Page 72 of Hell to Pay
Dr. Becker said, “If the Americans are nearly here, the war must be all but over, at least for us. They won’t leave the Nazi structures in place, you can be sure of that. And I must allow this lady to make up her own mind if we’re seeking shelter here. I won’t make that mistake twice. It’s possible I may even be of service. I heard last night that—” He stopped.
“Yes?” Frau Adelberg said. Her tone was cautious, but who could blame her, with these imposters in her sitting room?
“I am a Jew,” Dr. Becker said. “I was a professor at the University of Dresden before the Jews were forced out, and am the author of a well-known medical textbook as well as having directed the burn ward at the largest hospital in the city. The burn wards must be very busy now. The Nazis, though …” He waved an expressive hand. “Well, you know the rest. I’ve been able to practice my profession only secretly, among my own people, and without the proper medicines. I can possibly be of help here, though.. If the Americans are really coming, there will be wounds enough. And, I think, paid work for a doctor under their administration, even if he’s a Jew. There are Jewish soldiers serving among them, one hears, and I imagine Jewish doctors, too. We Jews are very good doctors. We have the habit of study, you see, and perhaps an extra dash of compassion, for the Talmud says, ‘If you save one life, it’s as if you saved the whole world.’ A doctor may be a useful person to have around the house, particularly if he can earn some money.”
“But Herr Doktor,” Frau Adelberg said, seeming truly stunned by this admission, “all the Jews have been taken away. How?—”
“My wife,” Dr. Becker said, “was Aryan. That protected us from the worst for a time, although not lately. She died, you see.” He sighed. “Of course, you can run now to the mayor or directly to the Gestapo, and they can take me if they like, though I’ll do my best to escape and will deny it if they catch me. I suspect they’ll have their hands full very soon, though.”
“Or,” Frau Adelberg said, “they’ll be the ones behind bars. I have no love for the Gestapo. I wouldn’t turn over my worst enemy to them, and what have you done, after all?”
“Killed Christ, perhaps,” Dr. Becker said gravely, but there was a twinkle in his eye, as if he were coming back to life somehow.
“Pfui,”Frau Adelberg said.“The Romans killed Christ, and it was all a very long time ago, and I’m Swiss. No, as I said, it’s just—there really is very little to eat.”
I said, “I have something I can sell.” Again, impulsively, but what choice did we have? It was that or starve. Gerhardt was so thin and tired, and I’d seen Dr. Becker looking at him with worry and sorrow. How would I forgive myself for clinging to my treasures if Gerhardt starved?
“Maybe,” Frau Adelberg said, “but who has money to buy it?”
“The Americans will,” I said. “Of that I’m sure. Everyone knows they have money. When the Americans come, I’ll sell it to one of them.”
Frau Adelberg said, “I should ask to see it, of course.” I hesitated, and she asked, “Is it stolen?”
“No,” I said. “No. It’s an heirloom of my family.” How foolish I felt for having told her! Even if she wouldn’t take itherself—and I believed she wouldn’t; kind people, I’ve found, can’t wantonly hurt others like that—all she had to do was tell the wrong person. What was in my coat lining was worth risking the hangman for. It was, I had enough knowledge of human nature now to know, worth killing for.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.How hard it is to choose when there are no good choices left!
Dr. Becker said, “She’s telling the truth, you know. I’ve seen the heirloom. It does exist. And if Daisy says she’ll sell it, she’ll do it. I knew her parents well. Both very fine people.” You’ll notice that he didn’t give awaymysecret, but then, he’d had more practice hiding.
“Then,” Frau Adelberg said, “I suppose you’d better stay. Heaven knows I need the help. Even if I have to direct you every step of the way,” she told me, “at least you have two good arms.”
“Yes,” I said, “I do. A strong back and a willing heart, too, and enough money to feed us for a couple of days, anyway. After that?” I shrugged. After that, we wait for the Americans.”
“We may all be dead ourselves,” Frau Adelberg said. “And then our troubles will truly be over,no?”
“No,” I said, “we aren’t going to die. Not after we’ve come so far. We’re going to live.”
33
JOE
The man waiting for us inside the flat wasn’t seven years old anymore. More like eighty-three, if my math was correct. He was a small man, as he’d been a small boy, and grown smaller with age. A little stooped, but still with a fine head of white hair, bright blue eyes, and a gentle smile. He put out a hand to me, and I grasped it, then had to put my other hand over it. We were laughing, but there were tears in our eyes, too.
“Matti,” I said. “I can’t believe it’s you. Do you remember, then?”
“Of course I remember,” he said. “How could I forget?”
“Do you still have the tin soldiers?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Come, and I’ll show you.”
I followed him over to a bookshelf, where he took down a tin box—the same tin box!—and removed the lid, and there they were: dozens of flat painted figures with stands at the bottom so you could move them around. Infantry and cavalry and artillery,Wehrmacht,British, and American. Figures taken from the first war, for they were very old.
“Konrad here played with them as a boy, too,” Matti said, “and these days, my great-grandson plays with them on hisvisits. Perhaps I should discourage it—who of us who lived through it can have any love for war?—but boys will play with toy soldiers all the same. How happily Gerhardt and I spent the hours with them!” He looked up. “What happened to Gerhardt, do you know? And to you? You married, I know.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I don’t know about Gerhardt, sadly. We lost touch.”
“Ah, well,” Matti said. “It happens in war, and it was, after all, a very consequential war.”
