A Bitter Rain Read online

  He reached out to her, but she sharply pushed him away. “Corina, you’re being ridiculous. I hardly knew the woman. We had a class or two together. I remember her because she lugged around a violin case all the time. The university symphony played a few concerts for the student body. I saw her there. That’s all there ever was.”

  She looked at him now, and her face was a scarlet maelstrom. “I don’t believe you.”

  He reached for her again, and this time she let him touch her. He gently pulled the boot and the brush aside. She finally relented, throwing herself into his chest and sobbing, the lines of her narrow back rippling with each gasping breath. He held her there for a few minutes and let her cry.

  “Promise me you never talked to her again after school,” she stammered between breaths.

  “I promise. I hadn’t seen her for years until yesterday. I had to think for a minute before I could even remember her name.”

  She held him tightly now. “Oh, Erik, I’m so worried about you. So worried about us. I don’t want you to go to war. If something happens to you, we will be left with nothing.” She looked up at him. “You have to convince Karl to find you a position. We need that promotion and we need you here, safe and sound. I can’t deal with your parents and Greta by myself.”

  He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to calm her. She was so thin and fragile. “There, there, my pet. I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t worry, it is a very good sign that Karl has asked to see me. I’m sure he has something in mind. I’ll be able to stay here in Königsberg and take care of you and the family.”

  “Promise me you will stay and take care of me! I can’t do all this by myself. I can’t take care of the house and your parents and our little girl. It’s too much.” She buried her head in his chest.

  “I promise I’ll do everything I can. It’s in Gott’s hands.”

  Early in the afternoon Erik dressed in preparation for his visit to Karl. He stood before their full-length mirror while his wife looked him over critically, fingers pulling and smoothing the material long beyond the time he was sure he looked perfect.

  Finally, she was satisfied. “I guess this must do.”

  “You have outdone yourself,” he said. “I couldn’t look better.”

  “Remember to salute smartly and be enthusiastic. Karl is a friend, but he still must do his duty. He won’t tolerate lukewarm devotion to the party.”

  Erik nodded and made his way downstairs for a brief good-bye with Greta and his parents. If things did not go well with Karl, he would have only a few minutes with them tonight before he had to depart for the train station and his unit barracks. I won’t think about that right now. He embraced each in turn and departed the house for the walk to Karl’s office building—the headquarters for the party police and much of the SS in Königsberg. He raised an appraising eye at the clouds above but didn’t sense rain. What a disaster that would be to his uniform!

  He arrived at the building in less than half an hour, and after Erik identified himself an SS functionary led him to a waiting area to sit. The halls were deserted late on this Sunday afternoon. He’d just sat down when he heard an enthusiastic voice calling him.

  “Mein Erik. Guten Abend!”

  He looked up to see SS Captain Karl Schmidt, a blond-haired, black-uniformed recruiting poster in the flesh. Schmidt radiated the new Germany, and his chiseled features reinforced the theory of Aryan superiority.

  Erik stood, clicking his jackboots sharply and thrusting his right arm out in a crisp salute. “Heil Hitler!”

  Karl returned the gesture and looked him over, grinning warmly. “You look sharp, Sergeant. Your military SS uniform suits you perfectly, although I think you would look better in black than in gray. Yes?”

  A good sign. A transfer to Karl’s unit would mean a change in uniform. Would it also mean a promotion? That was what Corina desperately wanted.

  “Come with me,” said Karl. The captain led him up several flights of steps and down a long hallway. They didn’t pass a single person along the way. Karl’s office, a spacious corner unit with large windows, faced out over the strasse. Pictures adorned the walls. Erik noted a gilt-framed oil painting of the Führer, and next to it a picture of Karl with Heinrich Himmler, the head of the SS. The photo was signed by the Reichsführer.

  Erik gawked at the ornate office. He’d never been here before. When Corina originally brought Erik to see Karl, the captain had occupied a modest space on the ground floor. He was clearly moving up in the world.

  “Have a seat,” said Karl, motioning to a straight-backed leather chair in front of his desk. Erik obeyed, removing his cap and placing it in his lap. His hands shook a little, so he moved them lower, hoping Captain Schmidt wouldn’t see how nervous he was.

  “How is our Corina?” asked Karl, arms folded on his desk and leaning forward toward Erik, looking him over again sharply.

  “She’s doing well,” said Erik.

  “She hasn’t changed a bit since we graduated from the gymnasium. I was delighted when she contacted me about you. What was that, two years ago?”

  “Just about, yes. We are eternally grateful for the opportunity you gave me.”

  Karl leaned closer. “And now you are looking for something different, yes?”

  Erik felt uncomfortable. His emotions clouded his mind again. “I realize the timing is difficult. I have struggled with this because—”

  “Because it makes you look like a coward?” Karl said shrewdly. “That thought has crossed my mind, too. Are you a coward, Sergeant Mueller?”

  “No, sir. I haven’t pushed this. Corina has. I’m satisfied with my position and ready to fight for my country, for the Führer.”

  Karl said nothing for a moment. His eyes continued to bore in. Erik tried to relax. He kept his gaze steady. Karl seemed to ease, sitting back and tucking his hands behind his head. “I believe you.” He laughed. “So Corina has pushed this, has she? She’s a strong woman. Still, the party needs men like you, Erik. Men loyal to the Führer and the party. Are you loyal?”

  “Jawohl.” The word slipped quickly from his lips, rushing to escape his conscience.

  “Good, good. I took this interview because I wanted to see you again for myself. I think your wife’s faith in you is well founded.” The captain sat back now, crossing his arms. “There is but one problem. I don’t have anything for you right now. I thought I had an adjutant position, but it was snatched up by one of Reinhard’s favorites. Have you met Heydrich?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Erik assumed Karl was talking about Himmler’s number two, Reinhard Heydrich.

  “Well, he has an older cousin in East Prussia, and that man wanted the job. What can I do about that? I’m only a medium fish in a big pool—for now.”

  “So you don’t have a transfer for me?” Erik felt the fear fill him again, mixed with an equally powerful sense of relief.

  “Not for now, my friend, but don’t worry. I will soon enough. A tempest is coming, but you should weather it well. When it’s over, come back to me, and I’ll see what I can do.” The last remark was a dismissal, and Karl waved him away, returning to some paperwork spread out before him. Erik saluted without a verbal response and stumbled out of the office in a daze. Before he knew it, he was standing on the street.

  So, it was war after all. There would be no last-minute miracle from Karl. Erik would face combat—he might only last a day or two. Another part of him reveled. He wouldn’t run away from his duty. He would fight like his father. But he felt badly for Corina; she had wanted this transfer so dearly. Did I want it as well? He knew the answer to this. Regardless, he felt peace wash over him. Now there was no uncertainty. Whatever the future held, he was ready. He turned toward home and the final good-byes before he departed for war. The raindrops were falling long before he reached home. A storm was coming.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Königsberg, East Prussia, Nazi Germany

  August 1939

  Trude Ben
sheim kneaded the dough between her fingers and pressed it into the pan, her narrow digits stretching the sticky substance along the greased metal until it felt right. She glanced at the clock. I mustn’t think about it. She reached over and ladled a spoonful of sugared apple onto the dough, spreading the mixture along the length of the pan, making sure it was not too thick or too near the edges. With a brush, she painted on a layer of butter and a dusting of cinnamon.

  Britta perched at the kitchen table nearby, thumbing through a picture book—oblivious to Trude’s anxiety. Thank Gott she is unaware of the danger. God. She laughed at herself. She wasn’t religious—her parents hadn’t much use for the old traditions, Johannes had even less. She’d hardly thought of herself as a Jew until the Germans made this fact the center of her universe.

  Trude moved to the oven and ignited the gas switch. Cooking kept her busy and calmed her nerves. She returned to the pan, taking another blob of dough and stretching it out over the top of the strudel. She looked down at the line of pastries laid out like soldiers—or like graves, she realized. She shook her head, attempting to drive away the ominous thoughts that invaded her waking hours and haunted her sleep.

  Keys jingled at the front door. She closed her eyes. He’s home. Another miracle. The hinges creaked, and she heard the wood slam back into place. Staccato thuds banged against the floor, and he materialized in the doorway, a brown-coated outline clutching an overstuffed satchel brimming with paper. His countenance, still in the shadows, lay featureless beneath a disheveled mop of curly hair—as wild and rebellious as he was.

  “Guten Abend, Frau Bensheim,” he said, bowing with a flourish. Britta looked up and pushed away from the table, yawning and stretching like a cat while she waltzed slowly over to her father.

  He paused, watching them for a moment with raised eyebrows. “Such an enthusiastic welcome,” he joked. “My two girls spring to life when they see me!”

  Trude laughed in return. “Reading and cooking are serious business—and wearisome, too. You must let us work up to our welcome.”

  He kissed Britta on the head and embraced Trude warmly. He held her close for a moment and kissed her. Their eyes met. He winked. She loved when he did that. She felt an electric stir.

  “I was worried,” she whispered. “You’re late.”

  “You’re always worried,” he said.

  “One day I’ll be right.”

  “Perhaps, but not today, my love.”

  “Is there news?”

  He frowned and looked over at Britta. “I wonder if my little princess would be so kind as to retrieve her father’s slippers?”

  “Of course I will, Father,” she said. She scurried out of the room, and the sound of her heels echoed off the stairs.

  “Well?” Trude asked again.

  “I have ten visa applications approved by the authorities. They will be ready in the next few days.”

  “That’s a relief,” said Trude. “I don’t know how you’ve done it. You are brilliant.”

  “Each time’s a miracle, and it’s grown harder and harder, but I’m confident I can do it one last time after this.”

  She drew in her breath. “What do you mean?”

  He turned away, scanning the ceiling. “All of them are spoken for, my love.”

  She pulled him back, forcing him to look at her. “You promised me we would leave.”

  He shrugged, his cheeks warming. “I know what I promised, and I meant it at the time, but there are important people who don’t have a chance in hell of getting out of here. Dr. Krauz and his wife, for example. You wouldn’t believe what the doctor has—”

  “I don’t care a damn about Dr. Krauz and his wife!” she said. “I care about us. I told you we should have left with our parents. You promised me we would follow them straightaway.”

  “And I meant it.” He put his hand on her arm, but she pulled away.

  “That was almost two years ago, Johannes! For all that time, we’ve rotted away in this town while the world crumbles. First my job, then yours. One by one they’ve taken away our rights. Germany first, indeed! We’re as German as anyone else, but we’ve lost everything. We had to give up our home and move to this wretched neighborhood! Every day I sit here in the dark expecting I will never see you again, trying to make dinner or clean or do any dull thing to keep my mind off what might be happening to you. One day they’ll come for us all.”

  He smiled and tried to reach for her again, but she crossed her arms, the tears spilling down her cheeks. Finally, she wilted, and he swept her into his embrace.

  “Now, now. I know it’s been difficult, but this is important work—essential. Who else has the contacts to work these little miracles? Without the organization, how many more Jews would be stuck in this cesspit forever? We’ve saved hundreds.”

  “And damned ourselves in the process!”

  “How so? Am I in jail? Have they taken us away? Are you unsafe?” His body hardened and his voice bristled in suppressed anger. “I dare the bastards to try. No, my dear, they know they can’t touch me, and that means they can’t touch you, either. I’ve already filled out the paperwork for three visas—just for us. They will be ready in less than a month, and we’ll leave this wretched country forever.”

  “What if the war comes first? They’ll never let us go.”

  “I’ve talked to my contacts about that. They all agree this squabble is between our esteemed countrymen and the Poles. They don’t think the French or English will even get involved. How many times have these ‘Allies’ threatened to do something to Germany? They’ve no backbone for a fight. No,” he said, shaking his head, “there won’t be a fight. The Poles will cough up Danzig and the corridor, and we will all go on with life.”

  “But what if they do fight?”

  Johannes shrugged. “If they do, I’ll get us out through Russia instead. I’ve already done that a time or two. From there we can catch a steamer to Britain. Don’t you worry. We’ll be walking through Hyde Park with your mother and father by October—probably freezing to death!”

  She willed herself to believe him. He always seemed to be right. So many times, he had overcome her objections—forced her to trust him. He had always come through. He thumbed his nose at the party and got away with it. Somewhere deep in her soul, though, she was terrified. How many times could he taunt this beast before it turned and struck?

  “Did you ever find out anything about Erik?” She had told Johannes about their chance meeting. Ever vigilant for a possible new contact, he had told her he would find out more about her former university friend.

  Johannes chuckled. “I forgot to tell you. I found out about him indeed. Your old chum is in the SS now.”

  Trude gasped. “You’re kidding me? I’m shocked he even talked to me.”

  “I am as well.”

  “Is that a good sign? Is he someone who could help you?”

  Johannes shook his head. “He’s far down the chain, unfortunately—and in the wrong branch. He’s playing soldier with the rest of the SS-VT.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now if he were in the Gestapo, that might be interesting. No, we can forget your old friend. He won’t influence our lives.”

  Britta returned with his slippers, and he took a spot near her at the table. Trude continued with their dinner. She was surprised about Erik. Joined the SS? She didn’t understand people. Johannes did. He could stare down their soul with a glance. Perhaps that’s why she trusted him.

  She enjoyed their dinner together and the rare family evening in the sitting room, playing games they made up as they went along. Britta grew tired and fell asleep near the fire. Johannes retrieved some work from his satchel and scanned the documents. He rarely rested. Her husband frustrated her so, but she loved him for it. He was his own man. She smiled and moved closer. She felt a lingering tension from earlier, and she wanted to set things right.

  “Why don’t I make a dinner for your friends from the organization tomorrow night?”

 
He looked up in surprise. “You never give them the time of day.”

  “I’m just jealous of the time they take you away,” she jested, her lips brushing his ear. “But really, I would love to do it. Seven o’clock?”

  He took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “That would be wonderful, my love. With the visas set, we don’t have as much work for the next few days. A celebratory dinner would be wunderbar.”

  They fell asleep early, and when she awoke in the darkness before dawn he had already departed. She spent the day at the market, purchasing food for the dinner and meeting with another Jewish mother in the neighborhood about school plans. Since November the year before, Britta had been banned from the public schools, along with all the other Jewish children. The few remaining families in the area worked together to create a home school. Trude taught music theory once a week.

  She returned home in the early afternoon, weighted down with groceries. Britta carried a bag as well, but she was so tiny she couldn’t share much of the burden. With great relief, Trude reached the front door and leaned against the wood as she fumbled for her keys. To her surprise, the door opened on its own. She sucked in her breath and looked up quickly. Johannes was there. His face was ashen.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

  “Something terrible.”

  “What?”

  “Britta, go upstairs. I need to talk to your mother.”

  Their daughter protested, but after he jabbed a pointed finger toward the steps, with lips in a pout she complied. He waited until they heard her door close.

  “Something’s changed.”

  “What, Johannes? You’re scaring me.”

  He sat down, his head facing the carpet. “The bastards refused all the visas.”

  “What do you mean? Some kind of delay?”

  “Not a delay, a denial.”

  She drew in her breath sharply. “That’s never happened before.”