“How long were you in France?” Hauptmann Keller asked Max, taking a bottle of wine out of a cabinet and holding it up for him to see. Max nodded and the bottle was uncorked, the dark red liquid poured into four glasses and set before each of us. “It was rumored you’d gone to Switzerland.”
Max laughed. “Switzerland, Spain, America... I heard the rumors too. But I’ve been in France. Found a nice penthouse in Paris and another in Nice. Was stupid of us to stay as long as we did. Didn’t believe we had anything to worry about. Alas...” He shook his head, putting on a grim face as our host nodded in sympathy.
“Alas, indeed,” Hauptmann Keller said and then turned and raised his glass. “To staying in the fight. Heil Hitler.”
He watched us carefully as we each raised our glasses in answer, and repeated the filthy words, bile rising in my throat as I mouthed them, unable to let myself put sound behind the salute.
While the others dug into their food, I pushed mine around my plate, exhaustion and fear quelling the hunger I’d felt before.
“It is not to your liking, fräulein?” the captain asked.
“It’s delicious,” I said. “But I’m afraid I’m more tired than hungry.”
“Of course! It was a tiresome ride on that tiny boat, I am sure. Please.” He scooted his chair back. “Allow me to show you to your room.”
I glanced at Max, but he was chatting with Klaus and so I smiled and nodded, letting him slide my chair back and then daintily placing my hand in the one he held out.
“I shall rejoin you soon,” he told the two men.
“Good night,” I said. This time, Max looked up. For a moment I thought he was going to ignore what was happening. But just as I was about to turn away, he nodded and scratched his jaw.
“Good night, sweet niece,” he said. “Sleep well.”
I nodded, relief spreading throughout my limbs. The scratch of his jaw was the first and only signal he’d taught me early on. To ward me off if I entered a room and I was to act as though I didn’t see or know him. To tell me something was awry. Or to let me know he was paying attention, and if more time went by than seemed necessary, he would be up the stairs and in my room to remove the German soldier if need be.
But thankfully there was no need for heroics. Hauptmann Keller showed me to my room as promised, lit the candle on the bedside table, and bid me good-night, turning on his heel before the latch on the door clicked into place. With a heavy sigh, I sat on the neatly made bed, gasping a little as a puff of dust arose around me. I looked around, noticing a thick layer covering every surface. This room had been left devoid of its owner for a long time. It sickened me once more to know what these people had done not just to other countries, but to their own people. I wanted to leave. To march down the stairs and demand we go. But to do so would put our lives at risk, and it was one thing to be so foolish in regards to my own life, but another to endanger others. And so, I pulled back the quilt, flipped over the pillow, and curled my body into a ball in an attempt to keep warm through the night.
28
I woke early,having had a hard time sleeping in the dust-covered bedroom that had once belonged to another. When I found myself lying awake, my watch ticking the seconds away, my body aching and weary from all the different beds it had slept in recently, I gave in, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and hurrying into my clothes for the day.
Minutes later, dressed in a rumpled pair of blue trousers and a dark blue blouse, a tan sweater over top, I slipped on my favorite pair of oxfords, which were slightly damp from the night before, and stepped quietly from my room.
I had been hungry the night before, but scared to eat or drink any of the food and wine the captain had told us to help ourselves to. Thankfully, the cook, an older woman with a wide face, her pale hair scraped back into a tidy bun, arrived a few moments later and put the kettle on for tea before meeting my hesitant gaze.
“What can I offer you?” she asked, her tone dull but not unpleasant.
I shrugged and smiled. “Whatever’s easiest.”
“The master of the house will want you to be impressed with what he has to offer. Don’t be shy.”
But I didn’t want her to go to the trouble of cooking something just for me. Didn’t want to wait alone in the dining room or partake of more food than one should at times like these. A time when so many didn’t have the same access and were starving.
“I’m not much of a breakfast person,” I said. “Do you have porridge?”
She looked torn at my response, twisting the fingers of one hand with the other. I sighed, understanding. If she didn’t serve me a proper meal, Keller would be angry with her.
“Whatever you feel like making,” I said. “Will be fine with me.”
I watched her broad chest rise and fall as she gave me a tight smile and a little nod before turning to the stove and getting to work.
Pfannkuchen, the German equivalent of the American pancake, eggs, bacon, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. I had no idea where one got oranges this time of year, but I hadn’t seen one since before I’d enlisted. I marveled at the smell, the tart and sweet tang on my tongue as I sipped it slowly, savoring every drop, unsure when I’d get to taste it again.
“It is good?” she asked as I dragged a piece of bacon through egg yolk.
“It is miraculous,” I answered, meeting her gaze.“Danke.”
She nodded and then turned her back to me, pouring more batter in the pan, her cheeks flushing pink from the heat.
