Page 121 of Hell to Pay
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”
“May I help you put it on?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, please.” And when I did, she put ahand over the warm gold as if she wanted to feel it there in every way she could.
I said, “I’ll finish the potatoes.”
What of my gift to Joe, and his to me, you’re wondering? We’d agreed to give those later, when we were alone for a minute. I thought he might want to kiss me, and yes, I wondered what he would give. Whatcouldhe give that he hadn’t already? He’d given me food, and music, and books, and laughter, and so much care and sweetness. Such is the nature of humans, though, that as soon as we get used to having something, even something as basic as a bed and the knowledge we’ll eat today, we begin to want more. And Joe was so very good at giving.
For now, though, I set it aside. We set the table with the best cloth, and as the day darkened, we lit the candles on the tree and had our feast. Joe had brought beer, too, and I’m afraid I became a little giggly by the time mine was halfway gone. Then Joe was describing his fellow soldiers’ attempts at German, and we were all falling about laughing.
Which was when there was a knock at the door. A loud one, then louder.Bang. Bang. Bang.
My first thought was,Gestapo,followed by a shiver of ice down my back. I’d absorbed too much of Dr. Becker’s fear, though, for of course there were no Gestapo anymore.
The knocking came again, even louder this time, as if the person would beat the door down. We all stared at each other, then Joe stood and said, “I’ll answer.”
“No,” Frau Adelberg said. “If it’s something—something official, I must go.” Her face had gone white, and the next moment, I realized why. She’d have had a telegram when her son had been lost. What could this be but another one?
On Christmas Eve? The cruelty! Couldn’t they have waited?
We all—even Matti, for he was silent and still—waited, hardly breathing, as Frau Adelberg opened the door. We could hear her steps on the treads,creak, creak, creak,the bolt sliding back in the lock, the squeak of the hinges as the door opened. And then she shrieked.
Joe was on his feet, and so was I. I’d clutched Matti to me and was holding him close. Sobbing, then, and a man’s voice.
“Oh, no,” I said helplessly. “Oh, no.”
And then, finally, steps on the stairs again. And she came through the door.
With a man. An older man, thin and lined, in a gray-green tunic, very worn gray trousers, and old boots.
Herr Adelberg had come home.
51
THE PIECES SCATTER
He had the most enormous smile on his face as he came through the door.
Then he saw Joe. Who was in uniform.
We were all still on our feet. I was still holding Matti, too, who was silent. Scared, I thought. When had he last seen his father? Did he even remember him?
I said, “Good evening, Herr Adelberg. Welcome home. And Merry Christmas.” My voice trailed off toward the end, because he wasn’t looking at me, and he wasn’t looking at Matti. He was looking at Joe. Then his gaze fell on the two packages of nylons, which were right there on the end table. And the gold chain around his wife’s neck.
His mouth was a thin, hard line when he said to Joe, “Out. Out of my house.”
“Wait,” Frau Adelberg said. “I can explain.”
He turned on her, and she took a step back. And he said nothing.
Joe didn’t say anything, either. He walked out of the room, passing within a few inches of Herr Adelberg, took his coatfrom the hook, and headed for the stairs. I was right behind him.
He turned at the bottom and said, “I’ll meet you at the Professor’s the day after tomorrow.”
“But—” I tried to say. “But?—”
“Nothing we can do about it now,” he said. “We’ll see where we are in a few days.”
