“At the border, you won’t say why you’re really traveling with him. Just in case.”
“Why should the Nazis care if one disabled child is taken out from under them? Wouldn’t they think I’m doing them a favor?”
Emilie Pichler sighed. “I have given up trying to understand how they think. Every day they surprise me with what they do. They won’t suspect he’s disabled, anyway. Wilhelm looks fine; it’s when he tries to speak that his deafness becomes apparent. And it’s not the German border I am most worried about. The Swiss are being careful with who they let in, even on a tourist visa. You need a good story for why you’re bringing Wilhelm, a child witha German passport, into the country. It needs to seem like it’s just for a visit. And the rescue must happen as soon as we can arrange it. That woman, Fraulein Platz, has just been to Wilhelm’s house. They know about him. Sister Gertrude has arranged with a Lucerne family to take Wilhelm in for as long as his life is in danger. There is a Catholic relief agency there, Caritas, who will vouch for this plan and for you after you get there. Will you consider it, Helen?”
For the first time since Brigitta was taken, I sensed something other than the vise of powerlessness. Out of my deep sadness, I felt a bolt of energy, crackling past all that I couldn’t do to protect Brigitta and igniting a new flame within me. I couldn’t save my sweet girl; I didn’t know about the Nazis’ diabolical and secret scheme and how they’d used me to execute it. But now I would have a secret plan of my own.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“I must tell you that there is some risk. I don’t know what will happen if a German guard on the train or an agent at the Swiss border figures out Wilhelm does not have an aunt in Lucerne. But if you are successful, Sister Gertrude and I might try to rescue more, if we can. We might need you to help again, you and my sister-in-law from Lucerne and me from Theresienfeld. I am actually asking your help for more than just this one time.”
“I’ll do it,” I said.
32
JANUARY 1948
“Amaryllis is here?” Surprise and delight course through me, but so do shock and dismay. This means no one chose her. All these years and no one wanted her. “She’s been here this whole time?”
“It happens sometimes,” Mrs. Sommers says. “Most infants are quickly adopted, but occasionally they aren’t. Prospective parents are informed of a child’s family background if we know it. We do not hide from them how the children come to us. It was in Amaryllis’s records that her mother was an inpatient at a state hospital. To many people wanting to adopt, that translates into risk.”
I think back for a second to what Dr. Townsend said about Rosie’s odd ability being hereditary.
“Has Amaryllis ever displayed any... um...” I struggle to find the right words to frame my question, but Mrs. Sommers senses what I want to know.
“Amaryllis has displayed no tendency toward the same delusions her birth mother had,” she says.
“There’s a medical term for her mother’s condition,” I say in quick defense. “Rosanne Maras wasn’t delusional.”
“Call it whatever you want, but prospective parents are often afraid to take a child whose biological mother was institutionalized, for whatever reason. You can’t blame them, really.”
“So Amaryllis is available for someone to adopt?”
“Yes.”
“I can take her,” I say without so much as a second’s thought. “I can adopt her.”
Mrs. Sommers hesitates before answering, and when she does, it seems she is choosing her words carefully. “You appear to be quite a bit older than most adoptive parents. And you are unmarried?”
“But if I can provide her a good home where she will be loved and wanted, isn’t that more important than how old I am or the fact that I’m not married? And besides. She is my niece.”
“Perhaps if you could get a good lawyer to help you with stating your case before a judge?”
“I know a good lawyer,” I say, inwardly thanking heaven for George Petrakis.
“I can see where a court would be disposed to let you have Amaryllis, provided you can prove that you can give her a good home. It is always harder to place the older children,” Mrs. Sommers says, tipping her head as she studies me. “I will help you with the application. It has always bothered me that we could not find a home for her. We came close once. Amaryllis is a sweet child. She deserves a real home.”
“I would appreciate any help you could give me.”
“Maybe before we continue this conversation, you should meet the child.”
“I would like that very much, even though I know I won’t change my mind.”
“I’ll go fetch her. I’ll tell her a visitor is downstairs and wants to meet her. You can decide how much about yourself you want to tell her. If anything.”
“All right.”
“Wait here a moment.”
