little boy again.
"Of course! Hurry, while they are still warm."
We watched him run off to the kitchen, then Elsbeth turned to me, her face serious. "Peter's right. About both things."
"What things?"
"Vater has an important job in the Nazi party, and you will get in trouble if you go in there. It's his office and he keeps it locked. Not even Mutter is allowed in. Peter is allowed sometimes, but no one else. You must stay away." Her eyes locked on mine, and something in her voice told me I shouldn't ask any more questions.
Herr Werner both frightened and fascinated me. His eyes were like Fräulein Krüger's, pleasant on the outside but hiding something hateful and frightening inside. He was tall and muscular but had a round belly that protruded over his belt. His mustache was always perfectly trimmed, and yet his hair flew wildly about his face, as if he often ran his fingers through it. He wore a lot of cologne, but that never quite covered the other smells that constantly clung to him: cigar smoke, wine, and that same smell that hung in the air around the house.
I had been instructed to call him Vater, but I tried not to call him by that if I could. I could hardly get the word out of my mouth without choking.
He was nothing like my own papa, who was short and trim with dark, gentle eyes that folded into small wrinkles at the corners when he laughed. There was nothing mysterious or hidden about my papa. He was who he was: strict but fair and kind to everyone. And someday, I knew, my own papa would come for me.
Herr Werner seemed to have only a certain amount of kindness within him, as if it was something that would run dry if he used too much of it. He was rough and rude with his servants and barely tolerated Elsbeth and her mother. But with Peter he was always kind and gentle, showing a side of himself I would not have believed existed if I had not seen him playing with his son. Because of this, I did not trust him.
After two days of watching me wander through the house, Elsbeth grew tired of following. She became my guide, leading me through various rooms and telling me stories that went with each.
"This is our recreation room," she said, leading me down a staircase near the kitchen and into a huge finished basement. It was fully equipped with games, exercise weights, a phonograph, and a dartboard. One side had a huge floor-length mirror and another side had a ballet barre attached to the wall.
I nodded, not saying anything, letting her lead the way. Like every other part of the house, the basement was large and elegant, although it was cool and smelled musty. At one end was a hall that led to a room, about the size of the formal dining room, and an even smaller room off of that. Elsbeth stopped at the entrance to the first room.
"This," her voice became a whisper, "is for air raids."
I nodded. Even though the Nazis had been in Czechoslovakia for three years before I left, I had not experienced air raids until I was at the center. The raids had been frightening, horrible things that happened during the night. A shrill whistle from the guard awakened us, and we would spring into well-rehearsed action, covering the windows with blankets and huddling together in a lower-level room. There we would stay, listening to the windows upstairs rattle and shake as planes carrying bombs droned close overhead. Even though we always emerged safe, I never slept well for many nights afterward.
I had heard no such sounds since arriving at the Werner house.
"We are far enough away from the fighting," Elsbeth said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "But Vater is very important, you know, and we live very close to his work. He is the commandant of a prison camp." She looked at me and patted my arm. "But don't worry," she added, suddenly cheerful again. "We have never needed this place.
"And this," Elsbeth continued, "is a most special radio. It uses batteries and can be taken anywhere. Mutter has another one upstairs in her
"Of course! Hurry, while they are still warm."
We watched him run off to the kitchen, then Elsbeth turned to me, her face serious. "Peter's right. About both things."
"What things?"
"Vater has an important job in the Nazi party, and you will get in trouble if you go in there. It's his office and he keeps it locked. Not even Mutter is allowed in. Peter is allowed sometimes, but no one else. You must stay away." Her eyes locked on mine, and something in her voice told me I shouldn't ask any more questions.
Herr Werner both frightened and fascinated me. His eyes were like Fräulein Krüger's, pleasant on the outside but hiding something hateful and frightening inside. He was tall and muscular but had a round belly that protruded over his belt. His mustache was always perfectly trimmed, and yet his hair flew wildly about his face, as if he often ran his fingers through it. He wore a lot of cologne, but that never quite covered the other smells that constantly clung to him: cigar smoke, wine, and that same smell that hung in the air around the house.
I had been instructed to call him Vater, but I tried not to call him by that if I could. I could hardly get the word out of my mouth without choking.
He was nothing like my own papa, who was short and trim with dark, gentle eyes that folded into small wrinkles at the corners when he laughed. There was nothing mysterious or hidden about my papa. He was who he was: strict but fair and kind to everyone. And someday, I knew, my own papa would come for me.
Herr Werner seemed to have only a certain amount of kindness within him, as if it was something that would run dry if he used too much of it. He was rough and rude with his servants and barely tolerated Elsbeth and her mother. But with Peter he was always kind and gentle, showing a side of himself I would not have believed existed if I had not seen him playing with his son. Because of this, I did not trust him.
After two days of watching me wander through the house, Elsbeth grew tired of following. She became my guide, leading me through various rooms and telling me stories that went with each.
"This is our recreation room," she said, leading me down a staircase near the kitchen and into a huge finished basement. It was fully equipped with games, exercise weights, a phonograph, and a dartboard. One side had a huge floor-length mirror and another side had a ballet barre attached to the wall.
I nodded, not saying anything, letting her lead the way. Like every other part of the house, the basement was large and elegant, although it was cool and smelled musty. At one end was a hall that led to a room, about the size of the formal dining room, and an even smaller room off of that. Elsbeth stopped at the entrance to the first room.
"This," her voice became a whisper, "is for air raids."
I nodded. Even though the Nazis had been in Czechoslovakia for three years before I left, I had not experienced air raids until I was at the center. The raids had been frightening, horrible things that happened during the night. A shrill whistle from the guard awakened us, and we would spring into well-rehearsed action, covering the windows with blankets and huddling together in a lower-level room. There we would stay, listening to the windows upstairs rattle and shake as planes carrying bombs droned close overhead. Even though we always emerged safe, I never slept well for many nights afterward.
I had heard no such sounds since arriving at the Werner house.
"We are far enough away from the fighting," Elsbeth said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "But Vater is very important, you know, and we live very close to his work. He is the commandant of a prison camp." She looked at me and patted my arm. "But don't worry," she added, suddenly cheerful again. "We have never needed this place.
"And this," Elsbeth continued, "is a most special radio. It uses batteries and can be taken anywhere. Mutter has another one upstairs in her
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