“My ugly mug must have given you quite a scare then,” I joke while acknowledging what he mistakenly asked me instead of his wife.
“You’re just as lovely,” Herr Weber quips back with laughter.
I can’t get myself to laugh along with him. Not while I’m wondering what he was going to say. “What were the neighbors being questioned about?”
Herr Weber flaps his hand at me, then brushes his fist beneath his nose. “Oh, it was nothing. Nothing to worry about.”
Which means it is something concerning. I appreciate them trying to protect me and keep me safe, but not being aware of what’s happening around me isn’t helpful. I should be aware if there are Nazis or Gestapo on the prowl in our enclosed neighborhood. Or at least have a sense of what they are looking for.
“What was that?” Frau Weber asks, joining us at the table with the other two dinner plates.
“It was nothing, dear.” He lifts his brows in her direction, a gesture she must understand, and I don’t, because she drops the subject. Normally, she would press for more information if he brushed a topic away.
“I’m going to visit Ed tonight. He’s having people over,” Felix says as he walks into the dining room with a clean face, combed hair, and a fresh pair of pants and shirt.
“Ed from the factory?” Herr Weber questions.
“Yes,” Felix says, taking his seat. “You can lock up the house. I have a key.”
Herr Weber clears his throat. “Why don’t you stay in tonight? Keep Danner company.”
“It’s fine, Herr Weber, I told him he should go. I’ll probably go to bed early anyway,” I say, taking my spoon to the bowl of stew.
I catch a passing glimpse between Herr and Frau Weber, the look making more sense than their last exchange. Herr Weber closes his eyes for a moment and offers a subtle headshake as if fighting a chill.
“I think you should stay in as well, Felix. You’ll see Ed at work tomorrow, won’t you?” Frau Weber adds, giving Felix the same look Herr Weber just gave her.
Felix lifts his napkin and wipes it across his mouth. “Okay, I’ll stay in,” he agrees.
“What are you all being so discreet about? There’s something you aren’t saying.” I frown.
“There’s nothing for you to lose sleep over, son. You have the proper papers and no reason to worry. The Gestapo makes rounds all the time.” He wouldn’t be concerned about us walking down the street tonight if I truly had nothing to worry about.Since the age of thirteen, all I’ve been able to do is watch my next step in hope of not falling into a trap.
The remaining moments of dinner fill with an orchestra of clanging dishes and silverware, slurps of stew, guzzles of water, and my heart hammering against my rib cage.
FIVE
DANNER
NINE YEARS AGO, APRIL 1933
Munich, Germany
Mama has set out a bowl of chopped fruit, toast, and jam, ready for David and me to devour before running out of the house and racing to school. She would prefer we wake up earlier and take the time to sit down at the table and swallow the bites we take before continuing our mad dash, but she’s given up the fight now that David is old enough to be following in my footsteps—sleeping too late and having to rush. He’s three years younger but wants to do everything the same way I do. It can be annoying, but I try to take it as a compliment. He watches me like I’m his reflection in the mirror and copies my gestures, and even goes as far as smiling and scowling the same way. Mama said he’ll find his own way soon enough and that ten years old is a hard age to navigate, being just a boy but wanting to be older like me.
Mama stands at the doorway with our bagged lunches in hand, but not with the typical tired smile she pins to her cheeks as we leave. She seems distressed. “What is it, Mama?”
“Yes, what’s wrong, Mama?” David echoes.
“David, run along. Your brother will catch up in a moment. I need to have a word with him.”
“Oh, you must be in trouble,” David hoots as he skips out the door.
I don’t think I’m in trouble. I would have had to do something wrong for that to be the case. This is something else, and I’m not sure it’s going to be any better than me being in trouble. “What is it?” I ask, my voice stifled in my throat.
She places her hands on top of my shoulders as her eyes close for a long blink. She takes a deep breath and stares me straight in the face. “I’m not sure what events might unfold today, son. If you’re told to go home, collect your brother, and do as you’re told immediately without question. Do you understand?”
How could I understand? She’s never said anything like this to me before. Why would someone tell me to go home?
