Hochland Home
Steinhöring
Marguerite Ziegler rolled over in bed and flicked on the lamp to check the clock on her night table. It was 1:17 a.m. The bright headlights and loud roar of an engine were impossible to ignore, even if she wanted to. Visitors at this late hour usually meant an emergency of some sort—or that a high-ranking official was here on a matter of great urgency.
Either way, as head nurse, it was her responsibility to greet them.
“Schwester Ziegler, reporting for duty,” she murmured. She struggled out of bed and into her standard brown uniform, ran a brush through her brown, frizzy nest.
A barrage of pounding sent her scurrying down the stairs. When she opened the front door and saw Gruppenführer Reinhardt Gud tapping his foot with impatience, Marguerite snapped to attention.
“Heil Hitler, Gruppenführer!” Marguerite straightened her collar and glanced at his companion, a pale young woman in a shabby gray coat.
“Heil Hitler, Schwester Ziegler. I believe you were expecting us?” Gud brushed past Marguerite and strode into the intake office, dragging the young woman behind him.
“Of course, Gruppenführer,” Marguerite said, hurrying after them. “Dr. Baehr called to tell me you’d be here today.” Though not at this hour. Thank goodness she’d had Ida-Lynne oil the furniture and shake out the carpets yesterday. Any visit from a high-ranking officer demanded perfection. “I apologize for making you wait. Medical Chief Engel is aiding Oberführer Ebner with new testing programs this week, and we’re short-staffed—”
“Fine,” Gud said, waving away her apology. “The two girls I referred to you last week have settled in?”
“They have, Gruppenführer.” She took a closer look at the young woman at his side. Although the girl was neat and clean, her bottom lip was swollen, there was bruising on her neck, and a large bandage covered a considerable portion of skin above her right eye. She was also trembling and too pale. Shock, perhaps. The young lady reminded Marguerite of some of the women she’d nursed toward the end of the Great War, not her Hochland Home girls.
“Is this our new resident?”
“She is.” Gud’s hand supported the girl’s elbow, and he urged her forward. “Allina may already be carrying my child, Schwester, in service to the Reich.”
The young woman’s gaze drifted to the wall. While she seemed not to have heard their conversation, the bruises on her neck, which were in the shape of four fingers and a thumb, darkened. Marguerite suppressed a shudder, retrieved a pen and intake form from her assistant’s desk, and forced all opinions out of her head. “Very well, Fräulein…?” Her voice trailed off as the girl’s blank expression remained unchanged.
“Gottlieb.” Gud tossed his cap on the counter. “Allina Gottlieb.”
“Welcome to Hochland Home, Fräulein Gottlieb,” Marguerite said, enunciating each word slowly to make sure the girl heard her. “Please have a seat. I’ll begin with our standard questionnaire.”
“There’s no need to conduct the intake test and medical examination.”
“But Gruppenführer,” Marguerite protested, “Reichsführer Himmler expects a member of my staff to complete intake paperwork for every girl when she arrives—”
“I’ll speak to Himmler, Schwester,” he interrupted. “You need not concern yourself. As I said, this woman may already be carrying my child.”
Gud might be a high-ranking officer, but he didn’t outrank Heinrich Himmler.
“Please, Gruppenführer, I must insist—”
“I trust you’ve made good use of the Biedermeier pieces I sent?” he asked in a low, silky voice, reminding her of the truckload of antique furniture delivered last week.
Marguerite’s mouth went to sand. “Th-they’re lovely, Gruppenführer. I’ve never seen finer workmanship.”
“Need I remind you,” Gud said, eerie pale eyes sparkling with anger, “that I took great pains to divert some of what we collected in Munich to Hochland Home?”
“I’m very grateful for your support, Gruppenführer. We all are.” Marguerite took a calming breath. The telltale numbness in her scalp meant her blood pressure was spiking.
“You’re a smart woman,” he said with a low chuckle. “There’s no need to fill out your little forms, Schwester. My personal physician examined her. Allina is in remarkable health.”
Marguerite laid the pen and intake form down. She’d have to be very careful with this girl. “Of course, Gruppenführer.”
“Until we’re certain she’s bearing my child, you may put Allina to work here in service to our Führer. I expect you to treat her as you would any member of your staff.”
The young woman swayed, then collapsed against the wall with a moan. Gud managed to catch her before she crumpled to the floor, and Marguerite ran over to help support her weight. Allina flinched as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her hair smelled like a child’s, unperfumed save for the clean scent of soap.
“The ride here was … taxing.” Gud grabbed Allina’s suitcase and tried unsuccessfully to angle one of her arms around his neck.
Marguerite swallowed her frustration and tapped the girl’s cheek until she roused. “Wrap your arms around our shoulders, Fräulein Gottlieb, and we’ll help you to your room.”
Allina nodded, but shrank from Gud before she slipped back into unconsciousness. They propped her up between their bodies and managed to drag her up the stairs, although progress was painstaking. Allina Gottlieb didn’t stir even when her feet thumped on the steps. Her body was dead weight. Marguerite was breathless by the time they reached the second floor.
As they staggered down the hall, she noticed six bedroom doors were cracked open. Nosy eyes, nosy ears. “Get back into bed, all of you!” she hissed.
Six doors shut immediately.
Gud stumbled and dropped the suitcase, letting out a vicious curse. He managed to swing Allina’s body around before she dropped to the ground. She remained unconscious, half-balanced on his body, half-propped on the floor.
“Where’s the room?” he asked, then picked her up in his arms.
Marguerite cocked her chin toward the end of the hall. “Down there,” she said, wiping the perspiration from her cheeks. “At the end, on the right. It’s small, but private.” Hopefully Gud wouldn’t be insulted by the accommodations. The room was next to hers and one she kept free for girls approaching the end of their pregnancies, and held only a bed, small dresser, nightstand, and chair in unfinished pine. Most of the women shared more luxurious lodgings, but a roommate was out of the question, given the girl’s condition.
He carried Allina the rest of the way with Marguerite following, suitcase in hand. When they got to the room, Gud helped strip off the young woman’s coat and shoes and ease her under the thick navy quilt. Marguerite didn’t want to disturb her, and there’d be time to change clothes in the morning.
She took a moment to straighten Allina’s items, meager as they were, by hanging her coat on a hook by the door and placing her suitcase and shoes below it. Turning back to the bed, she saw that Gud was smoothing back the girl’s honey-colored hair with a faint smile on his lips.
When their eyes met, Gud cleared his throat and followed her out of the room. “I had my physician tend her head wound before we left,” he said, adjusting the button beneath his collar as they hurried down the hall. “Have a doctor see to it in the next few days.”
“Of course, Gruppenführer,” she said, leading him down to the front room. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“You’re a credit to Hochland Home, Schwester.” He brushed his fingers over the front of his jacket, avoiding her gaze. “I shall tell Reichsführer Himmler how well you served the Reich this evening.”
Marguerite folded her hands at her waist. “It’s both a sacred duty and my pleasure to serve you, Gruppenführer Gud.”
He picked his cap off the counter, placed it under his arm, and walked to the door. “I require written reports twice a month with details on her physical progress and temperament, as well as her work here.”
“It will be my honor to report her progress to you, Gruppenführer,” Marguerite said, bowing her head.
“I shall check on her personally each month. I expect you to relieve her of her duties on those days.” He quirked his eyebrow. “Do you understand me?”
Marguerite nodded. “Yes, Gruppenführer.”
He smirked at her. “Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler.”
Gud walked out into the night.
Blowing out a sigh of relief, Marguerite trudged upstairs to her room and undressed. She stretched out on the mattress and took several deep breaths, attempting to will herself asleep.
Unfortunately, her mind wouldn’t stop churning.
Gud’s demands were unprecedented. The lack of proper intake paperwork, his insistence that the medical exam was unnecessary—Director Ebner would go into a rage when he found out, and Marguerite would be the one to experience the full force of that anger. Hochland Home’s exacting intake procedure was key to the program’s success. Every file had to be complete. Any errors or missing information were unacceptable.
Then there was the condition of the girl. Despite Gud’s assurances, it would be obvious to anyone with a brain that Allina Gottlieb was not in good health. She’d been brutalized, but by whom? Gud showed uncharacteristic softness toward her, and she was young enough to be his granddaughter.
Too much thinking will get you in trouble. Marguerite would have to arrange for the exam and intake paperwork as soon as the girl was in acceptable shape. As for what position she might find Allina at Hochland Home—well, she’d have to think about that. Carefully.
Marguerite slipped under the covers, determined to get another three hours of rest. There’d be time to deal with this fine mess in the morning.
An hour later, she roused to loud crashes, tortured screaming, and pounding on her bedroom door.
“Schwester Ziegler, Schwester Ziegler,” a girl cried from the hallway.
Marguerite bolted out of bed and swung the door open. “What’s going on?”
“It’s coming from that room.” Rilla Weber, a sweet girl with dove-gray eyes late in her sixth month, pointed toward Allina’s door, which stood ajar. “I went in to check, but I didn’t recognize her, Schwester.”
“She’ll wake up the entire floor,” complained Berta Schneider, a statuesque blonde who was due any day. “Make her stop.” Berta yawned and shuffled back to her room.
Marguerite hurried to Allina’s room and found the young woman writhing in bed, still dressed, but flushed and sweaty with her skirt twisted around her waist. The lamp had fallen on its side on the nightstand, and the heavy blue quilt was lying in a heap on the floor.
The last thing she needed was a girl with a fever. Righting the lamp, Marguerite pressed her hand to the young woman’s forehead. It was cool. She tried untwisting Allina’s skirt to make her more comfortable, but the poor creature shrieked and jerked away from her touch.
“Her screams raise the hairs on the back of my neck,” Rilla said. Approaching the bed, she caressed her rounded belly through her robe. “She was crying for a man named Albert.”
“You should be in bed, Rilla.” Marguerite placed her hand on Allina’s shoulder, but she howled again, shook it off, and began to pant. “This one needs quiet. And rest.” Should she risk a sedative? Probably not, given the girl’s head wound. She hated to involve one of the doctors at this point—doing so would raise any number of inconvenient questions—but if there was no improvement by morning she’d have no choice.
Rilla came closer and took Allina’s hand.
Allina opened her eyes with a strangled gasp, focusing for a few seconds on Rilla’s calm gray gaze. “Auntie,” she whimpered, before falling back asleep.
Rilla sat down on the chair next to the bed. “Let me stay with her for a little while.”
“All right. You need your rest, though,” Marguerite said, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Try not to overtax, for baby’s sake.”
Rilla sat with Allina until sunrise.
Marguerite rapped on Allina’s door and poked her head into the room. “It’s time to get up.” She walked in and threw open the thick blue draperies, allowing the morning light to flood the bed. Allina didn’t stir. This wouldn’t do. The young woman had slept like the dead yesterday, a relief given her nightmares the evening before, but she’d taken nothing more than water in the last thirty-six hours.
She clapped her hands. “Wake up, now.”
Moaning, Allina lifted her head. A spark of comprehension lit her gaze, which was meager progress.
“I let you remain in bed yesterday to rest,” Marguerite explained. “Today, you must meet everyone.”
Allina swung her legs over the side of the mattress and attempted to sit up, only to collapse onto her side with a ragged gasp.
“I know you’re sore,” Marguerite said, hurrying over to help Allina stay upright, “but your muscles will tighten and atrophy if you don’t move.” More important, food would speed the healing process. She’d refused the simple beef broth Marguerite had brought up last night.
It took several agonizing minutes before Allina was able to sit up unassisted. “Very good,” Marguerite coached. “Let’s get you washed before breakfast.” She kept a careful grip on Allina’s arm as the young woman stood. Allina listed to the side a bit, but righted herself.
“Good. You’re doing well.” Marguerite placed a light hand on her back. “Walk with me.” She picked up the girl’s suitcase and escorted her to the bathroom.
Allina stood by the tub, staring at the immaculate white porcelain tiles. She didn’t seem to know what to do next.
“Are you able to wash yourself?” Marguerite asked.
Allina nodded.
Marguerite ran a warm bath and rooted around in the cupboard for a washcloth and a bar of rose-scented soap. Allina took the items with another small nod.
She sat on the toilet to wait, averting her gaze to give the young woman a measure of privacy. After a few seconds, it was impossible to ignore how slowly she undressed. Glancing over, Marguerite covered her mouth to muffle a gasp. Allina’s body was covered in a kaleidoscope of colors. Virtually every bit of her flesh was marked in some way.
Marguerite hurried to the tub and helped Allina climb in. The girl sank into the water with a plaintive cry. Shivering, she ran the washcloth over her skin with a light touch and stretched her limbs gingerly. After a few minutes, her movements improved.
Marguerite swallowed the grit in her throat. The water in the tub had turned pale pink. “We’ll make sure you’re able to bathe each day. Hot water eases the pain. Do you need help with your hair?”
“Please,” Allina whispered.
She soaked and soaped the young woman’s hair, taking care to avoid the bandage. She was surprised when a flicker of pleasure crossed the young woman’s features. Allina might be pretty once the bruising faded. “Tilt your head back. Let me rinse.” When Allina complied, she poured bowls of clear, warm water over her hair. “It feels good to be clean, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, thank you.” Allina offered a ghost of a smile, but her dark green eyes were flat.
“Let’s dry your hair before you dress.” Marguerite wrapped her hair in a towel and gave it a gentle rub before stepping back to give the girl room. Steadier, Allina climbed out of the tub with little assistance. She selected a charcoal-gray dress from the suitcase and dressed with efficiency, even drawing her damp hair into a neat ponytail without help.
“Very good. Now come with me,” Marguerite said, and grabbed the girl’s elbow. Doing so proved to be a mistake. Allina stumbled back with a yelp and cowered against the wall. “It’s all right,” Marguerite crooned in a softer voice, one she used with the children when they were frightened. “We must get you ready and go downstairs, or you’ll miss breakfast.” She backed out of the bathroom slowly and waited, but it took a full minute of encouragement before Allina followed her with slow, cautious steps down the hall to her sleeping room.
“You can unpack later,” Marguerite said. Dropping the suitcase off, she pulled a round silver pin from her pocket. “Here’s a piece you must wear while you stay at Hochland Home. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, handing it to Allina. “Can you read what it says in the circle?”
“‘Every mother of good blood is a sacred asset of our existence,’” Allina whispered.
“We serve the Reich and our Führer here,” Marguerite said, as she fastened the pin to the collar of Allina’s dress. “We women must stick together.” She waited for a sign of agreement but didn’t receive one. She’d need to watch this one.
Before they entered the dining hall, she pointed out the sign set on an easel by the door, which read:
The best proof that a German man and woman can show of their conviction, the depth of their National Socialist spirit, and their gratitude to our Führer who awoke in us a national awareness, is to become happy parents of a large and healthy brood of children!
—Heinrich Himmler, SS Reichsführer
While Allina’s eyes followed the words on the sign, her face remained impassive. Marguerite tamped down her annoyance. This girl would understand how lucky she was soon enough. Allina could make a good life here, like so many others had.
“Isn’t this room lovely?” Marguerite asked as they entered the dining hall. Allina didn’t reply, but her eyes widened. Thanks in no small part to Gruppenführer Gud’s generosity, the main dining hall was every bit as elegant as a restaurant in the Excelsior, the Kaiserhof, or any fashionable hotel. The walls, redone just last month in cream damask wallpaper, featured lush oil landscapes of the German countryside; richly hued Aubusson carpets adorned the floor; and the linens, silverware, crystal, and china were exquisite. “Every item is a recent reallocation from Munich’s Jewish population.” Marguerite sniffed when Allina closed her eyes.
They approached the buffet table, and the smoky fragrance of bacon made Marguerite’s stomach growl. The table was loaded with bread, eggs, meats, and potatoes in silver chafing pans; carafes of coffee and orange juice; and a huge crock of hearty oatmeal. Allina gaped at the bounty of food.
Marguerite nudged her toward the buffet. “Reichsführer Himmler wants all our girls and babies to be healthy. A variety of foods, including fresh fruit and grains, are necessary.” She pointed at the serving dish of hot cereal. “He even developed a special porridge for expecting mothers. Let me introduce you to the others, and then you may eat whatever you wish.”
Nearly a hundred women sat together in their customary groups. The younger, unmarried girls were full of chatter and giggles, as usual. The older women, more focused and mature, sat quietly at their own tables. Everyone looked healthy this morning. Pink-skinned and bright-eyed, Hochland Home mothers were the healthiest in Germany.
Marguerite clapped her hands twice. It took a few seconds for the women to still their chatter and put their forks down.
“Ladies, this is Allina Gottlieb. She’s recovering from an accident and a special guest of Gruppenführer Gud.” Murmurs rose in the crowd, so she clapped her hands again. “Allina may join in many of your activities and classes. For the time being, she’ll work with me in the intake office. Please welcome her.”
Curious glances and whispers of welcome filled the room, although Allina seemed unaware of their regard. Rilla Weber rose from her table and approached them. “Good morning, Allina,” she said with a friendly grin. “I’m not sure you’ll remember me, but we met the night you arrived. You’re looking much better today.”
Marguerite could have hugged Rilla for that. Sweet child. She’d make a good nurse if she had a mind to.
Allina cleared her throat. “I remember someone held my hand.” Her eyes met Rilla’s, and for a moment her gaze was less hollow. “Was it you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rilla said, taking her hand, “and I hope we can be friends. Come to my table, and we’ll get you some breakfast.”
Marguerite took a long, deep breath. Perhaps everything would fall into place for Allina Gottlieb, after all.
25 October 1938
To: Reinhardt Gud, Gruppenführer SS
Re: Status Report, Allina Gottlieb
I am pleased to report that Allina has settled in at Hochland Home.
For the time being, she serves our Führer in the intake office. Allina is of superior intelligence and mental ability, a competent typist, and above average in filing skills and other office duties. I count myself lucky to have this exceptional young lady’s assistance.
Her physical state improves. Allina’s head wound has healed, her stitches have been removed, and there will be minimal scarring. Most of the bruising has faded, and her remaining injuries should resolve themselves within the month.
In the days following her admittance, she shied away from a full physical examination by Dr. Engel. I took it upon myself to conduct one this morning, and to complete her official intake documentation, per explicit orders from Director Ebner.
Allina’s temperament remains melancholy. She has little interest in interacting with the other girls or the officers who visit Hochland Home. Rilla Weber, an expectant mother here in service to the Reich, is a notable exception. I expect their friendship will be a bridge to her relationships with others.
A personal note: Word of your wife’s recent illness has reached us. Permit me to give you my condolences and wishes for her speedy recovery. While I realize your wife’s condition will, regrettably, delay your next visit to Hochland Home, please be at ease. I will take extraordinary care of Allina during your absence.
It is a privilege to serve you in this matter, and to serve our Führer.
[Signed] Marguerite Ziegler
Head Nurse, Hochland Home
Marguerite leaned back in her chair and reread the memo. Reports like this one were always a matter of striking a delicate balance. Too much sunshine, and Gud would be disappointed when he visited. Too much angst, and he might visit sooner, rather than later—and his visits were something she hoped to curtail. The girl was not fit for male company. Allina visibly panicked when she came in contact with any of the visiting SS officers.
Marguerite rubbed her eyes and sighed. Time would tell.