Claude poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table with me as Juliette cooked him up some eggs and bacon. We were both quiet, awkwardly quiet, so Claude took the newspaper from a side table. He wasn’t looking me in the eye, which told me he was aware of his bad idea as well as we were.
As soon as Juliette placed Claude’s breakfast down in front of him, she untied her apron and hung it on the hook next to the row of cabinets. "I need to go freshen up and prepare for my audition," she said.
When Juliette was closed up in the bathroom, Claude laid his paper down and began shoveling eggs into his mouth. I did my best to stare out the window behind him, avoiding the thoughts that might slip out in the form of a lecture.
"I know you think this is a foolish idea, brother, but I don’t have any skills other than assisting in the murder of innocent people."
I understood that part. I also understood what that part caused us to do—drink. "This will never get easier on us for as long as we have our memories," I told him. "However, it is easy to fall into a dark hole we will never escape, and that is what I fear the most."
"With all due respect, you are not one to talk, brother."
I should have figured he would point out my flaws during the conversation, but if it helped him realize his weakness, I would allow him to elaborate as much as he needed. "I am aware," I conceded.
"Maybe we should both find a doctor to talk to," Claude suggested.
"We mustn’t. We need to keep our past quiet, especially here. I don’t believe New Yorkers will take kindly to the thought of Nazis living among them. Let’s agree not to tell a soul that we were Nazis, ja?" It was a thought that was too often crossing my mind. We were not of the general population who emigrated to America. We were not the ones who deserved that type of freedom.
"You’re right," Claude responded. "Therefore, we need to be responsible for ourselves, learn from our mistakes and wrongdoings. It’s the only way to move forward. I promise I will be okay working in the pub."
I leaned forward and cupped my hand on Claude’s shoulder. "I believe you, brother. You are strong enough."
"As for you," Claude continued. "We should talk about finding you a nice lady to fill up your time, ja?"
Rage. It’s the only way to explain the feelings I had. I was trying my best to believe in him, and he was giving up on my hopes. "Nein," I argued. "Nein. I will find Amelia. This city is not that big."
"Her name was not in the phone book," Claude added.
"I am aware."
Chapter 30
1946
New York City, NY
Claude and I stood patiently beneath a marquee encased with Edison light bulbs. Juliette needed this job. She wanted it more than anything in the world, and after this morning—the look of despair with worry for Claude's well-being—I wanted this good news for her. Juliette had become much like a sister to me throughout the last couple of years, and while the two of them often made my stomach turn due to their public displays of affection, I loved them both dearly.
Claude had checked his watch no less than ten times in the past five minutes. "The later she is, the more chance of good news," I told him.
"Ja," he said quietly, looking behind him toward the oversized golden arched door that was to open when she was through.
We leaned our backs up against the white brick facade and watched people pass. Some were on bicycles, some on foot, cabs and cars, and even an airplane flew overhead. The city was alive, and we were taking in all of our surroundings.
A pigeon swooped down for a fallen bread crumb, pulling my attention from the center of the road. When the pigeon was startled by a passerby, my gaze was drawn to the person disrupting the bird's feast.
She had a long black overcoat. Her hair was tied up with glittering pins, and she wore white gloves—one that held the hand of a little girl. I hardly had a second to see more than the profile of her face, but she had rosy cheeks and a slightly upturned nose. She was relatively young, maybe my age, and I was sure …
I stepped away from the wall, jolting toward her. My hand made contact with her shoulder. "It has been two years, but your beauty is timeless," I shouted, sounding breathless, and not at all how I planned to sound when I would finally see her again. "Amelia, it is me. It is Charlie."
The woman stopped but didn't turn around that quickly. My heart pounded so hard, I thought I might faint, or at the very least, fall to my knees.
It had been a minute, I was sure. "Please, look at me. I have missed you so much."
A faint cry cooed from the woman, and a sniffle followed, "Please, sir, don't hurt me. You can have my money, just don't hurt me."
With caution, I stepped around the woman to admire her face, but my world came crashing down in that instant. It was not Amelia. "I apologize, Fräulein—madam, I was sure you were someone else."
The woman took her child into her side. She was shaking, and her eyes were watering as she ran off. I could only stand and watch them from behind.
