The Far Side of the Sky

by Daniel Kalla

  As Sunny rushed off, Franz limped over to the hallway telephone.

  Esther answered on the third ring. “It was Eichmann,” Franz said.

  “Gott in Himmel!” Esther gasped. “Here in Shanghai? What did that creature want?”

  “To offer us a Jewish homeland.”

  “Franz, you shouldn’t joke about such things.”

  “I’m not.” Franz summarized Eichmann’s proposal. “But Essie, I am certain it’s only a pretense to round us all up for some terrible purpose.” “So it’s over for us then?” “No, Essie. Not for us. We are going to leave.” “But where will you go?”

  “Anywhere. We will start with Sunny’s friend, Jia-Li, and go from there. You and Simon are coming too.”

  Esther laughed softly. “Simon will never leave the refugees.”

  “He will if you go, Essie.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “Yes. Yes, I see.” Relief washed over him. “You mean it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God.” He exhaled. “Pack lightly, Essie.” “I will.” She paused. “Franz?”

  “Yes?”

  “I no longer have any idea what God wants or expects from our people.” She paused. “But this … will this never end for us?”

  He sighed a small laugh. “I understood God better when I did not believe in him at all. Essie, we must hurry.”

  Sunny packed their clothes into a case that she could carry on her back. She prepared a separate bag with food. At one point, she disappeared into Kingsley’s library and emerged with the same framed photo of her parents that she had brought to the wedding.

  Franz went to the closet and dug out the photographs he had snapped the month before of the refugee hospital. They had not turned out as well as his prints of the Ward Road heim. Dissatisfied with the background lighting and slope of the roofline, he had almost destroyed the images. But, fearing the worst for the hospital’s future, he felt compelled to preserve the evidence of its existence. He tucked a handful of the prints into their bag.

  At the door, Sunny stopped for one final look around. “I have never lived anywhere else.” She shrugged. “I know it’s just wood and plaster. Nothing that cannot be replaced. But this house always kept me close to the memories of my parents, especially my father.”

  Franz tapped the centre of her chest. “Those memories are forever safe here.”

  “I know, it’s just that—” She stopped talking and tilted her head to listen.

  Franz heard it too: the faint rumbling of a car’s engine. She grabbed his hand and jerked him toward the door. “Let’s go, Franz!” she cried.

  Franz stood his ground. “My feet … my arm … I can’t run, Sunny.” “We can hide! The cellar!”

  He shook his head. “They will not leave without me. You go, Sunny!”

  She clung to his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Tires screeched out front. Franz knew he had run out of time. He wriggled his hand free and dug into his pocket. He pulled out the creased envelope and passed it to her. “For Hannah. Please, Sunny!”

  Her eyes misted over and she nodded, clutching the envelope to her chest.

  Three heavy knocks rattled the front door. She tried to stop him from answering, but he shook free of her arm and opened the door. A tall Kempeitai officer loomed in the doorway with his stocky partner hovering behind.

  Franz’s neck tightened. He could almost taste the foul water running down the back of his throat.

  “You come with us,” the officer barked, reaching out for Franz.

  “I will. I will. Just one moment.” He turned to Sunny. “I … I love you.”

  Her face crumpled. “Always.”

  The Kempeitai officers dragged him out to the military vehicle. As the car sped off, Franz shut his eyes, not wanting to know their destination.

  The driver switched off the engine and Franz opened his eyes to see the repellent sight of Bridge House. He flailed wildly as the two guards fought to pull him free of the car. One of them clamped a hand over his broken arm. Despite the pain, he kept thrashing.

  The guards jerked him up by the armpits and dragged him into the building.

  Inside, the guards hauled Franz past the desk and toward an elevator. Realizing they were heading away from the filthy cages, he calmed slightly and stopped resisting.

  They rode the elevator to the fifth floor. The guards marched him down a hallway to an office. Inside, Colonel Tanaka sat behind a desk with the usual scowl carved into his face. He eyed Franz with contempt. “You will stop spreading dirty rumours about Imperial Empire of Japan!” he barked. “Colonel, I have—”

  “Silence!” Tanaka slammed his palm against his desk. “I know you speak to Germans. I know you talk to other Jews. Do not lie!” Franz lowered his head and gazed at the floor.

  “You Jews come to Shanghai with nothing. You do not belong here.” Tanaka shook his head slowly. “We treat you well. We make no trouble for you.”

  “It is true,” Franz muttered.

  “How do we know you will not spy on us?” Tanaka demanded. “You will help the enemy every way possible.”

  Franz looked up. “Colonel, we just want to care for our families. To live.” He swallowed. “Nothing else.”

  “We are honourable people,” Tanaka went on. “Things must change.”

  Despair washed over Franz. His legs began to buckle. “So you do intend to hand us over to the Nazis, then?”

  Tanaka’s hand smashed into the desktop again. “I tell you we are honourable people!” he screeched. “And you spread nothing but lies, lies, lies!”

  Franz fought back a gag.

  Tanaka leapt from his seat and raced over to Franz. He hovered so close that Franz could smell the fish on his breath. Tanaka jabbed his finger into Franz’s chest. “We send Nazis away, and you still say terrible things about us!”

  Franz shook his head in confusion. “Away?”

  “We are a great army. We crush all enemies. No mercy.” He thrust his finger harder into Franz’s chest. “But we do not kill children and women.”

  A glimmer of hope electrified Franz. “Colonel Tanaka, did you refuse the Nazis’ request? Eichmann too? You turned them all away?”

  “Do you not hear me?” Tanaka poked Franz’s chest even harder. “We are honourable soldiers. We do not kill children. Do not spread such lies!”

  Franz could barely keep the smile from his face. “Never. I swear! We will tell the rest of the world that you saved our lives. You will see!”

  Tanaka relaxed his finger. “Hmmm,” he grunted with as much satisfaction as Franz had ever heard from the man.

  “Thank you, Colonel. Thank you.”

  Despite the pain, Franz gingerly extended his right hand to him. But Tanaka ignored the gesture. “Things will change for Jews in Shanghai,” he warned. “We need to better control you. You are too free now.”

  As ominous as the threat might have sounded, Franz felt too blissful to care.

  They’re not handing us over to the Nazis! My darling Sunny and Hannah, we will all be together again!

  CHAPTER 55

  AUGUST 3, 1942, SHANGHAI

  Sunny poked the needle through the skin and tightened the thread as she pulled the edges of the wound together. She glanced over to her husband, who nodded his approval.

  With his right arm set in a plaster cast, Franz had assumed the role of anaesthetist. He removed the ether mask from the man’s face. “Time to wake the patient?”

  Sunny grinned through her mask. “I should be done in another minute or two.”

  Franz nodded. “That was flawless surgery, Frau Doktor.”

  “Hardly, Dr. Adler.” She beamed as she knotted another suture. “A simple abscess of the spleen. You could have done a better job using only one arm. And possibly even blindfolded.”

  “I could not have done it better with two good hands.” He shook his head. “Besides, an able surgeon requires far more than dexterity. After all, who made the
diagnosis?”

  She shrugged, concealing her delight.

  Samuel Reuben had originally been misdiagnosed with pneumonia.

  As soon as Sunny touched his rigid belly, she suspected that a ruptured spleen and abscess better explained his symptoms: fever, pain and difficulty breathing. Franz agreed. In the operating room, the pint of pus and blood Sunny drained from under the diaphragm confirmed her diagnosis.

  She tied off the last stitch and Berta cut it. “Could you please dress the wound?”

  Berta giggled. “Certainly, Frau Doktor.”

  Franz moved for the door. “Shall we go together to inform his wife?” he asked Sunny.

  They had only just stepped into the corridor when Clara Reuben pounced. She stopped inches from them. “Well?” she demanded of Franz, ignoring Sunny. “How is my husband?”

  “He is in stable condition, Mrs. Reuben,” Franz said. “Sunny drained a large amount of pus. There were no—”

  “You let her perform the surgery?” Clara was aghast. “A nurse?”

  Franz raised his arm in its cast. “How did you suppose I was going to perform it?”

  “I foolishly expected a doctor to operate.” Clara huffed. “On a fellow surgeon, no less!”

  “Mrs. Adler is as good as any surgeon in Shanghai.” Clara began to protest, but Franz waved it off. “I will not argue this with you. The procedure went as well as it possibly could have. Sunny just saved your husband’s life.”

  Clara stared at Franz for a moment. “Very well,” she sighed. “When may I see him?”

  “He is still asleep from the anaesthetic,” Franz said. “Perhaps in another hour or two.”

  “This was all so unnecessary,” Clara grumbled.

  Franz eyed the woman coolly. “I could not agree more.” Then his expression softened. He laid his good hand on Clara’s shoulder. “Samuel will be all right,” he reassured.

  Clara’s stern face crumpled. Her eyes misted over, and she suddenly appeared aged and haggard. “How can you be so sure? He is so sick,” she sputtered. “I would be lost without him.”

  “It will take time, but Samuel will improve.” “Are you certain, Franz?” she asked tremulously.

  He squeezed her shoulder once before letting go. “As certain as I can be.”

  “Yes. Right then.” Clara gathered herself and turned to Sunny with a conciliatory expression that passed for a smile. “Well, thank you for your efforts, Mrs. Adler.”

  “You are most welcome, Mrs. Reuben.”

  They finished rounds, checked again on Reuben and then left for the Japanese military headquarters at Astor House.

  Inside Kubota’s office, the walls were bare except for rectangular outlines that marked the spots where paintings had once hung. The colonel’s desk was almost obscured by boxes. Kubota greeted them at the door. “Please excuse the disorder, Dr. and Mrs. Adler.”

  “Are you moving offices, Colonel?” Franz asked.

  “No, Dr. Adler. I am being transferred.”

  Franz frowned. “May I ask where?”

  “Tokyo.”

  Franz’s face fell. “You are leaving Shanghai?”

  “It is for the best. I had begun to mistake Shanghai for home.” Before Franz could comment, Kubota asked, “And Dr. Reuben? How did his operation go?”

  “Surgery went well, Colonel,” Sunny spoke up. “We expect him to improve now.”

  Kubota nodded with obvious relief. “I am most pleased.”

  Franz held his hand open. “Of course, if Colonel Tanaka had not turned the Nazis away, there would be no hospital in which to perform surgery.”

  A rueful smile crossed Kubota’s face. “I suppose not.”

  “Was it really Colonel Tanaka who refused the Nazis?” Franz asked.

  Kubota tilted his head from side to side. “His orders may have come from higher.”

  “General Nogomi?”

  “I believe the ultimate decision was made by the High Command in Tokyo.”

  Franz squinted. “Colonel, you once told me that the field commanders handled such matters themselves.”

  Kubota nodded. “Usually, the High Command is not burdened with local security issues.”

  Franz’s eyes widened. “It was you! You brought it to their attention, didn’t you, Colonel?”

  Kubota shifted on the spot, and Sunny saw that her husband had touched a nerve. “Oh, Colonel, this is why you are being transferred, is it not?” she said.

  Kubota cleared his throat. “I do not mean to be rude, Dr. and Mrs. Adler, but I really must leave you now.”

  Sunny bowed deeply to Kubota. “Colonel, thank you. For everything.”

  Kubota returned her bow and then extended his hand to Franz.

  “Colonel, you are a most honourable and decent man,” Franz said. “I promise you, we will never forget all you have done for us. Never.”

  Kubota’s face flushed. “I fear that the road ahead will not necessarily be easy for any of us, but as we say in Japan: shikata ga nai. ‘What will be cannot be helped.’” He offered a sad smile. “I wish you and your family all good fortune and good health.”

  They left Astor House in silence. From what Sunny understood of Japanese military culture, she expected that Kubota would be heading back to Japan in disgrace.

  As they arrived home, a cloud of mouth-watering aromas engulfed them. Despite the meagre rations, Yang was somehow preparing a feast.

  “Papa!” Hannah cried as she raced out of the kitchen and into his open arms.

  Three days earlier, Sunny had wept watching Franz and Hannah’s tearful reunion. Each time Franz had returned home since, even from brief errands, his daughter greeted him as though he were a soldier returning from war.

  Hannah freed herself from her father and wrapped Sunny in a warm hug. Sunny ran her hand through the girl’s short dyed-black hair and kissed her head once. “Jia-Li is here too,” Hannah exclaimed.

  Sunny found her best friend on the sitting room sofa, one leg crossed over the other, and puffing from a silver cigarette holder. In a black dress and brimmed hat, Jia-Li could have passed for a Chinese Marlene Dietrich. Sunny kissed her on the cheek as she dropped onto the couch beside her. “Will you stay for dinner, bao bèi?”

  Jia-Li sighed out a mouthful of smoke. “I am afraid I have to work.”

  Sunny was about to protest when Hannah wandered into the room and sat down on the other side of Jia-Li.

  Jia-Li patted the girl’s leg. “Hannah, there’s a new film playing on Nanking Road. Tarzan’s Secret Treasure. Perhaps you would like to come with me to the matinee tomorrow?”

  Hannah’s eyes lit. “Oh, could we?”

  “Why not, beautiful?” Jia-Li laughed. “And we will take Sunny too. A real girls’ outing.”

  Jia-Li directed the conversation to talk of the latest fashions and then local gossip. Eventually, she rose to her feet. “I’m afraid I have to leave now.”

  Sunny walked her to the door. “Are you sure you won’t stay? Your poet, Dmitri, could join us too.”

  Jia-Li smiled. “I doubt Chih-Nii would appreciate my absence tonight.”

  Sunny squeezed her friend’s hand between hers. “If ever you choose to leave that place, bao bèi, you are always welcome to come and stay here with us. Your mother too, of course.”

  Jia-Li laughed. “Oh, dear sweet Soon Yi, if only it were so simple.”

  “After all you have done for us and the risks you have taken …” Sunny’s voice cracked. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you, bao bèi.”

  Jia-Li shrugged. “It’s what sisters do.”

  Sunny kissed Jia-Li’s cheek again. “You are the best friend in the world,” she whispered into her ear.

  Esther and Simon arrived minutes after Jia-Li’s departure. Simon had somehow scrounged up a bottle of pre-war Chianti, and a tin of pineapple juice for Hannah. They gathered in the sitting room with their glasses, Hannah stealing the occasional sip of wine from her father’s.

  Franz had re
set Simon’s broken nose, but it was still swollen, and most of his face had turned yellowish blue from the bruising. Despite his injuries, Simon seemed more ebullient than ever. “How lucky am I?” He glanced adoringly to Esther. “And for the cherry on top, you hear the latest war news?”

  “You mean the bombing of Hamburg?” Franz said.

  Simon nodded enthusiastically. “The largest bombing on German soil yet.”

  “Women and children live in Hamburg too,” Esther pointed out.

  “This war is brutal on all civilians, no question,” Simon said. “But the Allies desperately need some successes. And it’s not only Hamburg. The Brits pushed the Germans back in North Africa at El Alamain. The tide is turning. I feel it in my bones.”

  Esther laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, darling, your optimism knows no bounds.”

  “Meantime, we are still at the whim of the Japanese,” Franz sighed. “And might be so forever.”

  “Think of all the odds we have already beaten.” Simon stood up and raised his glass. “I want to toast the Jews of Shanghai, who have more lives than your average cat.”

  Hannah turned to Esther, confused. “Average cat?”

  “It’s an old saying that cats have nine lives,” Esther explained, and then looked up at her husband. “Don’t tempt fate, darling.”

  Simon laughed as he took hold of Esther’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “You got to figure that fate must be sick and tired of dumping on us Jews.”

  Sunny rose and tapped her glass to theirs. “To Shanghai Jews!”

  Simon winked at her. “Including you, Sunny. Not entirely sure why you would want membership in our tribe, but no one deserves it more than you.”

  Hannah hopped to her feet. “To Sunny and the rest of the Shanghai Jews.” She giggled and clinked glasses with the others.

  Franz scanned the room. “I would like to make another toast. To the most precious gift in the world.” He raised his glass high above his head. “To family!”

  Everyone tapped glasses again. Sunny’s face glowed as Franz blew her a kiss.

  “Speaking of families—” Simon began. Esther grabbed his sleeve. “Simon, not yet!”

  Simon turned to her with a huge grin. “Essie, it’s the perfect time.”