brushing a tear off her cheek. "You must sleep now, precious Eva." She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. Then, turning away, she walked out to the hall, her flowery scent staying behind with me, masking the strong smell coming from outside.
I lay in the dark, tracing Grandmother's pin beneath my nightdress and picturing the faces of Jaro and Anechka, Mama and Papa. A shadowy question was lurking in my mind. I no longer wondered when my family would come for me. For the first time, I began to wonder
if
they would come for me.
Where could they be?
Were they back home in the house I had grown up in, tucked safely into their own beds? Were they in a work camp, waiting to be freed so they could come rescue me? Were they living somewhere else in the world that I didn't even know about? Were they safe? Happy? Did they know I had become a German girl, the enemy? Were they thinking of me or had I been forgotten?
Milada, Milada, Milada.
I could almost hear the name on the breeze blowing in through the window and filling the lace curtains.
Eight
May 1944: Fürstenberg, Germany
T H E next morning I was awakened by happy shouts coming from Peter's study.
I slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, following the noise to the doorway. I stood there watching Peter and his father wrestle playfully on the floor.
"Vater! Vater! I will get you, Vater!" Peter pounced on top of Herr Werner, who sat crouched on the floor like a cat, with his shirt untucked and his uniform jacket slung over a chair.
"Ah! What a man you are!" Herr Werner growled playfully and rolled Peter onto his back, tickling him. "What a big strong man you are!" Peter was still dressed in his sleeping clothes, his hair sticking out in all directions.
"Hans," Frau Werner was standing behind me.
Peter and Herr Werner both stopped in mid-play, and Herr Werner frowned at his wife. Peter looked from his mother to his father and then at me.
"Play is good for the boy. Helps him to be a man." Herr Werner ran his fingers through his son's hair. Peter giggled.
"Hans," Frau Werner repeated, her voice tight. "It is time for his bath."
"I'll send him when we're done, wife." He didn't look at her as he spoke but winked at Peter, cuffing him playfully on the shoulder.
"Come, Eva, it is time for your bath as well." Frau Werner turned briskly.
Peter followed his mother with his eyes, and when she was no longer in sight, he looked up at me and stuck out his tongue. I blinked in surprise. I had not been around boys for some time, but it reminded me of something my own brother would have done. Then I followed his mother to the washroom that Elsbeth and I were to share. It was large and gleaming white, with two separate claw-foot tubs. One was already full of water and bubbles.
"Our maid, Helga, drew the water for you," Frau Werner said as she led me into the room. "Here is a robe. The towels there are yours." She pointed to two soft white towels hanging from a gold loop by the tub and left me to my bath. Her manner had changed from the previous night. She had become brisk and efficient, a mother getting her daughter ready for the day.
I climbed into the tub and sat, breathing in the scent of lavender and letting the warmth seep its way into my skin. I lifted small handfuls of water and watched it drip between my fingers. From down the hall came the sounds of Herr Werner leading Peter, finally, to a bath in his own washroom.
The water felt soft and luxurious. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a bath. We had taken quick, cold showers at the center and had scrubbed with soap that always smelled like medicine. The showers left me feeling awake, but never feeling good or even really clean.
After my bath I ate breakfast by myself in the kitchen and was happy to be left alone. I could hear the sounds of Peter and Elsbeth getting ready for the day and their mother trying to hurry them along. The voices of servants echoed from various parts of the house, and
I lay in the dark, tracing Grandmother's pin beneath my nightdress and picturing the faces of Jaro and Anechka, Mama and Papa. A shadowy question was lurking in my mind. I no longer wondered when my family would come for me. For the first time, I began to wonder
if
they would come for me.
Where could they be?
Were they back home in the house I had grown up in, tucked safely into their own beds? Were they in a work camp, waiting to be freed so they could come rescue me? Were they living somewhere else in the world that I didn't even know about? Were they safe? Happy? Did they know I had become a German girl, the enemy? Were they thinking of me or had I been forgotten?
Milada, Milada, Milada.
I could almost hear the name on the breeze blowing in through the window and filling the lace curtains.
Eight
May 1944: Fürstenberg, Germany
T H E next morning I was awakened by happy shouts coming from Peter's study.
I slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, following the noise to the doorway. I stood there watching Peter and his father wrestle playfully on the floor.
"Vater! Vater! I will get you, Vater!" Peter pounced on top of Herr Werner, who sat crouched on the floor like a cat, with his shirt untucked and his uniform jacket slung over a chair.
"Ah! What a man you are!" Herr Werner growled playfully and rolled Peter onto his back, tickling him. "What a big strong man you are!" Peter was still dressed in his sleeping clothes, his hair sticking out in all directions.
"Hans," Frau Werner was standing behind me.
Peter and Herr Werner both stopped in mid-play, and Herr Werner frowned at his wife. Peter looked from his mother to his father and then at me.
"Play is good for the boy. Helps him to be a man." Herr Werner ran his fingers through his son's hair. Peter giggled.
"Hans," Frau Werner repeated, her voice tight. "It is time for his bath."
"I'll send him when we're done, wife." He didn't look at her as he spoke but winked at Peter, cuffing him playfully on the shoulder.
"Come, Eva, it is time for your bath as well." Frau Werner turned briskly.
Peter followed his mother with his eyes, and when she was no longer in sight, he looked up at me and stuck out his tongue. I blinked in surprise. I had not been around boys for some time, but it reminded me of something my own brother would have done. Then I followed his mother to the washroom that Elsbeth and I were to share. It was large and gleaming white, with two separate claw-foot tubs. One was already full of water and bubbles.
"Our maid, Helga, drew the water for you," Frau Werner said as she led me into the room. "Here is a robe. The towels there are yours." She pointed to two soft white towels hanging from a gold loop by the tub and left me to my bath. Her manner had changed from the previous night. She had become brisk and efficient, a mother getting her daughter ready for the day.
I climbed into the tub and sat, breathing in the scent of lavender and letting the warmth seep its way into my skin. I lifted small handfuls of water and watched it drip between my fingers. From down the hall came the sounds of Herr Werner leading Peter, finally, to a bath in his own washroom.
The water felt soft and luxurious. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a bath. We had taken quick, cold showers at the center and had scrubbed with soap that always smelled like medicine. The showers left me feeling awake, but never feeling good or even really clean.
After my bath I ate breakfast by myself in the kitchen and was happy to be left alone. I could hear the sounds of Peter and Elsbeth getting ready for the day and their mother trying to hurry them along. The voices of servants echoed from various parts of the house, and
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