by Liz Tolsma
They arrived at Smetana Hall in plenty of time to get to their seats. The majestic, domed glass ceiling rose above them, taking her breath away. She stared at it for many long moments. “It’s truly amazing.”
“Have you never been here?”
She focused her gaze on her feet. “A few times. I even played here once. But the sight of it never ceases to fill me with wonder.”
“I thought this would have been your second home.”
“You know we didn’t have the money for it.”
“How did you afford the conservatory, then?”
“A scholarship. Without it, I would have been working in the same shop as my father long ago. It’s a shame the school closed before I graduated. Perhaps I would be playing with the symphony tonight.” She itched to hold her instrument, the wood smooth and the metal keys cool beneath her fingers. To have the music flow from her heart and over her once more. After all this, could she go back there?
“And you should be. If you would excuse me a moment.” He rose and crossed the room to where another German officer sat. They had a brief discussion before Hauptsturmführer Jaeger returned to his seat.
“Who was that?”
“Hauptmann Horst Engel. I’ve gotten to know him since his father bought a comfortable position for him here as head of architectural preservation or some such ridiculous nonsense. Most of us joined the military to protect our families and our Fatherland. We had to work very hard to rise through the ranks. His father, for whom he doesn’t care, handed his position to him on a silver platter.”
“You sound like you don’t like him.”
“He didn’t earn his title, nor does he deserve it.”
“I will take that to mean that you don’t.”
“Ne, I don’t. He was only here for a few weeks before a senior official at Theresienstadt offered him a lucrative post there with the power and prestige to match. That man told me Hauptmann Engel’s father had a hand in that, too.”
“A post which you would have loved to have been yours.”
“And I wouldn’t have turned it down the way Engel did. He is ungrateful, snobbish, and a disgrace to the German forces.”
“He declined? Why?” Not that it mattered one way or another about the man, but it was curious. Most Nazis she had the misfortune to encounter jumped at any chance for advancement.
“That’s the mystery. Then that same ranking official told me Horst came back a few weeks ago asking for more information about the position even though he had no intention of accepting it. Later, he found him ready to speak to members of the Jewish orchestra there.”
Hauptsturmführer Jaeger had told her before that those musicians deported to Terezín were allowed, and more likely commanded, to play for the Germans. But she couldn’t believe that an officer would take an interest in those who played.
“And it wasn’t the first time he went there. Apparently, he keeps showing up on concert nights.”
Patricie folded her hands and crossed her legs, trying to keep from glancing at this Hauptmann Engel. Why did he take such a keen interest in the Jews? Did he have some connection to them?
“I tried to take him under my wing and show him how to behave as a German officer in Prague. One day, I went to his flat, and discovered a woman there.”
“That’s unusual?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. Had she spoken out loud?
“The young woman was jumpy and uneasy when I questioned her.”
“You do have something of an intimidating presence.” She well knew it.
“She claimed to be the maid, but she had dark looks. Not Aryan, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I think Hauptmann Engel is not all that meets the eye.”
Patricie shivered and pulled her coat tighter.
Horst sat at his little desk, rubbing his temples for the longest time. The clock ticked away the minutes. If he could only come up with a way to rescue Anna’s brother.
Thanks to Oberleutnant Meier, he could no longer show his face in Theresienstadt. His going there to see the man had been a terrible mistake. A grave miscalculation. He’d underestimated Meier. His error might cost Anna her brother.
He had planned every little detail of the plot. It was perfect. And now it lay in shambles. He had no ideas. David might be dead already.
He took a drag on his cigarette.
“Horst?”
Anna’s voice at his shoulder surprised him. He hadn’t heard her come up behind him.
“What?” He didn’t mean to be gruff.
“I’m sorry. I interrupted you, ne?”
She didn’t deserve his harsh treatment. He turned to face her. “Ne. It’s I who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“You have been out of sorts for a while. Is something wrong?” She searched his eyes with such intensity. “Did Babička or I anger you? Are you still upset about Jakub?”
He tapped the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “I was never upset about that.”
“You didn’t talk to me for days afterward.”
How could he explain to her that he was afraid she was in love with the young man in his living room? That it had stirred something new in him, something akin to jealousy? “It wasn’t you. I had a difficult meeting. I told you that.”
“But something is bothering you.”
He hadn’t given her details of her brother’s illness nor of his plan to help him. It didn’t matter anymore at this point. He had to tell her something, though, or she would continue to pester him. “That day, I got a job offer at Theresienstadt.”
“You didn’t tell me about it.” Her tight, quiet words pierced him. “When do you leave? When do we leave?”
“We’re not going there. None of us. I turned it down.”
“Because of us?”
“Yes, and because the tens of thousands of others like you there. I was offered the head of deportation. I would have sent who knows how many Jews to the extermination camps.”
She wiped her hands on her navy dress sprigged with yellow flowers, his favorite, the one that just skimmed her knees. “And you turned it down?”
He stood and held her at arm’s length, her shoulder muscles taut under his fingers. “Of course I did. I didn’t even have to think about it for a moment. I could never take such a position. If I had to send even one Jew, one person like you, to that miserable place, I would never be able to sleep at night again. It would kill me.”
Her muscles relaxed, and her brown eyes swam with tears. She blinked them away and licked her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t take the offer.”
“It’s good to know at least one person is happy about it. Vater was there to surprise me and congratulate me. Instead, we engaged in a screaming match. I’d be happy to never speak to him again.”
“Your father?”
Her teary eyes broadcast her longing for her father. And here he was, not wishing to reconcile with his. “He’s not the kind of man you want for a father. Or a role model. Or an acquaintance, either. I will leave it up to God to judge him, but that doesn’t mean I have to speak to him.”
“I’m sorry.” She worried the edge of her red shawl. “Did you take us in to spite him?”
“What? Ne. Not even close. That’s too dangerous of a game to play. I did it out of . . . well, out of compassion for my fellow human beings. I couldn’t stand it if you became like the people I saw at Theresienstadt.”
“It’s that bad?”
Why did he have to bring that up? He should seal his lips and never utter another word. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She broke down in tears, in silent weeping for all she lost. He could do nothing to erase her hurt, so he swept her into his embrace and held her as she grieved. “Anna, if only I could ease your suffering. If I could just bring your family back to you. Stop this madness and restore the world to the way it should be.”
He stroked her back and whispe
red into her hair. She nestled into the crook of his arm. Yes, if only . . .
A pounding at the door interrupted them. “Horst, it’s Stefan.”
Anna wriggled from his arms and raced, sobbing, to the bedroom where her grandmother napped.
He swallowed hard and ushered in Stefan. “What brings you to this neighborhood?”
“Rather fitting that they billet you on the edge of the Jewish quarter.”
What did Stefan mean? Did he have a clue about the women in his flat? “A cup of coffee for you?”
Stefan shook his head. “I thought I saw you through the curtain embracing a woman.”
He would have to get heavier drapes. Immediately. “You are mistaken.”
“The little maid you have hired, perhaps?”
“Why on earth would I hug my help?”
“That is my question.” Stefan tugged off his gloves and laid his hat on the table beside the sofa before taking a seat and crossing one leg over his knee. He didn’t remove his shoes, an insult to the Czech people. “Never mind. It’s none of my business what happens in your personal life. Actually, I’ve come with an offer. I’m going to Theresienstadt tomorrow and wondered if you would like to ride with me.”
What a wonderful opportunity. Perhaps all was not lost when it came to David. Then Horst’s excitement crashed to the floor. “I’m afraid I can’t. The last time I was there to speak to Oberleutnant Meier, I angered him. He forbade me from returning.”
“What in the name of goodness did you say to earn the man’s ire?”
Horst paced back and forth in front of Stefan. How much should he share? How much did Stefan already know? “I didn’t make a very good impression on him. He thinks I’m young and soft.”
A glint flared in Stefan’s cool blue eyes, and he rubbed his chin. “That is where I can help you. You don’t even have to go to Theresienstadt. I have a way you can prove to him that there is much more to you than he realizes. That you truly are a man and worthy of a German officer’s uniform.”
A way to redeem himself? Horst clasped his hands together. Stefan knew too much. Perhaps suspected what Horst was up to. But he couldn’t turn down his superior officer. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach. “Tell me what time I need to be ready.”
Then, from the bedroom, came the crashing and shattering of a dish on the floor.
Horst clutched his head. Screams impaled his memory. Weeping, wailing, and splintering glass. Broken windows littering the sidewalks, sparkling in the streetlights. The brown coats dragging away Herr Feldman, the gentle, old Jewish clockmaker. Horst’s neighbor.
He’d passed many hours in that shop, the owner telling him stories of magic watches and fairy timekeepers. Herr Feldman fed him sausages and kuchen. And those wretches had held Horst’s friend by the coat collar, thrown him in the back of a truck, and sped off down the narrow street, the petrol fumes sickening Horst.
He shouldn’t have been there.
He shouldn’t have thrown the first rock.
Stefan jumped to his feet, flinging Horst back to the present. “Who is here?”
Anna slipped into the room she shared with Babička and shut the door behind her with as little noise as possible. Her grandmother sat in bed reading the same book she probably read ten times before. Anna leaned against the door and wiped the tears from her cheek.
“What on earth is wrong, beruško?”
She shushed her. “That same officer who saw me before is back.” She didn’t dare say more, even in a whisper. And that was fine. Right now, she wasn’t sure she could explain her feelings. They tumbled and jumbled inside of her. Horst had been gentle with her, kind and caring. For a moment, they weren’t enemies.
She couldn’t allow her heart to rule her head, no matter what her heart said. If she lost favor with him again, as she did when he’d caught her in Jakub’s arms, he might turn on them and send them to Terezín without a second thought.
But the way he’d caressed her back and spoken to her. For that one tiny moment, she was safe, protected, cared for in a way she hadn’t been since Máma and Táta walked into that exhibition hall. Yes, she had Babička here with her, but she was responsible for her grandmother. In that moment, Horst had lifted that burden and cared for her.
It took a few minutes, but she managed to compose herself and still her trembling hands. The male voices floated under the door, but not loud enough so she could make out the words.
Babička went back to reading. Anna stood straight, then picked up her embroidery. The sampler she stitched helped to pass the time. She included different Czech patterns, brilliant primary colors against a black background. Flowers, scrolls, leaves. Today, she worked on adding her family member’s names and the dates of their births and deaths. Here in the back of the flat, though, not much sun filtered in.
The drapes remained drawn to hide Anna and Babička’s presence, but a small bit of light filtered through the crack between the panels, providing a little more illumination. She grabbed the chair to move it from the bedside. When she did so, her hip bumped the small table where her grandmother kept a glass of water.
The glass tipped, then fell, rolled off the table and onto the floor, and shattered at Anna’s feet.
“Who is here?”
Anna froze, holding her breath at Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s mighty roar. Did he hear the way her heart banged against her ribcage?
Had she just given them all away?
“Only my maid. She must have dropped something while dusting.” Horst’s voice didn’t waver.
Anna released her breath, a tiny amount at a time.
“How can you allow such a clumsy woman to work for you? Tell her to come here.”
Anna folded her hands, said a quick prayer for protection, then scurried to the living room. “Hauptmann Engel, I do apologize. I am sorry. As I dusted the night stand in your room, I tipped over your glass, and it broke. Please, you can take it out of my salary. It won’t happen again.” She stared at the floor.
“And you better believe that I will. Double the worth of the glass will be taken from your pay to teach you a lesson.” The man who’d caressed her back and whispered such comforting words, so sweet a few minutes before, had changed into an angry bear, his eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tight.
“What was your name again?” Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s booming voice filled the room.
She didn’t look at the other officer, though he asked her the question. “Anna Kostachek.”
“Fraulein Kostachek, where do you come from?”
“A small town to the east of here. I’m sure you never heard of it.”
“Now you have me curious. I’d like to know.”
Why was Hauptsturmführer Jaeger interrogating her? With her dark looks, did he have an inkling of her true identity?
Horst stood between her and Hauptsturmführer Jaeger. “Really, Stefan, she is nothing more than a maid. As I told you before, I checked her identity before I hired her. She is of no consequence. Now, I’m sure you have business you must get to if you are to be away all day tomorrow, as do I. Let me show you out.”
He nodded to Anna, and she again scampered to the bedroom. As she left, Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s loud words reached her. “It’s very odd to me, Horst. Your little maid intrigues me. Her looks. And the fact that she speaks perfect German. Like all of Prague’s Jews. Are you sure you did a thorough investigation? Perhaps I should call in my sources.”
How could she have been so stupid? German. Why didn’t she speak to him in Czech? Why let on that she understood him? What had she done?
“No need for that, no need at all. She is clean, from top to bottom.”
But Anna went cold all over when Horst’s voice cracked.
He was nervous.
And she should be, too.
Stefan led Horst through the streets of Prague. The late spring sunshine filtered through the trees’ leaves. Birds called and sang to each other over the hustle and bustle of
the city. Horst never tired of this place. When he’d come here as a young man before the war, it had hummed with life. Intellectuals. Musicians. Artists of all kinds.
Though his fellow Germans worked hard to preserve the cultural heart of this city, without the Jews, it didn’t possess the same vibrancy. It lost its soul. Gone were the thinkers, the painters, and the violinists. The coffee shops and restaurants no longer teemed with philosophers arguing with each other over the meaning of life. The streets were no longer home to artists who labored to capture the city’s majesty on canvas. The performance halls no longer rang with music.
But the city trudged forward. The streetcar rang its bell as it glided down the road next to the people. Housewives grasped their coupon books in one hand and their children in the other and made their way to the market. Men in business suits hurried to their offices and shops.
Stefan rubbed his hands. “Nothing could be finer than a bright, warm day. I have a mind to take a long weekend and go to the mountains. Have you ever been?”
“Ja, I’ve been skiing there. I’m from Bayern, remember, the skiing capital of the Reich. Mutti didn’t care for it much, but Vater and I did.” The sport was the one thing he had in common with the man who had raised him.
“Then come with me. We can lift a pint and celebrate your victory.”
“Victory? What do you have in mind for me? I wish you would share a detail or two at least.” Horst fingered the pistol Stefan had insisted he bring along. His mouth went dry. What could it be for?
“All in good time. Don’t rush ahead of me. I decided to walk today because the fresh air enlivens me. We get caught behind our desks and don’t enjoy the outdoors as we should. Such a shame. The Führer recommends exercise. It’s good for the body and the brain.”
Horst tuned out Stefan’s idle chatter as they left behind the commercial district and headed to a more residential area of the city. Through his work, Horst had become familiar with Prague’s neighborhoods, but he didn’t remember being here before. Paint peeled from the doors and shutters of the small, dingy windows overlooking the street.
