Sofie
Laura started school in the summer of 1936. On her first day, I walked her to the gate, then went back alone to Adele’s house for morning tea.
I still visited Adele every day, but I no longer told myself that I made those visits for her sake. Now that I felt so alone, I finally realized that Adele was not. She had a network of friends all over the city—strong, independent women like her best friend, Martha, who had also outlived her husband, and her children. Adele was busy with those friends and her garden and her tenants. I’d always somewhat resented having to care for her. Only once Mayim left did I finally realize Adele never needed me at all.
“How did Laura do?” she asked as I let myself in through the back door.
“Not a tear. Not from her, anyway,” I said, setting my hat down on the kitchen table. I’d shed a few myself on the walk home. I couldn’t believe my baby was at school. “She had a terrible night’s sleep, but that was from excitement, not anxiety.”
“That’s our girl,” Adele chuckled, as she poured steaming hot water into a teapot. She turned back to the counter and retrieved a tray. “I made you some bee-sting cake. I thought you might need the treat.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised. She smiled and cut a piece, flipping it onto a plate for me with the side of the knife. I cut into the cake with a fork and sighed happily as it all but melted onto my tongue. Cake, honey-glazed almond slivers, and pastry cream tasted like pure joy.
“Listen, I’m having a little problem and I was hoping you could help me,” Adele said. I frowned at her unexpectedly somber tone.
“What is it?”
“One of my tenants is struggling financially,” she told me. “And that means I am having a little trouble making ends meet.”
“Oh?” I said, startled. “Which tenant? Do you want me to speak to them—”
“No, no.” She shook her head slowly. “I’ve spoken to them about it, and they are going to try to make amends. It’s just that while they catch up, I wondered if you could maybe lend me a little money?”
“Of course,” I said, without hesitation. “Just tell me what you need and when.”
I’d mention it to Jürgen when he next called, but I knew he wouldn’t mind.
Knowing that the house was wired with some kind of audio surveillance, Jürgen and I were performing all the time. Even when we were alone, we said and did all the things good Nazi parents were expected to do.
But Jürgen and I had systems to try to claw back at least a little privacy. We had to connect on a genuine level sometimes or we’d lose our minds.
Sometimes when he was home we drove out of Berlin and took long hikes, the children running up ahead in front of us through the forest or climbing to the tops of trees as Jürgen and I whispered to one another. Other times we’d hide in the bathroom, running all of the taps to cover the sounds of our voices. And I moved the wireless into our bedroom, and I’d turn it on every night whether Jürgen was home or not. We had scripted conversations about how I was becoming an insomniac and needed the background noise to sleep.
In reality, though, this was a cover—a way to protect us from prying ears when we pulled the blankets over our faces to whisper.
“Hi,” he’d whisper, even though we might have been together for hours by then. I always felt I was removing a suffocating mask as we pulled those blankets over our heads, even though there was so little air, and every now and again, we’d have to pull the covers down, gulp in a breath, then dive back in.
We talked about Lydia. She’d transformed herself into the perfect Nazi wife, no longer dyeing her hair or wearing makeup, and pregnant—again. I felt such complicated emotions about her—a mix of nostalgia for our once-genuine friendship and swirling shades of distrust, resentment, and hurt. I had never confronted her about the way she let me down the night Jürgen was taken. There was no way to hold her responsible without drawing attention to our disloyalty to the Reich. I saw Lydia now only when I had to, and even then, I was polite but distant.
Jürgen told me about his work. He had just overseen a test launch of a new prototype, the first-ever test launch at Kummersdorf before an audience.
“There’s been so much skepticism about the technology. Karl and Otto want to expand the program, but they first need to prove to officials that the concept is viable.”
“So will you get the funding?”
“Yes. The general approved the request after he saw the launch.”
“And what does that mean?”
“A huge bonus, for a start,” Jürgen said. I didn’t even feel the slightest flutter of excitement, only regret. Once upon a time, I’d have given that money to Mayim, but now I had no idea where she was or how they were. Every time the Nussbaums came to mind, I felt a deep, uncompromising grief. “We can give it to Aunt Adele,” Jürgen said, and that did ease the ache in my chest a little. As I’d expected, he wasn’t at all troubled by her request for financial assistance. Adele was independent enough that we knew she’d only ask for the help if she really needed it. “That’s the good news. The bad news is they are talking about moving the entire program to a new development site.”
“Where?”
“Peenemünde.” I didn’t react, so he clarified, “On the Baltic Sea.”
“Four hours’ drive?”
“Closer to five.”
“I’m guessing you’re not inviting me and the children to move with you.”
“No. They are going to build us accommodation. It won’t be family friendly.”
“You’re never home as it is.”
“I know.”
“So that’s about to get worse?”
“Probably.”
I digested this, grateful for the pitch darkness beneath the covers, so that he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
“Sometimes, it feels like living this life is like listening to a piece of music played by a beginner. Most of the song is fine, isn’t it? Most of the time I am engrossed in my work. That prototype we fired this week is like a baby version of the device that might take us to the moon one day—and it works, Sofie. I helped make that happen and there is pride in that. We have this beautiful house. Perfect children. We’re healthy. We don’t have to worry about money anymore. But...there are dissonant notes...sometimes even discordant phrases. And we have to keep smiling regardless. In fact, we have to smile even harder when we hear those sounds, just to cover up how jarring they are.”
“Sometimes I don’t know if I can bear it.”
“Sofie, believe me, it helps to focus on the parts that you can bear.”
“And for you, that’s the rockets.”
“That’s right. And for you, it’s this house, isn’t it? This lifestyle?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him those things had long since lost their shine, but he correctly read my silence. “There has to be something. The children? The new baby?”
I had just discovered I was pregnant again, but my feelings even about that were muddled. With my first two pregnancies, I told Jürgen and then Mayim before anyone else—even Adele. I was reluctant to break the tradition, even though I knew it was inevitable that I’d have to.
I even felt conflicted about bringing another child into this world. Every day, Georg and Laura were slipping a little further from me, even though we were all still under one roof. The same would happen with this baby, unless something drastic changed before he or she was old enough to start school.
But Jürgen was right—there had to be something positive to focus on so that I could get through each day.
“The children,” I whispered back. “And you. And Aunt Adele.”
“I remember when you two didn’t get along.”
“These days,” I confessed, “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Georg’s birthday loomed, and all he wanted to do was to have a party with Hans. I gently tried to suggest other children, but Georg and Hans had the kind of friendship I’d shared with Mayim, so I couldn’t bring myself to refuse the request.
We invited Adele to the picnic, but when she heard that the zu Schiller family would be there, her hip was suddenly too sore. Instead, she came to have breakfast with us beforehand. We had fat ham steaks and eggs, and she brought a photo of Jürgen from his first birthday in her house.
“He looked just like you do now,” she told Georg, showing him the faded black-and-white image. “See?”
“We could be twins, Papa,” Georg said, holding the photo beside his face. There was a strong likeness there, even if Georg had inherited a darker shade of blue eyes from me. Jürgen and Georg grinned at one another, then dissolved into mirroring one another’s silly faces. Laura sighed impatiently at their antics.
“She’s becoming such a serious child. Just as I recall you were,” Adele said wryly, glancing at me.
“I was terrified of you. I remember talking to May—” I stopped myself just in time, drew in a breath to collect myself, then continued as smoothly as I could. “—to my friends about cranky Mrs. Rheinberg, who lived next door to our city house.”
When I was a child, Adele and Jürgen were the slightly odd pair in the house next door to my family’s city house. Then one day I visited our Lichterfelde West house, and that lanky, bespectacled boy next door suddenly seemed irresistible. Later, he admitted he’d been trying to connect with me for years, and he found himself struck mute every time we made eye contact.
“Cranky Mrs. Rheinberg,” Adele chuckled. Then she struggled to her feet. It was easy for me to forget Adele’s advanced age sometimes because she was generally free of health problems, but recently, I’d noticed her occasionally wince in pain, and some days she’d look especially pale. If I asked, she’d mutter something vague about her heart not being what it used to.
“Come to the garden,” she said. “I want to show you a special flower.”
She had let the chickens out for a scratch, and now she shooed them away as she led me into the far corner of her courtyard. There, she gestured for me to lean close.
“Mayim and her parents have moved in with Levi’s brother. It’s a little cramped, but they are getting by and no longer have to worry about rent. She knows you’re well and expecting again.”
I pulled away in shock.
“But...how do you know I’m pregnant...?”
“You’ve been turning green when I offer you coffee. The same thing happened with your first two babies. I know you’re under a lot of stress, Sofie, but you do need to look after yourself. You’re not showing yet, although I daresay that’s because you’ve lost so much weight these months since Jürgen’s... accident.”
“How did you see Mayim?”
“I didn’t. I won’t. I’m too close to you, and we don’t know if they are watching me. But...the one advantage to being a little old lady is that no one expects you to cause trouble, so some of my friends have been taking advantage.”
“The Nussbaums wouldn’t go to Poland?”
“It’s going to be very expensive to get Levi an exit visa now,” Adele said gravely. The Reich Citizenship Law and the Law for the Protection of German Blood and German Honor had been enacted. The first stripped Jews of their German citizenship, leaving them subjects of the Reich rather than citizens. Levi was stateless.
Suddenly, Adele’s eyes twinkled, and she leaned even closer and whispered, “It’s going to be expensive, Sofie, but we’re trying to find a way.”
“The money you’ve borrowed!” I whispered in shock. She winked at me, then touched a finger to her lips.
“Every single Reichsmark filters through to the Nussbaums via my friends.”
I threw my arms around her and whispered in her ear, “Aunt Adele, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Look after yourself and your family,” she whispered back. “That is how you thank me.”
At the park, we were joined by Lydia and Karl and their little tribe—Hans, Horst and Ernst, their toddler Werner and new baby Gertrude, with Petra, their terrifyingly stern nanny. While Petra pushed the stroller to soothe Gertrude to sleep, Karl and I sat with Jürgen and Lydia at a picnic table. The older children chased one another, giggling and shouting.
“Goodness, they’ll be wondering in Düsseldorf where all that noise is coming from,” Karl chuckled, as Georg and Hans ran past him, shouting at the top of their lungs. Just then, Laura and Horst and Ernst flew by from the other direction, squealing with laughter.
“Our boys are growing up so fast,” Lydia remarked, watching fondly while Hans and Georg roughhoused. “It pleases me so much to think that children like ours are the future of this country.”
“Me too,” I said, and for once I was being honest, because I believed that deep beneath the ugliness he’d absorbed, Georg was still a good person.
Jürgen and Karl exchanged a look, and then they rose simultaneously and wandered a little way away from us, talking quietly in a huddle.
“Rocket business,” Lydia sighed, shaking her head. “It never ends, does it?”
Jürgen’s expression of rapt concentration told me she was right, and I bit back a sigh. The children did another lap—this time, all five of them in a line. Hans was in front, and Georg was chasing him, waving a small stick in front of himself.
Hans suddenly, theatrically, fell to the ground, moaning and writhing as if he were dying. Georg approached, pointed the stick, and cried, “Boom!” I gasped and opened my mouth to protest the proximity of the stick to Hans’s face when Georg added in a triumphant voice, “Die, Jew, die!”
Hans gave his final groan and went still. Georg, Laura, and the twins all cheered, throwing their hands in the air to celebrate.
“Your children are developing as they should at last, and it’s all because you removed the negative influences from your family,” Lydia said, waving toward the children. I was too stunned to reply. She sighed happily. “This is what gives me so much hope for the Reich. If children so young can already see that the Jews need to be dealt with, can you imagine what they are going to be like as adults?”
That very thought sent a wave of nausea and panic crashing over me. I could barely breathe with the desperation to ask, When did your mind change about the Jews? How did your heart change? Does any part of you doubt these things you’re saying?
“I’m sorry,” I blurted, and on shaky legs, I made a beeline for a nearby garden bed, where I lost every bite of food I’d eaten. By the time I finished retching, Jürgen was at my side, rubbing my back.
“Can I do anything?” he asked, dropping his voice. I knew he assumed this was just sickness from the pregnancy. I shook my head, indicating I couldn’t yet speak. The nausea was gone, but panic was now clawing at me. I tried to suck in air, but my chest felt tight.
My children were playing “shoot the Jew” and I was not allowed to discipline them.
“Water,” I croaked, and he moved hastily, fetching me a glass of water from the table. I was trapped. The children were trapped. Standing in a public park on a magnificent day for my son’s birthday party, the claustrophobia was overwhelming.
Ignore the dissonant notes. Focus on the music.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe my way through the panic. I had to think of something—anything—positive to cling to, but every idea that came to mind represented more misery. Jürgen is never home. Mayim is gone. The children have been brainwashed. My country is broken.
An idea finally struck me and I gasped, the tightness in my chest easing as I sucked in fresh air.
The baby. The baby. I must stay calm for the baby.
I sipped at the water slowly, ever so slowly, as my heart rate began to settle. Jürgen gave me a searching look, but I forced a smile to let him know that I was fine. I walked back to the table, offered the same smile to Lydia, and announced, “We’re expecting.”
My voice was a little hoarse, but that was not unusual, given I’d just been so ill. Lydia didn’t miss a beat—she gave me a delighted grin and exclaimed, “What marvelous news!”
Karl had taken the seat opposite her, and she leaned toward him and said, “Karl, we owe these two congratulations. They are finally pregnant again!”
“Congratulations!” Karl boomed, helping himself to some sweets.
“We’re hoping for another baby right away too,” Lydia said happily, touching a hand to her belly. “These new little ones can be the best of friends, just like the older children.”
“You know the Führer has asked all Reich men to sire four children. Lydia and I are hoping to more than double that,” Karl announced. Then he thumped Jürgen on the back. “I’m so thrilled for you that you’re doing your part too.”
Over his shoulder, I saw that Laura now held the stick, and she was chasing the other children around, laughing and squealing. This time, it was Georg’s turn to fall dramatically to the ground, writhing as he “died.”
Ignore the dissonant notes. Ignore the dissonant notes.
“Maybe it’s time for cake,” I said brightly. “Come on, children. Gather round.”
Focus on the music.
“Are you still comfortable enough to travel?” Jürgen asked when he called in late November. I looked down at my swollen belly. It had taken me much longer to show with my third pregnancy, but I’d more than made up for lost time, and with ten weeks to go, I was already bursting out of my maternity smocks.
“Travel where?” I asked him warily.
“Otto has decided we need to hold a launch in a few weeks here at Peenemünde. Some of the top brass will be in attendance. He suggested you and Lydia might want to come too.”
My back ached. My ankles were swollen. I was so cranky and uncomfortable, I dreaded the thought of a car ride across the city, let alone a five-hour drive across the country. I closed my eyes and imagined how good it would be to see him—to hold him. I’d only seen him a handful of times over the course of the whole pregnancy.
“I’ll be there,” I promised him.
I left the children with Adele and arranged for Lydia and her driver to pick me up. We were on the road before dawn to make the trip to Rügen. From there, we would travel to the island by boat.
“They’ve canceled the pomp and circumstance,” Lydia said with a sigh as we traveled. “I’m so disappointed. I was looking forward to some flair.”
The weather had been dreadful, so the observation towers remained unfinished, and worse, no less than three test launches had failed unexpectedly. This forth test launch would go ahead, but there would be no audience for it beyond me and Lydia.
“I think Otto is only allowing us to visit because morale has been low. And Karl tells me Otto and his superiors have been very pleased with—” she cleared her throat delicately “—well, with Jürgen’s improved attitude in recent times. They wanted to reward him, I think. That’s why they’ve booked us hotel rooms on Rügen for the night, so we don’t have to stay in the dormitory on the island.” She gave me a hopeful smile. “I hope you know, my friend, the future is so bright for you two if you keep on this path.”
When I blinked, I was back in the courtyard with my exhausted husband, staring at his blackened eye. Keep on the path? Taking even a step off meant death.
“Jürgen is devoted to the program,” I said hollowly. “We’re both committed.”
Karl met us at the jetty on the island, and after greeting Lydia with a kiss, he helped me disembark and then led me to a waiting Army vehicle. As a young soldier drove us to the other end of the island, Karl poured us hot tea from a thermos and offered treats procured from a café in Rügen. The car came to a stop on a hill, and Karl opened the door for us. There was little shelter—just a small, three-sided wooden shack.
Farther down the hill a larger building had been erected, along with two half-constructed towers and some half-built stands, clearly intended for a future audience.
“Where is Jürgen?” I asked Karl, as he helped me to a seat in the shack.
“All going well, you’ll see him after the launch,” he assured me. Then he pointed ahead. Some distance from the other buildings, a white rocket was visible beside scaffolding. It was difficult for me to judge its size at first—until, with a start, I realized that the swarm of dark objects moving around the base was people.
“How big is it?” I asked Karl uneasily.
“This is the Aggregate 3. She’s twenty-two feet long and two and a half feet wide. She weighs over 1,600 pounds.” He tilted his head at me, brows knitting. “Are you not feeling well, Sofie? You’re awfully pale.”
“I was just picturing something more like the rockets you two used to fire from that dump in Berlin,” I admitted. “Maybe a little larger but...” This rocket was many times larger than I was anticipating. They’d done all this in four years?
Karl gave a generous belly laugh and patted my shoulder as if I were an amusing child.
“Did you hear that, Lydia? Sofie thought that we were firing those tiny toys we played with in Berlin.”
“Oh God, no, Sofie.” She laughed too. “They were—what? Four feet high?”
“Five at best,” Karl chuckled. “And so narrow too.” He gave me a gentle smile as he explained, “I’m surprised Jürgen hasn’t kept you abreast of his brilliant work.”
“He respects the secrecy of the program,” I said weakly.
“These rockets run on liquid fuel and require a lot of that to achieve the height and the distance that we are aiming for.”
“Will these rockets go to the moon?” I asked.
“Oh sure,” Karl said, waving his hands dismissively. “I mean, in theory these kinds of rockets could do many things. And it is still the intention of the program that we will one day launch a space mission. Sure, of course. One day.”
The men around the base retreated, and a sudden flare of light fired from the base of the rocket. The supporting structure fell away and the device smoothly and effortlessly rose into the sky. I held my breath, terrified by the might of the thing, and then I gave a squeak of panic when after just a few seconds, it wobbled.
I heard Karl curse beside me, and I turned to him in alarm, fearing we were in danger. But he didn’t seem scared—just frustrated. He snatched his hat from his head and threw it furiously onto the ground, then stormed off, cursing under his breath. The rocket was still wobbling as it traveled up and out over the ocean. It disappeared from view, and then in the distance, flames rose over the water.
“Karl mentioned that there’s been problems with the guidance system,” Lydia said as she helped me to my feet, and we began to make our way slowly back toward the car.
“Mr. zu Schiller has asked me to take you to the office to wait until they have debriefed. You can have some food there and freshen up,” the driver said.
“Thank you,” Lydia said politely. She insisted I take the front seat and I was grateful for the extra space to stretch my legs. As we pulled away from the viewing site, I noticed an immense crater in the earth just a few dozen feet away from where we’d been sitting. It was dozens of feet across, and even deeper than it was wide. It could have swallowed maybe half of a city block.
“What’s that?” I asked the driver.
“That’s the impact from the failed launch from last week,” he said. Then he whistled. “Didn’t get off the ground properly before it detonated. It almost knocked me off my feet even over the other side of the island. That is why we aim them into the ocean.”
I failed to hide my distress, and he misread it, giving me a gentle smile.
“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. von Meyer Rhodes. That one was launched from the other platform. You weren’t in any danger today.”
Nothing went the way we planned. Yet another launch had failed, and instead of taking the afternoon off with us, Karl and Jürgen were both called into meetings. The afternoon dragged by, and as the sun began to set, Lydia and I were told we’d be shepherded back to the hotel in Rügen.
“Do you think I’ll get to see Jürgen at all?” I asked Lydia miserably.
“Maybe later,” she said gently. “You know the work must come first.”
At the hotel lobby, she dealt with the staff, checking us into our rooms, arranging for our bags to be ferried inside.
“I’ve organized for a meal to be brought to you. Why don’t you take a hot bath and get into bed? I know you’re keen to see Jürgen, but you really need to rest. I’m just a few doors down if you need me.”
I considered the bath, knowing the hot water would be blissful against my bones, but when I stared at the little tub, I realized I’d be unlikely to get back out on my own even if I did manage to fit inside.
Instead, I nibbled at the food Lydia arranged and then sat on the bed and waited for Jürgen. I thought about the launch and the crater and the millions of questions I wanted to ask him—but we’d have to assume someone was listening in on the hotel room. Once again, we’d be whispering under blankets.
At this realization, tears filled my eyes. I flicked the wireless on to mask the sound, then lay on the bed to weep. What would it be like to be in some far-flung city when a rocket like that came out of nowhere? The technology couldn’t have advanced enough that the rocket would know which building to land on. What if one landed on a school?
It was all too terrible to be real, and too ugly to be the brainchild of my beautiful, sensitive husband. I curled myself around my belly and cried until I fell asleep.
I woke to the sound of a key in the lock, and Jürgen was inside by the time I pushed myself into a seated position. I stared at him with bleary eyes, noticing that he looked every bit as tired as I felt. I tried to get off the bed to run to him, but my belly got in the way.
“My, haven’t you grown?” Jürgen said, laughing softly as he set a little overnight bag down on the floor, then rushed to my side. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and placed his hands tenderly on my belly. But then he paused, and he lifted his eyes to mine.
“You are so beautiful, Sofie.”
I started to cry again—tears of exhaustion and relief and fear.
“I’m a mess,” I choked out.
“Even a mess, my love. You are beautiful. I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.
“I miss you too,” I whispered back.
There was no need to whisper. We were only saying what a husband and wife would be expected to say after two months apart. But there was every need to whisper, because this was a moment just between him and me. It was far too precious to be shared with anyone else.
Later, lying under the covers, I resisted the pull of sleep, determined to make the most of every second with Jürgen. I pulled the blankets over our heads and snuggled as close to Jürgen as my belly would allow.
“The rockets really are huge flying bombs now, aren’t they?” I whispered.
“They have no intention of a space mission,” he admitted.
“When did you realize that?”
“Around the same time we tried to run away.”
“Oh.”
“A space mission would be the work of visionaries. It is well evident by now that these men are not that.”
“What went wrong today?” I whispered.
“Are you really interested?”
“I am,” I said, throat tight. “I’m sorry. I’ve underestimated your work so badly, Jürgen. I underestimated you.”
I started to cry, and his arm contracted around me.
“Sofie, it’s okay. Truly,” he whispered, his breath hot on my ear. “My love, even Otto underestimates this technology sometimes. We’ve made decades’ worth of progress in just a few short years. It’s okay that you’re not up-to-date with every detail. There is so much secrecy, Sofie. I wouldn’t always tell you even if you asked.”
“I feel like we’re living completely different lives.”
“It can’t be helped.”
“What went wrong today?”
“Technical problems too complex to explain to you when we are both this tired.”
“Can you fix the problems?”
“Yes. It is only a matter of time.”
A sudden vision of that immense crater on the island flashed before my eyes.
“Should you fix them?”
“We’ve spent a fortune on the program but still don’t have a model that can be mass-produced. This series of launches was supposed to show the top brass that we’d turned that around. The pressure is growing.”
“Why would they even want to mass-produce bombs right now?”
“My love, you are smart enough to know the answer to that.”
I found myself suffocating, so I pulled the blankets off our faces and drew in some deep breaths. Jürgen did the same. When my lungs no longer felt as though they were bursting, we returned to the blankets and I whispered, “They want to go to war?”
“A man like Hitler always wants war. He wants power and land, and no one is going to give those things to him. At some point, he’ll try to take them.”