Spring 1939
Hochland Home
Steinhöring
Alexander Schäfer nodded to Allina as she entered her classroom. “Stretch your fingers, boys and girls, stretch your toes,” he called out. Alex paused to check his stopwatch before continuing his slow amble along the center aisle of the classroom. “Balance your body on your stomachs,” he added, punctuating his words with sharp claps of his hands. “Straighten your arms and legs. That’s right. Very good. Reach, children … fly, fly, fly!”
The children were wriggling bundles of energy this morning. All were performing the flying stretch—one Dr. Koch prescribed to strengthen their abdominal and back muscles—with relative ease. Each child was face down on their nap mats, but only their torsos made contact with the floor. Otto was doing particularly well. His arms and legs trembled with strain but were suspended off the ground in perfect form, with fingers and toes outstretched.
“Excellent,” Alexander praised. “That was twenty seconds. Now relax for a bit before we start the next exercise.”
The children collapsed onto the mats with loud groans. “You’re the best students I’ve ever seen. Don’t you agree, Madame Director?” Alexander called out over his shoulder.
Allina fought to blink back tears. “The best in all of Germany,” she managed as she notated her file: Flying stretch: 20 seconds. The children’s progress was remarkable, easy to see and document.
Three months ago, the children hadn’t been able to perform this basic exercise by themselves, forcing Alexander and Hans to resort to manual stretching. It had taken nearly four weeks for the children to become coordinated enough to learn the basic movements, with Otto leading the way, as usual. Progress had been steady, but maddeningly slow.
Toward the end of the program’s second month, Schwester Ziegler began “dropping by” several times a week to review their activities. These visits weren’t planned in advance and shouldn’t have happened at all, as the head nurse had no jurisdiction over the program. But since she kept a respectful distance, and didn’t arrive with clipboard in hand or appear to be taking notes, Allina bore the scrutiny without complaint. In truth she was stuck, and the head nurse knew it—even as the program’s director, without Karl, the chance of lodging a successful complaint with the Reichsführer was virtually nonexistent. Allina didn’t want to go to battle with the woman, in any case, so she held her tongue, kept working, and prayed that their efforts would be enough.
To her mutual relief and disgust, last week she’d received a congratulatory memo from Reichsführer Himmler himself. Whether that was due to Schwester Ziegler’s visits or Allina’s meticulous weekly reports, she didn’t know.
Even so, Allina’s doubts lingered, particularly late at night when she drifted off to sleep. She worried her affection for the children was blinding her objectivity, that despite their best efforts, the children would never be adoptable.
Allina shook off her unease when Rilla’s glowing face appeared at the classroom door. “Here’s that shipment of sports equipment you were asking about,” Rilla said. She hauled in a large box overflowing with jump ropes and balls of different sizes.
Alexander hurried to the door. “Let me help,” he said, taking the box from Rilla’s hands. “You shouldn’t be carrying that.”
Rilla thanked Alex and gave him a not-so-shy smile. She flushed to the roots of her hair, and her gaze lingered, watching his every move as he sauntered to the corner and set down the box.
Two months, and Alexander, had been a balm for Rilla’s broken heart. Allina was glad of it. Their relationship was an unexpected development—one Allina had worried about in the beginning—but the pair got on well.
Alex stepped to the front of the room again to address the class. “Fräulein Weber will take over now.” He raised his hands in the air, and the children cheered. “If we’re very lucky,” Alex added with a wide grin, “she might sing.” More cheers. “Clap your hands for her, children. She’ll start you off with your bridges.”
He made his way to Allina’s side as Rilla assumed control.
“Roll over,” she called out in a singsong voice. “Put your hands and feet on the ground and push up! That’s right, make your bridges high.” The children rolled over, planted their feet on the ground, and raised their hips skyward.
“She’s good with them,” Alexander murmured. “She has their trust.”
“You’re an excellent teacher,” Allina answered. Since the first day, he’d peppered his instruction with praise and encouragement. Alexander had a gift; he’d built an easy camaraderie with the children.
Alexander and Hans had been all Allina could have hoped for, tireless and a credit to their parents, although their part of the work was about to come to an end. She’d had to give up Hans last week to his new assignment in Czechoslovakia—now the protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, as the Führer had so declared it—and at the end of April, Alex would also report for duty.
For the hundredth time this month, Allina sent a prayer heavenward for Rilla. Rilla, who would be the only one remaining, the one best versed in their exercise program, and the one who’d help her train the volunteers when they came to Hochland Home. She’d continue the work Hans and Alexander had begun. There was even talk now of traveling to other homes to work with staff so the program could be expanded.
“Make your bridges strong, children,” Rilla sang before counting to ten. “That’s it. Very good! We want many automobiles driving over your bridges.” Rilla pantomimed a steering wheel with her hands and made grumbling motor noises as she mock-drove around the room.
Rilla’s instructions produced a fit of giggles that had the little ones hiccupping and straining to keep control of their bodies.
Once again, Allina had to push back her tears as she notated her files. She’d been crying at the drop of a hat all week, due to stress, of course. The program’s success was gratifying, but the schedule had worn her down to nothing. It seemed like every tendon in her shoulders and knees creaked when she got out of bed this morning.
She slipped into the hallway and walked to the break room. Her body craved a strong cup of tea, that’s all. Tea, ten minutes in a chair to rest her feet, and a chance to reread Karl’s latest letter. Although he’d been in the Sudetenland less than a month, it seemed like time had expanded, escaping like a dropped skein of wool that rolled across the floor. It helped that Karl wrote daily, and his letters were full of sweetness and unexpected romance. Allina had never received love letters like these before, and their intimacy surprised and de-lighted her.
Allina missed Karl so much that her throat ached whenever she thought about him. Their final days together had been bittersweet, the weight of his leaving like lead on her chest, tempering her happiness. On their last night together, Karl had acted in a way that made Allina fear for him. I don’t deserve you, he’d repeated into her hair during the last few minutes before sunrise. He’d trembled and held her so tightly that she hadn’t asked for an explanation. Instead, she’d clutched Karl’s head to her breast and taken him into her body with a fierceness that left them both shaken. He’d kissed her with gentleness afterward, as they wiped each other’s tears.
She often caught herself reliving that last night and fantasizing about their few weeks together; how his long, warm legs curved to the shape of her body while he slept, and the way the soft indentation at the base of his spine quivered at her touch, or how his hair stood up like a rooster’s coxcomb when he woke in the morning. Devoid of pomade, his hair was lighter, and silky against her fingers …
Sighing, she entered the break room.
Karl was never far from her mind, but his latest letter filled her with a restlessness she couldn’t shake. There was something missing from his writing, a lightness and humor that occasionally lifted the seriousness of his earlier communications.
Taking a bite of biscuit, she pulled the letter from her apron pocket.
8 April 1939
My heart,
Your last letter made me spit coffee out my nose. Tell Otto I am in his debt. Only the bravest of men would defend you against “mean Schwester Zeigwar.” It’s no surprise she’d begrudge you for giving out extra biscuits.
Our work here is hard, hard but necessary, and always triumphant as it’s in service to our Führer. You may have heard about minor clashes with resisters in some parts of the city. Please don’t worry. The vast majority in Prague have welcomed the men with open arms. We march on. Yes, we march on, and I’m grateful to have the memory of a month of evenings with you in my arms.
I had my officers plant a small sunflower garden to remind me of home. Six have bloomed already, with more to come. As for when I’ll return to you, that may not be until late summer. I’m needed here, my heart …
She slumped in her chair. The letter told her nothing about his daily activities, though “in service to our Führer” showed he was plainly miserable. The main item of importance was in a code they’d devised before he left for duty. The “six flowers” meant he’d been able to arrange for the transport of sixty Jewish children to England, and safety.
She’d demanded honesty from him before he left, and he’d given her the gift and burden of truth. Living a double life in Prague was more complicated than in Munich. By day, Karl followed orders. By night, he did the clandestine work that mattered. He had Markus with him in Prague, and that was a plus. But whether he acted alone or as part of a team, Karl was in danger. And his nighttime activities meant he wasn’t sleeping much.
“Is anything wrong, Allina?”
Shoving the letter back into her apron pocket, Allina turned to find Schwester Ziegler approaching with sharp, knowing eyes.
Allina scrubbed the tears from her face. “I’m fine, thank you. A bit tired, maybe.”
“I could have predicted that. Your special rehabilitation project is more than the most seasoned nurse could handle.” The head nurse laid a cool palm on Allina’s cheek. “You’re a bit warm today, and flushed.”
Allina was startled at the gentleness of the touch. Ziegler had been unfailingly rude, with occasional spurts of icy politeness, since Allina had taken charge of the rehabilitation program. The head nurse probably felt she was being upstaged.
“Your eyes are clear and your skin is luminous,” she added, “but I don’t like the circles under your eyes.”
“I’ve had heartburn nearly every day this week,” Allina admitted, rubbing at the ache just below her breastbone, “and I’m restless at night.”
“You miss him.”
“I wish we’d had more time. There was so much more we wanted to do—”
“Having the Gruppenführer’s support is a wonderful thing, I’m sure,” Ziegler interrupted coolly. “You’ve done well for yourself. I don’t blame you. Really.”
And there it was—a rare opening for peace. Allina took it. “I’ve wanted to speak with you for weeks but haven’t known how to broach the subject.”
The head nurse nodded, her steady gaze permitting Allina to continue.
“It’s never been my intention to undermine your work here. Karl and I … we wished to help the children. You’ve seen our preliminary success, and that gives me hope.” She reached out and touched the head nurse’s arm. “No child need ever be sent away again. That’s important, don’t you think?”
Ziegler sighed. “You’re being naïve. You’ve helped ten children, but you had a staff of four to care for them. No facility can hope to match it. I’d need a staff of eighty here, not eighteen.”
“I realize that,” Allina said, “but we’re moving to the next phase of the program soon. Once Alex leaves, Rilla and I will have to train volunteers.”
“Volunteers?” The shock in the woman’s face was almost comical.
Allina explained how they’d train officers on leave to help with the children’s physical activities. When Ziegler didn’t dismiss the idea, she offered examples of simple activities the Schwestern could use with the toddlers to encourage social skills and speech.
The head nurse remained silent throughout her explanation.
“Once Rilla and I have the program working smoothly,” Allina added, “we could train the other Schwestern if you like. Or give you the use of some of our volunteers. You’ve visited enough to know the program is working. Please say you’ll think about it.”
Ziegler didn’t answer immediately. She still seemed unconvinced.
“I have no interest in your position,” Allina added bluntly. God knows, she’d shut the entire operation down given half a chance.
Her reward was a sharp bark of laughter. “I believe you. Some days, I’m not sure I want it myself. Let’s find an hour tomorrow to discuss how we might work together. I’ll make use of any resources you can spare. Now walk with me. I’ll join your special group of children for luncheon today.”
They climbed to the third floor. As Allina entered the room set up as a dining area, the smell of sauerkraut had her covering her nose. Chef had been using too much garlic lately.
Allina chose a chair next to Otto’s, ruffling his hair before taking a seat.
“Milk, please.” Otto called out a simple two-word request as he pointed to the crock of milk. His pronunciation was far from perfect, but it was improving.
Again, she felt the tears come, but she blinked them away and poured him a cup of milk.
The head nurse remained standing. She clapped three times, and the children quieted. “Let us give thanks for this wonderful meal,” she called out. “Please stand.”
Everyone rose from their seats. The children stood with near-perfect posture. It was almost impossible to tell the difference between them and normal toddlers.
Allina led the meal blessing, which the children followed in unison:
Führer, my Führer given me by God.
Protect and preserve my life for long.
You rescued Germany from its deepest need.
As the singsong chant echoed in the hall, Allina grew light-headed. Their pink, shining faces swam in and out of focus. Their voices grew fainter.
I thank you for my daily bread.
Stay for a long time with me, leave me not.
Führer, my Führer, my faith, my light.
Hail my Führer!
They ended the blessing by saluting the large photo of the Führer at the front of the room. As Otto extended his arm in perfect form, a cold trickle of sweat ran down Allina’s back and she stumbled, grabbing the table’s edge to keep from falling to the floor. The head nurse’s face was as white as the walls and she ran to Allina, but it seemed to take forever, as if Schwester Ziegler were coming from a great distance. Allina closed her eyes, overwhelmed with dizziness. She could hear the children’s panicked cries, but it was too much effort to speak.
Strong hands pushed her down into her seat. “Keep your head between your knees. Take deep breaths,” the older woman ordered, rubbing her back in brisk circles.
After a few seconds, the dizziness passed and Allina opened her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I must be more tired than I thought.”
“Something like that,” the head nurse said. “Are you able to walk? Let’s take some fresh air.”
A few of the children whimpered. Allina managed a smile. “Not to worry, we’ll be back soon.”
She let the head nurse steer her downstairs and into the garden. Signs of spring were everywhere. Trees were budding and the daffodils and irises were in full bloom.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Allina said, taking a seat on a bench.
“You should, given where you’re working.”
Allina’s eyes must have popped out of her head, because Ziegler laughed out loud. “When were your last monthly courses?” she asked, sitting down next to her.
“We’ve been so busy, I haven’t paid attention,” Allina whispered. “But I don’t have morning sickness—” She dropped her head, cupping her cheek in one hand. The constant heartburn, her moodiness, her reaction to strong smells. It all made sense.
“You must tell him, of course.”
“I’ll write to him at once,” Allina said, taking slow, deep breaths to fend off panic. There was no way she’d raise her child at Hochland Home.