Sitting on the bed, Josef looked at the trunk, and great emotions welled up inside of him. Without saying anything, Michael crossed the room and pulled out an empty box, brought it to Josef, and sat on the bed next to him.
“I’m sure we can save some things,” he said quietly. Josef nodded and tentatively started to peel away the wood and brass, now a mangled heap that hardly resembled a chest. On the top, though many of her delicate things were broken, the photos of Sarah beaming out were miraculously unscathed.
Josef picked up the photos lovingly and dusting them clean with his hands. He placed them gently on the bed next to him. He leaned down into the box and noticed the violin case had been damaged in the blast. But miraculously, when he opened the case, the violin itself was still intact. He ran his fingers along the wood and the strings, enjoying its smooth and shiny veneer; memories of a different era.
“She loved to play this,” he informed Michael, who understood the gravity of the situation and nodded his head. Cradling the neck, Josef shook off some of the dust that had settled on it. “Unlike me, she loved to play music.” He smiled. “She had to beg her father to allow her to play the violin. Her family was the opposite of mine. Mine were passionate creatives. Hers were academics. It took much persuasion on Sarah’s part. Finally, her father gave in and allowed her to play, and later she managed to talk me into playing with her too. And even though at first I begrudgingly took up the piano again, she took so much joy in us playing together that I found myself falling in love with her enthusiasm. Playing the piano with her was one of the happiest times in my life.”
He placed the violin reverently on the bed next to him. Next, he unpacked the veil, shaking off the brick dust. He unraveled it, stroking the gauzy fabric. Josef smiled, remembering the day of their wedding and how he had chased Sarah through the tulip fields. There were her shoes in there too, and her clothes. And a bundle of letters.
Josef lovingly took the bundle that was wrapped in a pink velvet ribbon and placed it next to the violin. “This is all I have left, just dusty things.”
“But you have your strength and your great capacity to love. Only a person that loved so deeply and has been loved back like this could be as selfless as you have been with me. That is so much more than just dusty memories,” Michael said to him sincerely.
Josef nodded, unsure what to do with his friend’s praise. He didn’t see himself as anything much. He had been so broken for so long he had even wondered about his ability to ever love again. At least he was able to think of these good memories of Sarah. It had been hard to access them over the years with that one final day of her life being so sad and shocking. He hoped, one day soon, that he would be able to transform that negative memory and walk through the darkened doorway, and just remember the love that they had shared together.
He saw something in Michael’s eyes then as they continued to pack the box. He knew he owed his friend an explanation. They had not talked about Sarah since Michael had been ill. Someday soon, he knew he would share with him the whole story of her life and also her death. It would be hard to talk about, but they had already shared so much together. It only seemed right that he share that part of his life, too.
Chapter 43
Ingrid had her head down, working at her desk when he entered, so she didn’t see him straight away, though the hair on the back of her neck informed her something wasn’t right. When she looked up, all her breath caught in her throat. It had been months since the party, since he had attacked her, since she’d nearly been raped.
Arrogantly striding into the office flanked by two of his officers, he surveyed the room with disdain. As she watched him, it took all of her strength not to jump up and run from the building. She couldn’t believe how terrifying it was for her to see him again.
Heinrich appeared at his office door and strode over to shake the Lieutenant Colonel’s hand as they spoke in respectful, clipped German.
All at once, they were walking toward her, and panic seared through her body. As she stood to her feet, her knees buckled from under her, causing her to cling onto the desk to stop herself from collapsing.
“Lieutenant Colonel, you remember my fiancée,” Heinrich stated.
The officer pierced Ingrid with an icy glare, his eyes assaulting her with his coldness and indifference. He paused while his gaze traveled purposefully up and down her body, allowing his eyes to rest on her breasts.
“Yes, I think I have met her before,” he said with a cruel curl of his lip. “Ingrid, yes? The lovely Ingrid.”
He stretched out his hand and Ingrid froze. She looked down at it in front of her. The hand that had grabbed her around the throat, that had thrust her against a door and practically torn off her underwear.
The flashback took the breath from her lungs. Everything inside of her wanted to scream. Frozen in fear, she just stood there, staring at his outstretched hand. Apparently longer than was acceptable, because Heinrich spoke sternly to her. “Ingrid, do you remember my Lieutenant Colonel?”
“Of course.” Her voice quivered as she placed a cold, white hand in his.
“I believe the last time we met was at a party,” he snarled.
Ingrid looked at him in terror. Surely he wasn’t going to reveal what had happened between them here in the office with Heinrich standing right there.
The Lieutenant Colonel seemed to enjoy taunting her, as he paused before adding, “A few years ago when you both came to my house.” He squeezed her hand very hard before he let it go. A sinister smile returned to his lips, as if reminding her that somehow she was his, something of her still belonged to him. “Lovely to see you again, Ingrid. I hope to see a lot more of you as our offices work together over the next few months.”
Ingrid looked helplessly at Heinrich for confirmation.
“Yes,” reiterated Heinrich. “We are hoping to accomplish much more working together. We could even give you an office here, sir, if you would like that.”
“We will see,” he murmured, not taking his eyes from Ingrid, obviously teasing her. “Though there is no doubt it would be nice to be…”—he paused before saying the last word with added emphasis—“closer.”
Terror rushed through Ingrid’s body. She started to shake uncontrollably and clung again to the desk, hoping Heinrich hadn’t seen evidence of the emotions raging within her. Heinrich’s whore. The words echoed in her head.
The Lieutenant Colonel turned from her desk and marched toward Heinrich’s office. As the door slammed shut, she just managed to make it into her chair before she collapsed.
Vi, who had been close by, noticed straight away. “What is wrong?” she enquired with concern.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Ingrid spluttered, grabbing her purse and rushing out of the room.
In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror as she ran water into the bowl and tried desperately to catch a breath.
All at once there was someone behind her. She spun around in fear. But it was only Vi.
“What’s wrong, Ingrid?” she asked again. “Something is going on. I know it is.”
Ingrid couldn’t hold on any longer. She started to sob uncontrollably as the fear and experience of that night washed over her in violent and horrific flashbacks.
Vi was instantly by her side with her arms around her as Ingrid wept on her shoulder.
After a long cry, she confessed to Vi what had happened, and her friend was horrified. Ingrid explained how she had managed to hide the ring of angry black bruises on her face and neck the following morning with makeup, but the pain of not telling anyone of her anguish had overwhelmed her.
“What about Heinrich? Can’t you talk to him about this?” implored her friend.
Ingrid shook her head as she dabbed at her eyes. “He wouldn’t understand. I’m not even sure he would believe me. I need to make this relationship work, and he is very busy with his job and is so distant from me right now.”
Vi stood staring at her, shaking h
er head. “Surely if he loved you he would care about this and want to at least do everything in his power to keep you away from this animal.”
Ingrid shook her head. “The Lieutenant Colonel is his superior and everyone is so stressed right now since the south of Holland fell to the enemy. There are rumors they could make substantial advances into all of Holland, and Heinrich is so tense. I need to do something for him right now, to bring him back to me.”
Vi placed her arm around Ingrid’s shoulders again. “We will think of something, Ingrid. We will not let this despicable human being win, and we will also think of a way to get you and Heinrich back on track.”
Ingrid blew her nose, feeling heartened from talking with her friend. She should have spoken to her about this before, and for once in a long time, she had a glimmer of hope. A sliver of optimism that maybe there was a way she could heal the gap between her and Heinrich.
That evening, Vi took Ingrid to their little jazz club in town. The starvation all over Holland had intensified, leaving very little to eat, even for the German’s. The club stayed open for members of the Third Reich to continue to meet, but Ingrid noticed business had been dwindling as more forces were stretched to fight the war on so many fronts. There were rumors of soldiers dying from malnutrition. But still, a few evenings a week, they sat at their favorite table, that was usually lit with a single red candle thrust into an ancient wine bottle, layered in dripped wax, while the little jazz band played. It was here, a few days after Ingrid’s confession to Vi, that they came up with their plan.
Ingrid took a long, slow drag on her cigarette. “I’m not even sure if he loves me anymore, but I’m afraid to leave now. Where would I go? All of my old friends here have rejected me. Any chance of leaving for Germany to be with Heinrich’s family is now impossible with the enemy surrounding the Netherlands.”
Vi nodded. “It’s a difficult time for all of us, but maybe there is something we can do about your relationship. What is making Heinrich so stressed? Perhaps we can help him.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” responded Ingrid. “He complains all the time about the Resistance and how they’re stopping him from getting any work done.” She sighed. “Lately, they have done so much damage. He is sure there are spies within the Reich, maybe even in our office. Helping them cripple the Nazi advances.”
“What if we were to find them for him?” Vi suggested, her eyes alight with the adventure of it all.
“What do you mean?”
“You could talk to Heinrich and find out what kind of operation is coming up,” Vi responded with a smirk. “Then you and I can use all our savvy to watch for any suspicious activity related to that operation in our office: people who are listening in, that sort of thing.”
Ingrid nodded, feeling encouraged. “That’s an excellent idea. If I could find a traitor, especially in our office, I know Heinrich would be so proud of me. But how would I find out what he is working on? He hardly speaks to me anymore.”
“Well, we shall have to find a way for you to get his attention. I have a few friends working in the black market who could, say, obtain some food. Maybe you could cook him a nice dinner.”
Ingrid was taken aback. “You have food?” she whispered.
“Let’s just say I have a certain soldier friend whose job it is to confiscate food obtained by the black market. He has a hard time saying no to me,” Vi said with a wink. “What does Heinrich like to eat?”
“Duck is his favorite, but we haven’t seen duck for nearly a year. Do you really think you could get me some?”
“Leave it with me.” Vi stubbed out her cigarette. “We will see if we can win over Herr von Strauss for you by winning over his stomach.”
Vi was good for her word and a few days later handed over the food. Ingrid decided to talk to Heinrich that evening.
She arranged for her housekeeper’s daughter to cook duck à l’orange, Heinrich’s favorite, promising the girl’s family any leftover food. Arriving home early, she dressed in the tight black dress he had always said he loved her in and dabbed the musky perfume he had bought her behind her ears.
Her fiancé came home late that evening. Exhausted, he shuffled inside, his head and shoulders weighed down with the burden of an endless war.
Ingrid greeted him at the door, looking ravishing, if she did say so herself. He appeared surprised.
“You’re going out again tonight?” he sneered, as he took in her attire.
“No,” she responded, laying on all her charm. “I decided to stay home and have dinner with you.”
She took off his jacket and led him by the hand into the dining room; he was taken aback by her preparations. The table was laid with fresh flowers and the best crystal was glistening by candlelight. Music played on the gramophone.
“What is this?” he enquired suspiciously.
Ingrid seated him at the end of the table and poured him a glass of red wine. “I feel like we’re growing apart and we need to spend more time together. This war has hurt all of us.”
Heinrich was about to respond when the cook arrived with the duck à l’orange. He looked at it in awe.
“How is this possible? How did you get this food?” he spluttered, his usual need to interrogate her overtaken by his desire to eat.
Ingrid took a sip of her wine and smiled. Her plan was working; Heinrich looked impressed.
“A friend of mine got it for me. I told her my fiancé is doing a critical job for the Third Reich and needed to be rewarded.”
Heinrich didn’t waste any time and started to eat hungrily.
Throughout the dinner, he was quiet, and Ingrid spent the time reassuring him of the excellent job he was doing.
“Tell me about your work,” she asked as the housekeeper brought in their dessert. “What are you doing at the moment?”
He drained his glass of wine and sighed. “You know I can’t talk about that. You know everything is top secret.”
“I know,” she pouted, “but I’m sure there must be something we can talk about that I could help you with.”
Heinrich scoffed. “Killing everyone in the entire Resistance would be good. Or at least stopping them blowing up our fuel trains so we could fire off our V2 rockets once in a while.”
Ingrid didn’t get to respond to him because the telephone rang and he left the table to answer it. But she started thinking. Maybe if she knew when the fuel trains were coming in, she could help, somehow.
When he returned, he looked grave. “There has been an incident I have to attend to. I must go.” He picked up his jacket and moved toward the door. Just before he exited the room, he turned to her, his indifference thawed for a moment. “I enjoyed our dinner.”
Then he left and didn’t return until she was already asleep in bed. But his early departure had given her the whole evening to come up with a plan.
The next day she hurried to work and pulled Vi from her desk to the bathroom to tell her about her idea. Vi checked that the stalls were empty before Ingrid started speaking in a hushed tone.
“I think we should try to uncover who is blowing up the fuel trains. Heinrich is so stretched right now, he doesn’t have the manpower to conduct a full investigation just for that. But maybe we can do it for him. The Resistance must be getting their information from somewhere. It could easily be someone in our office. We should start by looking into it here. There are only a few people who handle the fuel trains, and it would be easy for us to keep an eye on them.”
“Surely Heinrich would have ruled out that possibility,” Vi whispered back. “Besides, the dates and times of the trains are all kept secret. Virtually no one knows when they are coming in.”
“Heinrich does,” stated Ingrid, her face glowing. “I bet the information is in his safe, and I know the combination.”
Vi looked at her friend in awe. “Are you planning what I think you are planning?” she whispered, her eyes wide with anticipation. Suddenly a clerk from one of the other offices came through the do
or and both Ingrid and Vi pretended to be preening in the mirror until she left with a nod, uttering a “Heil Hitler” to them both.
“You’re not planning on confronting the Resistance fighters yourself, are you? That could be so dangerous.”
Ingrid shook her head. “Of course not, I just plan on uncovering the spy for him. It might mean following someone, I suppose. But only so I can report who they are to Heinrich and he can take action and look like the hero. That way everybody wins—he looks good to his own Lieutenant Colonel and he sees the value in having me in his life. I think we should start by watching people in the office for suspicious activity.” Ingrid squealed. “I can’t wait to see his face when he finds out what an asset I can be to him. I want to make him so proud of me.”
“Okay,” said Vi, “I will help you. I reckon I know exactly which of our office workers we need to keep an eye on. And, hopefully, help save your love life.”
Chapter 44
After her mother’s death, Hannah found that her life and purpose took on new meaning. She worked tirelessly against the regime, mainly on restoring bicycles for Resistance fighters to use. They were basic, and there was no rubber for tires, most people just rode on the metal frames, but they served a purpose.
The Resistance leader, Henri, whom she’d met all those years before, had connected her with salvage people all over Amsterdam. Bicycle parts were found and smuggled to her. She would also sometimes use her job at the university to hold falsified documents for people who needed them. Even though the university was officially closed, she still volunteered to keep on top of the mail. The couple of afternoons she was there, she would hide the documents in empty pigeonholes, and then, at the right time, she would slip them into the outgoing mail to another member of the faculty who was also working for the Underground.
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