36. Emilie

THIRTY-SIX

Dachau, Germany

Four months of wondering when Otto might decide to make a stink about me spending time at the library so many nights a week—in what he believes to be preparation for my return to nursing classes. He even taught me to drive so I could take the car after work, rather than having to ride my bicycle in the cold.

To prevent his discontent after a long day at work, I’ve made sure to prepare casseroles and nights’ worth of leftovers. The nights I leave the house, we’re much like a revolving door. He returns home from the field hospital and hands me the keys to the car, and I leave for the next few hours.

Before leaving tonight, he asked me if everything was all right because I looked flushed. My guilt must be becoming more obvious.

To my credit, I do actually spend a fair amount of time in the library, writing up my notes for Dietrich’s memorandums. Except, when I leave the library, I don’t go directly home. The guards at the tall black iron gates know who I am, briefed by Dietrich with instructions to escort me to Block 5 with the paperwork pinched between a daily edition of the Der Stürmer newspaper.Once the guard on duty unlocks Dietrich’s office door, I step inside, pull open his top left metal desk drawer and conceal the papers within a folder he’s left for me.

I walk the same path back every time I’m here, along the far side of the rows of blocks, then pivoting a sharp right at the final block, before the land opens into the roll-call pit in front of the service building. I spot the last metal rubbish bin I’ll pass before exiting the prison, roll up the newspaper tightly and toss it away as I do every night. The guard doesn’t care about my disposing of the paper within the prison gates, because the paper is the perfect propaganda for them, something the prisoners here will find no use in reading…except one.

The newspaper was originally a way to conceal the papers I was delivering to Dietrich, per his instructions. However, two weeks after I begun shuttling papers to Dietrich’s office, I found additional use for it. It was the night my true purpose became quite clear.

One hollow clang after another, metal bouncing off knees as men lug large metal trash receptacles through the wet gravel beneath a heavy downpour. The sky always seems to be crying here—crying in a way that steals all the wind from the sky. There aren’t many lights lining the rows of blocks but there are enough to spot groups of men still working late into the night. They all look the same for the most part: thin as tree branches, lanky like puppets dangling from string, and quiet. They’re quiet as if they aren’t humans who struggle to move heavy objects or exert the energy they don’t have, or hold in their emotions when they want to cry their hearts out like the sky.

Some have hair, others don’t. I spot a lighter color of brown, curling into one barrel wave before flipping up at his temple. That’s Danner. It’s him. I clench the newspaper tighter within my grip and hug it against my chest. He spots me for the first time since he survived the deadly experiment. I didn’t know where they’d sent him next, but Dietrich promised me he would remain here and be kept out of additional experiments. I wasn’t convinced the man was capable of keeping a promise.

Is he here at this time every night? If so, I could do something. I could help him somehow. With a glance down at the newspaper rolled up in my hand, I’m struck with an idea—a dangerous one, but one that could help him and the others. I could hide something or somethings in here. I wish I had something to leave tonight, but I have to warn him that I’ll be back and hope he’ll somehow figure out there will be something in the newspaper next time.

With Danner’s momentary attention, I curl the corner of my lip ever so slightly, careful not to be seen by the guard but noticeable enough for Danner to grasp the hint. I push the cuff of my coat up to check my wristwatch. I nod once and glance at him again then tap the newspaper against my opposite hand. The gesture might make no sense to anyone, but the newspaper…it’s all I have to conceal things, anything he or the others might need.

Danner glances away, takes in a breath and nods, repeating my gesture.

“Is it okay if I just toss this in the rubbish?” I ask the guard as we pass a half-filled bucket.

“Yes, that’s fine,” he says.

I drop it into the bin from high enough that the papers fan down the sides, making a swooshing noise.

“My timings have been a bit staggered these last two weeks, but this hour seems to work best for my schedule, so will you be available to escort me at this time going forward?” I ask the guard.

“Yes, Frau Berger. Not a problem.”

From the corner of my eye, I see another man in a prisoner uniform elbow Danner in the side, both silently laughing. Once more, Danner glances in my direction as I shift direction toward the gates. It takes everything I have not to break into a full smile, but this passing moment is all I need to get me through to tomorrow.

It was hard to predict if Danner would go fishing for the newspaper the nights following the first sighting between us, but I see him each night now, lugging metal bins at the same time in the same place. Sometimes, when his eyes graze mine, he places a hand on his stomach and pulls the corner of his lips up into his cheek.

Tonight, he takes a second longer to scan past me. I do what I can to keep my focus set ahead while making sure not to miss a second of whatever he may try to tell me. He presses his hand to his heart and sucks in a breath. Pain burns through my chest, wanting nothing more to stop the charades and run over to him and hug him with all my might, but the consequence will be deadly. We are deadly to each other.

All I can do is leave him food concealed in a rubber-band wrapped newspaper. Whatever I can roll in between the pages, whether it be cheese, bologna, or thinly sliced bread, I put in as much as I can. It isn’t enough to sustain his life, but it’s more than what he’s trying to survive off. I would give him more if I could, but as always and like everything else, it’s a risk and I wasn’t sure if he was receiving the scraps until last week. One fateful rainy night when I was walking out from between the iron gates, I twisted to close my umbrella away from the guard so I wouldn’t splash him. That’s when I spotted Danner taking the trash receptacle that I’d just dropped the newspaper in. He knew. He was bringing it up to the line of other men dragging bins. The relief I felt that night, it was euphoric. I knew he was getting what I was leaving for him, and for that I’ll keep this up for as long as I can.

In response to his simple gesture, I place my hand against my chest and force out a small cough, masking the true meaning behind my touch. Now that I’m confident he’s receiving what I leave behind, I slipped a note in with the food the other night, just so he knows what I’m thinking.

My feet feel like they’re walking over air as I reach the perched open gate. Until tomorrow…

“Have a pleasant night, Frau Berger,” the guard says, the only exchange following his simple greeting when I arrived.

“You as well,” I reply, keeping my tone even, lacking any hint of emotion. I despise the thought that any of the guards here think I might share a similar hatred for human life, but the act is all I can give to offer Danner the slightest hope of surviving.

My palms slip on the steering wheel as I take the familiar streets back home, wondering how Otto will greet me this evening. With the look he gave me before I left, I’m afraid of what has been stirring in his head all night.The brakes squeal as I come to a stop in front of our house, noting the faint glow from a light toward the back—either his office or the kitchen. I tuck my hair tightly behind my ears, feeling the curls bounce against my shoulders as I make my way up the path and to the front door. My heart races like a clock running out of time and something in my stomach tells me I might be better off sleeping in the car tonight.

I twist the doorknob but lose my grip as the door flies open. “You’re so punctual,” Otto says, “arriving home at the same time every night.”

I don’t think it’s been the same time every night, but within the hour, yes. “I’m a creature of habit, I suppose,” I say, walking in and unbuttoning my coat.

“You are, indeed,” he utters. “You don’t have your books.”

I think about the front bench of the car, knowing my purse was the only thing resting there when I got out.

“Oh, I must have left them in the car. I can grab them before you leave in the morning,” I say, spinning around to hang up my coat on the rack.

“Actually, Ingrid stopped by about a half hour ago with them. She said her daughter found them at a table in the library and saw your name written inside the front cover. They’re on the kitchen table.”

He knows I left the library more than a half hour ago, and the drive hardly takes five minutes.

“That explains why I forgot them. I went to the restroom and then went to look for an additional book I needed. I must have searched the medical research shelves a dozen times because this book was supposedly available to borrow, but I couldn’t find it. I got so frustrated that I went back to my table, grabbed my coat and purse then left. I can’t believe leaving my books behind didn’t cross my mind for even a second. I never do that.”

Otto’s shoulders lower and he tilts his head to the side, a hint of relief on his face. “Darling, I think you’re studying too hard. If you cram all this knowledge into your head at once, you won’t retain it all later.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m just eager to get back to my classes.”

Otto leans forward for a kiss and circles his thumb along my cheekbone. “I’m proud of you. You never give up, and that’s what I love most about you.”

He wouldn’t be proud of me if he knew the truth, he would feel deceived. It’s only a matter of time until he can no longer convince himself to believe the words I tell him, and I fear the outcome.I don’t know how long it will be before the storm clouds hanging over us burst into a flood that might just drown us.