Page 46 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

THIRTY-EIGHT

HALINA

The heaviness in my chest has yet to subside. Each morning, I wake up with a dwindling amount of hope that Gavriel will return to continue working on the unfinished attic expansion—if he’s alive. Am I foolish to believe it wasn’t him who was shot?

“ Worry is a symptom of love ,” Julia would say to us.

She’s right.

There hasn’t been a word mentioned about any of the prisoners between Heinrich and Ada.

I’ve listened as well as possible. Not only do I know nothing about Gavriel’s state, Adam and Kasia’s too, as none of them have returned in the last two weeks, but I imagine Heinrich will have my birth records in his hands any day now, if he doesn’t already.

The walls might as well be closing in on me.

While making my way down the rickety steps to the second floor, I tie a second knot around the ribbons of my apron, finding that the fabric is beginning to overlap along my back.

I can’t complain about the lack of food, knowing how much worse it is a short walk from here, but Ada leaves me with scraps for meals that don’t come close to filling up my shrunken stomach.

When I touch my cheeks, I feel the harsh line of bones.

Even my eyes look larger because of the sunken spots above my cheeks.

I’m a frightening sight in the mirror so I avoid my reflection at all costs now.

“Kasia, this isn’t warm enough,” a scold bellows from the kitchen.

Kasia? She’s been gone since that night…Not one of them had returned. She’s back, though.

I hurry toward the kitchen, my pulse thumping, a knot in my stomach.

The thought of passing by Gavriel in the hall like we had most mornings shoots a tremble through my limbs.

But the disappointment of an empty hallway steals the glimmer of hope.

I’m scared to look outside and possibly spot Adam, which is a terrible thought.

I don’t want anything to have happened to him either. But Gavriel…

If I see Adam, I’ll know the likelihood of who took the bullet. My hand rests on my chest as I walk into the kitchen, my jagged fingernails pinch into my flesh as I try to compose myself.

Ada is slowly pulling a chair out from the kitchen table for herself and when she turns to the side, I notice the bump in her belly has grown overnight. A noticeable change.

“Oh, Frau Sch?fer, allow me to help you. You must be growing uncomfortable. Just look at you…” I say, taking the chair from her hand and pulling it out quicker. Pregnant women aren’t made of glass, and that’s how she’s acting.

“Yes, yes, I seem to have popped overnight,” she says, and her words almost sound believable, but I know the truth.

“It’s a boy,” Marlene says, bouncing up and down on her knees at the table. “I’ve already guessed.”

“Is it?” I question her. “How do you know?” Because I’m willing to bet, the baby is a small stuffed pillow.

“I just do,” she says with a proud smile.

“She does have a curious sense of intuition,” Ada follows. The urge to roll my eyes and sigh is strong.

I spot Flora in her cradle in the girls’ play area and turn for the bottles to prepare her breakfast. “Flora should be moving onto solid foods,” I say as I grab the powdered milk.

“She doesn’t have an interest,” Ada says. “Plus, it could be dangerous with her delays.”

She hasn’t offered her solid food in the time I’ve been here, and Flora drinks down her bottle in a matter of minutes.

I’m hard pressed to believe she would have no interest in solid food, and I’m not sure it would have a negative effect on her delays.

If anything, the solids might help her sensitive stomach.

“I gave her some potatoes the other day and she liked them,” Isla says, as if it’s not a big deal.

“Why in the world would you do something like that? What if she had choked? She could die, Isla. How many times have I told you never to put anything near the baby’s mouth?”

Isla doesn’t reply and her face doesn’t flinch. She’s becoming one of them. Emotionless, heartless, and unaffected. Isla, at ten, has seen people die. She might think it’s a normal part of life—to witness someone take their last breath.

Knowing Kasia is just a few footsteps away from me and I can’t ask her the only question on my lips is draining me of all my patience.

Sylvia, the female kapo, walks in through the servant door and stops just before entryway of the kitchen, staring at Kasia while she cleans the pots and pans used to make breakfast. I try not to make it obvious when I glance at the kapo, but she must know what I so desperately want to know too.

I’m so close to the answer and yet, I could stand here like this all day between these people and never find out.

All I know is, if he was all right, he would be here.

Instead, there is an invisible wall breaking up this room between Kasia and Sylvia and the rest of us.

I shake up the bottle for Flora and make my way over to her cradle, finding her asleep.

She shouldn’t be asleep at this hour. Or, she hasn’t been asleep at this hour until this week.

Ada must be giving her an extra bottle in the middle of the night, one she makes up specially.

I lean over her and gently place my hand on her chest, having a hard time deciphering if it’s moving up and down.

I close my eyes for a brief second and release my breath when I feel her chest move.

“I’ll let her sleep,” I say. “She’s been awfully tired at such an early hour this week.”

No response, as expected.

Isla finishes her breakfast, drops her spoon on the table, shoves her chair out and takes her books out of the kitchen to get ready for school.

“Fix Marlene’s hair. It looks like…a rat’s nest,” Ada says, gaping at me, making it obvious she’s comparing Marlene’s hair to mine as she glowers at my disheveled braid. I haven’t been able to take very good care of myself here with the limited resources I have access to in the house.

Marlene isn’t finished with her oatmeal but places her spoon in the bowl. “I’ll go get my hairbrush and ribbons,” she says, her words quiet, her eyes pained as she heads upstairs.

Ada pushes her chair out from the table, stands, and checks a thin golden watch I’ve never seen on her wrist before. I can take a guess at where it came from. “I have somewhere to be this morning. I’ll go say my goodbyes to the girls now.”

I want to ask her if she’s heading to the doctor for a prenatal check-up but instead, the words burn my tongue.

I’ve gone back and forth shifting my blame from her to Heinrich on this horrific decision.

He has no idea she’s not pregnant, but she’s made up the story to keep him in the dark so she doesn’t appear worthless to him.

He wants children and she can’t bear any more.

I don’t understand the worth in staying with a man like Heinrich.

She’d be better off without him. Regardless, I likely won’t be here when he finds out the truth, and I’ll forever wonder how her lie turns out for her.

The moment Ada’s feet touch the stairwell, I turn toward Kasia but stop myself from making the mistake of speaking to her in front of Sylvia, who’s still staring at her like a hungry snake.

I decide to go back to Flora’s cradle and sit with her so I’m not standing on the brink of their invisible wall.

I watch Flora’s eyes glide up and down beneath her thin eyelids. “I hope you’re dreaming about something sweet,” I whisper, sweeping the back of my hand down her cheek.

The open and close of a door startles Flora awake, her blue eyes flashing open. Her lips form an upside-down u and those pretty little eyes well with tears before I can scoop her up into my arms.

I rock her from side to side, moving around in a circle that reveals Sylvia has left. Kasia is alone in the kitchen. I continue rocking Flora gently, taking long strides toward Kasia.

“Kasia,” I call out in a breath.

Her head turns sharply, her eyes finding mine as mine find bruises and cuts all over her face that I couldn’t see when she had her back turned toward us.

She looks as if she’s been beaten multiple times, with some of the bruises yellowing.

“Are you all right?” It’s not the first question I want to ask her but it’s the first one I must ask.

She shakes her head and sniffles.

“Can I do anything for you?”

She shakes her head again, more fervently this time, her fear palpable.

“Kasia, who was killed that last night you were here?” The question sounds like a puff of steam exhausting from a tired iron.

She swallows hard, as if it’s a struggle then presses her hand to her throat. Her eyes close then clench shut. She swipes her hand at her nose and sniffles again. “We were all punished,” she utters, “but?—”

“Halina,” Ada calls from the stairwell. In response, I step away from Kasia, terrified of getting either of us into trouble for speaking, which would be my fault, just as whoever got killed two weeks ago was likely because of something I did too. “I need you to handle Marlene’s hair. Now.”

“Yes, Frau Sch?fer,” I call out. “Coming now.”

Her heavy heels ascend the staircase, leaving me with another moment to extract the answer from Kasia.

“Please tell me,” I whisper.

Kasia stares out the arched opening of the kitchen, her eyes unfocused as if she’s replaying the scene in her head. Her bottom lip falls then she directs her focus on me, staring for a long second—one I don’t have. One, she doesn’t have either.

“It was the man who works?—”

The servant door swings back open, Sylvia returning with a storm brewing on her face. I hold Flora close to my chest and bounce her gently. “Come on, sweetheart,” I say, making it sound as though I was only handling Flora rather than pleading with Kasia for one simple answer.

“Snap to it. You have laundry to do,” Sylvia shouts at Kasia.