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“I do. And likewise.”

“It hurts me to say this, but it needs to be said—if Idoever find myself in trouble with the Gestapo, you need to do what’s best for your family.”

I was so startled I almost dropped the clippers.

“What does that mean? Youaremy family.”

She shook her head impatiently, waving her hand.

“The only thing I’m doing is slipping as much money as I can get my hands on to the Nussbaums. Things have been so tough for them since Levi’s brother was arrested—”

“Uncle Abrahm was arrested?” I gasped. “What for?”

Adele squinted at me, then frowned.

“I’m sorry, treasure. I thought I told you. Abrahm was perceived to be a threat to public order. No further explanation given, and of course the family tried to find him without success. His wife has taken his children to live with her parents in the country. Between the money you’ve given me and the money my friends and I have scrounged together, we’ve just been covering the rent.”

“How awful,” I whispered. I was as distressed at the thought of Adele finding herself in trouble as I was about the Nussbaums’ situation. She was so frail—and some days now, so weak. If standing in the sun left her faint, what would a 3:00 a.m. visit from the Gestapo do?

“Can’t you feel it in the air, Sofie? It’s not just the talk of war, although of course that’s part of it. The hatred is escalating. Something is coming...” She paused, her features pinched and drawn. “I can sense it, like when I smell a storm on the breeze.”

“I feel it too.” The hatred had become almost self-generating now, infecting every corner of our society. It had grown so big and so dark, it threatened to suffocate us.

“The reason I have friends funneling the money to Mayim’s family is to try to keep layers between you and them, links in a chain that could disconnect if any part were compromised. But we are clumsy old women—hardly masters of espionage. But if this all blows up, don’t you think of it as a problem. Think of it as a chance to assure the Nazis of your loyalty.”

“I would never do that,” I said stiffly.

“Do you remember what I said to you when Mayim went away?It’s not always the strongest trees that survive the storm. Sometimes it’s the trees that bend with the wind.Remember that advice, Sofie. Especially if at some point, you find that the storm threatens to break you.”

In August 1938, Adele called and asked me to help her in the garden. We huddled beneath an umbrella and made a show of hanging frost cloths over her vegetables. Even before I stepped out my back door, I knew why she’d called me.

There were thousands of Poles living in Germany—many of them Jewish. The Polish government had become concerned about a tidal wave of people attempting to return home, so they were making it increasingly difficult to do so. Every Polish citizen who lived abroad for more than five years now had to visit a Polish consulate to have an endorsement stamp added to their passport. It was just announced that those who lacked the stamp after the end of October would lose their Polish citizenship—becoming stateless, just like the German Jews.

“Sidonie is in Krakow,” Adele whispered without preamble. “Moshe recently became a father, and she went to help with the new baby a few weeks ago.”

“Moshe is married?” I asked, startled.

“Last year, apparently.”

“But he’s only—” I did the math and winced. “Oh. He’s nineteen.” Where had those years gone? It had been almost four years since I saw Mayim. I felt a pinch in my chest. “Can Sidonie have her passport endorsed there?”

“Those endorsements are, by design, almost impossible to acquire. She has no choice—she must stay in Krakow.”

Adele was so pale that day. I wanted to get her back inside so that she could rest, but I knew she wouldn’t be standing in the rain pretending to set up frost cloths if there was an alternative.

“But what about Mayim and Levi?”

“Levi’s back has him bedbound these days. He’s still here,” she sighed, shaking her head sadly. “And of course, Mayim could still go to Krakow, but she will not leave without her father.”

“She needs her passport endorsed or she’ll be stateless.”

“Yes. I need whatever money you can easily access without arousing suspicion. Do you have some on hand?”

“I do. In Jürgen’s safe.”

“How much?”

“Maybe a few thousand Reichsmark,” I admitted. For most workers in Berlin, that was many months’ salary. At her look of surprise, I explained, “I started keeping a little extra cash on hand so I didn’t have to make extra trips to the bank when you needed it.”