“He guesses now we will eat the goose that they should have.”
“He sounds ungrateful,” says Rosalind.
Once the man and his granddaughter are out of sight, Rosalind turns back to check on the goose. It squawks and pecks at her as she tries to examine the leg. She is not sure if it is broken. She still feels only anger, not pity for the vagrants.
“That was generous of you,” says Stefano as she walks past him. His words affect her, and she is suddenly ashamed that she hasn’t been generous at all. She could have given them more. She has some vegetables in the garden and a bag of rye to grind for bread.
“Have there been many?” he asks.
“A few.” Though she does not tell of the ones she turned away.
1938
Monique stopped suddenly and crouched behind a tree, putting her fingers to her lips for Rosalind to be quiet.
She was about to tell Monique to stop being childish, thinking that Monique was playing a silly game, when she saw the reason for her cousin’s odd behavior. Georg was in the shallows of the river, shirt off. His hair was cut short on the sides and longer on the top, his normally soft waves flattened from the water. But Georg wasn’t alone. Beside him was another boy, this one in a singlet and shorts. They were soaking, the newcomer drenched by Georg, who was splashing him to death.
Monique put her hand across her mouth to stop herself from laughing. She wore shorts and a light-green button-up blouse, and her breasts strained against the buttons.
“That must be Erich,” whispered Monique.
“Who? How do you know?”
“Georg wrote and told me he was bringing a new friend home for the summer.”
Before Rosalind could process the fact that Georg wrote to Monique and not her, Monique had already rushed forward and announced herself.
“Hello, fellow owl!” she shouted.
Georg rushed out of the water and wrapped his wet body around Monique, who protested with squeals to escape; however, her laughter suggested she was enjoying every moment. Georg then stepped forward and gave Rosalind a brief hug, not wanting to dampen her clothes. She didn’t want him to treat her differently, but he did. At the time she had hoped it was because he had more respect for her.
Erich disappeared into the background, but he had watched the whole thing, studied everyone, and seen for himself in the first few minutes the dynamics of the group.
“What took you so long to get here?” Georg asked playfully while he picked up a towel off the ground and furiously dried his hair. Erich also toweled his hair, though his movements were more intentional.
“Erich and I met at a Hitler Youth camp, and he used to live not far from here,” said Georg directly to Rosalind. She presumed this was because Monique had known already, and during the hours together on their long train journey, Monique had not bothered to tell Rosalind anything, preferring to write her private letters. “He is almost as clever as me! He is nearly as fast as me at running, too. He is nearly as good looking.”
Erich stepped forward, pushing his friend out of the way in jest, his hand out formally to Rosalind. Erich’s hand was cold and bumpy from the water. She did not like the feel of it. Monique stretched her hand out to him more eagerly, and their hands touched for longer.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, his eyes lingering on Monique. He was good at speaking, his voice rich and deep, thought Rosalind. She could imagine him on the radio.
“Erich is off to study engineering next year.”
“That sounds very interesting!” said Monique.
“I want to build machinery with my father.”
“That sounds fascinating! What does your father do?”
Rosalind knew that Monique would not find any subject to do with machinery fascinating, but she was good at pretense. Good at making people believe her.
“He designs vehicles.”
Erich was not shy, but he was not like Georg, either, who could butt into a conversation without offending. The newcomer stepped back from the group, hardly noticeable to all but Rosalind, to get a clearer view of the overall scene, a habit that she would come to recognize. Rosalind could feel that he was appraising each of them, weighing their value. Once his hair was dry, it was revealed that, like that of most Hitler boys, it was straight and fair, hanging fashionably over to one side of his forehead, and shaved on the sides.
“Tell Rosa what you are planning to do, Georg!” said Monique.
And once again Rosalind tasted the bitterness of exclusion.
“I am joining the military. I will be a member of Hitler’s army.”
“Do you think you will see actual fighting?” asked Monique suddenly, the alarm in her voice at least genuine this time.
“I hope so. I don’t want to do all this for no cause.”
The foursome sat on a patch of embankment beside the river and listened briefly to Georg tell tales from the youth camp. Georg had poked fun the previous year at the systems and the Nazi salute they had to perform at the camp, though this year there was a change. There seemed to be more pride, perhaps for Erich’s benefit. They talked of the food, which was adequate, and the way they had to present themselves perfectly pressed, up early, beds made. Of teachers who fashioned their mustaches like Hitler, of another boy who had broken his leg sneaking out of a window at night, of boys who were sent away for unruly behavior and others turned away because of their race.
“Their race?” said Monique. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Where have you been hiding? Siberia?” joked Georg.
“They found Jews in the middle of the camp pretending they were German,” explained Erich. “It was humiliating for the officials who had accepted them into the camp.”
“If they were born here, then they are likely German anyway, so what does it matter?” said Monique.
“It is about being loyal to one’s true race,” said Erich decisively, as if he were more in the know about the subject. “And Jews will most likely agree that going back to their own country eventually, which our führer encourages, will be better for them.”
“Where is that?” Monique asked.
Erich paused briefly before answering. “Somewhere far away,” he said with less conclusiveness, because he hadn’t been told exactly.
“Oh, I see,” said Monique. But she didn’t really want to. They had discussed the laws over the dinner table in Berlin with Rosalind’s parents. Rosalind had said it was for the best, and Monique had said it was stupid, but she could not come up with a good-enough reason at the time to say why she thought that way.
“Adolf Hitler has been to inspect our camp,” said Erich. “He has torn up the Treaty of Versailles, so Germany can become a free and powerful country again. First we took Austria, and there is talk that Czechoslovakia could be next. The führer said he will fight any country that opposes his decisions.”
“I don’t like this talk of fighting,” said Monique. She had asked her aunt and uncle whether Germany’s occupation of Austria meant that her father would be freed. Max had then made further inquiries, but no one could tell him where Gustav had been imprisoned, and whether he was still alive. Though this last inquiry was never mentioned in front of Monique.
“I will give you a tour of our secret hideaway in the woods,” Monique said to Erich to change the conversation. “And I will tell you bad things about Georg that you didn’t know.” She winked playfully.
“Best idea!” Georg said to Erich, encouraging him to go.
Monique linked arms with Erich, and Georg and Rosalind watched the other pair leave. “What made you choose to bring Erich? You have lots of friends by the sound of it.”
“He is a present for you and a good match.”
“For me?” Rosalind spun her head suddenly around to face him, shocked.
“I thought you needed some male distraction, Rosa. You need a life.”
“I have a life!” she said. “I’m starting my nurse’s training soon.”