December 1939
Aunt Charlotte stood in my room with me, Mila fussing about as I slipped into my white satin gown and prepared for my wedding. The inevitable day had come and there was no going back. I wondered about Tilde and baby Simone and how they were faring. If there was a just and merciful God, they were already in New York and out of harm’s reach. I prayed that even if I would be bound to Friedrich forever, at least Tilde and the baby would have a chance to make happy lives for themselves.
Aunt Charlotte looked at me, appraising my expressions as she always did, so I tried to muster a small dose of enthusiasm to placate her. At least she could make some allowances for wedding-day jitters.
“You look so lovely, my dear. I’m so sorry your mother couldn’t be here, but in my own selfish way, I’m grateful I get to take her place. I’ll never have the chance to do this with my own daughter and I’m honored to be able to do it now.”
I took Aunt Charlotte’s hand. While Friedrich was certainly more her choice than my own, I knew she truly was doing what she thought was best for me. She’d been kinder than she ever needed to be, and I was ashamed to think of the times I wasn’t grateful for her attentions.
“You’ve done so much for me, Aunt Charlotte. Today is going to be beautiful and you’ve worked so hard to make it so.”
“Only the best for you, darling. I knew from the moment you arrived, you’d make us proud. There were times I doubted that along the way, but in the end, you’ve been a credit to all of us. I know your father is proud.”
“I wish he could be here today. Certainly, his daughter’s wedding is a reason to leave the shop in the hands of his assistants for a day or two.” I wanted to be shocked at Father’s refusal to come to the wedding, but I was not.
“The Rombauer men aren’t known for their sentimentality, my dear. You can believe me on that score. Your uncle worked all morning before we were married in the afternoon. He’d have gone back to work, too, if I hadn’t put my foot down. I think our honeymoon was the only time he’s taken more than two days off work together.”
“That sounds like Papa. Mama always begged him to come off with us to ramble in the woods or go fishing, but he could never be spared. Sad, really, don’t you think?”
“Well, you must train Friedrich that working is not the sole purpose of life. The man is the head of the household, but the woman is not without her influence. We must simply be more subtle in our attempts to persuade them. Remind him that his health is of paramount importance to his family, and that rest is an essential part of staying fit in mind and body.”
“I don’t think Friedrich will be easily persuaded in anything, Aunt Charlotte.”
“He’s rather obdurate, I’ll admit. But you’ll find a way to make things work. You’re a clever girl.” She patted my head as if I were a schoolgirl, but I succeeded in not flinching at the gesture.
“I wish I had your confidence,” I said.
“You have confidence in spades. I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear.” She turned to the mirror to freshen her lipstick. Red, exactly the shade the Führer loathed, but Aunt Charlotte clung to a few of her liberties.
“Not when it comes to this. Part of me wonders if I’m not making a dreadful mistake. I don’t think I can marry him.” I spoke the words I’d been longing to say for months. I found my inhibitions slipping away in these final moments of freedom. It was my last chance to appeal to Aunt Charlotte’s maternal instincts and hope she’d save me.
Her face turned to stone as she glared at my reflection in the mirror. “You have to put thoughts like that out of your head. If you allow them to take hold, you’ll be miserable for the rest of your married life.” She turned from the mirror to look at me as she twisted her tube of lipstick, clicked on the cap, and placed it in her handbag.
“Aunt Charlotte, I’ve tried, but I simply don’t love Friedrich. He should be everything that I want, but he isn’t.”
“Oh, my dear, you may be all the happier for it. I didn’t marry your uncle for love. It was hard at first, but we manage just fine nowadays. Friendly. Cordial. Far better than . . . well, less said the better.”
“No, finish, Aunt Charlotte. I want to know what you were going to say.”
“Your mother and father married for love, and it didn’t end well for her.” She couldn’t make eye contact with me, but rather busied her hands by fussing with my dress, which was already draped as perfectly as could be hoped for.
“What do you mean? What does Mama’s death have to do with it?”
“Well, it’s better you know the truth now. It will save you pain later on. Your father adored your mother, but when he understood how risky her behavior was, he reported her to your uncle. They kept tabs on her for weeks and it was clear that she was still practicing medicine. And caring for gypsies and other unsavories at that. They had to take care of the problem.”
“Take care of the problem? They told me she’d been in a car accident. You mean, they . . .”
“They did what was necessary to save your father’s reputation and his business. Not to mention yours and your brothers’. I know you loved your mother, my dear. You’re such a good girl at heart, but your mother’s actions were dangerous and selfish. It’s a blessing that you and the boys weren’t tainted by association. If she had been a right-thinking woman, she would have seen what danger she was subjecting you to and done things very differently. It’s all very sad.”
“I can’t believe you’re telling me . . . my father is responsible for . . .”
“No, my dear. Your mother was responsible. She acted of her own accord and put you all at risk. No one is to blame but her.”
I gripped the back of a chair to steady myself. “I just can’t believe . . .”
“I should have told you sooner, perhaps. I just hope you learn something from your mother’s story.”
“Not to help others? Not to break the rules?”
“More precisely, that anyone, and I mean anyone, might be willing to turn you in to save their own necks. And anyone you care about could be taken down with you. Remember that before you act. I see your mother’s rash tendencies in you from time to time. They’re tempered by your docile nature, but they’re there.”
“So don’t trust anyone?” I said. “Not Friedrich. Not Uncle Otto. Not even you.”
“Darling, if it meant advancing my position in the party, I’d turn you in faster than the ink could dry on your warrant. And there isn’t a person who wouldn’t do the same.”
I struggled to catch my breath. It was true, and I knew it down to the tips of my toes. I would never be safe again.
“I’d hoped people were better than that,” I said, swallowing hard.
“Well, you’re young yet. You have time to grow more and more disappointed in mankind.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.”
“Come now, this is a fine conversation to have on your wedding day. All doom and gloom. I promise you, if you think less about yourself and more about what Friedrich wants, you’ll have as good a chance at happiness as anyone. Not that it really matters in the end. It’s too late to go back on your word. It’s your choice to be happy or not, but you’ll be married in either case. But you’re the envy of every girl in Germany today. There has to be some comfort in that.”
“Yes, Aunt Charlotte,” I said, my voice as deadpan as it had been on my first days in Berlin when I hadn’t known what to expect at her hand. She hadn’t been cruel in the traditional sense, but in the end, she’d embodied everything my mother hadn’t wanted for me.
But as Aunt Charlotte pointed out, it was too late to go back now. It was too late the day I arrived in Berlin, but I had no way of knowing that then. Each moment since I boarded the train in Teisendorf—even before that; since the death of my mother—had led me to this moment. Aunt Charlotte had begun scheming to make me Friedrich’s wife as soon as she learned I would be in her charge. If it hadn’t been Friedrich, she would have found someone else, but he’d been the prize. Her objective from the very beginning had been to ensure her place in the Reich by delivering me to him. Friedrich would remember that she provided him with a “proper German wife” at the ideal moment and would reward her time and time again for her service.
Her plan was an unqualified success, and she was happy to sacrifice me at the altar of her ambition.
Uncle Otto appeared at my door, standing ramrod stiff in his uniform. There was no air of distinction about him. He more closely resembled a small boy being forced to wear a stiff collar to church on Easter Sunday than a man in service.
“It’s time,” he said gruffly. “They’re all waiting for you.”
“I’ve got to take my place, my dear. You do look radiant, and I truly am proud of you.”
I didn’t speak, worried that more might escape my lips than words. I simply attempted to turn the corner of my lips up in a smile that likely looked far more like a grimace, and nodded.
Uncle Otto walked me down the aisle of the municipal building. There were four little girls with candles guiding the way. A choir was singing, though the songs weren’t the hymns of my youth. He offered me not a single pat of the hand or kindly gesture as he passed me off to Friedrich.
I stood to face the officiant and accepted that my future would never be of my own making. But to protect Tilde, Simone, Klara, my brothers—and other innocent people like Mila who would suffer on my account if I turned back now—I had no choice.