by Pam Jenoff
He hesitated. Anna seemed as delicate as a china doll, so tiny and perfect that the faintest wind might shatter her. But then he saw the fatigue in Magda’s eyes and knew she needed the respite. “Certainly,” he said, taking the child with trembling arms. He studied her face. Thankfully there was enough of a resemblance between the brothers that no one would question whether Hans could be the father. Roger could tell, though, that beneath the lips that were so like Magda’s, the chin with the minute dimple was his. He shifted the child to his other arm, struggling to find the right way to hold her strange, delicate shape. But Anna sought out the crevice between his chest and chin and nestled in with a sigh, making sucking noises until she fell asleep there. Magda smiled knowingly, confirming his speculation about the child’s parentage, and it seemed all was complete.
In the months that had followed, they had fallen into a sort of life, he and Magda and Anna, and it sometimes seemed possible, on those nights when they sat together in the living room, that it was real. Magda would put on some music, singing softly as she rocked the child. He could almost pretend that they were a normal happy family and that all of this was his. But in the cold light of morning when she was gone from his side he was always reminded that it was just a fiction.
How would it end? he wondered now. He dropped his pencil, disarmed by the thought. It had to happen sometime. The conclusion of the school year was looming fast and without a job in the city he would have no excuse to stay here, but rather would be expected to return home to help their mother or to travel elsewhere in search of work. Of course he would be back in the autumn, but the notion of being separated from Magda for days, much less weeks or months, not being able to see her and protect her, was unfathomable.
And even if they could get through the summer, what then? He’d imagined a thousand times asking Magda to leave Hans and run away with him. But even if he could get past the guilt at trying to steal his brother’s family while Hans was off fighting the Nazis, Roger knew it was futile. Magda was, in her own ironic way, fiercely loyal to her husband and too practical to put sentiment above reality. She would not leave him. So at some point, Roger would graduate or the war would end and Hans would be home, and Roger would have to leave. No, things couldn’t go on like this forever, but how and when they would end was something he could not and did not want to see.
Pushing these disturbing thoughts from his mind, Roger looked out the window once more and saw a number of people massing in the synagogue courtyard below. The group had grown to close to a hundred, milling about. His spirits rose. Perhaps the persecution that had been afflicting the Jewish community had somehow waned and the people were returning to their routine. Something was different, though. The crowd was unusually large for the middle of the week and it wasn’t any holiday of which he was aware. And the men and women stood mixed, not separate, as they sat inside, holding their children fast to them.
It was then that he noticed the suitcases, bags at their feet. His stomach tightened. A group holiday of some sort, maybe, to the mountains or the lake. But even as he thought this, he knew with a sinking sensation that they were not here by choice.
He saw then one tall, uniformed Gestapo officer and then another, moving through the crowd, directing the people into lines. Roger was flooded with alarm. He had heard stories, of course, of the deportations of Jews. But those relocations were from the villages to the cities and only whispered about, nothing confirmed. Despite all that had happened, it didn’t seem possible that the Jews of Breslau, cultured merchants and scholars and artisans, were being rounded up before his very eyes, in the heart of the city center in broad daylight.
His thoughts were interrupted by rising voices below. Toward the back of the crowd, he saw a scuffle, a man who had not gotten into line quickly enough being kicked and beaten. One Nazi drew a pistol and Roger braced himself. But the Nazi would not fire a shot that might attract attention on the street. Instead, he used the gun as a blunt weapon, striking the man on the head until he lay motionless.
Roger turned away sickened. There was a scuffling noise behind him and he turned to see Magda standing at the door, which he had not realized was ajar, fidgeting with her cuffs. He leapt up in front of the window, hoping to shield her from the scene below. But he could tell from her expression that she had already seen it.
“Darling,” he began, stepping forward, forgetting the need for discretion in his desire to comfort her. She turned and fled without responding.
She did not come to sit in the parlor that evening, but made excuses about being tired and put the baby hurriedly to bed. He did not linger downstairs either, finding the space they usually shared unbearable in her absence and instead working late at his desk.
The next morning he looked for Magda but the house was still. As he left for lectures, the sun shone brightly through branches, casting shadows on the cobblestones below. Roger kept his head low, trying to avoid looking up at the wall that separated the synagogue courtyard from the street. It might have been any morning, but for the disturbing scene he had seen from his window. He should have done something more than stand by like a coward—but what? He thought then of Hans. Suddenly he understood his brother’s tireless work, the magnitude of what he was trying to do.
And what about Magda? The Nazis had been taking Jews for several years now, but the scope and swiftness of the deportation he’d witnessed suggested a new level of aggression. Hans’s protection could go only so far. Roger returned to the idea of asking her to leave with him. She wouldn’t do it just because she had feelings for him, but if he could convince her that fleeing was in the best interests of herself and the baby …
Lost in his thoughts, he was almost at the trolley stop when he realized he’d forgotten the paper he was supposed to turn in at his tutorial that day. He paused, considering. Going back for it would surely make him tardy, but Professor Helm did not suffer late work. He turned and began walking rapidly back toward the house.
Ten minutes later, as he rounded the corner by the synagogue, he stopped. Halfway down the block, in front of Hans and Magda’s house, sat a large black Mercedes, adorned with a swastika flag on either side of the hood. His breathing ceased. Easy, he thought, willing himself to remain upright. The Nazis could be at the synagogue again, following up from the previous day’s raid. But they had parked on the adjacent street then, not this one. No, this was different.
He stood, paralyzed and uncertain. His first instinct was to get help, but even as he thought this, he knew that the notion was laughable. There had been no aid here for years. And Hans was too far away to do anything now.
Steeling himself, he started forward. As he drew nearer, the front door to the house opened. He leapt back, hiding behind a delivery truck. Roger’s panic solidified as three German officers made their way to the sedan. What were they doing here? He could not hear what they were saying, but he could sense their frustration. Whatever they had come for, they had not gotten it.
He forced himself to remain motionless as the car engine started, barely managing to wait until it had pulled away before running into the house. “Magda?” he called. There was no response. He ran up the steps to the second floor. “Magda?”
He found her in the nursery, standing over the crib, clutching Anna and rocking her silently. He walked to her and she fell wordlessly against him with her full weight. A few minutes later, when he sensed she could stand, he led her into her bedroom and onto the floral settee. Though the child slept peacefully, he did not suggest putting her in the crib, knowing that it was out of the question, that Magda would not let Anna out of sight now.
“Wait here.” He went down to the kitchen and made tea, then pulled a bottle of brandy from the shelf above the stove and added some. Upstairs, he took the baby from Magda gently and laid her on the bed. Then he pressed the teacup into Magda’s hands before sitting down beside her. “What happened?” he asked, when she had taken a sip.
“They came …” She faltered, setti
ng down the cup on the floor and reaching for his hand. “I’m not sure why, really. They first wanted to speak with Hans, but when they realized he wasn’t here they kept asking questions about activities in the neighborhood, whether I had seen anyone helping Jews.” Her fingers tightened around his. “I didn’t have anything to tell them, of course.”
Of course. But the Nazis would kill those who they thought were holding back information, regardless of faith. Thank God the officers seemed to have believed her or the two of them might not be sitting here having this conversation. A chill ran down his spine as he processed the gravity of the situation. “Do you think they knew—?”
“About me?” He nodded. “Not that they let on. And Anna was asleep upstairs the whole time, thankfully, so I don’t think they even knew she was here.” Roger processed the information, wanting to find relief in it. But he could not.
Suddenly Magda’s face crumpled. “Oh, Roger,” she cried. She leaned forward against the bed, her dark hair grazing the baby’s stomach. She began to shake, clutching the rose-colored duvet in her fist.
He froze, caught off guard by her uncharacteristic outburst. Then, as he sensed the depths of her anguish, the need to comfort her rose up inside him. “There, there,” he said, wrapping himself around her back and drawing her close. “You’re safe now.”
“It’s not that,” she said, her voice muffled in the bedding.
“Then what?”
“I’m worried about Hans.”
The unexpected response slammed into his chest. He straightened. “Yes, of course you are.” It made sense, really, a wife worried about her husband. Who could argue with that? But he turned away, facing the wall.
“Please don’t.” She touched his shoulder. “I’m just concerned about his safety. That’s all. I do care for him,” she added quickly, her tone defensive.
“Then why?” he asked abruptly. For a moment he didn’t think she would understand the question, but he could tell from the quiver of her lip that she knew just what he meant.
“You? Us?” She paused, as though considering him for the first time and Roger braced for the answer. She leaned back in his arms, her body slack with surrender. “You’re the great love of my life.” A lump formed in his throat, making it impossible to breathe. “I only wish I hadn’t found out when it was too late.”
Roger’s heart swelled until he felt as if it was about to burst. It was him that she loved, not Hans, and she wished as he did that they might have met first so that things could be different. Then his joy was extinguished by a tidal wave of regret as her words echoed in his mind: too late. He imagined a life married to Magda, not having to hide, but openly proud of his family. If only he had met Magda before Hans did—but it was that way with the two of them, his older brother always better, more important. Of course the irony was that without Hans, Roger reflected, he never would have met Magda in the first place.
But his concerns right now went well beyond jealousy. “What about you?” he asked. “With all that has happened, it isn’t safe for you to remain here.” Roger thought then of his brother. Some time ago, on the day he’d discovered her hiding place, Magda had said that Hans knew she was Jewish. With his connections, surely he could help. “Have you talked to Hans?”
She nodded, seeming to burrow deeper in his embrace. “I tried once. I didn’t mention myself directly of course, but friends in need of assistance. But he said that it was impossible, that the organization had to focus on large groups and couldn’t compromise operations to help individuals.”
“Maybe it would be different, though, if he knew you were asking for yourself and Anna.”
“No.” She was right. Hans, principled and remote, would not make an exception, even for his own family. “Promise you won’t say anything.”
Roger bit his lip. “I promise.”
“Such help is better than I deserve in any event.” A look of self-loathing and recrimination twisted her face then, and Roger knew she was thinking of the affair. Magda did not consider herself worthy of Hans’s sanctuary while betraying his trust.
“Magda, don’t—”
She waved her hand. “I’ll answer someday for what I’ve done here—no matter how real my feelings are for you.” Her voice was heavy with resignation. He thought then about his own lack of remorse. A better man might have felt guiltier about taking his brother’s wife while living in his house. But Hans had everything and appreciated none of it.
“It is only for Anna that I am worried,” Magda added, changing the subject. Roger nodded. With a Jewish mother, the child would be considered Jewish too. “I’ve made inquiries with the neighbors.” There had long been speculation that the Baders, the elderly couple next door, were somehow involved with protecting Jews. Not that he’d ever spoken with them. There was a kind of unease among people these days, as though each was watching the other, unsure who could be trusted.
“I can care for Anna,” he protested.
“Darling,” she said gently, reaching up to graze his cheek, “I know that you want to. But she would have to be hidden, in ways that you couldn’t possibly manage.” A knife ripped through his chest then as he contemplated for the first time what a life without Magda and their daughter might be like. “It won’t come to that,” she added firmly, sensing his unease.
“Let me talk to Hans,” Roger said suddenly. “If he can arrange for papers, we can get you out of the country. Geneva, maybe, or Paris.” Though he did not say so, it was clear that he would be going with them, that he would not let them travel alone.
“No,” she said firmly. “We need to be here for Hans.”
Who isn’t here for you, he wanted to point out, but he did not. Equality was not a condition for which Magda had bartered in this marriage. “But surely he would feel better if he knew you were safe.”
“No,” she snapped, more forcefully than he had ever heard her speak. “Don’t you see,” she hissed, dropping her voice to a low whisper though they were the only ones in the house, other than the baby. “You’re barely able to contain yourself when he is around. Your expression, the way you watch me.” Roger turned away, sheepish. He wanted to deny what she said but he could not.
“It’s not just you,” she hastened to add, softening her words with a smile. “I’m no better. Don’t you know that if you go to him, he’s going to figure it out?” She was right about that too. Roger wanted to claim that he would go to Hans as a concerned brother-in-law. But surely the intensity of his panic would give it all away.
“I won’t say anything,” he relented, attempting to placate her.
“Everything will be fine,” she said. But her words rang hollow.
Roger could tell from Magda’s voice that there was more to it, something she was not saying. Though she confided in him more than in her husband, it was also clear that even after all they had been through, everything they had shared, she still did not completely trust him. There would always be some part of Magda that he could not know.
“But—” He prepared to try to reason with her once more. Before he could finish the thought, there was a sound in the foyer below, the door opening, heavy footsteps. He froze. Had the Gestapo come back? Magda lunged for the child on the bed but Roger tightened his grip, restraining her. They needed Anna to remain asleep so she would not cry out.
“Shhh …” he whispered. His eyes darted around the room uncertainly, coming to rest on the armoire. He had to get Magda and Anna into the hiding space behind it, but there was no way to move the heavy piece of furniture without making noise that would attract attention.
The footsteps were on the stairs now, moving rapidly, growing closer. Was there something he could use as a weapon? He would die fighting before letting Magda and the child be taken.
“Hello?” Hans’s blond head appeared in the doorway.
Roger’s entire body went limp with relief. “My brother,” he said, feeling more warmth toward Hans than he could remember. “Thank goodness!”
/> But Hans did not appear to share the sentiment. He stared at Roger and Magda, the lines in his brow deepening. Each time Hans had returned home previously, Roger had been certain that his brother would discern what had happened, that events of such magnitude could not go undetected. Hans had always seemed oblivious, though, retreating to his study with excuses about urgent matters. Roger was suddenly aware of how strange the scenario must appear—he and Magda in the intimacy of the bedroom, with her draped around his neck in a way that suggested it was not the first time. Surely Hans would know now.
Magda leapt to her feet, smoothing her hair. “I thought you were returning this evening.” But for the redness around her eyes, there was no sign of the despair that had wracked her body just a few minutes earlier. She walked quickly to Hans, her face lighting up as she took his coat. Roger searched for a sign that Magda’s enthusiasm wasn’t genuine, or that her smile was forced. But he found none.
Hans stroked his wife’s hair. “I was able to get an earlier ride.” Hans turned to Roger. “Shouldn’t you be at your lectures?”
Hearing the paternalistic tone in his brother’s voice, Roger grew annoyed. “I stopped back to get a paper I’d forgotten. And a good thing too—the Gestapo was here.” He realized as the words came out that he had exaggerated his role, as though he had personally encountered the Germans.
Concern flashed across Hans’s face. “Oh?”
“Mostly they were asking about activities in the neighborhood,” Magda explained, in a voice calmer than Roger thought possible under the circumstances. He could see the relief on his brother’s face as Hans comprehended that they had not come to jeopardize his operations. Roger grew angry. Surely the safety of his family should mean more to Hans than his work.
As Magda continued telling him about the encounter in a low voice, Hans wrapped his arms around her, leading her to the bed. She picked up the child and the three of them sat together, a family reunited. He had been forgotten, Roger realized, with a sense of disappointment. Part of him wanted Hans to find out what was going on between him and Magda, to destroy the status quo of the arrangement in which Roger could never win.
