“A few years ago, I was equally certain that Germany would never repeat the mistakes of fascist Italy or Spain.” Arvid shook his head, pensive. “The question is, what nation does Hitler seek to emulate now? Not Spain anymore, certainly not America. Ancient Rome, perhaps. I worry that Hitler will declare war on the Soviet Union to gainLebensraumin the east.”
“Surely not. He and Stalin are allies.”
“How can that alliance endure? Communists and fascists are on opposite ends of the political spectrum.”
Greta could not deny that, but the thought of war was so dreadful that she had to refute it. “Even if that is what Hitler wants, he’ll be out of power long before he could ever organize for war. And even if the Reichstag is in his pocket, Hindenburg would never sanction it.” Suddenly a horrible, sinking dread flooded her. “Unless the Soviet Union attacks us first. Do you think Hitler would deliberately provoke them?”
“It’s up to rational Germans like us to see that he doesn’t. We must resist. We have to cross all lines that currently divide us—class, political party, religion—and unite to bring down the Nazis before they lead Germany any further down this road to self-destruction.”
Greta nodded, thinking of Adam and his comrades working in isolation to produce their pamphlets and flyers. If they could connect to a larger network of opponents of the regime, they could vastly increase their influence.
Arvid drew closer and lowered his voice. “I have connections to groups that produce antifascist literature. Their purpose is to warn the workers not to be deceived by Nazi propaganda. With your ties to the working class, we can expand our reach.”
“I’m not sure what ties you mean.”
“Mildred told me that when you were in London, you spoke to workers’ unions to warn them about fascism.”
“I did, and I’m willing to do the same here, but don’t fool yourself that I have any special influence with the workers just because my family is poor.”
“I meant no offense, Greta. If you have no connections, that’s unfortunate, but you can fix it. You’re looking for work. Why not find a job that would allow you to develop such connections?”
The condescending manner she had always found so annoying rankled her anew. “Why me?” she countered. “Why not do it yourself? Why not ask Mildred?”
“Mildred has already found her role.” A fond smile appeared as he glanced past Greta to scan the room for his wife. “She’s teaching her students to recognize and refute propaganda, how to defend themselves against it with reason and logic. She recruits the brightest and most courageous of her students to join our group. And she’s using her connections at the American embassy to get visas for Jewish acquaintances so they can get out of the country. But you—” He shrugged, chagrined. “You seem to be still searching for your place.”
For a moment she let her old rival stew in his embarrassment. “You aren’t wrong,” she admitted. “I’m just tired of being told that I must do something before I figure out for myself what that should be.”
At that moment Mildred approached them. “Don’t let Arvid bully you,” she said in English, kissing her husband’s cheek and resting a hand on Greta’s shoulder. In German she added, “He only recruits people he trusts and respects, but you mustn’t feel pressured to do more than you can.”
“I’m honored to have your trust and respect,” Greta told Arvid, and she meant it sincerely. “I’ll think about what you’ve said.”
Arvid looked as if he might say more, but when someone called his name, he glanced over his shoulder, excused himself, and left Greta and Mildred to themselves. Greta’s thoughts raced. First there was Adam’s urging, then Arvid’s, and now these revelations that Mildred had been helping Jews escape Germany. Greta wanted to do her part too, but what?
“Mildred—” she began, but found herself at a loss for words.
Somehow, Mildred understood. “Why don’t we meet tomorrow, just the two of us, so we can talk uninterrupted?”
The following afternoon, they met at the Brandenburg Gate for a walk through the Tiergarten. The paths they wandered along took them over a bridge to Luiseninsel, where they admired the memorials, statuary, and blooming rose gardens before crossing another footbridge over the Tiergartenwässer and turning north. Greta had spent most of the day mulling over Arvid’s words and marveling at Mildred’s courage and generosity. Mildred could lose her job, her freedom, and possibly her life if a malicious person informed the Gestapo that she was teaching her students to resist Nazi propaganda. Greta knew from her own ugly encounter in Frankfurt that helping Jews emigrate provoked the wrath of the SA. If Mildred could risk so much for her adopted land, how could Greta, a German by birth, do any less?
“I have a confession to make,” she said as they diverted onto a more secluded path. “I know it will make you think poorly of me, but I owe you the truth if I expect you and Arvid to continue to trust me.”
“What is it?”
“I’m involved with someone. More than that. We’re in love.” Greta steeled herself and plunged ahead. “He’s married.”
“Married? Oh, Greta, no.”
“His wife knows about us. She doesn’t object.” When Mildred looked skeptical, Greta quickly explained Adam’s complicated relationship with the Viehmeyer sisters. “I know what you’re thinking. If he truly loved me, he would divorce Gertrud and marry me. He asked, and she refused.”
“Perhaps she thinks he’ll tire of you and come back to her.”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?” Mildred placed a hand on Greta’s arm to bring her to a stop. “Is it possible that you’re not the first? Maybe he strayed before and went back to her.”
“It’s not like that.” Greta shook her head, eyes downcast, hating to see herself diminished in her friend’s eyes. “It’s true that I wish he weren’t married, but I love him, and I’d rather have him this way than not at all.” She managed a short laugh. “I understand what you must think of me. You’ve always been so virtuous, so true. How can someone as perfect as you remain friends with someone as morally dubious as me?”
“Oh, Greta—”
