He was a Catholic and the son of an alcoholic. Well on the way to becoming one himself.’

  ‘I loved him,’ Jenni said stubbornly.

  ‘Apparently not enough to stay faithful to him.’

  Jenni gasped. ‘How can you be so cruel?’

  ‘Cruel?’ Virginia’s eyes flashed. ‘I am speaking the truth, and you know it!’ She turned away, pulling her green sweater closer. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell your father, or your brothers.’

  Weariness replaced Jenni’s nerves, and she adopted the detached manner she normally reserved for her mother. Far easier to feel nothing.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, I had planned to leave, to spare you all.’

  ‘Where were you going?’

  ‘I had a job in New York City. But I can’t go now. Dr Harvey said my blood pressure is too high. I’ll put the baby’s life at risk if I go. So I have to stay put and endure it.’

  When she said it, she instinctively held her breath, hoping and praying that, for once, her mother would stand beside her and not abandon her to the wolves of gossip and rejection.

  ‘I don’t understand why you couldn’t be more like your older brothers,’ Virginia sighed, straightening a doily on Jenni’s dresser. ‘They married respectable women and stayed out of trouble. And Zeke is serving his country.’

  Jenni snorted, remembering all the mischief her brothers had caused in high school, including Zeke. They were lucky they’d stayed out of jail. ‘I doubt they’re as perfect as you make them out to be.’

  ‘I never said they were perfect.’ Virginia turned and Jenni shrank from her anger. ‘But they didn’t commit adultery!’

  Enough was enough. Jenni didn’t think any browbeating from her mother could compare to the self-loathing she already felt, but it was coming damn close.

  ‘Stop it, Mom. I know what I did was wrong, all right? I’m the one who has to live with it.’

  ‘We all have to live with it.’

  ‘Great goose feathers! If I could leave, I would!’ She remembered her blood pressure, how Dr Harvey had told her she mustn’t excite herself unnecessarily. Easier said than done when dealing with Mom.

  Deep breaths.

  ‘Look, Mom, I just need a little help is all. If you could look after Marty this week…’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  Jenni couldn’t believe it. Her fists clenched underneath the covers. ‘This is your grandson we’re talking about. If you don’t want to help me, then fine. But think of Marty.’

  ‘If you had been thinking of Marty, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.’

  The barb stung more so than any comment yet. Particularly since she was right.

  ‘Mom,’ Jenni said again, praying for patience, ‘please. I need you right now.’

  A tiny crack appeared in her mother’s icy shell. Jenni hoped it would shatter altogether.

  ‘I will stay tonight,’ she said at last, ‘and keep Marty over the weekend. But come Monday, you’ll have to figure out something else. I have to help your father with calving.’

  It wasn’t much, but it was something. Jenni grabbed onto it with both hands.

  ‘Thank you.’

  But as she watched her mother carry her things out of the room and into the spare bedroom across the hall, Jenni wondered what on earth she was going to do come Monday. She desperately wanted to confide in Zeke. Later, she’d write him a long, long letter and spill it all. But he couldn’t help her, not now, and no one else in town knew her secret.

  Except Max.

  She waited until her mother had closed the bedroom door, then picked up the phone and gave the operator the number to Rose Cottage.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The windows had eyes.

  As Max and Marty set off for school, Max saw curtains move, blinds shiver and drapes fall. Since he planned on helping Jenni all week, the neighbourhood busybodies were in for a good show, and he had no doubt his every move would be discussed over the telephone, standing in line at the grocery store or drinking coffee at the Stars and Stripes Café.

  A few days ago, when Jenni had called to ask for his help, she’d tried to inject some humour into the situation. ‘Just think of all the fun gossip we’ll create.’ He’d laughed, but he knew that neither of them saw anything particularly funny about it.

  One thought troubled him more than any other though. Would his presence here put Jenni and Marty in danger? They certainly didn’t need any flying alarm clocks crashing through their windows. Or worse.

  ‘She’ll smell every bush if you let her,’ Max said to Marty, nodding towards Katya. The dog had an infuriating habit of sniffing every bush and tree trunk, and he almost laughed at how the conversation might go at the hair s
alon.

  And that dog of his! No discipline at all.

  ‘I wish I could have a dog,’ Marty said in a voice full of longing. ‘Mom said we were going to get one when Dad came home from the war.’

  Mercifully, a passing car filled the silence left behind after this statement.

  ‘How is your comic book coming?’ Max said, hoping to distract them both. It had been clear from the moment he’d seen Marty this morning that something was troubling the boy, but Max would let him speak in his own good time.

  ‘Okay, I guess,’ Marty murmured.

  He kicked at a piece of ice on the pavement and hefted his books over his shoulder with a sigh.

  ‘Professor, can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Is my mom going to have a baby?’

  Max almost tripped over a bump in the pavement. Scheiße. What to say?

  ‘What makes you think that?’ he said.

  ‘Aw, c’mon. I may be a kid, but I ain’t dumb.’ He shot Max a grim look. ‘I heard Mom and Grandma Ginny fighting. I wasn’t asleep like they thought. And when I went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, I heard them talking about it too, only in whispers. Why else would she ask you to come walk me to school? Grandpa Tony could have done that.’ His voice dropped. ‘But she doesn’t want Grandpa Tony or Granny Sue to find out.’

  Max heaved a long sigh. There was no use lying to the boy. In the absence of a father figure, Max almost felt like it was his duty to say something.

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t want you find out like this,’ he said. ‘It’s a… delicate matter to discuss.’

  ‘You mean because this baby won’t have the same dad as me?’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Before my dad died, I asked Grandpa if I could get a brother or sister while my dad was gone. He told me that my dad and mom had to make a baby together, and that it took nine months to bake.’

  Max hid a smile. ‘This is true.’

  ‘Well, my dad has been gone a lot longer than nine months.’ Marty’s steps slowed. ‘It was that fellow from New Orleans, I think. The writer.’ He peered up at Max. ‘I didn’t like him. He wasn’t like you, professor.’

  Though Max had never had the ‘privilege’ of meeting the man who had played such a major role in throwing this family’s life into turmoil, he found himself intensely curious to know what Marty meant by this.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, you don’t treat me like I’m a baby, and you actually listen to me.’

  ‘I think you have a lot of important things to say.’

  Marty shrugged. ‘Maybe. But you’re helping out my mom right now and that’s pretty swell.’

  Max wanted to tell him that, if he could, he would take them both away from here, to some place where people didn’t slice you to pieces with their tongues, and they could listen to Sherlock Holmes every Monday night together, as a family—

  Max stopped, horrified at the direction of his thoughts. Enough. He could not allow himself to go down that path, not with Jenni, and not with anyone else. Looking forward to any kind of future as part of a family, with anyone, was completely out of the question. He didn’t have the luxury of planning anything now, not with the world in turmoil, not with so many unknowns in his own life. Why, he didn’t even know if he could go back to Germany when the war ended and, if so, what he would find when he did. Bombed-out buildings… starving people… the stench of death.

  And then there was the small matter that he might be arrested the minute he stepped foot on German soil.

  It was only when Katya pulled on the leash and nearly jerked his arm out of his socket that he realized Marty was five steps ahead of him and had stopped, looking back at him curiously.

  ‘Professor? You all right?’

  He hurried to catch up, silently cursing himself for daydreaming. ‘Yes, fine. Just… thinking too much, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, you’re a professor. I suppose that’s one of the things you do a lot of. That and read. Do you read a lot?’

  Thankful the boy had no intention of probing any further into his momentary lapse, Max latched on to the new subject, telling Marty about some of his favourite German and American authors, and recommending a few books Marty might want to try reading soon.

  They turned the corner and Max saw several other children coming out of their houses, parents standing in doorways to send them off for the day. Max slowed.

  Many of the parents shot curious glances his way, and some stared outright. One portly woman gaped at him in astonishment, looking from Marty to Max and back again, before tugging on her son’s hand and hurrying him down the pavement.

  Max cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps I’d best let you walk the rest of the way. You’ll be all right, won’t you? It isn’t far.’

  Marty looked up at him, then back at the parents and children. He chewed on his lip and then straightened his shoulders.

  ‘Mom told you to take me right to the front steps, and that’s what we’re gonna do.’ He pulled on Max’s coat. ‘C’mon, professor. Let’s go.’

  * * *

  Jenni heard the front door open and close. Max had returned from taking Marty to school, and boy, did she ever have a bone to pick with him.

  Max appeared in the doorway and immediately ducked as a pillow sailed through the air, narrowly missing his head.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me Lowe showed up at your house?’ Jenni demanded.

  He snatched the pillow up from the floor and tossed it back on Jenni’s bed.

  ‘Because you didn’t need any more stress to deal with. And think of your blood pressure!’

  ‘Fine.’ Jenni crossed her arms and glared at him. ‘But you can’t keep information like that from me. Lowe wanting to know the diary’s contents is important, Max.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

  Those soulful brown eyes of his, so full of contrition, nearly undid her. Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. Staying in this bed was irritating her no end, and she was becoming cross and surly. Max didn’t deserve that.

  ‘I’m sorry I threw the pillow at you,’ she said.

  Max squeezed her hand for a moment before settling into the chair beside her bed. ‘I forgive you.’ He licked the end of the pencil and started writing on the yellow legal pad. ‘Where did we leave off before I took Marty to school? Oh yes. Who else do we need to add to the list besides Lowe and the mystery stranger?’

  ‘Everyone on the museum board except for John and Avery Boon.’ Jenni ticked off their names on her fingers. ‘Josephine Harris, Rosamond Miller. Mr and Mrs Macintosh.’

  ‘And all of them, except for John and Boon, did not want the diary translated?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Did any of them protest more than the others?’

  Jenni remembered the meeting clear as day. Old Mrs Josephine Harris had nearly keeled over into her plate of coffee cake while the rather rotund Rosamond Miller had turned three shades of purple. Avery Boon had twisted his moustache again and again, until it resembled the handlebar moustache of Wild Bill Hickock, and Evan Lowe had pounded his fist on the table and shouted, ‘I will not allow this to happen!’ Mr Macintosh had folded his hands across his stomach and frowned. John had observed everyone’s hysterics and rolled his eyes. But Mrs Macintosh…

  ‘You know, Mrs Macintosh didn’t really protest. Instead, she looked as though a ghost had walked across her grave. I remember thinking she might faint. She went completely white.’

  Max chewed on the end of the pencil, a habit Jenni found rather endearing, and stared at the list of names.

  ‘Do you remember when we brought down those books from the attic?’

  ‘As if I could forget that!’

  ‘I saw Mrs Macintosh physically shaking.’

  Jenni frowned, trying to recall the woman’s reaction, but she’d been too fixated on Celia. ‘She was?’

  Max nodded. ‘Something about those books terr
ified her.’

  What would so spook Mrs Macintosh? Something had, obviously. Yet despite living here her entire life, Jenni knew little about Grace Macintosh. She and her husband, Harry, lived in a stately home on the outskirts of town. Her daughter, Rebecca, had left years ago and now lived in California with her husband and children. And their son, Dennis, worked at the bank with his father. Harry owned and operated the Meadow Hills Bank, so they certainly didn’t move in the same social circles as Jenni. Far from it.

  ‘I think I should pay her a visit.’

  Jenni bolted straight up. ‘Are you nuts? She wouldn’t let you through the door!’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  Something in his voice alerted her. ‘Max, what are you not telling me?’

  He fumbled with the pencil and paper, began doodling. ‘I discovered a letter, Jenni. In one of those books we brought down from the attic.’

  ‘What? Whose letter?’

  ‘It was written to Dietrich by one of his friends, Phillip Janssen.’

  ‘When did you find this letter?’

  ‘About a week ago.’

  She clenched her fists in frustration. Why did he continue to withhold information from her? Didn’t he trust her?

  He lifted his hands. ‘Don’t throw anything at me, Jenni. I planned to tell you the next day, but then the statue was vandalized, you told me you were leaving Meadow Hills, you fell, and, well…’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to make your life harder.’

  If Thompson and Williams and Lowe could see this Max, the one who cared for others, the one who cooked for her, cleaned her house, took Marty to school, why, they’d never think him guilty.

  ‘Oh, Max…’ She sighed and tugged at a loose thread on the quilt. ‘I understand. And I appreciate your concern, I do. But I’m much tougher than I look.’

  To her surprise, he laughed. ‘Next time you decide to stand up to Chief Thompson, I’ll bring a mirror so you can see just how incredibly tough you do look.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Ja, of course. You look as beautiful, strong and fierce as a Viking warrior.’

  For a moment, Jenni, who considered herself a wordsmith, suddenly couldn’t find any words to say. Danny used to refer to the times she voiced her opinion, or stood up for herself, as her ‘tantrum’ moments. Since childhood, people had chastised Jenni for being assertive. No one had ever called her fierce or strong. No one.