As Éva’s friend marched down the hall and through the Bognárs’ living room, she flashed Patrik an icy stare. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Her words dripped with venom.
What had he done? He didn’t even know the woman save for their one brief encounter in the café. Though he’d seen her somewhere else. No doubt about it. When she left, he blew out a breath and turned to Ernő. “Are you acquainted with her?”
“She attended school with Éva. I wouldn’t call them friends or anything. I have no idea why she was here.” Ernő’s words were tight. Since his interrogation, he had been withdrawn, as if he had curled into himself and didn’t trust that he was safe. And, of course, his heart wasn’t. To him, Zofia was very likely dead or in the hands of the Gestapo. Nem. None of them were safe.
The atmosphere here was strange, but maybe it was Patrik’s imagination.
He returned his attention to the BBC radio broadcast, fixated on news about the Soviet advance in Romania and always alert for the nightly air raid warnings.
Then through the din of the announcer’s words, from the direction of Éva’s room, sounded a low, keening cry, like that of an injured dog. Patrik jumped to his feet. “Is that your sister?”
Ernő stared at the floor in front of him. “Who else?”
Patrik sprinted up the stairs, his mind running as fast as his feet. What had happened? He knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before entering.
His beautiful Éva huddled on the blue-and-pink flowered rug covering the hardwood floor. He bent to scoop her up, but she fought him. “Don’t touch me.”
Her words sent him stumbling backward. She had been insane with worry about Zofia. The grief must have gotten to be too much. “It’s okay. I’m here for you.”
She peered at him, her eyes red and puffy, tear stains marring her flawless cheeks. In her hand, she held out a piece of crumpled paper. “Do you recognize this?”
He took it from her. His picture of her from last fall. So that’s where it had gone to. “I’ve been searching for this. I must have dropped it here when I took my handkerchief out of my pocket.”
She rose to her feet. “You didn’t drop it here.” Her words were soft but caustic.
He sagged. Could she know? “What do you mean?”
“You dropped it at Szent Istvan Bazilika a few weeks ago.”
All the feeling left his body. He had to act innocent. “I was never there.”
“Not even to hunt for Zofia?”
“Perhaps. In the franticness, I don’t remember everywhere I searched.”
“Reka saw you there with her. Dragging her out against her will. While there, you dropped our picture.”
They had been so careful, or so he had thought. Apparently not. He should have known the church wasn’t a good place. Too public. They should have found a more private area. A place no one could have seen them.
Éva couldn’t know. For Zofia’s safety, for the safety of them all, she couldn’t find out. But what could he tell her? What was right in this situation—to put all of them in danger or to lie to Éva? Which sin was worse—murder or lying?
Patrik drew near her, but she backed away and thumped on her bed. “I didn’t find Zofia. I don’t know what her motivation might be, but Reka is lying.” God, let her believe me.
“What about the picture?”
“It’s possible I went there and dropped the photo.”
“So you knew it was missing?”
“Igen.” He patted his heart. “With the hubbub over Zofia, I never thought to mention it.”
“Reka knew what both you and Zofia were wearing.”
Patrik rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. Stupid, stupid. He and Zofia should never have been anywhere in public together. He should have waited until the dead of night to spirit her away.
“How she would know that, I can’t explain. But who are you going to believe? Someone you barely knew years ago or the man who you’re about to pledge your life to?”
“Did you hurt her?”
“You have to know I would never hurt anyone. You know me.”
She shifted her gaze away from Patrik and then back to him. Good. He was building doubt in her mind.
“But you do stand out in a crowd.”
His cursed height. Always a giveaway. “There are others in Budapest as tall as I am, with similar build, and the same color hair. If I wished harm to Zofia, would I have searched for her? That woman has filled your head with craziness.”
The floorboards in the hall creaked, and Ernő appeared in the doorway. “What are you two arguing about?”
Éva pointed at Patrik. “Reka accused him of being with Zofia the night she disappeared. She said she saw him at Szent Istvan Bazilika with her, dragging her out. And she gave me this.” She grabbed the photograph from Patrik and handed it to her brother.
Ernő stared at the grainy picture. “You did what?”
The odds were not in Patrik’s favor here. “Nothing. I did nothing.”
Ernő lunged for him, but Patrik sidestepped. “You are believing someone you don’t know very well over the word of a man who loves your sister and your entire family more than anything. I can’t understand how you would find her more credible than me.”
“If you did anything to my wife—”
“Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Except that he was. “Right now, you’re thinking with your emotions. You’ll see how wrong Reka is. I may have dropped the picture at the church the other night, but I was not with Zofia. If I had been, I would have brought her home.”
As she hugged herself, Éva rose and paced in small circles, glancing his way every so often. How could he hurt her so? The truth danced on his tongue, but he reined it in. Zofia had begged him to tell them she was unharmed, but that would send Éva and Ernő on a search. A search that might well bring more danger to this house.
The picture of his sisters boarding the train in Nagyvárad flashed through his brain. Everyone in Hungary had heard about Auschwitz and what happened there. By now, they had arrived. By now, they were dead.
He replaced the image of his sisters with that of Éva and Zofia.
Nem. He refused to allow that fate to befall them. He stomped the words of truth back down his throat.
After several silent minutes, Éva came to a halt in her pacing and stared at him. “I don’t know, Patrik. After everything I’ve been through, you know how I value the truth. How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”
He knew all too well how honesty was the number one virtue in her book. She’d shared her past with him. But lying to her was the only thing he could do. “How can you not believe me?” Hadn’t he been convincing enough? Or had she never loved him as much as she proclaimed she did? The thought struck him as hard as a fist to the gut.
“I want to, I truly do. But she said she saw you. She knew details.”
“Maybe she’s involved and is trying to pin the blame on me.”
“What about the photo?” She pointed to the picture Ernő crushed in his bear-sized hands.
“I did drop it somewhere. She must have found it. Don’t make it out to be something it’s not.” How would he bear it if she didn’t believe him? She wasn’t supposed to find out about this. None of them were.
She covered her face, her voice muffled. “Please, Patrik, give me some time to deal with everything that’s happened. I must think and get things straight in my mind. Give me a few days, I beg you. Then we’ll talk again.”
What else could he do for the woman he adored? “I’ll leave both of you in peace. But use your logic. Reka is twisting the truth to make me guilty. You were about to trust your life to me. Can you throw that away?”
Zofia paced the length of the tiny living room crowded with furniture, covered in doilies, and filled with knickknacks. Tóth Asszony hummed in the kitchen as she prepared borscht for dinner, but the smell of the beets simmering did nothing to calm Zofia’s stomach. Much as she wanted to help with making the meal, she couldn’t get near food right now.
She crossed to the corner of the room by the single, small window whose curtains were drawn against watchful German eyes. Against men who hunted her. And did unimaginable things to her husband.
When Patrik had brought her here the night her world turned upside down, all she knew was that the Gestapo had arrested Ernő. Patrik hadn’t been back since. Every minute of every day, she had to stifle the screams that threatened to erupt from the depth of her soul. No German torture could be worse than this not knowing. Not knowing if her love was in prison. Not knowing if her heart and soul was alive or dead.
She understood that Patrik couldn’t visit every day. She understood that he couldn’t communicate with her on a regular basis. But couldn’t he get word to her on the fate of her husband?
In this room sat a pretty little parlor piano, its walnut case polished to a mirrorlike finish. The most torturous part of her confinement. She’d longed to touch it for days but hadn’t dared. Until now. She could no longer stop herself. She opened the lid and, not making a sound, ran her fingers over the ivory keys.
“Do you play?” Tóth Asszony stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on an apron yellowed with stains.
“I’m part owner of a music studio. Whenever I’m not teaching, I’m sitting in front of my spinet, losing myself in the beauty of the tunes.”
“My husband used to play so well. Such an ear he had. He couldn’t read a lick of music, but what came from his memory was incredible. All he had to do was hear the melody once, and he could play it to perfection. I’d sit for hours and listen to him.”
At the mention of a husband, Zofia’s eyes burned. She blinked several times. “Has he been gone long?”
Tóth Asszony fingered the long gray braid that hung down her back. “Nearly thirty years now. We’d only been married for three years when he passed away. They didn’t know why. One minute he was here, the next he was gone.”
Three years. Just as long as she and Ernő had been married. Would that be all the time the Lord would give them together? Nem, Lord, just a little more than that. She rubbed the spot where her child grew.
“If you’d like, you’re welcome to use the piano. Since my husband has been gone, it hasn’t been touched except by the piano tuners. I don’t need it, but I can’t bear to part with it. How lovely it would be to hear its tone again.”
Zofia shook her head. What was the woman thinking? “Any music coming from this flat after so many years would raise suspicions. Remember, I’m not here. I can’t make a sound.”
Tóth Asszony covered her mouth. “Oh dear, that was careless of me. Please, I wasn’t thinking. When I saw you there, I got carried away to another time, and longing for my husband and his music overtook me.”
Would that be Ernő thinking of Zofia thirty years from now? She shut her mind to all thoughts of him.
“Supper is almost ready.”
“I hope you haven’t made too much. I’m not very hungry.”
Tóth Asszony marched toward Zofia and patted her cheek. Such a motherly gesture. Again, someone else it was best not to think about. “You do look a little peaked.”
“Would you mind if I laid down for a while? Perhaps later I’ll feel up to eating.”
“Of course, dear. I do hope you aren’t coming down with something.”
Before Zofia could turn for her room, the shrill wail of air raid sirens pierced the air.
“Oh dear, oh dear. I have to go to the shelter, but you aren’t supposed to be here.” Tóth Asszony clasped her hands together and squeezed them tight. And so began the conversation they had almost every night.
“You go ahead. I’ll be fine here.”
“But what if we’re bombed?” All color fled the older woman’s face. Tóth Asszony fretted so much.
“Then no shelter is going to save me.”
“Or what if the Nazis come?”
That was a bigger concern.
The low drone of plane engines and antiaircraft fire drowned out the sirens. “I have my hiding spot. Go, go.” Zofia just about pushed Tóth Asszony out the door. But as she did so, Patrik bounded up the stairs. Finally. What had kept him all these weeks?
“You’d better get to the shelter, young man.”
“You go down. I’ll catch up with you later.” He slipped into the flat and locked the door. His face was flushed and warm as he kissed Zofia on both cheeks. “How are you faring?”
She plastered on a smile. “Fine. We’re getting along well. Everything here is comfortable. But what about Ernő? And the others?”
“Have a seat.” He didn’t smile, and his eyes didn’t hold their usual shine.
She dropped to the red brocade couch, her knees unable to support her. “What’s happened to him?”
“He was released. A little battered but safe.”
Every muscle in her body lost its stiffness, and she slumped against the back of the couch.
“So you see, I was right in making you come here. We have a bigger problem, though.”
“Have you been followed?”
“They aren’t tailing me. They don’t know about me. To be on the safe side, I didn’t approach this building until the sirens sounded.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “They are watching this place. Sometimes I see the soldier on the street. Always the same one, young, blond, with a jagged scar along his cheekbone. Unless it’s an emergency, you shouldn’t be here. One of these days the Nazis will grow suspicious and come after you. Then you would be the one bringing trouble to the house.”
“Reka saw me dragging you out of the church.”
Zofia bolted upright. “What?”
“I dropped the photo Éva gave me. She … they think I may be responsible for your disappearance.”
“Surely Éva knows you better than that.”
“The evidence points at me. If these were normal circumstances, I’d be hauled off to prison and charged with your kidnapping.”
“And my husband?”
“He knows. Like his sister, there is doubt in his mind.”
“They know I’m in hiding, though. You told them, so why would they believe a word she said?”
“I …” He rubbed the couch cushion.
She sprang to her feet. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“It was for the best. If I told them, I would have to reveal my secret. About who I am. I refuse to do that.”
“Because you cherish this precious world you’ve built more than me, more than Ernő, even more than Éva, whom you claim to love. Isn’t that it?” The sirens’ screech blasted through the window.
“I value my life. And theirs. Even above my love for her.”
“You’re afraid to tell her.”
“That’s absurd. If I don’t tell her, I lose her too.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Either way, my dream of making her my wife is gone.”
“I want Ernő to know. Everything. You can’t subject him to this torture of not knowing what happened to me.” She understood that torture.
“He’s already been brought in for questioning once. Next time, they won’t release him. I won’t put them under further risk. Or you. Did you think about what might happen if they go looking for you? Following me to find out? They’ll lead the Gestapo straight to you.”
“What if I’m willing to risk it?” A headache pounded behind her right eye.
“I’m doing this because I love all of you.” Patrik’s words stabbed her heart.
There were wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. None of this was easy on any of them. He stood beside her and took her by the hand. “In time, we’ll tell them. We won’t lie to them forever. When we reveal our secrets, they’ll understand. They’ll know why we did what we did.”
She rubbed her aching temple. “I know. But—”
An ear-splitting screech cut off the rest of her words, followed by a concussion that shook the building. She covered her ears and huddled into herself.
Patrik enveloped her in an embrace for a long while until her trembling ceased.
She understood Patrik’s reasoning. But she didn’t agree with it. Maybe she would have to go to Ernő herself.