Page 53 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

“Well, you’ve hidden yourself well. But I’m sure you know it’s only a matter of time before every one of you is found.

That’s our job—and we do it well.” He steps in closer to me, uncomfortably close, his breath stale of nicotine and hard liquor.

“You’ll do whatever Frau Sch?fer has assigned to you for work tonight,” he utters under his breath.

“We’ll handle this after dinner. This will be your final night in this house, as I’m sure you can guess. ”

Words don’t come to me, not like they have when I’ve been wrongly brave too many times in the presence of this family.

Has he already told Ada what he’s found out about me?

Will she call off our agreement now knowing I’m even more inferior than she thought hours ago?

Even if I told Heinrich all her secrets, he wouldn’t believe me now.

Germans of the Reich think all Jews are liars. They’ve made that clear.

No. They hardly speak unless it’s for argument’s sake. He’ll tell her after he “handles me” as he said. But not if I get out of here first. I have to keep focused. Gavriel and I—we have a plan. It’s our only plan. Our only chance…

Heinrich walks off, out into the back yard where people are filing in from the side gate.

Flora releases a timely shriek, informing me she’s awoken from her nap.

She slept longer than I expected, which gives me hope that she’ll be content as I showcase her, Isla and Marlene around the party as if they’re prize-winning ponies on display.

Only so the high-ranking officers’ wives can comment on how precious they are.

I collect the children, double checking their appearance, and present them outside. Each of my strides, casual, calm, unafflicted—as if I don’t plan to escape this nightmare before the night’s over.

After we’ve made our full stride around each table, we end at the elite table in the center, the name cards carrying the commandant’s title, his wife, son, and daughter, along with a couple of foreign dignitaries.

Another round of compliments are gifted to Isla and Marlene, both of whom respond with a curtsy.

And Flora is content, pulling at my braid and ignoring the fuss around us somehow.

“All right, ladies, it’s time to go inside now,” I tell the girls. Isla and Marlene curtsy once more as smiles draw from cheek to cheek. I spot Celina and Rosalie waltzing around the children they care for, both with a side-eye on me.

The commandant and his family stand from their seats, smile at us and walk toward the crowd.

I reach into my apron pocket and retrieve the letter I wrote earlier today and place it beneath his folded napkin.

It’s hardly a full page of writing, but it should be enough to convey the message, marked as concern.

There’s only a very fine line between the enemy and their uniform, decorated with medals and rank insignia.

The line is their integrity—frail and insecure.

Abuses of power result in a violation of German civil code.

Isla and Marlene’s schoolbooks cover these laws in incredible detail. They must be important.

A child born to a Jewish mother in Auschwitz who was stolen by a member of the SS for personal gain, thus compromising Aryan loyalty for the sole purpose of portraying a “good family.” Heinrich Sch?fer not only physically abuses his wife but emotionally abuses his daughters and poisons the stolen infant by lacing her bottle with bourbon to keep her asleep all day.

The commandant should know that the Reich is unknowingly supporting this behavior toward a woman and her children.

Heinrich gives SS officers the poorest look while representing the most elite and superior race of thugs.

In an honest world, no one would be surprised.

But in this world, even where the death of innocent people is condoned, it isn’t considered acceptable to treat fellow Aryans this way.

I usher the children inside, knowing every second matters right now.

“Right, upstairs girls, so you can get ready for bed,” I say, following in their footsteps.

It’s 8:00 p.m. Now or never.

The girls are in their room, tucked in, unaware.

I wanted to wish them both well as it pains me to leave them, but I can’t risk them thinking my words are a goodbye.

They are. Gavriel is waiting by the attic’s stairwell, and I walk into Flora’s room and scoop her up into my arms, but the moment I do, she begins to cry.

Not her fussy cry, but her broken-hearted one that cracks through her lungs.

I rock her, hum in a whisper, and shush. Nothing works.

She must sense my panic. I’m sweating, breathing heavily. She must feel my heart galloping against her. Her cries grow louder, and she’s arching away from me, her arms reaching behind her—toward him.

Gavriel steps forward, his eyes never leaving mine as he cradles her into his arms. “I’ll take her.”

“Gav—” I utter, “you need your strength.”

But the second she’s settled in his arms, she stops. As if Gavriel is the only one who still makes sense to her within this horror.

I understand the feeling.

“Come on,” he says. “It’s past eight.”

I nod, swallowing against my fear. “You go first,” I whisper urgently. “Take her now, out the front door.”

Gavriel hesitates. “But you?—”

“I’ll follow. I need to make sure the girls stay in bed. I’ll cover your exit. If they get up and see us all leaving, they’ll scream. We’ll be done.” Gavriel and Flora have been through enough. I need to make sure they can make it out of here.

He doesn’t look like he’s going to agree with this plan, so I lower my voice and press the truth… “She’s quiet with you. She’ll be safe with you. You can get farther if no one spots you. Just don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

Gavriel studies me, his eyes speaking a million different thoughts all at once. But then he nods, just slightly.

He disappears down the stairwell and my limbs begin to tremble, but I force myself to turn back for Isla and Marlene’s bedroom to make sure they’re in bed and stay in bed while Gavriel makes his way across the front lawn with Flora.

They’re not in bed. They’re standing at the window. “Girls, you should be in bed,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. I hurry to their sides to escort them away from the window before it’s too late.

The moment I wrap my arms around their shoulders and tug them away from the window, Isla shrieks.

“He’s taking her! The Jew has Flora!” her voice slices through the air and there’s no saying how far her words will carry.