Lizzie
Calvin was leaning against the kitchen door, looking up at the ceiling, as if he were praying for patience. This conversation was one I could not afford for my brother to overhear, so I waited until Henry was in bed before I confronted Calvin about Gail’s suspicions.
“So? Is it true?” I asked. “Was Jürgen Rhodes in the SS?”
“Lizzie, sweetheart, you know I can’t talk to you about this,” Cal said, but he avoided my eyes as he spoke.
“My God,” I whispered, my mouth going dry. “He lives on Sauerkraut Hill with the rest of them, doesn’t he? There’s an SS officer living two blocks away from us? Free in our community?”
“Even I don’t know for sure,” Calvin said flatly. “But yes, when Newsome admitted he’d seen evidence a senior scientist was in the SS, it was Jürgen he was referring to.”
“This is an outrage!”
“Lizzie. Don’t fly off the handle.”
“Even you said in the beginning that it wasn’t right—”
“I should never have said anything to you about any of this! It just never occurred to me that we’d end up living in the same community as these men,” Calvin said.
“Because you knew it was dangerous!”
“I was nervous in the beginning, yes. But when it comes to Jürgen, I’m certain that the good he can do for this country far outweighs any risk he might have posed.”
“Calvin, you have an SS officer working with American Jews!” I gasped. “Do you really think he’s suddenly decided they are worthy of drawing breath after all?”
“Jürgen works closely with Eli Klein and I’ve never seen him speak to that man with anything but the utmost respect. Trust me when I say that man has no interest at all in anything outside of rocketry and his family.”
“Men like that don’t change, Calvin,” I whispered. My voice thickened with emotion as confused tears sprang to my eyes. Calvin gently touched my upper arm, his gaze steady.
“War is brutal, Lizzie. Even if the rumors are true, there’s possibly a whole background and context we can never understand.”
“War is brutal because of men like that. This war didn’t start itself—Nazis started it. Nazis perpetuated it. Nazis murdered millions of innocent people. There is no doubt at all who the villains are here.”
We both heard movement in the hallway then. Cal and I stared at one another in alarm. Then he spun and pulled the door open. Henry was standing there, frowning.
“I thought you went to bed,” I blurted. I could not have sounded guiltier if I tried.
“I just wanted a glass of milk,” Henry said defensively. He moved slowly, opening the refrigerator, pouring the milk, putting the bottle back into the fridge. As he was leaving the room, he shot me a pointed look.
“Good night,” I said weakly.
“Night, Henry,” Cal added.
“Hmm,” Henry said, frowning. We watched until he disappeared out the back door, back to his apartment above the garage.
“Do you think he heard?” Cal said.
“No,” I said, heart rate already settling. “He wouldn’t have been so calm if he had.”
“Henry can’t know what we just talked about, Lizzie. Not just because no one is supposed to know. In Henry’s case, it wouldn’t be good for him to know.”
“My first concern is always Henry’s welfare,” I snapped.
I woke that night to a thud and then a pained cry, and threw myself out of bed, rushing into the hallway. Calvin was there—standing in the doorway to his bedroom. We’d never shared a room, something that perplexed Henry the first time he stayed with us. I explained that Calvin snored terribly, and while my brother seemed unconvinced at first, the buzz saw–like sound that echoed down the hallway later that night when Cal went to bed seemed to reassure him.
Now I came to stand beside Calvin, and I rubbed my tired eyes as I mumbled, “Was that Henry?”
“I think so,” Cal said.
“Lizzie!” I heard Henry cry. The sound was coming from the kitchen. Calvin ran ahead of me down the hall and pushed open the kitchen door, just as Henry shouted, “You leave her alone!”
His voice was strained, and he was flailing wildly. I reached for the cord to turn the light on, but Calvin caught my hand.
“He’s sleepwalking,” he whispered. “Just leave the light off and we’ll gently reassure him first.” Then he raised his voice a little and said firmly, “Henry, you’re safe. No one is here.”
“Henry,” I called, keeping my tone soft. “Honey, wake up. You’re okay!” Henry was throwing himself around the room as if he were tangling with an invisible assailant, and as his arms flailed, he knocked the fruit bowl to the floor. Apples rolled over the floorboards, and I sighed impatiently as I pulled the light cord. Cal looked at me, incredulous.
“One of us was going to break an ankle if I didn’t,” I muttered. Then Henry launched himself while Calvin was distracted.
“It’s just me!” Cal groaned, as Henry knocked him violently into the refrigerator. Calvin’s glasses fell off and clattered to the floor.
“Henry,” I gasped, grabbing his upper arm and tugging at it. Henry shook me off and I stumbled backward into the door, releasing a cry of pain.
Just then, Henry backed away from Calvin, looking blankly around the room as if he had no idea where he was. He soon dropped to cower near the stove, panting as if he’d been sprinting, clutching his forehead in his hands. I pushed past Calvin to crouch beside my brother. Up close, I noted the sweat on his skin and the tears in his eyes.
“He was here,” Henry said, still dazed. He looked around the room, then shook his head. “Where did he go?”
“It was just a dream,” Cal said softly. “You were alone.”
Henry blinked away the last of his tears, then scowled at Calvin.
“I know the difference between a dream and reality! He was in this house.”
“This has happened before,” I reminded him. “Remember? When you first came home to us in El Paso?” Henry’s dreams were so vivid when he first returned from Europe and he often wandered around the house, sound asleep. After the night I found him standing at his car, keys in hand but deeply asleep, I began hiding his keys after he went to bed.
Those dreams seemed different from this episode, though. Back then, even when Henry acted out a dream, he was always fully alert as soon as I spoke to him—quickly aware he’d been dreaming. And he’d never hurt anyone before—but I shuddered to think what might have happened to Calvin if Henry hadn’t snapped out of it right when he did.
“Someone was here, Lizzie. It must have been Rhodes,” Henry insisted. Calvin bent, then felt around on the floor until he found his glasses. He sighed when he realized they were broken, and Henry looked at him, stricken. “What happened to your glasses, Cal? Did Rhodes do that?”
“You were in here alone,” Calvin repeated. Henry frowned, shaking his head.
“He must have left before you came in.” He paused, then nodded, as if he’d convinced himself. “That’s it. He must have—” His gaze drifted to the window, and he frowned again. It was closed, the latch locked. His eyes flew to the door. “He must have gone out that way. Down the hallway. Out the back door.”
“Why don’t you sleep in the guest room tonight?” I suggested.
“We need to call the police,” Henry said. He shot me a look of impatience—as if I were the irrational one.
“No one was here, Henry.”
“You’re not listening to me!” he exclaimed, raising his voice again. “I’m not crazy—I know what I saw.”
“Why don’t we call the police in the morning?” Calvin suggested. He caught my eye, and I gave a subtle nod.
“Good idea,” I said gently. “If someone was here, they’re obviously gone now. Let’s get some sleep and try to figure this out in the morning.”
Once I got Henry settled in the guest room, I went to Cal’s bedroom and closed the door behind me. Calvin was sitting on his bed, wearing his spare glasses. He was staring at the floorboards, his expression grave.
“He heard us for sure,” I muttered.
“I know.”
“What do we do?”
“He needs to see a doctor.”
“A doctor?” I repeated. “For what? Nightmares?”
“I don’t know what kind of episode that was, but it was more than a nightmare.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t need some doctor telling him he’s crazy, Calvin. He just had a bad night, and it’s our fault anyway, since he heard us talking about—” I cleared my throat “—your colleagues.”
“He knocked you into that door and he was ready to tear my head off. I’m worried about him, sweetheart.”
“Me too. But he hates doctors.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?” I shook my head. “Then you need to do it, Lizzie. Please, just check in with him. Maybe he just needs some sleeping pills?”
I slept on the sofa that night because it was in the room opposite the guest room. Every single time Henry stirred, I shot upright, ready to go to his aid.
Henry came into the kitchen and scooped up one of those bruised apples I’d put back in the fruit bowl at 2:00 a.m. He was dressed and ready for work but looked as exhausted as I felt as he took a bite out of the apple and sat opposite me.
“Did I hear you talking to someone a while ago?” I asked him cautiously. I took a quick shower as soon as I woke, hoping to be dressed by the time Henry woke up, but almost as soon as I stepped under the stream, I heard Henry speaking quietly in the hallway. By the time I was dressed, he had returned to his room.
“Yeah, I called Walt to let him know I’d be late,” he said. He took another bite of his apple, and I noticed the 1401 BA SE scrawled in ink on the back of his hand. What did that mean? Was it a lumber thing—a reminder to do something at his job? “Then I called the police. Someone is coming round shortly.”
“What?” I said, as my heart sank. “Henry, no. I know last night felt real, but it was just one of those dreams you used to have. You’ve never even met Jürgen Rhodes. How would you know what he looks like?”
“How many other German men in this town have a beef with you, huh?” Henry said, frowning. “I know what I heard.”
“When you woke us up, you were in the kitchen, thrashing around against no one,” I said uneasily. “You know I’m not a fan of those Germans, but in this case, the intruder was in your imagination.”
Henry’s brows knit for a moment. Then he paused.
“Well, it won’t hurt for the police to come and check the house.”
Hell. How was I going to get through to him? I didn’t even have time to think about it, because a quiet knock came from the door. I scurried after Henry when he rose quickly to answer it.
The police officer was middle-aged and sharp-eyed. He stood in my foyer and peered into the living room, notebook in hand. Henry introduced himself, then pointed to me.
“Officer Johnson, this is Lizzie Miller. Mrs. Calvin Miller. Cal was here last night, but he’s at work at Redstone Arsenal now. He works on the rocket program there.”
“I’m Detective Johnson, Mrs. Miller,” the police officer said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And you too,” I said weakly. Then I added, “My husband and I really didn’t see a thing.”
“Sounds like the intruder came in, realized he was outnumbered, and left,” Johnson said grimly. He glanced at Henry and added, “Probably didn’t expect to find two men here. You’re sure the intruder was this Jürgen Rhodes?”
“Pretty sure,” Henry said. Then he paused. “It was dark. But he had a German accent and Rhodes makes perfect sense. My sister had an argument with his wife last weekend.”
The officer excused himself as he moved past me, glancing into each of the rooms. Henry followed him, and I followed Henry.
I tried to see the house through his eyes. My home was a picture of perfect order: expensive furniture and artwork, carefully selected and arranged, highly polished floorboards I mopped every single day, the drapes I kept free of dust, the windows I cleaned once a week.
Surely the police officer could see that this was not the site of a break-in and attempted assault. Not a single item was out of place. Even so, Henry spun the officer a story as he walked through the house.
I don’t sleep well since the war. I was in bed, wide-awake. Heard a sound. Went to investigate. Saw Rhodes in the house. Chased him. A bit of a scuffle in the kitchen—pinned him against the fridge. Lizzie and Cal heard the noise and woke up just after Rhodes ran out. Probably out the back door. We never lock it.
This whole encounter was so absurd, I was starting to wonder if I was dreaming.
“I didn’t...” I interrupted as Johnson looked closely at the latch on the back door. “Cal and I really didn’t see or hear any of that. Not a thing.” What was I supposed to do in this situation? I had to tell the officer that Henry was imagining things, but I didn’t want to inflame him, and I certainly didn’t want to embarrass him.
“You probably slept through it,” Johnson said dismissively. He puffed out a breath of air, then looked between me and Henry.
“These Germans worry me,” he told Henry.
“Me too,” Henry said.
“You’re a veteran?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pacific theater?”
“No, sir,” Henry said. Then he drew in a breath and straightened his spine. “Europe.”
“Thank you for your service, son. Must be troubling to have them walking around the streets of this country.”
“It truly is, sir.”
“Extra cautious from now on, all of you,” Johnson announced, sliding his notebook back into his pocket. “Keep all the doors locked. And if you hear anything, you call us right away.”
“Thank you, sir,” Henry said grimly. We all walked back along the hall to the front door in silence. My heart was thumping wildly against my chest. I had to fix this—I just didn’t have a clue how.
When the officer pushed my front door open, I panicked and blurted, “Are you going to arrest him?”
Detective Johnson turned back to offer me a gentle look.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Miller, but it would be very difficult for us to do that when none of you saw him clearly. I’ll make some inquiries and we’ll keep an extra close eye on your house with a night patrol for a few nights in case there’s any more trouble.”
Henry glanced down at the numbers on his hand and added helpfully,
“He’s at 1401 Beetle Avenue, sir. In case you decide to interview him.”
As the officer scrawled the address down, I looked at my brother in shock.
“How do you know that?”
“His address is in the public phone book, sis. Just looked it up to save this busy officer from hunting it down, that’s all.”
I looked from Henry to the detective, sucked in a breath, and tried one last time. “Sir, Cal and I really didn’t hear anything—”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Mrs. Miller,” Detective Johnson interrupted me kindly. “You’re lucky your brother here is a soldier. He’ll keep an eye on you.”
He tipped his hat and walked along my porch, then down to his car waiting in the drive.
“Henry,” I whispered uneasily, “why would Rhodes come to his boss’s house in the middle of the night to cause trouble? It makes no sense. He wasn’t here last night. No one was.”
“You were asleep,” Henry said gently. “Just lock the house while I’m gone, okay? And if you’re home alone, don’t answer the door unless you’re sure who it is.”
My gaze dropped to that number on the back of Henry’s hand and I blurted, “Just promise me you won’t go to Rhodes’ house.”
Henry sighed impatiently.
“I’m not about to go looking for trouble. I was just trying to help, that’s all.”
With that, Henry pulled his cap on and left for work. I stood on the porch and watched my brother disappear down the street, sick with concern, but as soon as he was out of sight, I forced myself to go inside and call Calvin.
“Henry called the police, and a detective came by this morning,” I blurted, as soon as Calvin picked up my call on his office line.
“He what?”
“Maybe there was someone here?” I said hesitantly. “Henry seems so sure about it.”
I heard Calvin breathing over the line, and I could easily imagine his pensive expression. “He was fighting thin air, sweetheart. You saw that as much as I did.”
“I told them we didn’t hear anything. I told the officer at least three times,” I said heavily.
“Is there going to be any trouble from this, Lizzie? Should I warn Jürgen? Should I call the station and try to straighten it out?”
“I asked the officer if they’d arrest Rhodes and he said they couldn’t because none of us had seen him clearly. He just said they’d keep an eye on the house, maybe make some inquiries.”
“Lizzie,” Cal said quietly. “Will you talk to Henry? Please? As a matter of urgency, sweetheart. He needs to speak to a doctor. This is serious now.”
I agreed to speak to Henry that night, then spent the day wondering how I was supposed to do it without embarrassing him or setting him off.
Henry beat Cal home from work that day. He tousled my hair as he came past me in the kitchen, and I nudged him away impatiently with my shoulder because my hands were covered in ground beef.
“Is that meat loaf?” he said, peering hopefully at the bowl I was working on.
“Sure is,” I said brightly. It was his favorite, and I was trying to butter him up. “How was your day?”
“Great,” he said. “You? No trouble today?”
“Not a peep,” I said lightly. I smoothed the last of the meat into the pan and washed my hands, then slipped the pan into the oven. Henry helped himself to a beer from the fridge and was sitting at the table reading the newspaper. “Henry, listen. I was thinking you might want to see a doctor.”
He looked up at me blankly.
“A doctor? I’m not sick.”
“Well, you said you don’t sleep well now,” I said carefully. “Maybe some sleeping pills—”
“I’ve tried them,” Henry said abruptly. This was news to me.
“You have?”
Henry closed the newspaper and stood, taking the beer with him as he stepped away from the table.
“Those pills aren’t for me, sis. Besides, it’s good that I don’t sleep well at the moment.”
“How is that good?”
“I can keep you safe, Lizzie. I’ll keep an eye on the house while you sleep.”
He was walking away, beer in hand, already at the kitchen door—his swollen body straining the largest uniform the lumberyard had to offer, his shoulders slumped. My heart ached for Henry.
“No one was here last night, Henry,” I said hesitantly.
“Sis,” he said, glancing back at me to force a tight smile. “I know what I saw.”
When Cal got home that evening, Henry was in the living room, chuckling at something on TV. Cal motioned for me to follow him into his study, then closed the door.
“Have you spoken to Henry about a doctor?”
“I tried,” I said.
Calvin gave me a searching look. The compassion and sympathy in his eyes was so intense, it moved me to tears. Calvin Miller truly was the best man I knew.
“Can we just give Henry a few more days, Cal?” I whispered. “Please? Let’s just let him settle in more before we make a big deal out of what was probably just a vivid nightmare.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” Cal said carefully, even though I could see he was unconvinced. “We can give him a bit more time to settle back in—but if there’s any more trouble like last night, we’ll have to force the issue.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t want to embarrass him—I truly don’t. But it might just be that Henry’s problems are finally bad enough that he needs to accept some help.”