Sofie
Three weeks had passed since we arrived in America. They were weeks of pure, unexpected bliss, of snuggling on the couch with Jürgen every night, of sleeping in his arms, and of watching him work like crazy to connect with Felix and to support Gisela as she settled in.
Weeks familiarizing myself with a town that seemed wary at best, hostile at worst—of trying to encourage my daughter to be brave, of giving her permission to take her novels to school so she could at least read at recess because none of the German children would speak to her, and none of the American children could.
Weeks of waking up some mornings to find graffiti on our street, sometimes just a day after we painted over the last lot. That black patch of paint on the road was growing so thick, soon we’d feel the bump as we drove over it.
In those weeks, the man in the brown uniform walked past my house several times every day. Since I was checking the mailbox constantly, hoping for mail from Laura, I found myself in the front of the house when he passed sometimes, and I felt the hostility coming off him in waves. Sometimes, he sat under the tree just around the corner from my house and stared into my street, as if he were waiting for something to happen.
And over those weeks, some of the stores added No Germans signs to their front windows, right alongside the Whites Only signs.
It felt a little like the town was trying to beat down my spirit, but I refused to allow it. I was determined to build bridges in Huntsville. Whenever I met any of the locals who seemed even a little receptive to friendly conversation, I went out of my way to connect.
“My daughter is learning English, but it’s going to take some time,” I told the bookstore owner. I’d gone in to see if he could source us some more German-language novels as a treat for Gisela for persisting with school despite the challenges. “She’s a voracious reader.”
“Well, we can’t have a young lady at a loss for reading material,” the man said, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll make some calls.”
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he told me brightly. He scribbled down my name and number on a notepad, then asked, “How are you finding things here?”
“It’s challenging at times,” I admitted. “But we’re very honored to be here.”
“I’ve watched this town wither over the last thirty years, Mrs. Rhodes. All of the jobs dried up, so the young people get to a certain age and move away. The way I see it is that if a bunch of clever scientists happen to come to town to set up a world-class rocket program, jobs are sure to follow. Besides, imagine if it’s a rocket designed at Huntsville that gets man into space? To the moon? We’ll be famous the world over. Seems to me that so long as we don’t run you out of town before you can work your magic, your people might just be the salvation of this town. In time, I reckon everyone else will see that too.”
“Thank you,” I said, overcome with emotion. “I truly hope we can do good things for your town. For your country.”
“It’s plain as day that you must all be normal Germans who had no idea what was really going on over there. Our government would never let Nazis into this country. You’re all about as safe as houses, and I’m telling everyone who asks that they can be sure of that too.”
I smiled quietly and left the store, heart heavy as I went. The bookstore owner had been so kind—and he was right. People like Jürgen and I meant no threat to his town or his country.
But how could I possibly explain how complex our situation back home had been? The deception was necessary. That didn’t mean it was comfortable.
Another bright spark in those first difficult weeks was Avril Walters. She came round for coffee one day and promised she’d get her daughter Patty to look out for Gisela in the playground. Then she came back the next day with a bag of groceries to help me pack a more American-style lunch for Gisela. White bread and peanut butter featured much more heavily than I anticipated. She returned again later in the week with a bag of Patty’s old clothes for Gisela and helped me cut some of the length from Gisela’s hair so she could wear it down at school like the American girls.
Gisela and Patty hadn’t really clicked, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. Patty liked sports and dancing; Gisela preferred reading and drawing. The language barrier was just the final straw. I had a feeling that, but for Avril’s encouragement, Patty would have given up on Gisela right away, and I was grateful that she hadn’t. She seemed Gisela’s best chance for a friend, now that Claudia was still refusing to let Mila play with my daughter.
Avril insisted on taking me for driving lessons to help me learn the differences in road rules. She loaned me her camera, so that I could take some photos of Felix, Gisela, and Jürgen, then drove me to the store so I could get the film developed. When the photos were ready, I wrote a note to Laura, and Avril drove me to the post office. She came around for coffee or cake or lunch several times a week, and even once it became apparent the children had different interests, she still organized playdates with us. She was a godsend—my guide to all things American.
Avril and I were walking through the grocery store together one morning when I noticed Claudia Schmidt at the counter. She looked close to tears, frustrated as she tried to communicate with the clerk, who was visibly annoyed.
“Like I already told you,” the store clerk said, speaking slowly as if that would translate his words. “We won’t have any until next week.”
Claudia drew in a deep breath and held up a card. She pointed to it, nodding hopefully.
“Ma’am,” the clerk said again, drawing the word out even more. “We. Do. Not. Have—”
“Please excuse me a moment,” I said to Avril. Then I walked over and tapped Claudia on the shoulder. She scowled at me, then looked back to the clerk and pointed to the cardboard again.
“Let me help, Claudia,” I said, switching to German. She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.
“I have no idea what the problem is,” she admitted. “I just want to pick up some confectioners’ sugar.”
“He’s saying that they’ve run out and won’t have any in until next week.”
“Oh,” she said, her expression clearing. “Oh good. I thought he was telling me which aisle to look in.” She smiled at the clerk and nodded as she said in heavily accented English, “Please.”
“Thank you,” I corrected her. Claudia sighed miserably.
“I’m never going to learn this language.”
“You’ll get there,” I told her gently. “You just need time and practice.”
She turned as if she was going to leave but paused at the last minute and looked at me hesitantly. “Could you ask him which day I should come back?”
“I have some at home,” I said. “I’ll bring it over this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Please,” I said. “I want to.”
After she was gone, I went back to Avril, and we continued walking through the aisles, Todd and Felix walking ahead of us. At least the little boys didn’t mind too much that they couldn’t converse. They found other ways to amuse themselves, like giggling together and running ahead when Todd dropped an apple and it rolled down the aisle.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” Avril said quietly, “but I get the distinct impression those other German women are not especially kind to you. And Patty says that the German kids all play together, the girls all in their braids and those dresses and the boys wearing those odd little shorts—”
“Lederhosen,” I said. I wasn’t the only German mother struggling to figure out how to help her children adjust to American school.
“I understand that the local kids are a bit wary, but the German kids all seem to be looking after each other...except poor Gisela. Patty says she sits by herself to read her books. Do you know why that is?”
“I have my suspicions,” I muttered, picking up a box of flour and adding it to my cart. Avril cleared her throat, and I looked back to find her gaze troubled.
“I’ve told everyone it couldn’t possibly be true,” she blurted. “But people are talking about you and Jürgen. Lizzie Miller said that you and Jürgen were members of the Nazi party. I only hope that the German women haven’t heard such vicious lies, but being married to Calvin, her words do carry some extra weight.” I was so shocked, I found myself momentarily lost for words. “There was more, but it’s too terrible to say.”
“Please tell me,” I said weakly. “I’d rather just know.”
“She said that Jürgen may have been in the SS—that he even ran some kind of terrible camp.”
My breath hitched in my throat. I forced myself to keep walking, but my every instinct was to leave the store and run. Not from Avril, but from my past. Avril was watching me closely, and I realized I had to say something. I drew in a breath.
“Early in the Nazi years, Jürgen and I decided to flee,” I began softly. “We were going to take our family and escape. They had a listening device in our home, overheard our plan, and took Jürgen in the middle of the night.” Avril covered her mouth with her hand as she gasped in shock. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for us, Avril. We made some mistakes, and I wish with all my heart that we had done more. But our situation was far from simple, and at the time, we did the best we could. I just want you to understand that those men controlled every aspect of our lives.”
“I’m so sorry, Sofie,” she said sadly. “It sounds like you and Jürgen have been to hell and back.” She cleared her throat delicately. “So...there’s no truth to the rumors, then?”
An instinct sounded. Why was she pressing this when I was clearly not ready to discuss it? I had only known Avril for a few weeks. She’d been so kind in that time, but we were a long way from the kind of trusted relationship where I could share Jürgen’s secrets with her. I decided I’d neither admit to anything, nor would I lie. That only left me with the option to flatter her and try to deflect.
“I’m so grateful for your friendship,” I said honestly. “I really don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
“Don’t you even mention it,” she said. “You know I just love to chat with you and to hear about your life. I just want you to be happy here.”
“I will be happy in time. I’ll make this work, one way or another, because this country is our home now. Besides, there’s no option to go back to Germany even if things are tricky here at times.” She gave me a questioning look, and I laughed uneasily, kicking myself for what I’d almost given away. Jürgen couldn’t leave, because if he did, he’d likely be arrested. “I just meant Jürgen won’t leave, and I won’t leave without him.” We continued along the aisles, and after a moment, I turned to her and asked carefully, “Did you say Lizzie Miller is telling people these things?”
I was still convinced that visit from the police was her doing. She had no idea what a nighttime visit from a police officer would trigger in me or Jürgen. I might need to build bridges with just about everyone else in town, but I’d be staying well away from that woman.
“I’m afraid so,” Avril said. “Lizzie is ruthless, absolutely ruthless. It’s just such a shame that she’s so influential with the American wives. I’m sure you noticed she’s a lot younger than Calvin.”
“I don’t pay too much attention to that kind of thing.”
“When I first met her, she told me she’d only started dating Calvin because she wanted him to help her brother and she only married him because she was struggling and he was wealthy. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t even think twice about using people to get what she wants.” Avril shrugged. “I mean, she nearly had a stroke when I mentioned I’d been to your house.”
“I do hope I haven’t caused you trouble.”
“Oh goodness, Sofie, not at all. I’m just worried about you. I don’t even care how often she asks me not to speak to you anymore—we’re friends now,” Avril said, beaming. That gave me pause.
“She asked you not to speak to me?”
“I paid no mind at all—don’t you worry. Lizzie is just that kind of woman,” Avril said dismissively. “The only thing is... Huntsville isn’t a very big place, and the rocket program is an even smaller community. I’d hate it if that kind of bad blood spilled over to Jürgen and Calvin.”
I thought about Jürgen’s concern about his future citizenship application and started to feel uneasy. What would even happen if Jürgen fell out of favor with the rocket program? I could only guess that our fresh start in America would end. And then what would happen to us?
My heart sank. Maybe staying out of Lizzie Miller’s way wasn’t going to be enough.
“Has Calvin said anything to you about his wife?” I asked Jürgen that night. I was washing the dishes and he was beside me, drying them with a towel. Maybe any ordinary husband and wife wouldn’t notice such routine moments in a day, but I tried to be grateful for every single one.
“Not really. He did try to apologize after the party,” Jürgen said. He reached past me to put a mug back into a cupboard and explained, “He told me Lizzie’s brother served in Europe and has never been the same. But Cal hasn’t mentioned you since, which is a little awkward, since he’d been looking forward to meeting you.” He paused. “He never said a word about that break-in business. Someone else was behind it for sure—I doubt he even knew the police were called.”
“Is he a good man?”
“He’s the manager, but I have the greater technical knowledge—there’s always a tension in an arrangement like that. But he’s kind and generous. I enjoy working with him.”
“Lizzie seems a lot younger than Calvin.”
“She does.” Jürgen shrugged. “So? You’re four years younger than me.”
“That’s hardly the same. I heard she only married him for his money.”
“Sofie,” Jürgen said, giving a startled laugh. “Since when do you engage in that kind of gossip?”
“I’ve made one friend since we came here and she warned me that Lizzie Miller has been telling the other women that you are a Nazi. That you were in the SS and ran a camp.”
Jürgen dropped the dish towel. He bent to pick it up, his movements slow.
“Lizzie Miller has been telling people that?”
“I avoided the question when Avril asked.” I hesitated, some instinct niggling at me. “It did seem more of a fishing expedition than an accusation, to be honest.”
Jürgen dried the last mug, then hung his towel up on a hook. He exhaled slowly, his expression pinched.
“I know Calvin has only seen the sanitized version of my history—Christopher told me so himself.”
“Maybe you should talk to Calvin anyway?” I suggested carefully.
“And what?” he asked bitterly, shaking his head in frustration. “Tell him his wife might be starting rumors that have a hint of truth?”
I understood the self-loathing on his face, even if I hated to see it.
“So what do we do, then?” I asked quietly.
“We have to ignore it. All of it.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he interrupted before I could. “Sofie, all of these problems started when you and Lizzie Miller got off on the wrong foot. My work situation is far too important to all of us for me to drag your personal conflict into it.”
Jürgen was right. These problems had all started with me and Lizzie at that picnic. One awkward conversation, two women getting off on the wrong foot—Lizzie not seeing our humanity, me getting defensive.
Maybe that was what I needed to fix.