38. Danner

THIRTY-EIGHT

Munich, Germany

Everyone will be there, celebrating a wedding that has been moved forward an entire year for reasons no one seems to know.

In this house alone, I’ve heard thoughts of:

“Maybe she’s with child…”

“Could be the war…”

“Maybe he’s joining the service…”

I’d rather not think too deeply into there being a reason other than convenience. Regardless of it all, there’s a celebration of love amid a war. It seems paradoxical, unlike anything Emilie would agree to. However, I no longer know the Emilie I grew up with, loved, and left behind.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Felix asks, still not understanding my desire to remain in the shadows here at home. I’ve spent too much time trying to avoid everyone to show up at a wedding unannounced.

“I’m sure but thank you. I hope you all have a good time. Don’t forget not to mention me, all right?”

“I know,” he says, straightening his tie. “We’ll be back soon.”

Herr and Frau Weber are already waiting in the car for Felix. They asked me the same question, making sure I hadn’t changed my mind about revealing my presence in this anti-Jewish city. I’m bitter. It’s unlike me to be so miserable.

I’d be worse off sitting in a church watching Emilie confess her love to Otto for all eternity. Of course, I was the one who made her promise to do what she’s doing today.

I should be there.

I should have told her I was home.

She should know I’ve been searching for Papa over the last two months that I’ve been back in Munich, and without an inkling of hope. She would care. She would listen. She might have had advice that could minimize my misery a hair. If that had happened—if I’d made different decisions, I would have been there for her today, to support her, because that’s what love is.

I stroll across the drape-darkened house, into the kitchen to find the wedding invitation. My stomach tenses at the sight of Otto’s name where I wish mine would be, but I force my eyes to scan down the formal words until I spot the name of the church. It isn’t far from here.

I glance down at my borrowed clothes, knowing my options are limited but at least I’m in all dark colors so I won’t stand out. With a coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, I step out into the raw temperatures, the wind hitting me like a bat to the face. A February wedding is another part of this that has me scratching my head. Emilie loves the summer, flowers in full bloom, greenery, warmth, the sun high in the sky. Not this.

The walk feels much longer than I remember it being. I would always pass this church on the way to the local butcher shop, but it was condemned due to being owned by a Jewish family shortly before we were sent to Poland.

I tuck my head down as usual, keeping to myself like a lurking shadow of the boy who used to live here. The church bells ring, announcing the noon hour, and the start time for the ceremony. Everyone must already be inside, which is what I prefer. I’ve only been inside this church once, when Emilie’s grandfather passed away about ten years ago. I remember there being two sets of doors, so I won’t be walking into the service straight from outside. I believe there were interior side entrances too, which would be best.

I open the large wooden door, feeling the warmth from inside pull me in. I see flower petals scattered along the floor and hear a minister define the value of a marital bond, his voice echoing along the high domed ceiling on the other side of the doors I’m staring at. There’s another door down to the right, so I carefully pull it open, just enough to see where the door leads. No one is sitting in the last row. I duck in and move along the chairs until I’m seated behind a tall man just in front. I peek down the side of the man’s head, spotting Emilie donned in white ruffles and lace, with a veil as long as her dress. I can’t see her face. If I did, I might lose all desire to be here.

Otto is sharply dressed in a black suit, his hair shorter than I remember, and a rose pinned to his lapel. His cheeks are nearly the same color as the flower, but I suppose mine would be too if I was standing where he is.

I haven’t heard much the minister has said but I clearly hear: “Should anyone here today know of a reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

I’m not sure why I’m staring directly at Otto, but in what feels like a long second, he catches my gaze. His head falls slightly to the side as a look of recognition dashes over his features. I hold my index finger up to my lips and shake my head. I’m not sure he understands that I’m silently pleading that he doesn’t tell her I’m here, but I’m sure he won’t want to tell her anyway.

The minister continues and I block the rest of his words out because I came here for her, to silently do the right thing. I can live with that. The minister’s voice grows louder, showing a formal celebration of the newlyweds, so I take the moment to slip back out the doors and hurry back to the Webers’ house before anyone sees me. Not once did I see Emilie’s face or have the chance to decipher whether she was truly happy. I must tell myself she is, because that’s all I want for her. Even if I feel as though my heart just shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.