October 1938
What shall we do with your hair?” Mila asked after she’d brushed it until it shone.
“Whatever you think best,” I said, without much conviction.
Klara remained friendly at school, acting as though nothing had changed whenever anyone was in earshot. But she never came over to the house unless it was a formal visit with her mother, nor did we walk home together. It wasn’t the same as losing my mother, but the pain was all too familiar. I missed the idle chats about clothes and Paris and the possibilities life would hold after school was out. I’d had a brief taste of what it was like to have a sister, and though Klara and I had only been friends a short while, the loss was acute.
“You’ve been downtrodden for days, Hanna. Chin up, or the captain will think you’re given to melancholy.”
“Heaven forbid we upset the captain,” I said, fiddling with the earrings she’d set aside for me to wear with my navy wool dress. It looked more like a BDM uniform than not, and I wondered if Aunt Charlotte hadn’t suggested it for that reason.
“That’s right,” she said. “Once you’re married, you can be as dreary as you choose. Though I don’t think it’s a happy way to go about life, myself.”
“You’re right, Mila. I ought to cheer up,” I said. Mama was never one to expect me or my brothers to constantly be in good moods, but when she could see we were downcast, she always found a way to remind us of our blessings. She couldn’t do that now, so I just took stock of the roof over my head, the clothes on my back, and the opportunities Aunt Charlotte worked so hard to give me. I didn’t feel cheerful, but it helped somewhat.
“That’s just the thing. Remember a smile, sincere or not, covers a thousand flaws. You have so few, one quick smirk will make you breathtaking.”
“Thank you, Mila,” I said as she tucked the last strands of my hair into the braided coronet atop my head. “I don’t suppose I could have a few minutes alone?”
“Of course, but don’t dally. You’re expected in the parlor in ten minutes.”
I felt myself exhale as I heard the click of the door and the soft padding of Mila’s footsteps down the hallway.
I pulled my worry stone from its hidey-hole, closed my eyes, and pictured the water rushing over it just as Mama had instructed. I’d taken to hiding the stone in the back of my vanity drawer as my wardrobe had grown far too extensive and my schedule too full to allow me to sew hidden pockets in the garments. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d reached for it in the course of a normal day, only to be thwarted in my attempt. I’d taken to rubbing a thumb in my palm and remembering the cool, smooth stone I’d left behind. It wasn’t as soothing as holding the stone in my hand, but even visualizing the weight in my hand helped my heartbeat to slow and my breath to even out.
I looked at the ornate little clock Aunt Charlotte had procured for me, and realized I’d lingered too long over my stone. I dashed to the parlor just in time to see Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Otto welcoming Friedrich like the son they’d never had.
“If your aunt and uncle don’t mind, I thought we’d go for a drive today. A day off is such a rare treat for me, I thought we could enjoy some time out of doors before winter truly sets in.”
“Hanna would be delighted,” Aunt Charlotte said before I could speak a word. I nodded my agreement, however. If I preferred to do otherwise, that was immaterial.
Aunt Charlotte thrust a sheer scarf in my hand as Friedrich whisked me off to his car. I understood why when I saw the silver convertible BMW idling in the driveway. The chauffeur relinquished his spot in the driver’s seat and held the door open first for Friedrich, then for me. I hastily tied the scarf around my head, hoping I’d come back with hair that didn’t resemble a three-year-old bird’s nest.
“I thought this might be more fun than another stodgy luncheon or dinner party. Don’t you agree?”
“Certainly,” I said, thinking of the hours I’d already spent feigning interest in any number of conversations that didn’t remotely approach my bailiwick. I’d likely still have to do plenty of that on this excursion without the benefit of other guests to divert Friedrich’s attention, but at least the scenery in the woods outside of Berlin would be more interesting than the wallpaper in the dining room.
Friedrich kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped over my shoulder as he drove. He made idle chatter, probably thinking he gave off the appearance of nonchalance, but his driving wasn’t as smooth and practiced as he thought it was. I found myself gripping the door handle and wishing he would remove his hand from my shoulder and put it on the wheel where it belonged. He didn’t notice my stiff carriage or my terse replies, or simply didn’t care.
We finally came to a clearing and he pulled the car to a stop. I exited the car with knees wobbling. He fetched a basket and blanket from the backseat and spread the blanket on the grass. Never mind that it was fifteen degrees too cold to picnic on the ground and that Aunt Charlotte had insisted I wear a thin crepe dress that was perfectly well suited for the dining room, but not the outdoors in fall. He was dressed in wool from head to foot and would probably be fine. By the time I made it to the blanket, the ridiculous heels Aunt Charlotte had bought for me were caked in mud. I sat gingerly so I could keep my feet from sullying the blanket.
Friedrich joined me on the blanket, and I tried not to shiver. I pulled my jacket tighter and curled my legs up underneath me. He opened the basket and began foraging. “I’m glad your aunt and uncle allowed you to come alone. It may not be exactly proper, but it’s hard to truly get to know someone when there are a dozen eyes peering all the time, isn’t it?” He emerged from the basket with two cups and handed me one. I endeavored not to shake as he offered it.
“I suppose so,” I said, hoping the thermos he produced was brimming with hot coffee, tea, or chocolate. As he poured, I heard the rattle of ice. Lemonade. The man clearly had no patience for weather or seasons that didn’t coincide with his plans.
“Is there anything you want to know about me?” he asked. “You’re not the most talkative girl. I don’t want you to feel bashful around me.”
I cocked my head. “If you want me to speak, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to ask about me?”
“I see your point,” he said, taking a bite of a sandwich. He’d offered me one, but it sat untouched. “Very well, what would you like me to know about you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what you want to learn about me. It’s a vague question.”
“Are you usually so exacting?” he asked. “I know some women take these approaches to be charming, but I find it rather tedious.”
“Perhaps I am,” I said. “But I hate to bore anyone with unnecessary information. If you want to know about my thoughts on the best areas in Teisendorf for snowshoeing, I don’t want to prattle on with an anecdote about my childhood.”
“Something tells me you could blend the two beautifully. Come on, then, a childhood anecdote about snowshoeing. Anything less and I’ll be heartily disappointed.”
“Very well. When I was twelve years old, my mother had me go with her to check on a woman who was about to have her third baby.” I made sure my version of the story didn’t reveal the true scope of her practice, which extended far beyond midwifery. I imagined Aunt Charlotte sitting ramrod straight in her chair at the dining table, praying with every syllable that I wouldn’t reveal anything scandalous. “It was only early November, but the snows came hard and furious that year and we had to snowshoe through snow that would have been up to my thighs without them. I was so bitterly cold that I was worried I was going to get frostbite, but I didn’t dare say anything to Mama. I wanted to help her so much. By the time we got to the cabin out in the woods I was so cold that I shook every time I passed Mama a clean cloth or an instrument from her bag. She thought I was nervous at the sight of blood, but I was just chilled to the bone. I didn’t feel properly warm for a week.”
Friedrich gave a genuine laugh at the anecdote. “You loved your mother very much,” he said. He spoke with the certainty of observation, rather than posing it as a question.
“Yes,” I said. “She was remarkable. She had a talent for healing that was astounding to watch. She’d been a good student, but what she did you can’t learn in medical school. She had an instinct. She could walk into the room and sometimes smell what was wrong with the patient. She could diagnose a dozen different maladies by the color of your cheeks. She dealt in miracles as much as she did in medicine.”
I ducked my head and fiddled with a blade of grass, realizing I’d spoken too much. They expected me to acknowledge her as a capable midwife and nothing more.
“It’s good for you to be proud of her,” he said. I looked down and blinked in surprise. “Of course, a woman’s most important duty is to raise her family, but it doesn’t mean that she can’t have other talents. Indeed, it’s rather tiresome if she doesn’t.”
“Like Klara. She’s remarkably talented as a dress designer. Her designs could grace the great runways of the world if she were given the right training.”
He sat up a bit at the mention of her name, I hoped in remembrance of the feelings he’d once led her to believe that he shared with her.
“Really? I never knew that. How clever of her.”
“She’s a lovely girl. I think she’s rather sorry to not be here in my place.” I saw no trace of regret in his face and felt my heart fall on her behalf.
“She is a lovely girl. And someday the right chap will come along and make her very happy.”
“But not you?”
He shook his head. “Alas, my eye has been caught by another. One with charming anecdotes about mad snowshoeing expeditions with her mother and who has the loveliest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“Really? Most girls prefer a man to coo sweet nothings in their ear.”
“That’s just the problem. They usually are ‘nothings.’ I’d rather you speak the blunt truth.”
“You are a different one, aren’t you? A wood nymph who has bewitched me, I’d swear it.”
“I’m not sure if you mean that as a compliment or censure,” I rebuked.
“No more do I,” he said, stone-faced. Then at once, he erupted in a gale of laughter and pinned me playfully to the blanket. “Now, you little wood nymph, I have you where I want you. I can gaze into those eyes as long as I choose.”
And gaze he did for some time, until he lowered his lips to mine. It was a curious sensation at first, but the warmth in my core soon made me oblivious to my inhibitions. I felt my unease slip away in his gentle caresses and felt the prickle of guilt I’d harbored out of loyalty to Klara fade away.