Page 42 of The Last Safe Place

Just as the coffee finished brewing, the door opened and Bernd walked in.

“At last,” said Knut, wrapping his arms around Bernd’s neck.

“Sorry about earlier. I could hardly say no when Emil asked if he could join me.”

“That’s all right. You’re here now.”

“Do I smell ersatz coffee?” Bernd turned up his nose.

“I’m afraid you do, sir.” Knut made an exaggerated bow, laughing to himself, because not even Bernd’s rich father had access to real coffee anymore.

“That will have to change. I don’t think I can survive on that disgusting stuff much longer.” Bernd grimaced.

“There’s just one solution…”

“We’re going to Switzerland.” Bernd finished Knut’s sentence, took him by the shoulders and danced with him through the kitchen.

“Stop, you’re making me all giddy,” Knut complained.

“And I thought you liked that.” Bernd stopped and gave him a kiss that did nothing to ease his lightheadedness.

“Do you believe in miracles?” Knut asked when they came up for air.

“I absolutely do. We should start planning what to pack for our trip to Zurich, since we can’t be seen there in uniform.”

A wave of warmth spread through Knut’s limbs, and he pushed all problems, doubts and worries away. Until the next morning, he wanted to pretend he was living on cloud nine.

21

JULY 1942

Michaela sat in her apartment, staring at the telephone. It had served her faithfully for so many years, and now it had to go. Once again, the Nazis had thought of a new atrocity: Jews were no longer allowed to own radios or telephones and must surrender them at the police station.

The same official authority that denied Jews access to administrative procedures was now waiting for them with open arms to cut them off from communication with the outside world.

It made her want to tear her hair out. Her only consolation was that soon she would leave all this behind. As always when she thought of her impending emigration, mixed feelings plagued her. Her two daughters had been living with Dieter’s sister Carola for almost two years. She hadn’t seen the two of them for over a year, only talking to them on the telephone once in a while.

Was it right to flee Germany and leave her children behind? She bit her lip. Ilse and Eva were doing fine with Carola. They were happy in their small village, were allowed to go to school, had friends and lived a life relatively safe from persecution under their aunt’s protection.

It almost broke Michaela’s heart as she brooded over the situation. She didn’t want to uproot her daughters, put them through hardship, make them endure the dangerous journey to South America and life as a foreigner in an unfamiliar country. On the other hand, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind.

Her heart grew heavy. After staring into space for a long while, she finally pulled herself together and was about to unplug the telephone from its socket when it rang.

“Michaela Kronberg,” she answered, wondering who it might be. Most of her patients had been obliged to hand in their telephones a month ago.

“It’s me, Carola.”

“Has something happened?” Her hand flew to her heart. Long-distance calls were expensive; Carola never called on weekdays.

“No.” Carola’s voice sounded as calm as ever. “At least, not yet. The mayor has just told me there are plans for a new decree.”

Michaela’s heart sank. “What is it this time?”

“Children from mixed marriages will be treated like full Jews if the Aryan parent is deceased.”

“Oh my God!” Michaela’s hand dropped to her side, still holding the receiver, until the sudden silence made her realize what she had done. She pressed the telephone back to her ear.

“Are you still there?” asked Carola.