Page 14 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

The dogs, cats, and mice weren’t enemies at first. They trusted each other and tried to help. But after one misstep and one missing piece, everyone searched for someone to blame.

The blame turned into fear and then became a division.

Just like Stacia treated me, and like irrational hatred growing this war, not one cause or reason is based on truth. It’s only about who gets blamed in the end.

I used to think this story was just that. A story. But now, it seems like a message that was stored away inside of me. Something I would eventually come to understand when looking for an answer I can’t find.

My stomach unleashes a fierce growl, one that sounds like my body is eating itself.

Halina’s gaze drops to my stomach as if she can see how empty it is.

Her brows furrow as she peers back up. “You’re starving…

” she says, her voice cracking. The concern on her face is so pure, and—it is real, I believe it’s real, but I don’t know what to do with it.

No one has looked at me with anything but disgust for years.

Certainly not with the faintest hint of care or concern.

“I’m all right,” I say, pressing my finger back against my lip before scooting from the room.

She opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something but stops herself.

Her gaze locks with mine, and pressure spouts through my chest. I think she might have the ability to speak without words.

I feel lit. It’s not fear, or pity. It’s just something real, a bond, or an understanding.

The look in her eyes holds me still for a half second longer than I should have stayed.

The stomp of heavy feet along the floor below sends me moving across the hall quickly before anyone can see I was in Halina’s room.

I grab a piece of timber, the hammer and nails, making sure I’m busy if someone comes up here. I stretch my neck out to catch a glimpse between the rafters, particularly in search of Officer Sch?fer’s black car, but no one has pulled up in front of the house. The street is bare of vehicles.

I know the sound of Frau Sch?fer’s heavy steps, and it isn’t her. Whoever it is, is coming up here. A recurring moment that makes me hold my breath for far too long.

“It’s just me…” A whisper snakes into the open space. “I was kicked out of the garden, told to make myself useful elsewhere,” Adam says, stepping over a pile of lumber.

“Frau Sch?fer said that?” I ask, taken aback by her sudden willingness to exploit her authority over an Auschwitz prisoner. She barely acknowledges our existence, never mind speaking to one of us. Any complaint she might have will be logged on paper and handed to her husband at the end of the day.

“She’s hosting a luncheon,” Adam says.

Frau Sch?fer isn’t the kind of woman to host a luncheon, not without an order to do so.

She’s austere and aloof and hasn’t made as much effort to mingle with the neighboring SS wives as she should, not in the time I’ve been here, or that I’ve noticed.

Perhaps she wants to show off the beautiful new nanny she’s managed to capture.

“Well, I’ll certainly take the help,” I tell Adam. The thought of just an hour or two of a second pair of hands is a gift.

“Maybe we can get those rafters finished up today,” he says, a growl in his stomach speaking louder than his words—a reminder that we need to figure out how to stay upright, running on empty stomachs.

Within a couple of hours, moving along without rest, we’ve accomplished quite a bit more than anticipated for the entire day. We take a moment to lean against the brick chimney wall in the center of the room, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

Adam steps away from the chimney and peers out an opening to the backyard. “They’re being served finger sandwiches and tea.”

“And the air has been flavored with sausage since I stepped inside this morning. No one was even cooking in the kitchen yet. Truth be told, I wouldn’t put it past Frau Sch?fer to make a potpourri out of dried sausage, just to torture us more. She probably hid satchels in the vents,” I say.

“Or maybe she rubbed one on the windowsill,” Adam says. “A baited trap for her so-called guests.”

“Maybe that’s why Officer Sch?fer was so angry with her this morning,” I snicker. Although I don’t think that man needs a reason.

“Shh,” Adam says, holding his finger up at me as he studies the scene out in the backyard.

With careful steps, I walk up behind him, curious to see what he’s found or listening to. A gaggle of women sit around the picnic table while their children play in the back end of the yard, alongside their nannies.

“The new servant,” a woman says, peering in the direction of the children. “Where did she come from?”

The wind breathes a long exhale before there’s a response.

“She’s Polish, and a former caregiver. Heinrich made the arrangement.

I have to say, my husband has a thing about finding the best help available,” Frau Sch?fer says.

She rubs her hands around her swollen belly.

“I’m going to need all the help I can get soon. ”

“You said that before the last nanny didn’t work out,” another woman sings before scoffing.

“And the one before that,” another says.

“And the one before that,” a third adds before they all share a haughty laugh.

“We all have lapses in judgment, I suppose,” Frau Sch?fer continues. “The best of help—well, it’s hard to find decent help.”

“From the sound of the crickets chirping and birds singing, it appears this woman has figured out how to keep your little Flora from squealing up a storm. Not even you have had much luck with that.” The hens all cluck and titter at Frau Sch?fer’s expense.

“Yes, well, as I said, Heinrich found the best of what’s available. Of course, only time will tell. I just hope that happens before I give birth.” Another roll of artificial laughter breezes through the air.

“Forget the nursery. You’re going to need an entire barrack just for the caregivers you discard to Auschwitz.”

Adam and I share a look, shaking our heads with disgust. We’ve made a habit of this…listening just long enough to remember why we don’t belong here. I’m convinced his silence in these moments line up with my thoughts. “A barrack full of nannies who refuse to poison an innocent baby.”

“And just to keep her from crying,” Adam adds, staring aimlessly past me.

Despite nearing a week of being here, I’m not sure Halina fully understands what she’s been forced into, but she needs to know.

There’s still that spark of hope in her eyes, something so rare to find within this fortified town.

And the way she looks at those little girls, the quiet devotion…

It’s a form of empathy most people lost over the recent years.

It doesn’t matter though. If she isn’t careful, that compassion could mask the truth of where she is and what she’s here for.

And if it does, she’ll disappear just as quickly as the last.