“No. I won’t ‘leave it, Ninnie!’ These are our friends—people we love—if you know something you are going to tell me!”
“The Germany of today is not the same homeland that Fritz and Hannah left. I always thought they should have never left America and I told Fritz so. Ebbely did too. He of course was prompted after Ford’s International Jew was translated into German and sold more copies there than anywhere else in the world—he said then it was madness for any Jew to return. But you know them—Hannah was a little homesick and scared by the wartime Hun thing and Fritz was worried by the layoffs—wanted the pride of returning having prospered.”
Darning forgotten, Jane watched her husband’s face.
“You have never spoken like this before.”
“I have never had to work within the structures of Fascist regimes—it is only my American citizenship that protects me.”
“Ford doesn’t?”
“Ah, yes—the great Henry Ford and his ever mighty industrial power—which is now being offered to whom and for what!”
Never had Jane heard such a note of cynicism when mentioning the man and his company that had been the core of John’s existence for so long. Though her husband’s awakening from what she perceived as an overly idealistic hero worship pleased her, still Jane had the strange feeling that if ever a complete disenchantment should occur, it might eradicate the boy, the dedicated dreamer—leaving a desolate, hopeless man in its place. “Listen, cara, I have been told to inspect a proposed sight for a new Ford factory outside of Hamburg—you know Ford’s credo …‘No water, no factory’… well, Hamburg sure has water. So I’ll be back in Germany …”
“When?”
“Next week, maybe.”
“For how long?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea.”
“I’ll go with you …”
“Oh, no you won’t!” The vehemence of his denial startled her.
“Why not? Billy is …”
“It has nothing to do with Billy.”
“Then why not?” The sudden suspicion of another woman as beguiling traveling companion entered the atmosphere and John felt it.
“Giovanna!” When he called her that—Jane always knew she had overstepped her mark of obedient wife.
“Yes John!” she challenged back, getting nowhere.
“Carissima, give it time—it’s nearly Christmas—we will certainly hear something by then.”
It was long after Christmas when Jane received the present she had been hoping for, a letter arrived from Hannah, this one written in English bearing no return address.
Dearest American Friends,
Here everything is fine. Everyone is just like our old Boss back in Michigan. I wish I could take a little trip—a short visit to visit old friends. But as you know my rheumatism is very bad and with my Fritz’s poor eyesight—well all that is not so good for making a journey. Maybe next year. Please understand.
Fritz and me, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a very Happy 1935. When this reaches you.
Your forever friends,
Fritz and Hannah
(the boys—kiss the boys)
Jane stormed into their bedroom, where John was putting on his shirt.
“John?” Body tensed, eyes blazing, she stood before him shaking the single sheet of paper. “Did you read this? It arrived already open.”
“Yes—it was addressed to both of us.” Knowing what was coming John stalled for time.
“Well? Rheumatism?! Hannah has rheumatism? Since when?!”
“Perhaps it was the mountain air?” Putting an arm around her—he sat on the edge of their bed, pulling her down next to him.
“Don’t make jokes,” she admonished.
“I’m not, carissima—I’m not.”
“You know something.” It was a statement not a question.
“No, not really …”
“Oh, yes you do—tell me!”
“It’s the letter, Ninnie. I think Hannah is trying to tell us something in the letter.”
“Tell us? Tell us what? I don’t think she even wrote it—it’s not the way she writes—it doesn’t sound like her—and in English! She never writes me in English.”
“I know …” John tried to sound comforting. “… read the first sentence.”
“Which one? The one about Ford?”
“Yes.”
Silently Jane read it again.
“You think … Oh no!”
“Yes, Ninnie I think they both may be in some trouble.”
“But, John—they are American citizens! And Fritz, he isn’t Jewish!”
“With the new Nuremberg Laws just being married to a Jew is trouble enough—it makes him a Mischlinge and therefore tainted. As for their papers and passports—they could have been confiscated by now.”
“They can do that?”
“Just like Mussolini, this Hitler is now the proclaimed Führer of his Nazi Party and can do whatever he wants. It may be that Prussian brother-in-law butcher—or that opportunist nephew—but something, something must have happened for Hannah to write in this veiled way making up lies so we would understand.”
“But why Fritz’s eyesight?”
“Perhaps she means that Fritz doesn’t see or want to see?”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing. No—let me finish—next month I am expected back in England. Maybe I could arrange a detour to look in on the Cologne plant. Once in Germany, maybe I can … in the letter doesn’t she put what town they are near?”
“Not on this one but on the others she had Gro?n?bach near Dachau.”
“Dachau—that’s just outside of Munich—that’ll be easy—all trains stop there.”
“But what real trouble can there be?”
“No one seems to know exactly—at the Ford Werke …”
“Why do you always say it like that?
“Werke?” Jane nodded. “Because Ninnie, by new directives everything must now be exclusively German. Plants may be built by Ford—produce Fords—but by order of the National Socialist Party it must be a German enterprise—run by Germans certified to be of pure-blooded Aryan stock. Anyone even suspected of being any different is let go—very often they just seem to disappear.”
“Oh, John—why did they ever leave America!”
“Yes—I always thought it was a foolish thing to do. I wonder why Ebbely allowed it.”
“Shall I write him?”
“No—now it’s too late anyway—let’s wait—maybe I can find out more …”