Page 34 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

TWENTY-SEVEN

GAVRIEL

The Sch?fer house is ordinarily boisterous in the mornings when I arrive, despite the early hour, but this morning holds a larger atmosphere of chaos. Frau Sch?fer is fully dressed, in thick soled heels that pound against the wooden floors.

“There’s no time for this,” Officer Sch?fer scolds his wife. “My answer is final.”

“I’ve had this appointment for months,” she replies.

“The house cannot and will not be left unattended. Do I make myself clear?”

Frau Sch?fer stops short in her heavy pace. “I didn’t agree to this,” she says.

“And I didn’t agree to the revolt that partially destroyed the Treblinka extermination camp four days ago.

People escaped. And worse, the Red Army managed to reclaim control over Orel after two years in our holding.

This has all happened in a matter of four days, Ada.

How long before we have an exodus at Auschwitz? ”

Well, I certainly didn’t agree to becoming their prisoner slave.

But I know well enough my sarcasm and lack of humor will not be appreciated or tolerated here.

Still, the thought of a revolt resulting in the destruction of Treblinka means there’s a chance for us in Auschwitz.

Or…liberation, perhaps—if the Soviets are advancing this fast…

maybe, we’ll live long enough to see it.

“I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying,” Frau Sch?fer complains. “What does Treblinka or the Soviet Union have to do with us?”

“For God’s sake, Ada. If there’s a revolt at the Treblinka concentration camp, and the Soviets are reclaiming territory, it means the tide is turning.

Do you think we’re immune? We’re sitting next to Auschwitz with prisoners working under our roof.

It only takes one slip, an unsupervised hour, and they could sabotage us.

We cannot leave our home and children unguarded. ”

My knees complain as I climb the stairs, aching more today than yesterday and the day before that.

Pa never let my brothers or me work on an empty stomach and made sure we had plenty of water.

He warned us of repercussions for not taking care of our bodies when under constant duress.

“Comes with the territory,” he would say.

“A builder’s body is made of strong muscles and healthy bones.

It’s your most important tool so protect it.

” Thankfully, Mama took pride in making sure her men were always well fed, which made her job difficult when we were put on strict rations at the start of the war.

Even then, she came up with inventive ways to keep our plates full and would sit at the other end of the table, marveling at the way we would scrape up every morsel.

We used to joke that we showed our love through the giving and taking of food in our home.

Mama put her whole heart into everything she prepared for us.

That’s what it meant, and I see that now.

At the top of the stairwell, I find Halina holding out an unbuttoned sweater for Marlene to shove her arms through, but Marlene appears to be more interested in making her skirt spin around her body as she twirls away from Halina.

“We’re going to be late for your first day if you don’t put your sweater on,” she says firmly, but in a hushed voice.

Isla is leaning against the wall, her knapsack in hand, staring mindlessly at the abstract portrait hanging on the wall across from her. I sniffle, for no other reason than to garner Halina’s attention briefly.

She peers over her shoulder at me, and a small smile pokes at her lips. “I can’t talk now,” she mouths.

At least, I think that’s what she said. We’ve spoken in front of the children before, making me question if something has changed. If something has happened to her…

I hold my hand out, palm up and gesture the act of writing a note with my other hand gripped around an invisible pencil. I mouth the words, “Did you get my note?”

She nods and smiles again, a more heartfelt smile this time—also, somehow with more pain too.

I continue up the attic stairs, taking each step slowly in response to the pain in my legs, yanking harder on the banister than I probably should.

The creaks along the walls match the weight of my heavy feet along the worn stairs.

“The two of you need to go downstairs and take your lunches from the kitchen. I’m going to grab my sweater. I’ll meet you down there in a moment,” Halina tells the girls, her tone firmer than before.

I’m just about to verify the safekeeping of Officer Sch?fer’s pistol in my alcove when I hear footsteps treading quickly up the stairs.

She already said she can’t talk now. I won’t bother her.

I’m sure she has enough on her mind, with taking the girls to school for their first day.

I can only imagine what that place looks like—a special school for children of the SS.

There must be swastikas painted in every corner of that building with rules for abiding hatred toward all kinds with the exception of their kind.

I busy myself by the pile of electrical wiring to install for the requested light fixtures and switch, untangling the used materials Sch?fer left for me.

A coarse scuffle pricks at my ears, and I turn around, finding Halina, pale and with loose strands of her braid falling over her tense posture.

“Thank you for your note,” she says, her words spilling out as if she’s running out of time.

She peers over her shoulder toward the doorway before turning back toward me to speak.

“I need to be more careful here. Heinrich forced me to sign papers yesterday, agreeing I won’t speak to any of the other… any of the?—”

“I’m a prisoner. I know,” I tell her.

“I don’t know if everyone is forced to sign a paper or if it’s just me, but—I’ve been desperate to speak to you. I hope there will be time after I bring the children to school.”

I push myself up to my feet, unable to mask the groan scraping against my throat as I do.

Halina presses her hand to her chest. “Are you hurt?”

“Are you?” I retort. I stood to ask her the same question. What could she be desperate to speak to me about?

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not. Not at all.

I—my life as I knew it, I—don’t know…it wasn’t what I thought…

I’m not just a poor Polish orphan. I couldn’t have imagined that label—one I greatly despised—wasn’t just about how little or how much I had.

It was hiding the truth of who I am. Who I’ve always been.

” She lifts her hands from her chest, bringing them to her face.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I’m saying. ”

I reach out and take her wrist, tugging her hand from her face. “Whatever it is…you can talk to me.” I sweep my thumb gently across her warm cheek.

“I—I’m not allowed to…” her voice squeaks through a whisper. “But if Ada and Heinrich find out who I really am, I’d only be allowed to talk to you. I know it makes no sense, but I’ll explain more later. I must get them to school.”

I don’t understand what she means. She’s speaking in circles but is obviously perplexed about whatever is bothering her. “Sure, of course. I’ll be here.”

“You don’t look well,” she says with a tired sigh. “Are you sick?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re hungry,” she tells me.

At Auschwitz, we are all hungry. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll just get your friend Adam some food then, yes?” My bottom lip falls, not expecting her quip of a remark. “That’s what I thought. I’ll find you both something.”

I didn’t realize I was still holding on to her wrist until her gaze falls to our linked arms. I release my hold and nearly fall backward as she swings her arms around my neck and presses her cheek to my chest. “I’ve never needed someone before.

I’ve always been able to take the world on myself, but—” No one has been this close to me in so long that I’ve forgotten when it’s like to be desired.

An embrace, the warmth, a connection, a moment where grief can’t cut through my chest.

I debate whether it’s all right to reciprocate, but my arms find their way around her before I’ve made up my mind. “Everyone needs someone,” I say, interrupting her.