I left the hospital tent, and as I’d done the previous afternoon, I lit a cigarette as a pretext to dawdling at the edge of the wood. I tried to glance only occasionally at the tree where Margarethe had waited for me, and it wasn’t long before I heard the snap of twigs under her feet. I walked in the direction of the tree when I was reasonably sure no one was looking and found her there.
“You’re an angel,” she whispered as she examined the contents of the bag. “Really and truly.”
“How is Jonas faring?”
“Weak,” she replied honestly. “But I don’t think he’s getting any worse.”
“That’s something,” I said. “But he really needs shelter. The tent is only a half step up from nothing. The cold will get to him if the infection doesn’t. Surely you know someone who can give him shelter.”
She blanched as white as December snow. “Anyone who took him in would pay for it with their lives. And if anyone saw me with him, more than my life would be at stake. The only reason I can keep him as safe as he is is that no one knows they are with me. Truly, I see no choice.”
“Let’s go see him,” I said, not wanting to leave her quite so soon, though I shouldn’t have met with her at all.
“That is very kind of you,” she said as we began walking deeper into the woods. “You’re putting yourself at too much risk.”
“I’m just a man who likes to live in fear of a court-martial,” I said in return.
“I hope very much it doesn’t come to that,” she said. “But you’re doing a great kindness to the resistance by helping him.”
I combed my fingers through my hair. “I’ll have to trust you on that. It’s really none of my business anyway. I’m not sure why I’m doing this.”
“Because you’re a good doctor and you care about your patients.”
“Don’t try to butter me up,” I said. And because I can’t seem to leave you alone, I thought. Why can’t I just pass off the supplies and be done with you? Why am I giving you the supplies to begin with? The thoughts had plagued me since I’d met this enigma of a woman, but the answers made no difference. I was drawn to her like a drunkard to his whiskey. I worried she was every bit as dangerous. She was German, and I shouldn’t trust her for that reason alone.
“I know how you feel about my countrymen, but try to keep in mind that a hungry people will follow the strongest wolf to the hunt. They don’t care how ruthless he is, so long as they are fed,” she said, as though able to read my thoughts. I looked at her now, wondering if she wasn’t some sort of witch on top of it all.
Before long we reached Heide, who emerged from a makeshift thicket that she’d used to hide Jonas and herself that night.
“And how is that working out for your people?” I asked, gesturing to Heide, whose high cheekbones were razors beneath her taut, waxy skin. I didn’t need to examine her to know I’d be able to count her ribs from across a fifty-foot-long hospital tent in candlelight. I took the pack from Margarethe and began pitching the tent.
“Have you ever in your life gone hungry?” Margarethe pressed. “Have you seen your own child on the brink of starvation?”
“I can’t say that I have,” I admitted.
“Then do not hazard a guess at what you might do in our shoes, Captain. People will do horrible things to stay alive.”
“Those horrible things included killing my entire extended family. You’ll excuse me if I can’t be philosophical about it. I can’t work out how invading other countries and killing innocent civilians could have brought jobs or prosperity back to the German people in any lasting way.”
“I don’t see the usefulness of this conversation,” Jonas interceded. “We’re on the same side, Captain. I think you know this, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Heide chided him in German, and I didn’t need my pocket dictionary to catch the gist of her rebuke. “She’s right. Save your strength, Jonas. I’m going to move you inside the tent, and that will take all you’ve got.”
Jonas was a soldier in the truest sense of the word. When Margarethe and I helped him into the tent, he refused to make even the slightest grimace. Back in the hospital, I saw men who were stoic like this too, while others had no qualms about crying out in pain. I didn’t think less of the men who couldn’t bear their wounds quietly; they were tossed into a war of other men’s making. But the men who suffered in silence were those who had formed a close companionship with pain. They’d learned that they could survive it, so they swallowed it like a dose of castor oil and moved on to the next battle. Others gave in to the pain as long as their bodies needed, and then they too returned to their duty.
I wasn’t sure if these quiet men were more likely than others to survive the war, but I suspected they might be the first to be broken by it.
“How do you feel?” I asked Jonas once we got him settled with fresh bandages and warm blankets.
“Warmer,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he pulled the army-issue blanket up to his chin. “I will repay you for this one day, my friend.”
Jonas summoned what was left of his strength and lifted his hand to shake mine.
“You owe me nothing but taking care of those stitches I gave you,” I said.
“I need to get back,” Margarethe said, checking a gleaming watch on her slender wrist that contrasted painfully with her ragged clothes. It had been months since I’d seen something so decadent, ensconced as I was in a utilitarian world of olive drab.
“So do I,” I replied. Where did she have to get to?
“I’ll walk east with you for a bit,” she said, looking over her shoulder. Who was she looking for?
She walked by my side for a quarter of a mile or so until the edge of the American encampment came into view.
“You have been extraordinarily kind to us,” Margarethe whispered.
“Like you said, I care too much about my patients to let them suffer.”
“You’re a good man, Max. We need more men like you in this world.”
She put her hands on either side of my face and pulled me down to meet her. Her lips lingered on mine for just a few moments and left my own still tingling when she pulled away.
“Be well, Max. I fear we won’t see each other again, but I will remember your kindness to Jonas for the rest of my days.”
CHAPTER TEN
AN EDUCATION
JOHANNA
January 1940
Berchtesgaden, Germany
“What do you mean, bride school?” I asked as Metta took her place across from me at Mama’s kitchen table. “What on earth is such a thing?”
“Just what it sounds like. We learn to cook, sew, keep house, tend children and livestock. All the things we’ll have to do when we’re married.”
“And Mama hasn’t done a thorough enough job of this here at home?” I countered.
“Ansel thought it was a good idea,” Metta replied, not meeting my eyes.
“Of course it is,” Oskar said. “The Führer places great importance on the institution of marriage. He says it is the bedrock upon which our new and glorious Reich will prosper. A man in the Obersturmbannführer’s position must set an example by marrying a proper Aryan woman who knows what is expected of her by the fatherland. Metta will be a leader among the young housewives of her acquaintance, and much envied. You should be happy for her, Johanna. Not questioning her husband’s kindness.”