Oh, Papa, why aren’t you here?
I wish that you were reading these. I wish that you were writing to me. I wish I knew what was going on. But I am hopeful most of the time. If I’m not, I will go mad, and that would not help anyone.
I miss you.
Till I see you again,
Yours forever,
Love always,
Moni
CHAPTER 16
ERICH
Vivi is pretty with fair hair. Erich kisses the top of her head. She smiles, lips pressed together into a thin line. She has deep dimples of pleasure, so like her mother, and eyes that view with skepticism, those from Claudine. When she looks at Erich, she conflicts him, tests his strength. It is often good to get away from her to keep his head clear of things that link him to a life before.
“Do you have important business?” asks Marceline.
“Yes, I have. I will be back very late.”
“I understand.”
Marceline always does. She is used to secrets. She was apparently good at keeping them when she worked for other members of the Reich.
“I am boiling some eggs. You can take some with you if you wish.”
He thinks about Stefano and the orphaned boy. He nods, and Marceline exits to the kitchen. Erich turns toward his mother at her seat by the window.
He wants to touch her shoulder, to show he is there for her, but it is pointless. The light inside of her is all but extinguished. He thought he would never say it, but he is beginning to despise her being in this room. It feels as if she dwarfs everything in it, drains it of all life just with her presence. He knows there are ill feelings growing toward her, something he has tried to quash.
He has been thinking much about her final decision. Why she did what she did. Why she didn’t fight harder. She was so weak in one moment, whereas she had been nothing but strong for all of his life. He moves away toward the door before his thoughts become too vivid. She had always been a constant in his life. When he’d first had doubts toward the end of the war, she had been the one to return him to his path. She had known him better than anyone.
Erich stands beside the door, and Marceline hands him a small cloth bag that holds the eggs while they discuss some household matters. Vivi sits down on the floor. She has grown bored of the adults and has taken a pencil to paper.
“Say goodbye to your papa,” says Marceline in an abrupt tone. She does not like that the girl sits on the floor between them. It is not proper.
Vivi jumps up quickly to attention, like she has been taught. She is also being taught not to expect or demand things from people. Erich is teaching her that. Success can only come from patience and study. You cannot expect it from others. Though he learned that from his father, did he not? His father who made a good life, then made a bad choice.
There can be no mistakes if they are to survive this, if he is to successfully disappear, find a new place, begin again. His mind then turns to Stefano. The newcomer has rarely strayed from his thoughts. He worked with Italian soldiers and found them disorganized, purposely sloppy at times. They talked among themselves too much. Many of them resented the Germans, something they couldn’t hide. There was one instance where he found some apart from their group, drinking smuggled beer. He had told them all to return to their hut. They had joked in their own language and sauntered away, without respect. Though Stefano is different. He is careful, cautious, and diligent. One can tell this. He let his guard down with his satchel, but now it is never out of his sight. He learns.
Erich stops first at the pharmacy and hands the owner a list. The man puts on his glasses and scans it.
“I will try,” Elias says, “but it is getting harder. I cannot guarantee a permanent supply. These have been stolen, and sooner or later supplies will run out.”
“You will do everything you can, yes?”
“Yes,” says the pharmacist.
“Don’t let me down,” says Erich, and the tone, though amiable, still carries a certain amount of threat, which Elias detects.
Erich walks briskly along the road near dusk and detours to a narrow path between trees that run alongside the river. The path finishes at a clearing across from which is the gravel road toward the river houses he has grown to despise. But now at least there is something to go there for, and lately a reprieve from the town where he has had to hide or pretend. Rosalind doesn’t want him here. He would sooner leave and never see her again. Too much has happened to make some sort of amends. It is easier with strangers now. People like Stefano that he was ordered to destroy. People like Stefano that he has to learn to live with now.
When he arrives, Stefano is washing his hair in the tub at the back of the house. He does not look surprised, as if he has been listening out for Erich this time. He has rolled up his trousers and his sleeves, and his shirt hangs unbuttoned at the front. Erich does not show that he has noticed the scarring up Stefano’s forearm and part of his torso with pink puckered skin, though the skin of his neck and other arm is smooth and undamaged.
“Where is Michal?”
“I have put him to bed already.”
Stefano’s eyes are so black they can’t be distinguished from the pupils. He would have been quite handsome once, thinks Erich, if one is not comparing Aryan traits. Even the small indents of his youth do not detract from the fineness of his features and the golden-brown color of his skin.
“You are back early today. How was your work?” Stefano asks. The Italian rubs his hair with a towel, and droplets from the ends of his thick mass of hair darken the patch of ground he stands on.
“It was fine, though I am on double shifts while the factory recovers, and the Russians keep us busy. I have to work late again tonight, but I am back tomorrow. Perhaps we can share a meal together tomorrow evening.” Erich is thinking it might then be a good time to discuss his idea of traveling together. “I was paid today, and I have brought some eggs and more bread.”
Stefano follows Erich inside.
“I would feel greedy to take your food. I have had something to eat already.”
“At Rosalind’s house?”
Stefano pauses too long. He has heard the concern in the question.
“Yes.”
Erich swallows back the lump in his throat and reaches for the whiskey bottle and glasses from the table.
“Then the rest of this instead—”
“I am curious if there is something more in your relationship with Rosalind,” Stefano says. The sudden response is a shock and the kind of thing Erich would do during an interrogation: interrupt with an abrupt observation or statement, to catch a prisoner completely off guard.
“Why do you ask that?”
Stefano shrugs, but his look is still intense. “I detect something more.”
“Then you are wrong,” Erich says bluntly. Erich is concerned about the sudden confidence, the brashness, as if there were something deep within Stefano bursting to show itself. But he cannot afford to show concern. It is better for him if there are fewer questions hanging between them.
“I have no time for Rosalind. The brief visits I have spent with her have only been filled with arguments about her husband. I believe he should be in care, and she says no. Since I spoke my mind, she has been very guarded, very distant in fact. And there is nothing between us.”
“She seems very lonely.”
“You should stay away,” says Erich firmly. “I cannot guarantee your safety. I have to tell you some things . . . Georg is a very violent person to other people. If she tells you otherwise, she is lying. He can take an instant dislike to someone.”
“What has he done?”
“He has attacked people, so it surprises me that she allowed you and the child into the house.”
“Has he attacked you?”