26. Emilie

TWENTY-SIX

Dachau, Germany

As my pen glides along the paper, jotting down the tangled threads of thoughts spinning through my head, I notice Otto has been watching me from the hallway for the last five minutes. I’m not sure he knows I’ve been sitting here like this at the kitchen table for hours, staring at the imperfections in the wood grain, unblinking. I’ve been afraid to lose my train of thought, but at the moment, I’m not sure I want to discuss the notes I’ve made, if he were to ask.

Otto’s wingtip shoes clap against the linoleum tiles as he starts to pace in small circles. “Are you going to be much longer?” He finally breaks his silence.

“One moment,” I say, continuing with my notes. I try to contain the hint of annoyance that pokes at me. He can see I’m busy.

“We haven’t had a warm meal in days,” he continues. “Is there something I can put together?” He opens the cabinet doors above the counter, the squeal of the metal hinges zinging down the back of my neck.

I brush off the sensation and try to refocus my attention on my notes. “I’m not sure what we have, but if you can find something, by all means.”

“You haven’t gone to the grocery—I mean, neither of us has gone to the grocery store recently.” I’m not sure how he’s just realizing this fact, but he’s correct.

“There’s no time. We’re on a deadline, are we not?”

“We still must eat…” He opens the oven door to glance inside as if something might just appear out of thin air.

“Of course, I understand, but I need to finish my notes right now.”

“What notes, Emilie?” he asks, closing the oven door.

“The counter action of resistance to balance the viscosity of blood flow when a body’s temperature drops to 30°C/86°F,” I spout.

“I’m not sure I’m following you,” he says. “I didn’t realize you had broken down the data so far within your analysis.”

I take in a deep breath to tame my frustration with his purposeful disruption. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” I ask, flipping through the pages of my notepad, the pages fanning the fallen strands of hair framing my face.

“I thought you were furious about what we were doing, not invested to the point of analyzing the numbers. In fact, I was wondering why you’ve hardly said a word to me about the number of deaths we’ve seen recently.” Anger doesn’t describe all the emotions I’ve experienced. The constant tightening of my chest and lack of appetite says it all, but I’m not sure he’s aware of what I’m feeling inside. His words are eating away at my soul because whatever he thinks of me is inaccurate. The deaths only mean I’m not working fast enough to solve the issues at hand, or slow down the process of the trials.

I huff out the breath I’ve been holding in my lungs. “Otto, I’m focusing on what needs to be done.”

He moves behind my chair and places his hands on my shoulders, rubbing at the tight muscles I can’t seem to relax. “I think it’s wonderful that we’re doing something so groundbreaking to solve such a large crisis. We’ll be known for the work we’re carrying out. It’s inconceivable.”

I wish I had the capability to dream of a truth such as what he’s talking about. To be recognized for any form of medical research at such an early age would be unheard of, an accomplishment so far out of reach for someone like me. However, the only reason this research could be seen as an accomplishment would be because it hadn’t been trialed on humans before, and for obvious reasons. I’m not in this for the recognition. I’m in this to save as many people as I can, despite the freight train soaring toward us, aiming to take down anything in its path.

“I’m not sure I’d refer to this as groundbreaking—it’s death defying—that’s about it, Otto,” I reply.

Otto steps to the side and drops his hands into his pockets. “So, if this means nothing, why are you putting all your time and effort into it? Surely there’s a reason you’re so invested in all of this.”

I drop my pen and swivel around to face my husband. “Otto, what was it about me that made you say: I want to marry her?”

Otto might have thought I wouldn’t make it through nursing school if I were given the chance to fall happily into the role of a housewife. I must not have been clear on the importance of having a career of my own.

His face contorts with anguish, reacting as if I’ve accused him of something. “Well, that’s a fairly simple answer. I couldn’t picture myself spending my life with anyone else, Emilie,” he says, the clear pain idling in his eyes. “Is there a different response you’re looking for?”

“No, I’m not.”

He pulls his hands from his pockets and folds his arms over his chest. “And you, why did you agree to be my wife? Wasn’t there something better out there for you? Did you just settle for me?”

His question hits me like a blast of frigid air, forcing me to consider the answer to his question. If I tell him it’s because it felt like the right thing to do, it would sound demoralizing to my character. If I say it seemed like the comfortable choice, I might hate myself for admitting so out loud. It wasn’t a question of settling for Otto. I hadn’t looked elsewhere for someone, and our paths came together in such a way that I could only assume it was meant to be.

“You’re taking an awfully long time to answer my question,” he mutters.

I clasp my fingers together, squeezing the discomfort into my tight grip. “I don’t know how to answer you.”

Otto lifts his head, his cheeks flaming red, and squats down to be eye-level with me. “I can tell you why, Emi. It’s because we know the answer,” he says. “There was someone better out there for you, but you couldn’t have him. Isn’t that right?”

I try to swallow against my parched throat. My stomach hardens like stone and my heart pounds heavily against my ribs. He might as well be accusing me of being unfaithful to him with the way he’s speaking. “Who are you referring to?”

Otto snickers and nods dismissively. “You think I don’t see the way you look at Danner every day you pass by him? I’ve always known how much you loved him when we were kids, and even until a few years ago when we were all split apart. I knew he wasn’t an option for you then. You knew that and so did he. I didn’t steal you from him, but I did see my chance to finally have the girl I always had eyes for. That’s my truth, Emilie.”

There isn’t much else to say seeing that he clearly knows me so well.

“I need to be alone right now.” I lift my books and notepad from the table, watching my reflection as I pass by the red polka-dot teapot on the way out. I scurry out of the room and stop when I make it to the second step, listening to the floorboard moan from my wavering feet.I turn back and retrace my steps into the kitchen where Otto is now standing, staring toward the hallway as if he can’t believe I left.

“I was wrong not to respond to your question,” I say. “While I don’t understand what you gain from accusing me of looking at Danner in some way, I’ll say this: When I see him, my heart shatters into a million pieces—the same way it did when he was forced to leave Munich four years ago. My feelings for Danner weren’t a secret. You knew I locked myself inside my house for weeks after he left for Poland. I’d never felt as much pain as I did then. Not until now…upon seeing him wither away, knowing I can’t do anything about it.”

My throat tightens around my words as tears burn the backs of my eyes. I try to be strong, to keep myself together, but I’m only human.

“I have loved you and still do love you, Otto. But the life I had hoped for with you, it didn’t look the way it does now. I also loved Danner, and I still love him. I love you both differently and I can’t say that will change, and I can’t pretend to be unaffected by my grief.”

“You still love him?”

“Love doesn’t just die.”

“It fades, Emilie.”

“True love—it doesn’t fade. I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry for me, and I’m sorry for him.”

“I guess I didn’t realize I was marrying a woman with a taken heart,” he says, pressing his fingertips against his chest. I know I’m hurting him, but I won’t lie. I never have. If he had asked me these questions two years ago, I would have said the same.

“There’s nothing you didn’t know about me. We have chosen—” he has chosen, “to see what we want to see and that’s okay too.” I step closer to him, feeling guilt for never being able to offer him my entire heart.

“I see,” he says, sniffling.

“I’ve been a good wife and loyal to you. I gave you my word and I wouldn’t go back on that. I’ll continue to live up to the promises I made to you even though now, it seems, they aren’t enough. And for that, I’m sorry. But he has been our friend, not just mine. When you look at him, what do you see? Because if you for one second imagine what his face might look like if a Nazi fires a bullet through the center of his head, how—how would you feel then?”

Otto’s chin juts out, dimpling as he gasps for air. Tears flood from his eyes and he falls to his knees, clutching his chest before pressing his forehead into the ground. “Oh God, I can’t—” he cries out. “I never wanted life to be this way. I wanted to be a goddamn pilot. That’s it. I wanted to fly and see the world from above the clouds, feel the wind take me where I’m supposed to go. That’s what I wanted. I don’t want to watch the torture of innocent people, especially not someone who grew up like a brother to me. I was jealous of him before, of course I was, but I want him to live and have an equal chance at life like we do.”

I cross my arms over my chest, embracing myself with the hug I desperately need. Nothing will make this relentless pain stop and we can’t avoid the truth set out before us.

Otto struggles back up to his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands repetitively. “I can admit this was my father’s doing, or honestly, my uncle’s, for that matter. You know the influence he has over my vater,” he confesses, a known issue that goes unspoken about.

“And the influence your father has over you,” I add gently.

Otto’s red-rimmed eyes meet mine, his brows sewn together above the bridge of his nose.

“Everything made sense when your reason for coming here was simply to avoid being called into battle. But what we’re facing now isn’t a battlefield. War is a fight between opposing sides. This is abuse of power and control, cornering the helpless and taking Germany’s losses out on them.”

“I know, I feel it too,” he whispers with a shallow gasp for air. “But what can I do to free us from this hostage-like situation?”

“Your father and uncle should be protecting you—us, not shadowing our lives with threats if we disagree,” I say, boisterously. “Your father should have found a way for us to break away from this. He made a mistake by pulling you in with this agency, he should be correcting it. That’s what a father does for his son.”

Otto shakes his head and grits his teeth. “My vater, he’s a coward,” he says bitterly. “He’s afraid with Dietrich answering to Himmler. Himmler is Hitler’s right-hand man. We are in the direct line of fire.”

“I don’t believe that,” I argue, slapping my hands down onto the tabletop. “I assure you we’re on no one’s radar.” No sooner than the words escape my mouth do I doubt my response. No one knows who is in Hitler’s crosshairs, and no one should assume. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that we ended up here. I press my fists against my chest, wishing the inflicted pain would subside. “You promised to protect me.”

Otto’s eyes flutter closed, his wet lashes brushing against his cheekbones. “I tried to stop that conversation at dinner. I didn’t want you involved but you made it clear you have your own voice.”

“If you had been honest with me before that night, I never would have opened my mouth,” I say, my words sharp against my tongue.

With a pale complexion and a tremble in his chin, he says, “You’re right. I thought I was protecting you by not telling you what I was led into, but it’s clear to me now, I was wrong.”

I drop my gaze because it’s all too late now. “Whatever the case, I want this to be over and final. It’s torture and it’s murder too. Do you understand that? When you look in the mirror you must see yourself as an accessory to murder, Otto. How can you not?”

“I haven’t murder—I’m not responsible for anyone who?—”

“Yes, you are, and so am I.”

“How was I to know a certain body temperature or a particular part of the body being submerged in cold temperatures could cause immediate death?”

His question infuriates me, stiffening every muscle in my body as I try not to lose my temper. I’ve been digging my fingernails into the flesh above my knees, and I fear I might have punctured my skin by now. “Because I told you so. I told you, and the three assistants, but the experimentation continued despite my plea to rethink their decisions based on the research and notes I had in front of me. You, yourself, told me to stop arguing. Do you recall?”

“If I argue with those three men, they will report back to Dietrich, who will send his findings and notes to Himmler, and if it’s mentioned anywhere that either of us were a roadblock in the experiment, what do you think will happen?”

“Could it be worse than what those innocent subjects are being put through?”

Otto exhales heavily, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “I’ll speak to Dietrich and explain that we’re close to a solution and that we shouldn’t be wasting any more subjects until you find what you’re looking for.”

Relief floods through me, just a mere promise of attempting to put a stop to this allows me to breathe a hair deeper. The look on his face, however, tells me he has more to say.

“Thank you. Now I’m going to continue with my research so I can find the answers I need.”

“One more thing,” Otto says. “Then I’ll leave you to your work and find something for us to have for dinner.”

“What’s that?”

“You need to stop communicating and making eye contact with Danner. You’re putting us all in danger, Emilie, including him. So please, I ask that you stop testing boundaries.”

My heart shoots into my throat and my body weakens at the thought. Speaking to Danner is not an act of pushing my luck. We’re all running out of luck.