Sophia turned to see an older woman with tight curls pushed away from her forehead. She wore a plaid dress with a high neckline and cap sleeves.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m doing a project for school on…” Sophia wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it. “Negro children from Germany adopted in the U.S.”
The woman looked taken aback. “Oh, my. Now, that’s interesting. How did you come to that topic?”
“A friend from school. He’s Negro but was adopted from Germany and brought here when he was little. He didn’t know much, but I was wondering if there was any press surrounding it or any books I could read,” Sophia asked.
The woman reached for the glasses hanging around her neck andpushed them up over her nose. “Well, you must be referring to Ethel Gathers and her efforts to move brown babies out of orphanages in Germany to the U.S. She’s an extraordinary woman. Let me see what I can find for you.”
Sophia felt something light up inside her. “Yes, maybe that’s what I am looking for.”
The woman smiled before heading off to find what their archives held. “I’m Dorothy Porter Wesley, and I oversee the largest collection of Negro history in the world. I’m sure I can find what you are looking for inmycollection. Come with me.”
Mrs. Porter Wesley took off at such a speed, Sophia nearly tripped over her own feet, trying to keep pace with her.
When they arrived on the lower floor, they entered a room that felt like someone had broken the thermostat at sixty degrees. Sophia shrugged back into her coat as Mrs. Porter Wesley led her back to a second room filled with wall-to-wall reel boxes. There was a big gray machine shaped like a boxy bell with a television-like screen in the center of it.
“Let’s take a stroll through the microfilm and see what we can find for you,” Mrs. Porter Wesley said, pointing Sophia to the two seats in front of the machine.
Mrs. Porter Wesley studied the reel boxes before taking a few off the shelf. Sophia sat next to her and watched as she expertly scrolled.
“Jackpot,” she said. “I think this is what you are looking for.” She made space closer to the screen for Sophia.
Sophia read the headlines.Ebony: “Homes Needed for 10,000 Brown Orphans.”Jetmagazine: “German ‘Brown Babies’ Arrive in U.S.”
“Yes, this is perfect,” Sophia said, feeling Max’s story bubble up inside her.
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Porter Wesley said. “What school did you say you attended?”
“I’m in high school. West Oak Forest Academy.”
“Ah, you must be friends with our little Wilhelmina.”
“Yes, she’s my roommate.”
“Well, the first opens the doors for the next. You remember that, and don’t let them intimidate you. Always remember that you deserve that seat at the table. You’ve earned it, now do something amazing with it,” Mrs. Porter Wesley said. “Now, let’s get copies of those articles for you.”
At the top of the stairs, Sophia thanked Mrs. Porter Wesley and then carefully shoved the articles into her satchel bag. She decided in that moment that she didn’t want Willa to know what she was up to. It was Max’s secret, and she intended to keep it close.
CHAPTER 23Mannheim, Germany, September 1949
OZZIE
Jelka’s words hung in the room heavy and thick, like gray clouds of smoke. Had Ozzie heard her correctly? He shook his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. He was still kneeling before Jelka, and his right foot had begun to tingle. Katja breathed evenly, her small body pressed against his chest as he cradled her in one arm like a football.
Ozzie pierced Jelka with his eyes. “What did you say?”
Her lips were dry and cracked, absent of the cherry lipstick she wore when they were out. “I am… married.”
The three words needled Ozzie in the chest.
“Please do not be angry with me. I wanted to tell you.” She reached for him, but he scooted back still on bended knee, out of her grasp.
The coral woven carpet was worn thin, and he could feel his kneecap twist under his weight as he looked down at Katja in his arms, then at Jelka, and then back at the baby. No, Ozzie had not been seeing things. Katja did have the Philips nose and enough melanin in her skin to belong to him. As if in answer to his question, Katja’s face twitched, and she grinned at him in her sleep.
“Please, let me explain,” Jelka pleaded.
He clutched Katja tight as he raised up off the floor and turned his back to Jelka, facing the tiny window, trying to calm down. The sheers were drawn, and Ozzie peered out into the darkness at the gravel road he had traveled just hours ago. Katja’s arm jerked, and he rubbed her back to soothe her. She smelled like lilies, and Ozzie could feel her vines tighten around his heart. He was her daddy. What was he supposed to do now?
