32. Emilie

THIRTY-TWO

Dachau, Germany

My back aches as I stretch my shoulders, the result of sitting hunched on the edge of my bed for so long trying to read medical texts, questioning every decision I’ve made up until this point.

Danner’s vitals match the picture of health, meaning there’s no reason to keep him in observation any longer. Until now, I’ve been able to see him each day following his near-death submersion because I’ve made it clear that post-testing data was as important as the other information garnered along the way.

Now that the research trial is officially over, I’m not sure where Danner will end up once he leaves the sick bay, and I’ll lose control over keeping him safe, fed, warm, and healthy.

The sunlight has dipped below the window, leaving me with only a pinpoint of light to continue obsessing over my data. Otto’s heavy footsteps pacing up and down the hallway downstairs isn’t helping my concentration either.

Otto’s hand claps down against the banister in the stairwell, his wedding band causing a vibrating echo between the walls. I close my book and slip it into the drawer of my nightstand as he hollers, “Emilie, we need to leave. We’re going to be late.”

I push our bedroom door open wide and make my way to the top of the stairs, clasping the railing as I imagine tumbling forward in this haze I feel trapped in. Otto is staring at his watch, a dozen steps below me. “Go on without me. I’m not feeling well.” I’ve made no attempt to prepare myself to leave the house tonight and still have an apron tied around my neck.

Otto makes his way up the steps, two at a time, taking my hand as if ready to plead. “Emi, I know you hate me. I know I have destroyed our marriage, and I know there’s nothing I can do to fix all of the things I have done, but my father and uncle will be there tonight and?—”

“I send my regards,” I say, gritting out the words.

“If you don’t show up with me, you will seem like a loose end to those in command. I will too,” he adds. The genuine fear in Otto’s eyes prickles at my flesh because I know he’s speaking the truth. I’ve been numb, scraping up all the anger I can muster to shield my pain from everything we’ve witnessed.

“We are and always will be loose ends. Do you not see this?”

“Loose ends are removed quietly and inconspicuously. Is that what you want?” he asks, replying as if I didn’t just tell him it’s too late. If that’s our fate, there isn’t anything we can do to stop it now.

Staring at Otto, I recall the look on his face when he was arguing with me as we were fighting to save Danner. Weeks have passed and I haven’t wanted to be in the same room as him, never mind put on an act and a phony smile to please a bunch of Nazis tonight.

“I’m going to tell them what I know,” I threaten. “It’ll only take a glass of wine or two, and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Otto’s knuckles turn white as he squeezes the banister. “Please, Emi. I know what Dietrich is capable of—what he’d do to his own blood if I so much as blinked the wrong way in front of them. If we don’t show up tonight, and I won’t go there without you, he’ll be at our door within the hour in a rage.”

He lifts his hand from the banister, leaving a dark ring from where sweat remains.How much do I have to give in before this will end? I have refused to accept that there’s no way out at this point, but I’m growing closer to the realization. I have no say in anything. I’m doing as I’m told.

“I won’t smile. I won’t take part in small talk. I won’t act like all’s right with the world, but I’ll go and sit at the table quietly to be seen with you, for you, as an obligation to our marriage. I’ll be dressed and ready in a few minutes.”

I pivot on the bottom step and make my way back upstairs. Knowing this is how the conversation would end, I already had my dress hanging up and my shoes polished.

How else to celebrate a momentous occasion than to have upbeat static-ridden jazz filtering through speakers, and the heavy aroma of smoked and seared hors d’oeuvres while prancing around an SS banquet hall. The room could be mistaken for somewhere pleasant, as it only takes linen, polished silverware, and dim lighting to hide the truth of what this building represents.

“You’re here,” Ingrid calls out, holding her gloved hand toward me as she makes her way across the room. Helga and Ursula follow her. “Come let’s get you a drink.”

“I’m not drinking tonight but thank you. Flat water will be fine.”

“I know what that means,” Ingrid snickers. “Is there something you want to tell us?” She reaches to my stomach, caressing the silk ribbon belt draped around my waist.

“I’m not with child,” I say dryly.

Ingrid pulls her hand back, and places it over her chest, covering it with her other hand. “I apologize for my grubby hands then.”

“No apology necessary,” I say, glancing around the room to see what other familiar faces I recognize.

“It seems as if it’s been two months since I’ve seen you last,” Ingrid says, a red silk curl bouncing against her forehead.

“Yes, it has been a while. They must have kept you busy at the sick bay,” Helga says.

“Are you going to tell us what it is our husbands truly do all day at work?” Ursula adds, her cat-like eyes peering over her shoulder, seeking out eavesdroppers.

I had full intention of reporting back to them on the life they weren’t a part of while their husbands are at work all day, but if I tell them the truth, I’ll void the reason for agreeing to be here tonight, and I’ll ruin their marriages too.

“To be fair, over the last two months, I never spotted any of your husbands, not even once. The medical building is large and divided up into several sectioned off areas. There was little intermingling.”

“I guess they were telling us the truth,” Helga says to the other two.

“Emilie, could I borrow you for a moment,” Otto says, approaching the group of wives. He waves me over and though I would rather refrain from running to him like a lovesick mistress, I have to follow his lead.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies. I’ll return her to you shortly.” The way he speaks makes me feel like a shared object. I’d rather just return home.

“My vater and Uncle Dietrich would like to have a word with us—a congratulations of sorts.”

I might need to bite off my tongue.

The room isn’t large enough to steal more than a few seconds before we’re in the presence of his father, mother, uncle Dietrich and wife, Ginny. Dietrich and Ginny have only been married a couple of years and have been eager to grow a family in a brief time, especially considering their older ages. She looks quite uncomfortable to be standing here in heels. In fact, the longer I gaze at her, I consider the thought that I’ve never seen a mother-to-be carrying their baby so high before. I can’t imagine she’s comfortable whether sitting or standing. Hopefully, she was given more of an option to be here tonight than I was. She never says much, but Otto heard a rumor from his parents that she used to be close with high-ranking members of the Reich. I can’t help but wonder if she’s quiet because she’s shy or quiet because she knows more than she’s able to let on.

“Well, if it isn’t the golden child and his wife,” Dietrich says.

His wife has a name.

“Heil Hitler,” Otto regards him with a salute.

“Heil Hitler,” I say, begrudgingly.

“Heil Hitler,” he responds.

I wish I could refuse to salute him, but it would be a “sin” to do so.

“I’ve been told you two have accomplished quite a bit,” Herr Berger says, holding up a glass of champagne. Frau Berger clinks her glass to his.

“That’s wonderful,” she agrees, clearing her throat as she eyeballs me from the corner of her eye.

“That’s wonderful,” Dietrich repeats quietly. “Emilie, I do hope you will continue to work with us in the lab. We have another study coming up that you would be quite useful for.”

The fire inside me burns up through my throat and I know if I open my mouth to speak, flames will shoot out.

“Oh, that’s kind,” Frau Berger says. “But?—”

“Brother, I think we’ve taken enough of Emilie’s time. In fact, I think I might like to see the two of them finish their medical classes before moving any further into a long-term career path,” Herr Berger says.

Otto’s parents take my breath away, shocking me like never before. I’m not sure what has changed their mind, but their rebuttal is welcome.

“That does sound like a wonderful option for us,” Otto says, swallowing hard as he peers at his father’s unreadable face. It’s clear he’s as taken aback as I am about this sharp change of agenda.

No one appears more stunned than Dietrich. “A wonderful option,” Dietrich grumbles. “Well, why bother with that if they can have hands-on experience with us? The work we’re doing is life-altering. What more could someone with our knowledge ask for?”

“A good conscience,” Herr Berger says, speaking quietly beneath his breath. “Dietrich, you hid many of the details from me, masking my awareness from an office building outside of Dachau. Had I known what Otto and then Emilie were stepping into, I would have?—”

“A good conscience? Enough,” Dietrich says. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I didn’t realize I needed to define the conditions of our country and confirm what it is we’re working toward. You won’t find yourself in many places where there isn’t a war in the background. It’s something we must all live with. To put our lives on hold—well, it’s a waste of time.”

“Human experimentation was never mentioned to me,” Herr Berger utters, stabbing his finger toward Dietrich’s nose.

I have so many questions I want to ask Otto’s parents. Most importantly, how long they’ve known about what we were subjected to—what we’ve been forced to subject others to.

“Blame it on me,” Herr Berger says. “Tell Himmler you need to corral a new team, and if he asks why, tell him it was my doing.”

“Stefan,” Frau Berger hisses, her inflection makes it clear he should stop speaking.

He’s protecting us, yet putting himself and likely Frau Berger in grave danger while doing so.

“Vater,” Otto says. “I should have spoken up sooner. This is my fault. I’ll take the blame.”

“No,” Frau Berger shouts.

I grab Otto’s arm, pinching my fingernails into his flesh, wishing he would stop talking.

Dietrich shakes his head and takes a swig of the clear liquid drink he’s been washing green olives down with. “No!” Dietrich mocks Frau Berger. “You’re going to get me killed. That’s what you’re doing. I’m your brother. Do you have no understanding of the fact that we’ve all been blinded at some point,” he says, his voice carrying through the hall. Dietrich lifts his glass to the Reichstag flag hanging above our heads. “We all live under the same mind, and there’s no way out. We can live or die.”

The growing argument between Otto’s family settles into the back of my mind as I imagine what will become of Danner if Dietrich complies with us stepping away. I’ll have no way of helping him, or anyone else. There’s no hopeful ending here. Someone will suffer the consequences we’re all tossing around, hoping it isn’t?—

“We can’t lose Frau Berger of all people,” a man says, passing behind us. “She’s the only one who truly knows how to work with her hands.”

Me. I’m the one with the grenade.

I whip around in search of who would say such an awful thing, spotting only the back of a soldier’s head as he walks away.

I slip my hand out of Otto’s and rush toward the man, grabbing a hold of his wrist to stop him from going any further. “I beg your pardon?”

The lonely soldier. I should have known. Seeing that he was dismissed from duty, I’m not sure why he received an invitation to this event. “I watched you bring someone back to life,” he says. “That’s all I meant, of course.”

“Is that true, Emilie?” Herr Berger asks, showing interest, not disappointment.

My mouth is open, but words don’t form. What am I supposed to say?

“Yes, it was for the conclusion of our data,” Otto says. “If we lost the volunteer, we would have had to start from the beginning of that trial and we wanted to make sure we had all our information in on time.”

The soldier makes his way into our circle with a sly crooked smile. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks like he knows he’s about to win the jackpot. “Oh, come on now, I wouldn’t say that was the exact reason your wife went through the trouble she did,” the soldier replies. “We just have a Florence Nightingale on our hands, don’t we? Or was it something more—something a married woman shouldn’t be so concerned about?”

“A Florence Nightingale…” Dietrich grumbles. “What is the meaning of this?”

“There’s no meaning. Emilie was doing what she needed to complete the task. In fact, Private Krieg here was relieved of his duty for his inappropriate behavior in the lab. I think it might be best that you see yourself out the door, Private. Your invitation must have been a clerical error.”

Dietrich is staring at me like an owl watching a helpless mouse who has backed herself into a corner.

“As you wish, Herr—pardon—I meant to say Doctor Berger. I must say, I find it fascinating that you would defend your wife after her covert behavior.”

Otto’s father whistles to a man standing guard by the door. “Please see him out,” he shouts. “Do not return. I know where you came from, and I’ll have no quandaries about sending you back to where prisoners belong.”

Mortification wraps me in a cold sweat, wondering what Otto, his parents, aunt, and uncle are thinking. If I make a peep to defend myself, I’ll appear guilty. I know it’s best to remain quiet. “Emilie is the only woman working in our lab. This kind of behavior was bound to happen with the straggling soldiers coming and going. Private Krieg fondly approached Emilie the first day she arrived, but she kindly told him she was a married woman. Apparently, that wasn’t enough of a reason to satiate his jealousy,” Otto explains, squeezing my hand with a clammy grip.

“Young soldiers will be young soldiers. We just need to ignore their pettiness, isn’t that right?” Frau Dietrich asks Frau Berger.

“We’ve both seen our days of this,” she agrees.

I wasn’t aware Otto knew about the lonely soldier—Private Krieg—approaching me that first day. Someone must have told him.

Otto wraps his arm around me and pulls me in tightly to his side. “I suppose it isn’t easy being so beautiful, or being married to someone so beautiful, is it?” he jests.

“So beautiful…” Dietrich mutters. “Well then.” He abruptly steals the conversation back. “I’d like to speak with you both in the morning to discuss our plan for moving forward, Stefan, Otto.” The formality is gone, and I’ve been weeded from the equation. “My office at seven.” Dietrich twists on his heels and casually makes his way over to another gathered crowd, lifting his glass to start a new toast.

“What now?” Otto asks his father.

“We’ll have to see in the morning. I don’t know where this leaves us. I apologize for trusting him and putting the two of you in this situation. I understand why you didn’t approach me until now. I’m a coward of a man when it comes to my brother, but I assure you I’ll be putting a stop to that at once.” Herr Berger drops his gaze to his feet and shakes his head. “Marion, let’s see ourselves out.”

“Herr Berger,” I say, stopping them from leaving. “The man I was saving was Danner Alesky, a Jewish prisoner of Dachau.”

“Danner?” Frau Berger repeats, shock widening her eyes.

“Yes. They were going to execute him if?—”

“No more,” Otto says. “Not here.”

Frau Berger clamps her mouth shut, her cheeks trembling and her forehead puckering over every age line. “Please excuse me,” she says.

Herr Berger clears the phlegm from his throat. “I—I, uh—I’ll see you in the morning, son,” Herr Berger says, following his wife out of the function room.

“Someone could have heard you,” Otto whispers. “Why did you do that?”

I don’t have answers to any question anymore. I don’t know why I’m here at all.