The Melody of the Soul

by Liz Tolsma

  Once outside, he leaned against the side of the building, the brick rough beneath his palms. He drew in shaky breath after shaky breath. He had to calm down. That had been close. Too close. The officer might yet write him up. He could face discipline. At least he hadn’t shot Horst on the spot.

  When his breathing returned to normal and a good amount of time passed after his encounter with the SS guard, Horst scurried to his car. He peered all around to be sure no one watched him. He slipped a few bread rolls into the pockets of his pants, along with a small wedge of cheese and a couple sausages. In the darkness, he prayed no one should notice the slight bulges.

  From the records, he discovered David resided in the Magdeburg barracks. The same building where they first met after the concert. With perfect posture and sure strides, he made his way down the street. As curfew passed, no one moved about, but many sounds floated from the old stone buildings lining the road. Violin music. Children’s laughter. The anguished cries of the dying.

  The deeper he plunged into the ghetto, the more unbearable the smells. Cooking fires and falling leaves should perfume the air. Instead, the odors were indescribable. Gut twisting. Eye watering. Vomit inducing. He closed his mind to what caused them.

  He located David’s building with little trouble. His stomach rolled more than a ship on a stormy sea at what he discovered inside. Men packed the tiny rooms. Not a few of them lay on thin mattresses on the floor, sunken, hollow shells of their former selves. His eyes watered at the overpowering odor of human bodies and death.

  All conversation stopped the minute the prisoners recognized Horst’s uniform. Palpable fear permeated the walls and filled the space.

  After a moment of adjusting to the interior’s dim light, Horst spotted David. The man stiffened as he approached. “Why are you here?”

  “I have something for you.”

  David motioned for Horst to join him in the hall. “What?”

  Horst pulled a roll from his pocket. “It’s not much.”

  “Don’t give it to me in front of the others in the room. They’ll kill me before I even sink in my teeth.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lived in such miserable conditions.”

  “What did you think? That we are on holiday here?” David wrung his hands. His voice rose in pitch. “This may be a transition camp, but your friends will be just as happy if we don’t live to be transported elsewhere. It will save them the trouble of packing us into the train.”

  Horst stepped back. “They don’t tell us underlings any more than they tell you.”

  “And you want me to believe that?”

  “Believe what you want. I’m trying to help you.” He withdrew the cheese and sausage and offered them to David.

  David’s hazel eyes darkened until they grew almost black. “This will only prolong my suffering one more day. You saw the conditions.”

  This conversation veered off the path. He expected gratitude. “If you would rather not have my help . . .”

  David grabbed the items. “There. Now, you have done your good deed for the day. You can feel good about yourself. Go home, put your feet up, and enjoy your evening. Next time, don’t come unless you have enough to share with all the men. Or a way out of here.” With that, the man with the wild hair turned on his heel, then spun back around.

  “If you want to help me, take care of my grandmother and my sister. Don’t let anything happen to them. Keep them from this despicable place.” With that, he disappeared into the room.

  Without paying attention to his surroundings, Horst stumbled to his car. Not until he was halfway back to Prague did the realization strike him that he never told David what he’d found out about his family.

  Even before Hauptmann Engel disappeared, David consumed the roll and the sausage. He wanted to save it, to savor each little bite, but once he put the soft bread into his mouth, the bread baked only this morning by his calculations, he couldn’t control himself. The morsel slid down his throat into his empty belly.

  By the time he made it to the cheese, his stomach ached. He slipped the food into his pocket, the one without the hole. Maybe it would stay there and not rip the worn fabric.

  After wiping his hand across his mouth to rid his lips of any telltale crumbs, he sauntered back into the room and to his mattress beside Isaac.

  “Hey, Zadok, what did that Nazi want with you?” With such a boyish face, Isaac appeared much younger than his almost thirty years.

  “Nothing. I’ve done nothing to earn this attention.”

  “Does he have it in for you?”

  David coughed into his handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. He didn’t have to look. It bore a red stain. “I don’t know what he wants with me.”

  Simon sat up on his pallet. “You must be the teacher’s pet.”

  “Shut up, Simon.” Isaac leaned forward. “Nobody wants to be a pet to the Nazis.”

  “Not even if it saves his skin? I’d volunteer.”

  David didn’t have the strength to fight this battle. “Let it go, Simon. Whatever that German wants with me has nothing to do with you.”

  “Are you hatching a daring escape plan?”

  “I thought I told you to shut up.” Isaac clenched his fists.

  “Stop it. Both of you. We’re the intellectuals, remember? We don’t use violence. Only reason.” For long hours, they had sat in Prague’s cafés and coffee shops, debating reason and life and existence. To the Czech, it was almost a sport.

  Simon crossed his arms. “And I have a hundred reasons why that Nazi singled you out.”

  David lay back. “None of them correct. Because I have no idea what he wants.”

  All at once, Simon appeared in front of David, leaning over him. “What are you hiding?”

  Did he see the bulge? Sweat rolled down David’s face. “Not a thing.”

  “You’re not telling the truth.” Simon reached into David’s right pocket and came up empty.

  But the other pocket held the cheese. He should have eaten it. Or fed it to the rats. With all his might, he pushed Simon off and stood. Now with the advantage, David hovered over Simon.

  The man wasn’t sick. He’d come in from Prague not too long ago and was in better shape than David. He pushed David and landed a fist on his cheek. Pain raced through his skull. His ears rang.

  Adrenaline pumped into David’s system. He summoned all his strength and socked Simon in the stomach.

  Fists flew. Others joined the fight. After a time, David lost track of who hit who. One punch landed on the side of his head, another on his chin, yet a third in his midsection. He now understood what it meant to see stars.

  Simon got a hold of David’s neck and squeezed. He couldn’t breathe. The world darkened. Simon was bent on killing him. David didn’t have a choice. He held up his hands in defeat.

  Simon let go. David fell against the wall and slumped to the floor. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. “You win. Are you happy? We’ve turned into the Germans. Barbarians, settling differences by fighting.”

  Simon spit. “You started this by not sharing what is in your pocket.”

  “Have it your way.” David pulled out the hunk of cheese. “If it will make you happy, it’s yours.” He threw it into the middle of room.

  Like moths to a light, the men clambered to the bit of food. The fight resumed, this time over Horst’s offering. David sat against the wall, out of the fray.

  For a moment, Simon stopped scrabbling. “From now on, you will share with the rest of us, or I will kill you with my bare hands.”

  David licked his lips. If he believed in God, he would pray that Hauptmann Engel would stay very far away from him.

  Even though a light mist fell on the awakening city, Anna hurried down the stairs from her apartment. She drew her coat around her to keep out the chill.

  Why did she stand in the predawn mist? Over the years, she’d said enough good-byes to friends and even her own family. Still, she wan
ted to see Ester one last time. Perhaps for the last time ever.

  Would she ever be reunited with her parents or her siblings? Would they ever celebrate another name day together? Would they sit at the Christmas dinner table and feast on carp? Would she and David ever play music together again?

  If it weren’t for her parents’ command to watch over Babička, Anna would tell Jakub to put her name on the deportation list and get it over with. What good was it to live if you had no friends or family to share your life with? Moisture dampened her face, in part from the drizzle, in part from her tears.

  Five minutes later, Ester and her family emerged from the neighboring building. The four of them moved with hunched shoulders.

  “Ester.”

  Anna’s friend turned in her direction and flashed a small smile. She lumbered over to Anna. “What are you doing out here? You’re going to catch cold.”

  “You sound like Babička.”

  “I’m going to miss you, dear friend.” Ester dropped her suitcases on the damp ground and drew Anna into an embrace.

  How much more of this could she survive? Her heart could only break so many times. “And I’m going to miss you. God go with you and watch over you.”

  “When this is all over, we’ll find each other again. I promise.”

  “I hope so.”

  After one more squeeze, Ester picked up her bags and joined her family as they wound their way down the long, narrow street.

  Anna struggled to bring some music to mind, but the songs refused to obey her.

  Behind her, the heavy wooden door to her own building opened and clicked shut. “Fraulein Zadoková?”

  She turned toward the sound of Hauptmann Engel’s voice.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “My friend and her family are being deported today. I said farewell to yet another person I love.”

  “Come inside. You’re soaked through.”

  His concern for her well-being struck her as funny. Why should he care? She followed him into the building and up the stairs to her flat.

  “May I come in? I have news for you.”

  “Sure. Make yourself comfortable.” She opened the door. Babička sat in the chair by the window, her Bible on her lap.

  “I saw your brother again.”

  Anna spun around. “You did?”

  “I brought him some food.” The crease beside his mouth deepened.

  What was she supposed to say? “Děkuji. How was he?”

  “Thin. But feisty. He wasn’t too happy that I only brought food for him. He told me to stay away if I didn’t have enough for everyone. He’s packed into a room no bigger than my living room with maybe eight or ten other men.”

  “That sounds like my brother. It’s good to know he hasn’t changed.”

  “I also found out about your parents.”

  “You did what?” She fussed with her dress’s collar.

  “When I was at Theresienstadt, I took the chance to peek at your family’s files.”

  Blood pounded in her ears, almost drowning out his words. “What did you find?”

  He studied the worn rug covering the wood floor. “In early October, they were transported to a camp called Auschwitz.”

  “That’s it?”

  He scuffed the toe of his shoe. Cleared his throat. Cracked his knuckles. He swallowed hard. “They were,” he drew in a deep breath, “gassed upon their arrival.”

  Anna grabbed her middle. “Ne, ne, ne.”

  Horst turned away from Anna and her grandmother and stared at the crack in the plaster of the hundred-year-old apartment building’s wall. Their anguish and grief tore at him. All of it inflicted on them by people like him. And all of it so unnecessary.

  The fissure was like a snake, slithering, ready to devour its prey. Like the Nazi machine. Like the man he was.

  Anna sobbed, heart-wrenching cries for the family she’d lost. Her grandmother spoke to her in low tones, her voice cracking with sadness, her sorrow no less. She’d lost a child and grandchildren.

  He, too, suffered great loss when his older brother, Otto, died. Horst had been young, but his mother never got over the death of her firstborn. To this day, more than fifteen years later, she cried for him every night.

  He turned around and studied Anna, nestled in her grandmother’s embrace. After a long while, her weeping slowed. She leaned away from her grandmother’s shoulders and stared at him with watery eyes.

  What could he say to her? None of this was right or fair. “I’m sorry.”

  Anna pursed her lips and wiped the moisture from her face.

  “My brother died when I was ten.”

  Anna swallowed hard and stepped from her grandmother’s hold, but continued to clasp her hand.

  “I understand what you are going through.”

  “You don’t.” Anna’s face reddened.

  “I watched my parents mourn for him. They still do. I miss him to this day.”

  “How did he die?”

  “Polio.” The same polio he’d survived.

  “Was he taken from his home at gunpoint?”

  Horst shook his head.

  “Was he treated more like an animal than a human?”

  “Nein.” His parents had procured the best treatment available in Munich for their son.

  “Was he forced to live in the crowded, filthy conditions you described at Terezín?” Her voice rose in pitch.

  “Nein.”

  She released her grip on her grandmother and marched two steps toward him. “You have no idea how this feels, this stabbing pain in my chest. You have no idea what my family endured before men like you transported them who knows where and subjected them to who knows what before they met their end at the hands of their enemies. You lost a brother. I lost a mother, a father, and two sisters. My grandmother lost a daughter and two granddaughters. You have no comprehension of our grief.”

  Anna didn’t inhale during her entire rant. When she finished, she panted, her breath ragged and shallow.

  He had no answer for her. She was right. His grief was small compared to hers. His brother had died a dignified death. Her family hadn’t.

  In a short space of time, the red eked from her face, leaving it as white as the Alpine snows. He motioned to the sofa behind her. “Sit down and let me get you a glass of water.” He added a please so it sounded like less of an order.

  Her grandmother tried to steer her to the couch. Anna shook her off and tottered another step in Horst’s direction. “After what you did to them, you want to get me a drink? Do you think that will heal my heart? You may hold sway over me, Hauptmann Engel, but unless you are here to arrest me and Babička, you have no right to be in my home. For now, it belongs to me and is private property. Get out of here and leave us to mourn.”

  Her wrath broke over him like a storm. “You’re right. I don’t understand. But let me help you.”

  “Help me? You want to help me? Why should I accept help from someone who wants to kill all of us for no other reason than our ethnic background? I told you to get out, and I meant it.” She launched toward him, her fists clenched, her jaw tight.

  He ducked out of the door before she poured more fury on him.

  As he clicked it shut, she wailed. “Máma, Máma, Táta, Táta. Oh God, why did you take them from me?”

  He leaned against the stairway wall and bowed his head.

  Patricie stood in the middle of Georg Klima’s tiny flat, nothing more than a lumpy sofa and an uneven table occupying the living area. Nothing pretentious, nothing to attract attention. The heat from the small, black stove in the corner didn’t do much to warm the space.

  Georg tented his long fingers in front of his boyish face. “How many do you need this week?”

  “The number in hiding has grown to fifteen. I must have enough to last me five days at least.”

  “Where do you have them all stashed?”

  “With just about everyone I know and can trust. At one apartmen
t, there are five. It’s too many, but I don’t have anywhere else to put them. Yet they keep coming.”

  “Or you go to them.”

  “I had several Jewish friends at the music conservatory. I can’t allow anything happen to them.”

  “What will you do when the next ones arrive on your doorstep?”

  She peered at the man across the table from her. He’d dyed his red hair brown so he wouldn’t attract too much attention. A wise thing to do if you’re stealing ration cards. “I will find a place for them.”

  “You can’t turn anyone away, but it’s dangerous to stuff them into every nook and cranny in the city.”

  “If that’s what I have to do in order to save them, I’ll do it.”

  “Patricie—”

  She waved him off, waved off the words that were coming. She cut off his protestations of love and his warnings of danger. “Not now, Georg. This isn’t the time for that.”

  She loved him, it was true. She had for a very long time. But this wasn’t the moment for beginning a family. Though it broke her heart, she forced herself to keep him at arm’s length. Especially with Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s attention on her.

  He flashed a tipped smile, but the light left his green eyes. “Someday.”

  “When someday comes, we can talk. Until then, we have work to do. We don’t know what the next minute may bring.”

  “All the more reason. Won’t you consider it?”

  Should she tell him about Hauptsturmführer Jaeger?

  She shook her head, answering both Georg’s question and her own. Hauptsturmführer Jaeger may never have anything to do with her again. At least, she prayed he wouldn’t. And she prayed that, at the end of this, Georg still would want her.

  He lifted a floorboard and drew out a bundle of cards, peeling off what Patricie needed to feed that number of people for that amount of time.

  She accepted the stack of ration cards from him and stuffed them into the lining of her coat. “Thank you.”

  “You’re my best customer.” This time, he offered her a genuine grin. He walked her to the door and pecked her on the cheek. “Be careful.”