Page 28 of The Lies We Leave Behind

28

I woke early, having had a hard time sleeping in the dust-covered bedroom that had once belonged to another. When I found myself lying awake, my watch ticking the seconds away, my body aching and weary from all the different beds it had slept in recently, I gave in, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and hurrying into my clothes for the day.

Minutes later, dressed in a rumpled pair of blue trousers and a dark blue blouse, a tan sweater over top, I slipped on my favorite pair of oxfords, which were slightly damp from the night before, and stepped quietly from my room.

I had been hungry the night before, but scared to eat or drink any of the food and wine the captain had told us to help ourselves to. Thankfully, the cook, an older woman with a wide face, her pale hair scraped back into a tidy bun, arrived a few moments later and put the kettle on for tea before meeting my hesitant gaze.

“What can I offer you?” she asked, her tone dull but not unpleasant.

I shrugged and smiled. “Whatever’s easiest.”

“The master of the house will want you to be impressed with what he has to offer. Don’t be shy.”

But I didn’t want her to go to the trouble of cooking something just for me. Didn’t want to wait alone in the dining room or partake of more food than one should at times like these. A time when so many didn’t have the same access and were starving.

“I’m not much of a breakfast person,” I said. “Do you have porridge?”

She looked torn at my response, twisting the fingers of one hand with the other. I sighed, understanding. If she didn’t serve me a proper meal, Keller would be angry with her.

“Whatever you feel like making,” I said. “Will be fine with me.”

I watched her broad chest rise and fall as she gave me a tight smile and a little nod before turning to the stove and getting to work.

Pfannkuchen , the German equivalent of the American pancake, eggs, bacon, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. I had no idea where one got oranges this time of year, but I hadn’t seen one since before I’d enlisted. I marveled at the smell, the tart and sweet tang on my tongue as I sipped it slowly, savoring every drop, unsure when I’d get to taste it again.

“It is good?” she asked as I dragged a piece of bacon through egg yolk.

“It is miraculous,” I answered, meeting her gaze. “Danke.”

She nodded and then turned her back to me, pouring more batter in the pan, her cheeks flushing pink from the heat.

“May I ask your name?” I said quietly. She froze for a moment before turning her face toward me without meeting my gaze.

“Why?” she asked, turning back to the stovetop and flipping a flapjack.

“To be friendly.”

She made a neat stack of three and delivered them to the oven before pouring more batter and then facing me.

“Magda,” she said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Magda.”

She nodded stiffly, seeming to not know where to look, her eyes darting here and there around the room.

“You are Lena?” she said.

“I am,” I said, shifting in my seat, uncomfortable still at the strange name.

“It is a good name,” she said, turning back to the stove. “Strong.”

“I’m not sure it suits me then,” I said and she looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes taking me in.

“Ja,” she said with a nod. “It suits you quite perfectly.” She poured more batter and continued talking. “My daughter is Ediline. She is more flower than strength.”

Her eyes met mine again and she grinned.

“It’s a beautiful name,” I said. “Where is she now?” I was afraid to hear the answer, but wanted to ask, in case she had no one else to talk to.

“With her younger brothers. With my sister. I sent them away when...” She swung her arm in a wide arc and I nodded, understanding her meaning.

“Did you live in this town before the war?”

Her smile was back. But now it wasn’t tight, nor was it soft. It was twisted, ugly, and mad.

“I did,” she said. “This was my home.”

The food I’d consumed churned in my belly, my limbs going cold. I thought of the small child–sized chair in the dining room. My lips parted, a question on the tip of my tongue, but the sudden sound of footsteps on the staircase in the other room stopped me, and I stared down at the remains of my breakfast as the kitchen door swung open.

“Guten morgen,” Hauptmann Keller said, a jovial smile on his face as his eyes took in what felt like every strand of hair on my head, the exact color of my eyes, and the food on my plate.

“Guten morgen,” I said quietly as Magda put the kettle back on the stovetop.

“That looks like it was a fantastic meal.”

“It was, thank you. Your cook is wonderfully skilled.”

“Agreed. Though for some reason she didn’t think it proper to serve you in the dining room?”

His tone was light, though I could feel the threat he laced it with. By the stiffening of Magda’s shoulders, I could tell she had too.

“That’s my fault,” I said. “She did insist, but since I was the only one up, I asked to sit in here so I wouldn’t be eating alone.”

“Hm. Well, I suppose you ladies are more prone to needing others, aren’t you.”

“Indeed, we are a social species.”

“I quite like dining alone,” he said. “Gives me time to assess the day, organize my thoughts, plan ahead...” His eyes flicked over me. “Women don’t have need for such things. You should be grateful there are men to take care of the more serious things in life.”

I saw Magda’s hand tighten on the handle of the searing hot frying pan and for a moment feared...hoped?...that she’d use it, swinging around with all her might and slamming it against his head. But a moment later she relaxed her grip, delivered the last of the flapjacks to the oven, and turned to her boss with a smile.

“Would you care for orange juice with your meal, sir?” she asked.

Klaus and Max arrived to the dining room a few minutes later and while the men dined, I went back to the bedroom I’d slept in to pack my things and tidy up. But as I looked around the room in the daylight, I couldn’t help but feel sickened. This had clearly been the room of a young woman. Ediline. The furnishings were feminine, but not childlike. Elegant. A teenager coming into her own. My room in Hamburg, though three times the size and filled with much more expensive furnishings, had had the same feel. The feel of coming into one’s own.

I quietly opened the door and tiptoed down the hall to the built-in cupboard in the hall, smiling when I saw I’d guessed right, the shelves inside filled with linens and bath towels. Grabbing a washcloth, I hurried back to the bedroom and shut the door. Opening the window, I gasped as a gust of frigid air blew in, and then hurriedly began wiping down all the surfaces, clearing away the dust that had gathered in its owner’s absence. When I was done, I removed the quilt and, holding on tight, gave it a hard shake near the open window before putting it back on the bed and fluffing the pillows.

I hoped the young woman who had lived in this room got to come home soon.

After the men had finished their meal and washed up, Max, Klaus, and I followed the captain out to his car and were driven to a small military base where Max was given a set of keys and a pat on the shoulder.

“It was an honor to have you in my home, sir,” Hauptmann Keller said. “I wish you all a safe journey.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Max said.

“And my boat?” Klaus asked.

“You are going back?” Keller asked.

“There are others who are trapped. I must do what I can to help.”

“You are a true patriot. We’ll be sure to be on the lookout for you now.” He waved down a nearby soldier. “I’ll have one of my men drive you to it.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“You’re sure?” Max asked. “I’m happy to drop you off myself.”

The two men’s eyes met and held, as if asking silent questions back and forth.

“Please,” Keller said. “We held you up last night. Let me at least save you some time now by giving him a ride.”

Klaus gave Max a nod. “You should get on the road. Make up the lost time.”

Max sighed and then he clapped the man on his shoulder. “Klaus... Thank you. May your travels back be swift and safe.”

“It was my pleasure to assist you both.”

The two men shook hands, and then Klaus turned and shook mine as well.

“Thank you, Klaus,” I said. “Be safe.”

“You too, miss.”

We got in the car then and sat for a moment, watching as Klaus drove off with the soldier.

“You think he’ll be okay?” I asked.

“I think he will leave here okay. But now he has to survive his return.”

As the car started to roll away from the base, I stared out the window, hoping I survived my return as well.