Page 35 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

TWENTY-EIGHT

HALINA

I hate to feel surprised to find Rosalie and Celina waiting for me as they said they would this morning. It’s been hard to figure the two of them out. I’m not sure if they’re actual friends or simple acquaintances forced to spend time together for the sake of the children.

Flora is already complaining about the bumpy ride in her baby carriage, which I’m sure will turn into hard cries at any moment, but maybe the forward motion will settle her down first. Celina and Rosalie both have carriages too, but theirs are designed for children a bit older than Flora.

“Are the girls nervous for their first day?” Celina asks as she turns off the residential street.

“They didn’t say so. They seemed eager to get ready this morning.”

“Good. It does appear that most of the children are quite excited to return. Except for these little ones,” Celina says, shuffling her fingers through the little boy’s white-blonde hair in her carriage, then moving her hand to the girl, who’s a bit older, walking beside her.

“Halbert and Lisbet aren’t old enough for school yet, and they’re a bit sad to know their sister and brother get to have all the fun. ”

The little girl in Rosalie’s carriage lets out a stern yelp, grabbing the outside white bars of the carriage, twisting around to see Rosalie with a scowl. “I don’t go!”

“You are not going to school, Hilde. You’re only three.

They won’t even take you in yet, so there’s nothing to worry about.

” Rosalie sweeps her head to the side, giving us a giant eye roll.

“This one is not like the others. She would love nothing more than to be the only child with all the attention.”

“Isn’t that what all children want?” Celina asks with a chuckle.

No. Not at all. I keep my answer to myself, knowing most people don’t see life through the same lens as me.

“How old are the four children who are going to school?” I ask them both.

“Greta is ten, and Claude is seven,” Rosalie answers first.

“And Konrad is nine, and Erika is five,” Celina follows. “Konrad is almost ready to enlist himself into the army,” she says with a phony grin. “Nine going on eighteen.”

“Don’t be rude,” Konrad says. “Mother and Father don’t appreciate your tone when you speak like that, yes?”

“Why do you care so much?” Claude asks him, from a younger point of view and a different family.

“Because…you should too, Claude. We’ll both be men of the house sooner than you realize.”

The conversation between them and the words spewing from Heinrich’s mouth this week have a gut-clenching grip on my stomach.

The schoolhouse appears just over the hill in the near distance, marking its territory with a blood red flag and the iconic Nazi symbol.

I’ve almost forgotten what this town once looked like before it became cloaked in these waving symbols of death.

The Nazis don’t want anyone to ever forget, even for a moment, who is always watching over us.

“They can sense fear,” Rosalie speaks quietly.

“Who?” But I’m staring right at the who…The Nazi guards at the small school building’s entrance.

“Rosalie and I have concluded that they aren’t worth much to the higher ranks if they’ve been placed on duty at the school, which makes them meaner, more miserable. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll be fine,” Celina adds.

As if there are no Nazi guards standing before us, all the children, except Marlene, run for the open school door with hardly a whisper of a goodbye. Marlene turns to face me, walking backwards. “Will I be all right?”

I stop pushing the carriage, knowing I’m on borrowed time as Flora is wide awake and yet, peaceful, for the moment.

“School is wonderful. You’re going to love it, and you’ll make lots of friends.

You’ll become smarter every single day. It’s quite an amazing experience.

” I was lost in thought about my school days, feeling like a common child among others, rather than an orphan in a home for lonely children.

Marlene is walking into a Nazi supervised school riddled with an education designed by the Reich.

Marlene wraps her arms around my waist and gives me a tight squeeze. “Will you be right here after school?”

“You can count on it,” I say, placing my hand on her head. “Go on.”

“Halt!” a guard shouts as Marlene approaches the door on her own. She stops short, dust kicking up behind her patent-leather shoes. She turns to face the guard, straightens her shoulders and holds her arm out like an angled sword. “Heil Hitler,” she says meekly.

Rosalie and Celina turn their carriages around, their backs facing the school yard. I do the same, feeling a tug at my heart after watching Marlene become the newest victim to this race.

There’s so much I want to say—such anger running through my veins, and I wonder what Rosalie and Celina feel. Are they used to this life so much so that it doesn’t bother them to see what these children are subjected to?

A minute passes as we continue walking away from the school when Celina releases a heavy sigh. “That’s all there is to say,” she complains.

Rosalie’s lips pinch tightly together as if she’s holding something in her mouth.

“We were real people before…this. Like you, I’m sure.

” The words are uttered from her mouth, but her lips hardly move.

We’re alone on a road, lined with thick forests, but I know better than to assume we’re safe to speak freely anywhere.

“What was your life like before?” I press, keeping my voice down to match her subtlety.

“Well, I was a midwife, but the family I worked for before being brought here, offered me more than I could ever ask for if I agreed to stay with them as a nursemaid for their son. The Silbergs were the most loving and warm family, treating me as if I was one of them. They were one of the last wealthy Jewish families to be torn out of their homes in the Ma?opolska region, giving us more time together than most had. However, when their time was up, everything happened so fast. They were there one minute and gone the next.” Rosalie’s cheeks burn red and her eyes well.

“When the Gestapo came for the family, they questioned who I was in relation to them, then told me I wasn’t allowed to go where they were going.

I stood there, outside of their house, debating how I could help the Silbergs, but before I could do anything, I was approached by SS Officer Weyman, and told where I would be going next. ”

“I’m so sorry,” I offer. “A midwife—and a nursemaid—I can see why you might have been sought after, but you deserve better than this life.”

“They all want more Aryan babies. That’s for certain,” Rosalie says with a sigh. “It seems they have a reason for choosing who will be a ‘good’ fit to work for their families. But I’m not sure any of us want to know the truth.”

Celina releases a hand from her carriage and pats Rosalie’s back. It’s hard to believe there’s any real reason we were chosen. Heinrich certainly knew nothing about me and if he did, I don’t think I would have been on a list of candidates.

“Celina’s story is far more fascinating than mine,” Rosalie says, sniffling and pressing the top of her hand against her nose.

“Well, that might take way more time to explain than we have, and I want to know your story—where you came from too,” Celina says, her focus set on me.

I’m sure my story doesn’t compare in the slightest. “I think it might have been Heinrich’s mistake,” I say flatly.

The two of them burst into laughter, a sound of trapped joviality finally breaking free.

“Oh gosh, I like you,” Celina says. “You’re quite funny.”

My story. How can I tell them my story when all the pages were torn out last night?

“I worked at the orphanage I grew up in. One of the little girls was as defiant as they come, ran straight out the front door, through the woods, and onto the road with guard posts. That’s when Officer Sch?fer pulled up in his car.

I forced the little girl to go back—before it was too late for her too.

I didn’t want him to know about the orphanage or where she came from. ”

“Oh my.”

A cool morning breeze whips around us, blowing Flora’s blanket out of her pinched grip.

The familiar sound of despair places a bookmark in the conversation between Rosalie, Celina, and me, and I welcome the opportunity to focus on something different.

I scoop Flora out of the carriage and wrap her up snugly in her blanket and prop her up on my chest, leaving my free arm to push the carriage.

“Brrr,” I mumble to her. “Brr, brr, brr. It’s chilly, isn’t it? ”

“B-b-b-b,” Flora mimics the b sound and smiles proudly.

“Good job. Brr!”

“B-b-b-b,” she says again.

The other two older babies begin whining when they notice Flora receiving more attention, leaving us without another moment of quiet among us.

“I need to run a couple of errands at the marketplace square for Frau Weyman,” Rosalie says.

“I can join you,” Celina offers. “Frau Drexel won’t be back home until later in the day.”

“Marketplace square?” I inquire, wondering if I’ll be sent on errands at some point too.

“It’s just up the road a bit. There are shops and vendors. Most of the SS families collect their supplies there,” Rosalie says.

Good to know.

“I should head back to the house,” I say with a sigh. “I’m not sure I’ve earned such freedom yet, or if I ever will.”

Celina scoffs and flaps her hand toward me. “Trust me… when it’s convenient for the officer’s wife, you’ll earn your so-called-freedom.”

“Well, enjoy the rest of your day.” Is that even possible? I give them a quick wave before heading in the other direction.

An unusual silence fills the house, making me wonder what I’m arriving back to.

I overheard Ada and Heinrich arguing over her leaving for an appointment this morning.

He told her she wasn’t allowed to leave.

I pass the family room, finding nothing more than a sofa with worn round divots from overuse.

The kitchen is empty as well. Not even Kasia is here.

There’s no sound of hammering from above, either.

There’s always the sound of hammering. Gavriel does nothing but hammer all day long from the moment he arrives until he leaves at night.

I peek out into the back; the large yard being tended to by Adam. He wouldn’t be here alone.

“What is this?” a man shouts. His voice makes me jump back away from the window and frightens Flora out of her momentary calmness.

“There are weeds. Weeds are a waste of living space—like Jews. We remove the Jews. And we remove the weeds.” With another quick peek outside, I watch a man in a prisoner uniform with one of those kapo arm bands charging toward Adam. I can’t watch what happens next.

Has this kapo already been inside and inspected Gavriel’s work too?

Has Gavriel been hurt? I hurry to the stairs, making my way up to the second floor and do a quick sweep down the hallway to check for any signs of Ada.

Even her bedroom door has been left cracked open, which hasn’t happened since I’ve been here.

I glance in, finding the mundane decorated space empty.

There’s only silence as I climb the stairs toward the attic.

Carrying Flora in my arms and the rush of movement adds to the heat, making it hard to catch my breath.

I poke my head into the construction area, searching for Gavriel.

A pit in my stomach tightens as I pass each corner, confirming he’s not here.

What’s happened?

“Oh, God!” His cry is guttural.