For a moment, he thought she might waver. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then appeared to collect herself.
‘A very fine speech. But I don’t trust you. And if you do not leave my house at once, I will call the police.’
He lifted his hands in compliance. ‘I’m going.’ However, he couldn’t resist one, last parting shot. ‘I am indeed sorry that the sight of Dietrich’s books caused you so much pain.’
Mrs Macintosh’s chin wobbled. She grabbed her necklace, her fingers rubbing the pearls, and said, ‘Dietrich and my nephew Benjamin were very close. I loved my nephew, and after his mother died, he turned to me, almost like a second mother.’ She swallowed, and to Max’s astonishment, he could see her eyes becoming wet. ‘Those books reminded me of Ben. He used to borrow them to practise his German and often brought them here. I can still see him, sitting on that sofa, reading them, so engrossed in the pages that he would often forget to eat.’ A tremulous smile. ‘He was a good boy. Such a very good boy. Lost to the war. Killed by the Huns.’
Did she not know the truth? Or was she lying? Either way, it was not his place to tell her, not when grief still consumed her after all these years.
‘My deepest sympathies. I apologize for dredging up such painful memories. If you ever wish to look at them, they are in the cottage.’
‘Please go.’
Max left the room, hearing a muffled sob behind him. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Why then did he feel so wretched?
* * *
On Friday, a week after her fall, Jenni listened to Max whistling to the Benny Goodman tune playing on the kitchen radio as he fixed her and Marty a simple supper of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Poor Max. His visit to Mrs Macintosh had produced no tangible results.
‘She made me feel so guilty, Jenni, of my country, of who I am,’ he’d told her. ‘How can I ever get through to these people and make them understand I am not a threat? That I wish them no harm? That they are fighting Nazis and not me?’
Her instincts had kicked in, and she’d only just stopped herself from pulling him into her arms and holding him. Even though they’d become close friends, she didn’t trust herself not to do something stupid. A hug might turn into a kiss, and she would not let that happen.
‘Please know, Max, that these people don’t represent America. Just a small, bigoted segment of it. And that’s been here for a long, long time. I mean, sheesh, we had to fight a civil war to get rid of slavery.’
‘No country is innocent of wrongdoing,’ Max replied. ‘But I had thought America better.’
‘We are better.’ Relenting, if only slightly, she’d taken his hand in hers, needing to comfort him. ‘War makes people act crazy.’
Max nodded. ‘It is not just war, Jenni, it is fear.’
She felt it then, that thing inside him twisting as it did sometimes, an emotional monster intent on reminding him of something from his past, something he could not, would not, share with her. And if she mulled on it long enough, it scared her, this silent demon draining him of joy and life. But until he spilled his secret, she could do nothing but be patient.
But when had it ever been easy for her to wait? Never. Her muscles ached for movement and more than once she’d jiggled her feet in pure frustration. But she only had one day left. She could do this.
Her thoughts turned to Marty. Could he continue in this environment? Mean little boys had called him a Kraut-lover just because Max had walked him to school this week. Children could be cruel, she’d told him. But what would happen when everyone knew about her pregnancy? Max warned her Marty had discovered the truth. All week she’d waited for the perfect moment to talk to Marty, but it never came. No, that was a lie. She couldn’t face the accusation in his gaze. When his friends discovered the truth, would they stay loyal or abandon him?
Despair closed around her like a fist, squeezing her chest until she could swear she’d heard her ribs crack. That was the unkindest cut of all. If it were just her, she could endure it, hard though it may be. But to see her son go through it… she didn’t know if she could stand it.
A new song came on the radio and she heard Max singing along, terribly off-key. A giggle escaped her. At least his mood had lifted. Thank God for Max. What would she have done with Marty if he hadn’t agreed to help? Who else could she have turned to?
Marty suddenly appeared, wearing his favourite plaid shirt. He hugged the doorway to her bedroom, Katya wagging her tail beside him. ‘Mom? Can I ask you a question?’
She patted the bed. ‘Of course.’
He crawled beside her and the dog settled at his feet. Tension pinched his nose and he didn’t snuggle against her chest like he used to. How she longed for those moments. But he was older now. The war and his father’s death had made him older.
To her surprise, he laid a hand on her stomach. Here it came, the conversation she’d avoided due to her own cowardice.
‘Mom, when is the baby going to get here?’
‘In a little over five months.’
‘The baby’s dad isn’t my dad, is it?’
Sweet Mary Magdalene. She’d not expected him to be so direct.
She sat there, stumbling and fumbling for words to say, and knowing that anything she did say would ultimately be inadequate.
He scooched away from her, and the combination of confusion and pain on his face nearly undid her. ‘No.’
‘It’s Mr Deveraux’s baby?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘But he doesn’t want it.’
‘No.’
She waited for him to yell at her, to ask her how she could do this to him, how she could do this to his daddy. She would welcome it. She deserved everything he could hurl at her and more.
Her mother’s words came back to her: If you had been thinking of Marty, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.
‘I’m so sorry, Marty. What I did was wrong.’
He just sat there, his fingers running through Katya’s fur, his eyes fixed on the dog, and she could barely stand it. Danny had done this to her: given her the silent treatment, until his anger finally boiled over and exploded.
Finally, when she could no longer endure the silence, she said, ‘It’s okay to be angry with me.’
He looked at her and frowned. ‘I’m not angry, Mom. I’m just sad.’
‘Sad? Why is that?’
‘Because this baby won’t have a dad, either.’
No knife could have cut her deeper than those words. But he hadn’t said them out of malice. Quite the contrary. He’d said them because he knew what it was like not to have a father. He knew better than she ever would.
Max knocked on the door and poked his head inside. ‘Dinner is ready. I’ll bring you a tray after I make sure Marty is settled.’
Without another word, Marty shuffled out of the room, throwing her a backwards glance so dejected it nearly broke her heart. God, how she hated herself. She deserved his disappointment, but his empathy had cut her to the quick.
Max hovered in the doorway and, despite the tears clogging her throat, to see him standing there, wearing her frilly white apron, almost made her laugh.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘No, Max, I’m not,’ she murmured. ‘I am a horrible mother.’
He flinched. ‘Don’t say that. You made a mistake. He will forgive you for it in time.’
‘Maybe. But I’m not so sure I’ll ever forgive myself.’
He didn’t respond, absently rubbing his chin. Then he said, ‘I think it is easier to forgive someone else than it is to forgive yourself. That has been my experience.’
His tone penetrated her fog of self-loathing. ‘Were you successful?’
‘In forgiving myself?’ He flashed a brief smile. ‘Not yet.’
Jenni spotted that flicker of guilt again. Maybe she should just come out and ask him what haunted him, but he left to tend to Marty before she could say anything.
The phone rang, thankfully int
errupting her spiralling train of thought, and she reached onto her night stand to answer it. Please don’t let it be Mom!
‘Hello?’
‘Mrs Fields?’
‘Speaking.’
A male voice demanded, ‘Do you enjoy having the enemy in your house?’
She gasped. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Do not let him fool you. The professor has a serpent’s tongue, one full of lies and deceit. Believe him at your own peril. Ask him why he left the university.’
‘Who is this?’
Click.
Jenni stared at the receiver in shock. Suddenly, all the evidence against Max came roaring back, blotting out her personal problems like a spilled bottle of ink: the stolen diary, the vandalism downtown, the FBI agent, the secret she knew Max carried. Was this simply another ploy to scare her? Probably. Every house on this block saw Max arrive and leave each day.
But why mention the university? Max was on sabbatical; he hadn’t left.
She heard Max and Marty talking about Captain America outside her bedroom door. Any second Max would bring in her supper. Enough of this tiptoeing around. She had a reputation for being direct; time to be true to it.
Max appeared with her tray of food and announced, ‘Guten Appetit!’ But when he saw her, his broad smile vanished. ‘What is it? I heard the phone ring. Bad news?’
‘You could say that.’
He settled the tray on her lap and then shut the bedroom door. ‘Tell me.’
‘Actually, Max, I want you to tell me something.’
He looked wary as he sat on the chair. ‘I will try.’
‘A man just called to warn me about you. They said to ask you what really happened at the university.’
‘I told you someone made accusations against me.’
Lured by the well-toasted bread on her plate, she took a bite of the grilled cheese sandwich. It tasted buttery with a hint of garlic. ‘Who made those accusations?’
‘A professor named Elijah Goldberg.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Did this man have a German accent?’
She licked her fingers. ‘I couldn’t really tell. Maybe? The connection wasn’t that great. But, Max, why would he warn me against you? Did something happen, more than what you’ve already told me?’
For a moment, Max appeared to be considering something and, finally, he heaved a giant sigh. ‘They fired me.’
She froze in the act of bringing a spoonful of tomato soup to her mouth. ‘You said you were on sabbatical.’
‘That is the official story. I wanted to tell you, but I never thought it would be an issue.’
‘Well it is now!’
‘I’m sorry.’
She shot him a disgruntled look. ‘Hmph. I’m not sure I forgive you. But why would they fire you if they found no evidence to support Goldberg’s charges?’
‘The university did not want to cause a disturbance within the university community and the student body. In a few more months, when things have died down, they will release a statement saying I have resigned my position. During the Great War, the history department held those ridiculous Loyalty Trials. It did them no favours. They’re trying to avoid a public relations crisis.’
‘So you’re out of a job. And that’s why you came here.’
‘Correct.’
‘And Goldberg?
‘When he discovered they’d found me innocent, he was furious.’ Max laced his fingers together. ‘I’ve often wondered if Goldberg isn’t the one who stole the diary and has caused all of this vandalism.’
‘And why didn’t you tell the police? If someone has a vendetta against you, don’t you think that’s important?’
To her surprise, Max actually laughed. ‘Who doesn’t have a vendetta against me here? And how do you think it would look? A Jewish man is imprisoned in a concentration camp for a year, manages to immigrate to America and find a better life, and then a German accuses him of trying to seek revenge against him? Once they start digging into what happened at the university, the accusations that I’m a Nazi… why, they’ll take me out into the street and shoot me!’
She flinched, but he only spoke the truth. No one here in this town would use logic and critical thinking in this situation. They’d rely on their emotion alone to guide them as they had so many times in the past.
‘I understand, but Max, shouldn’t we at least tell the police about Goldberg?’
‘Nein. They won’t listen. Besides, Goldberg has disappeared. My colleague phoned me the other day and said no one knows where he is.’
‘Then it makes sense that he could be the one behind all of this.’
‘Nothing makes sense right now.’ Max stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I simply cannot fathom that Goldberg would make up such an elaborate plan to get revenge.’
Her appetite completely gone, Jenni removed the tray from her lap and shoved it aside. ‘As soon as I’m out of this bed tomorrow, I’m going to visit Victor at the police station and—’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Max cut in.
‘Now wait a minute, buster, you can’t stop me.’
Max took a deep, steadying breath, and then sat on the edge of the bed. Being so near to him set off alarm bells, but she didn’t stop him when he picked up her hand and held it within his own. ‘Jenni, you know how much I appreciate your fighting spirit. But please, you have to think of the baby now. That is far more important.’
‘But Max—’
He shook his head, and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on her fingers. ‘No more arguing. I have to take Katya home, then go to the Janssens’. Perhaps they can shed some light on what happened in this town after the Oktoberfest.’
All the fight drained out of her and she relented. He was right. She had to think of the baby. But the injustice of it all, the utter incompetence of those investigating it, grated on her worse than nails on a chalkboard.
‘All right, Max.’
He started to let go of her hand, but she held on just a moment longer. ‘But please. Be careful tonight.’
He smiled. ‘I will.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Max pedalled down the dark streets of Meadow Hills, guided only by the glow of street lights, he forced himself to act normally, trying not to see shadows where none existed. Undoubtedly Special Agent Williams was tailing him. Earlier, when he’d brought Marty home from school, he’d spotted the FBI agent parked a few blocks from Jenni’s house. Then, when he’d gone home to fetch Philip Janssen’s letter, he’d had to duck into an alley with Katya when he saw the man from the grocery store, the one with the bib overalls, and a few of his friends pounding on the door of Rose Cottage.
‘Come out here, you Nazi pig!’ he had said.
His younger, shorter friend had yelled, ‘You listen to Roy! We don’t want no damn Hitler lover in our town! You’ve been warned!’
While Max kept Katya quiet, he watched from the bushes as the bastards swigged their beer, peered in the windows, and then smashed the empty bottles on the porch, continuing to shout insults and threats. They hadn’t bothered to try to break in, perhaps thinking it a step too far. Then, to his surprise and relief, Special Agent Williams had showed up, flashed his badge at the drunkards and threatened to haul them down to the police station. The men had stumbled into their beat-up Ford truck and took off. Williams, apparently wanting to make sure they didn’t circle around, had followed them. Only when they’d disappeared from sight had he felt it safe to go into the cottage. Before he left, he’d made sure the doors and windows were locked, and he’d put Katya in the bedroom.
It was a clear night, stars punching through the black cloth of the sky, the moon full and unusually bright. At any other time, he would have marvelled at nature’s beauty, indulged in it even. But now it only made him feel exposed and vulnerable, especially after what had transpired at the cottage earlier.
He remembered spotting the Janssens’ house on his walk the other day. But since Gertrud
e Janssen apparently didn’t want anyone to see him at her home, he decided on a bit of misdirection. He chafed at the subterfuge. A perfectly legitimate visit turned into some sort of secret mission. He felt like a fugitive, hiding in the shadows.
He rode past their house, surreptitiously looking for a way to mark it from the alley. A pine tree in their backyard fit the bill, towering over others in the neighbourhood, so he cycled to the St Thomas Catholic Church at the end of the block. Propping his bicycle against the church pillar, he climbed the stairs, then stopped to tie his shoelace, looking under his eyelashes at the street and surrounding neighbourhood. Nothing moved, but that certainly didn’t mean he was alone.
The big oak door silently swung open and he closed it behind him, peering around. Candles burned below a statue of the Virgin Mary, and the crucified Christ peered at him from the front of the sanctuary. Max avoided the knowing gaze. He may try to hide his sins from everyone around him, but he knew the Lord saw all. That is, if he even still believed in a God who would allow a man like Hitler to rise and murder millions of people.
The building appeared to be empty, and he stopped before entering the narthex, but neither saw nor heard anything.
He spotted a door off to the side of the altar and headed down the aisle towards it, moving as silently as possible. A few minutes later, he’d successfully navigated through a hallway and found a back door out of the church. He opened it, peered outside. Nothing. Pulling his hat lower around his face, he scurried down the alley, using the pine tree as his guide.
A dog barked at him and he quickened his pace, hastening to the Janssens’ house. It was a simple bungalow with a closed-in back porch and a classic white picket fence. He stopped at the gate, surveying the backyard for any animals. When no vicious dog came charging towards him, he opened the gate and hurried through.
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