CHAPTER 1
Summer 1938
Badensburg, Germany
ALLINA
“You’d have those filthy Jews here? Why?”
Fritz’s voice was high and sharp, like the crack of a horsewhip. Sitting up in the grass, he made a show of brushing bits of leaves off his brown trousers and smoothing back the untidy strands of his blond, razored hair.
Allina’s cheeks prickled with alarm. Fritz had never been so cruel. The gentle boy she’d grown up with, the one who could coax a saddle onto the most skittish colt, had disappeared. He’d become impossible. Unrecognizable.
Her eyes darted across the picnic cloth, but her best friend Karin sat as quiet and still as a statue with her gaze fixed to the ground. Only the shrill cries of the cicadas filled the silence.
How had it come to this?
They called themselves the Fabulous Four: Allina and Albert, Karin and Fritz. Two couples and the best of friends, they’d each pitched in for today’s picnic. Albert was in charge of bread and chocolate, Fritz came with grapes and a bowl of sweet quark cheese. Karin had snuck her mother’s rose-patterned china out of the house, and Allina brought strudel and the latest draft of a short story to read over dessert. She loved how they’d laughed over the zany plot twists in “Tristan’s Treachery.”
Even the weather had cooperated. It was gorgeous out, warm and a little muggy, and the breeze stirring Allina’s bangs was sweet with lavender. Five minutes ago, she’d been sprawled on the ground with her head in the crook of Albert’s arm. The sun had lulled her, and she’d needed nothing more than the crush of warm grass against the backs of her legs, the cooked-cotton scent of Albert’s shirt, and the drowsy caress of his fingers in her hair.
Albert’s hand was tight around her arm now, like a vise, warning her to keep quiet.
His amber eyes had narrowed, his nostrils flared, and his generous mouth was set in a thin, grim line. For a moment, Allina wished she could disappear.
“Answer the question,” Fritz demanded. He pointed a stubby finger into Karin’s face. “Give me one damn reason you’d want that Jew-shit here.”
More nervous silence.
Karin’s rosy cheeks turned to chalk. She swallowed hard before looking up. “Mina and Oskar were my friends. I miss them,” she said in a small voice. Karin bowed her head, and her platinum hair fell like a curtain over her face.
Fritz propped himself back on his elbows and snickered. “You’d probably invite those two pigs to our wedding if you had the chance.”
He was unbearable. Karin didn’t deserve this. No one did, but especially not Karin, her best friend and the kindest of them all. Karin never had a harsh word for anyone. As for the Neumanns—Allina shivered—the family had packed up and vanished six months ago, in the middle of the night and without a word. No one had heard from them since.
Allina tugged her skirt down over her shins and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I miss them, too,” she said, working to keep the temper out of her voice. “Karin’s right. We’ve been friends with Oskar and Mina forever.” She’d never cared that the Neumanns were Jewish. For pity’s sake, no one in the village had, not really, beyond a thoughtless comment or occasional joke.
Oskar and Mina had never discussed their religion, or asked about Allina’s Lutheran faith, for that matter. It wasn’t something her friends talked about. Allina didn’t see the Neumanns at church, of course, as they worshipped on Saturdays, but aside from that, Oskar and Mina were no different from the rest of her friends. They’d been playmates and classmates, swarming like bees at each other’s houses after school and enjoying long, lazy days at the lake every summer.
Fritz’s lips curled back like he’d been forced to take a dose of cod-liver oil. Then he began his lecture. It was a pathetic, contradictory mix of lies—the same foul garbage forced down their throats at the mandatory race education classes they attended on Saturdays.
Oskar and Mina are spoiled brats. Their father is a communist, like every other Jew. Jews are sneaky. Selfish. They steal from honest, hardworking Germans, then count their money while the rest of us starve in the street …
She tried to bear it in silence. Sometimes that tactic worked and Fritz would run out of hot air. But when he called Frau Neumann a lazy cow—Frau Neumann, who’d cooked for Allina’s family last winter when Aunt Claudia was down with pneumonia—something in her broke.
“You’re like a damn parrot, repeating whatever nonsense you hear,” Allina said, seething. Anger had her ears ringing. “For God’s sake, Fritz. Think for yourself.”
Karin gasped.
Albert pulled her closer. “Hush,” he whispered. The tension in his arms, the way his hands gripped her middle, made Allina’s heart pound in her throat.
Fritz smiled—smiled and shook his head, then proceeded to examine every inch of her face. It was a cold, dispassionate assessment, as if he were observing an insect crawling up the wall. His pale green stare raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Allina took a deep breath, but the sweet mix of lavender and grass was cloying. It choked her.
“If you love your Jewish friends so much, perhaps you should spend more time with them,” Fritz finally said. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Albert sprang to his feet with a growl. “That’s enough. Apologize. Now.”
Fritz didn’t reply. He stood up instead and advanced slowly until he and Albert stood nose to nose. The air seemed to shimmer around the two as they stared each other down. Albert’s hands were fisted so tightly his arms shook.
For a few moments, Allina was sure it would come to blows.
Karin rose to her feet slowly, then crept toward the pair. “Please, Fritzi. It’s our last outing before the wedding. We shouldn’t be fighting.” Her voice trembled and she touched two fingers to Fritz’s arm. “Please.”
Fritz swept Karin’s hand away.
Then he laughed. It was a high, fake, ugly sound. He gave Allina a swooping parody of a bow before dropping down onto the grass.
“Excuse us,” Albert said through gritted teeth as he pulled Allina to her feet. Taking her by the wrist, he dragged her away from their friends, down the hill through the tall grasses leading to the lake.
“Let go of me,” she hissed, but Albert ignored her and marched faster, his hand a shackle around her arm. “Let go,” she repeated. “I can take care of myself.” She jerked away and stumbled, tripping over her own feet. While the thick reeds cushioned her fall, they didn’t stop her from landing on her knees with an embarrassing squeak.
Albert hauled her upright. A dark flush had traveled up his neck and into his cheeks, and his sandy hair stuck up from his skull at wild angles. “You think you proved yourself back there?” he scolded, even as he leaned in to help brush the grass off her skirt and shins.
Allina was too furious to reply. She answered his question with a sour look and scrubbed at the yellow gingham in a sad attempt to defeat the grass stains.
“Fine,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair, settling it. “No talking. Walk with me. We both need to calm down.” His mouth tipped up in a crooked grin, one she knew well. One that usually worked.
Albert reached for her hand again, and this time she didn’t pull away. Allina tamped down her irritation and let him lead, through thick clumps of rushes that tickled her calves as they made their way along the shoreline. Their silent trek eased the tightness between her shoulder blades, and she relaxed into the familiar sounds and scents of the lake: the deep honks of geese as they flew overhead; the soft rustle of the breeze through the reeds; and the pungent mix of water lilies, trout, and algae floating up from the water. By the time they’d hiked a mile, exertion had her hair clinging to her cheeks, but Allina was grateful for the distraction. She didn’t realize the hugeness of her anger, or her panic, until she stopped shaking.
Brushing the hair back from her face, she stopped to gaze across the lake at their tiny village—150 souls who lived and toiled and, for the most part, prospered together. The water mirrored the cloudless blue sky and reflected the crumbling turrets of Gottestränen Castle and the high, thatched roofs of the Baum House Inn. A dozen restaurants, alehouses, and tourist shops, including her uncle’s bookstore, dotted the coast. Plots of farmland fanned out from the water, and the summer wheat gleamed in the sun.
Albert scooped up a stone and pitched it at the lake with a deft flick. It skimmed the surface in four quick, light splashes, sending dozens of ripples across the water. After a half minute, the ripples melted away and the mirrored reflection was perfect again.
“It looks so peaceful,” Allina said.
Albert pointed their linked hands toward Karin and Fritz, now lounging in the sun. “Everything does from a distance. They seem peaceful, too, from here. It’s an illusion.”
Albert was right about that. She’d looked forward to the picnic all week, but only half believed they could get through the day without a fight. “I should have been more patient,” she said. “Tried harder to reason with him.”
Albert let out a heavy sigh. His eyes were sad, and deadly serious. “No, Allina. You must stop arguing with Fritz about the Jews.”
The words were like scalding water against her skin. “The Jews? You mean the Neumanns.” Allina pulled away to search his face, but the hard set of his jaw proved he wasn’t in the mood to listen. “Oskar and Mina, our friends,” she said, louder. “Or have you forgotten them, too?”
Albert let out an ugly curse that made her wince. “I haven’t forgotten them,” he said. “But arguing with Fritz is pointless. Dangerous. You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut.”
Allina stumbled back, cheeks burning. Albert’s bluntness didn’t shock her. He’d begun doling out advice the minute he turned eighteen. But Albert had no business telling her how to behave, not after playing coward in front of their friends.
“You want me to tiptoe around, terrified to speak the truth,” she said as panic bloomed in her chest. “Are you really so afraid?”
Albert laughed, but it was a harsh, strangled sound. Allina realized she’d brought him to the brink of tears. “Of course, I’m afraid! The Neumanns are safe for now, damn it. It’s you I have to worry about.”
Before Allina could ask how he knew the Neumanns were safe, Albert yanked her into his arms and kissed her.
She stiffened while the heat rushed through her body. Albert’s mouth was sweet with chocolate, but his lips were hard as they moved over hers, and desperate. Wrapping both arms around his neck, Allina poured every ounce of anger into kissing him back. Thoughts of their argument, of anything else, melted away. Nothing mattered but the need to be closer.
Albert pulled away too soon and with a grunt of frustration that made her quiver.
“Promise me you’ll be more careful,” he whispered.
Allina shook her head to clear it. No. This wasn’t an argument they could kiss away. She tried to wriggle out of his arms, but Albert wouldn’t have it.
“I love you,” he said. “Your safety is all that matters. I leave for Berlin the week after next. I won’t be here to protect you. Please,” he said, and kissed her again. “Promise me.”
Allina rested her head on his chest, breathing in the familiar scents that clung to his shirt—clean cotton and grass, and a sharpness that came from his skin. She’d never doubted Albert’s feelings or her own. She’d loved him all her life. Every happy memory was tied to Albert in some way. There could never be anyone else.
“I love you, too,” she murmured, before she began to weep. Because Allina was also sure, with every part of her heart, that if they didn’t start speaking up, the truth would be lost forever. It was already happening. With every passing day, all that was good and right in the world seemed to be slipping away.
* * *
When Allina came down to breakfast the next morning, Uncle Dieter was waiting at the kitchen table. Instead of calling out his usual, boisterous greeting, he sat quietly, fingers drumming slowly on the wood tabletop. Uncle’s long, thin face was pale, his blue eyes were bloodshot, and the furrows bracketing his mouth were deeper than usual.
“Sit down,” he said, in a voice so sharp she obeyed immediately.
“Fritz’s father paid me a visit while you were at your morning chores,” Uncle said. “Herr Meier told me you argued with Fritz yesterday. About the Neumanns.”
Allina stared out the window to avoid his accusing gaze. The two long, narrow cords running from the porch posts to the oak tree at the backyard’s edge were crammed with the blouses, skirts, and trousers she’d hung at dawn. They billowed like flags against the azure sky.
Copyright © 2024 by Adriana Allegri.
