“That puts a damper on your search.”
“Onoursearch,” he says. “But I want to learn about Luzia too.”
Ella balls up the brown paper that was wrapped around her sandwich. “C’mon, Dad!” she says, tugging on his hand.
When he stands up, she rushes into the water again, but before he follows her, he offers his hand to me as well. “Come play with us.”
I hesitate, looking down at his offering, a palm spread open. I could sit here and mull over my thoughts alone, or I could join them in their laughter.
“Please, Callie.”
Ella hops back up to the shore. “Team Nemeth!” she exclaims, a smile lighting her face.
“Team Nemeth,” I say before taking Josh’s hand.
The three of us splash and laugh, throw twigs and rocks. And as we play, the world seems to right itself again.
When Josh knocks on the castle door, the muscles in my neck fold and ripple down my body. I’m not entirely sure why I’m shaking—we are invited guests this time.
Ella is chattering beside me about glass castles and fairy tales, and I think about what Annika must have been like when she was seven and then a few years after, living on this estate when the Nazis marched into her country. I can’t imagine all that she must have seen.
I’ve dreamed about Annika Knopf this past month, wondered about her story. Though I pray Annika is innocent of any crime, perhaps she is ashamed to tell us what happened when she was younger, if she stole items from her Jewish neighbors. But even if she won’t talk about the treasure, I hope she’ll tell us how her path intersects with Luzia’s journey.
Sigmund answers the door and welcomes us into the house that is now his son’s summer home. As we walk through the grand hall, tiled with marble the color of cream, he assures us that his own home in Salzburg is quite modest, as if he’s ashamed of the grandeur here.
“Would you like some lemonade?” he asks Ella.
“Yes, please.”
“There’s a playground out back, where two of my great-grandchildren are currently swinging.” He turns to Josh. “May she play with them?”
Josh hesitates, and I understand. He won’t always be able to cushion her, but for now, he must.
“Is there a place we could sit outside and talk?” I ask.
“Of course.” Sigmund waves us farther into the house. “We have a veranda, and my mother would love nothing more than to enjoy the lake from there while you talk.”
Josh tells Ella that she can join the other children.
We follow Sigmund through the foyer, around a white-painted staircase that winds up to the second floor, and past two closed doors. The third one is open, Annika waiting for us inside.
Her chair is backed up against the dark paneling that rounds the library. Sigmund cradles his mother’s arm as she stands to greet us and then escorts her outside through French doors.
I clutch my handbag, folded under my arm, as we follow them.Inside my purse isBambiwith Annika’s list, the photograph of Max and Luzia, and the photocopy from Charlotte’s magic balloon book.
Sigmund helps his mother sit on one of the cushioned patio chairs clustered around a glass table, though it seems to me that she doesn’t need much help at all.
“How long did you live here?” I ask Annika as we join her at the table.
“My husband and I cared for this place for more than twenty years. Hermann injured his arm before the war began, which was an unexpected blessing in that he couldn’t fight in the Wehrmacht, but the Nazis wouldn’t let him—wouldn’t let us—remain on his family’s farm. Because my father had been the caretaker on this estate, they assigned us the role of caring for this property while it was a camp.”
She says the words as if she’s rehearsed them many times, as if they’ve been embroidered into her core for years, frayed and worn.
“Why were you looking for me?” she asks.
I glance at Josh before pullingBambiout of my handbag and scooting it across the table. “It started with this.”
I’d expected some sort of emotional reaction. Tears. Laughter. A gasp of surprise or even shock. I may never know if Annika found the items recorded inside these pages—or what, if anything, she did with them—but I’d expected something to commemorate the reunion of a long-lost book with its owner.
