3. Emilie

THREE

Munich, Germany

There are six houses divided into two apartments each, sitting in the shape of a U on my street, with a total of twelve families occupying them. A thick line of trees frames our neighborhood and segregates us from the rest of the city. Our little street demonstrates the perfect working-class family life. The fathers have jobs in nearby factories, the moms stay home and take care of us, the kids, and we go to school, come home, then spend our time outdoors until dark.

Papa works for a chemical manufacturer, leading the factory line that produces materials used in communication devices. He always says that, between all the men on the street, they have all the necessary skills to run their own city. It’s a fun dream to consider.

My four closest friends live within steps of my front door, which is more than any thirteen-year-old girl could ask for, especially since I’m an only child and have a bad habit of growing bored when sitting still for too long.

Our house is the only one in the half circle made from brick and without a distinctive fa?ade, but it has the most room inside. Like the other houses, there are only two families occupying the divided space: mine and Gertrude Braun’s family. We’ve made secret plans to knock down the wall between our two bedrooms so we can be roommates, but we’re sure our parents wouldn’t quite approve.

“It’s cold out, Emilie… Gerty, I didn’t even know you were here! Where are your coats, girls?” Mama catches us whooshing past the kitchen after doing our homework together in my bedroom, eager to get outside. I didn’t realize what time it was and forgot she’d be in there starting dinner. We would have been quieter on the way to the front door. I stop short against my toes and Gerty stumbles over. We look at Mama, who’s holding a dribbling whisk over the floor, waiting for a response.

“We’re thirteen. We know when we’re cold and if we should put on coats. Besides, it’s March, and the temperature is above freezing. It’s a known fact that cold air can increase blood circulation and increase an appetite for what smells like a delicious dinner.”

“Emilie Marx…that is the most ridiculous thing?—”

“I read about it. Do you want to see the textbook?” I ask.

“Of course you have proof. I have created a monster. That’s what I’ve done.”

“She’s not a monster,” Gerty argues. “She’s a nurse in training and wants to prove scientific theories to be incorrect.”

“That’s not exactly right,” I whisper to Gerty, hiding my mouth behind my hand.

“Mama, if we don’t test out theories, how will we ever know if the textbook is correct?” I add, crossing my arms over my chest.

Mama tosses her head back with frustration. “Good God, you cannot argue your way out of everything in life,” she laments.

“But you told me if I disagree with something, I can only argue if I have proof to back up my claim, which I do.”

“You’re as stubborn as me. God help me,” she mutters. “Emilie, you can also get sick from being out in the cold too long.”

“Where is your source?” I counter, tapping my finger against my chin with a smirk threatening to break into laughter.

“My source says you’re thirteen and will do what I say. Coats, now,” she says, pointing toward my bedroom.

“Okay, okay,” I reply, making my way back to my bedroom where I dropped it on my lavender-quilted bed after school.

“I’ll put mine on too, Frau Marx,” Gerty says with a nervous chuckle.

Gerty hustles out the door in front of me before Mama enforces more rules she might also have to follow.

“Emi, don’t stay outside too long. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You’re staying in the area, yes?”

I secure the last button on my coat and stop at the opening of the kitchen where Mama is washing a pan over the sink. “You’ve never been worried about where I’m going before, and we don’t usually eat dinner so early. Is everything okay?”

“Of course, but I don’t want you going too far. The main streets are crowded. That’s all.”

“But why?”

She isn’t telling me something. I can see it by the smudge of flour on her cheek. She only ends up with ingredients on her face when she’s anxious.

She huffs, pressing her forearms against the sink. “Emilie, I’m not sure you understand the gravitas of the Reichstag’s newest law, but any person who opposes Hitler’s governing decisions will face consequences—brutal ones. You must understand the importance of keeping your thoughts to yourself.”

“The talking mustache can’t do anything to me. I’m on my street in front of my house. I will think what I want, and I think he’s a horrible man.”

Mama drags her fingers through her frayed bangs. “I know I’ve always told you to speak your mind, but times have changed and you can’t speak so freely now. Your father and I feel the same way, but we all need to keep quiet.”

Before now, Mama has always said she wanted me to be a strong woman with a voice that could change the world. She’s given me the ability to believe anything is possible, which is why I will become a lifesaving nurse someday. I will help people—help them to be good.

“It’s not fair. We shouldn’t—” I argue.

“That’s enough. Go outside with your friends. Not another word about this.”

My forehead strains, trying to understand why she’s talking this way.

“You only have an hour. Don’t waste it glaring at me.”

I leave the entryway of the kitchen, trudging outside, perplexed.

Gerty is waiting for me on the front steps, avoiding the bickering between Mama and me. Until a couple of years ago it was always just the two of us, but when we turned eleven, the three boys who live here wanted to join us. Now there are five of us and more often than not, we’re together, trying to formulate ideas to prevent death from boredom.

“It’s time,” Gerty says as I close my front door behind me. “Are you ready for today’s performance?”

I laugh, knowing she’s about to pull something magical out from behind her back. “I’m afraid to ask what it’s time for,” I say, shielding my eyes from the sun.

She retrieves a crystal ball from the step below and grins.

“Where did that come from?” I ask.

“It was buried at the bottom of the coat closet, and I found it yesterday. I grabbed it while you were talking to your mama. I figured since we’ve been reading fortunes regularly, using only playing cards, we should officially declare today…Fortune Friday,” she shouts in proclamation, her hands shooting up into the air. We’ve been reading the boys’ fortunes as a form of entertainment. They get a kick out of it, but not as much as Gerty and I do.

“Again?” Otto groans from his front door, slipping a sweater over his head. “Gerty, you ruined my week after your last fortune.”

Gerty puckers her lips and scratches her ear. “How did I ruin your week?”

I elbow her in the side, recalling what she did. “You’re so mean to him,” I tease.

Otto grabs a milk crate and sets it down by our front stairs as a front row seat. “You said I would have a ton of homework and fail an exam.”

Gerty holds her hands out to the side. “Did you?”

“Yes, but it’s because you convinced me I would.”

“That’s not how this works,” she says.

Danner and Felix both step out of their front doors at the same time. Danner takes slow steps toward us, and I can already tell he’ll turn down hearing his fortune. He thinks it’s bad luck to predict the future. Meanwhile, Felix thinks our fortunes are a golden door to tomorrow.

“It’s time for Fortune Friday,” Gerty announces.

Felix rubs his hands together and juts his tongue out.

I spot another milk crate and set it up at the base of the bottom step so Gerty can place the glass ball on it. She retrieves a deck of playing cards from her pocket and places those in front of the ball.

“Danner, you’re up first,” Gerty says. “I have a message coming in for you.”

“No, no, no. Your prediction that I’m going to wet my pants next week is getting old and still hasn’t happened, so I no longer need your services,” Danner says as Gerty shuffles the playing cards.

“I bet you wouldn’t turn down your fortune if Emilie offered it to you,” Gerty teases in a singing tune.

“Gerty,” I hiss at her, my cheeks burning.

Our girl-talk is supposed to be kept secret.

“He knows I’m not serious,” she replies with a giggle.

Danner shrugs and takes a seat beside me, facing the pale green stone house he lives in with his parents and younger brother, David.

“Emi, did you ask your parents about Sunday?” Otto asks.

“What’s on Sunday?” Gerty inserts herself.

“There’s a festival. My parents told me I could bring a friend.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Gerty inquires.

“Because…I asked Emilie,” he says with a raised brow.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, I read your fortune, and it turns out, you’re the one who will pee his pants this week.”

“Liar,” he argues.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” she teases.

“Oh, right, the festival. I—I—uh, can’t make it on Sunday. I’m sorry, Otto. My parents told me I need to stay nearby.”

Gerty glances at me with curiosity. She left just before Mama said what she did.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Otto says, scuffing the dirt with the tip of his boot. “Is it because of the new Aryan Paragraph regulation about cultural exclusion? Because my family and I would never go to a festival that supported something like that. I promise that’s not something you have to dwell on.”

“Jewish people aren’t supposed to take part in any public event with this new regulation. I don’t think any festival has a choice of whether they follow this law,” Gerty says, placing the cards down to take in the news.

“That’s what I heard too, but it’s not like it’s something we would ever participate in. We aren’t supporting that law. It’s not like that.” Otto takes a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket, turns away and lights up. When he turns back, he narrows his eyes, and silently whistles the smoke up toward the cloudy sky.

“Yeah,” Felix says. “I wasn’t aware of… Gerty, how come you didn’t know about that if you can see the future?”

“I—I don’t—we shouldn’t be talking about this out loud,” I say. Mama said not to disagree with anything where someone can hear us. I’m not sure who else could hear us, but I think it’s best to find something else to talk about.

“I’m fooling around. I still want my fortune from you,” Felix says, squatting down on the other side of the milk crate.

“Okay, you can be first,” Gerty replies.

Otto takes another drag of his cigarette and stares at the side of Felix’s face as if he’s trying to read his fortune too.

“Okay, tell me what’s going to happen next week,” Felix says to Gerty.

Gerty holds her hands out, one on each side of the glass globe. He places his hands in hers and she holds on to them for a long moment. She has the role of fortune teller down pat as she meditates before offering an answer.

Danner nudges my shoulder with his. “What do you think it’s going to be?” he whispers. “An ice age or a volcanic eruption that splits Europe into a dozen continents?”

I want to push my thoughts away from the racial exclusion news and Mama’s warning about showing disagreement, but Hitler states his distaste for Jewish people, claiming they caused Germany to lose the war. We’re supposed to take Hitler’s side. I won’t. Not ever, because Danner, the sweetest boy I know, is Jewish. I could never hate or dislike him. No one will force those feelings upon me.

“Oh my God. I’m going to die. I can see it in your eyes,” Danner says.

I press my hand over my mouth, trying to stop myself from laughing, bringing my thoughts back to the volcanic eruption or an ice age. Gerty comes up with the most ridiculous fortunes when she can’t think of anything good to say. “Definitely a volcanic eruption.”

“Okay then. I’ll let you read my fortune,” Danner says, keeping his voice low enough so Gerty doesn’t hear. “I don’t want to hear about natural disasters or peeing in my pants, though. Okay?”

I suppress laughter from bursting out of my nose and stare up toward the sky, thinking up a fortune for Danner. His initial reluctance for a fortune makes me think he’s not up for anything that would scare him, so I have to come up with something in between scary and a natural disaster.

He takes my hands off my lap and clasps them with his. “Okay, go.”

Chills coil up my arms as a light spring breeze washes over us. His hands are warm and consume mine. I’ve lost all trace of thought as I lower my gaze to find his eyes closed and his dimples punctuating the smile he’s trying to hide.

“Well, I don’t have a crystal ball or fortune cards, but I’m receiving a fuzzy message,” I say. I’m not as good at this as Gerty. She is far more believable, despite the silly tales.

“Go on,” Danner says, squeezing my hands a little firmer.

His eyelashes flutter over his cheeks.

“You’re going to live a long, happy and healthy life, and beekeeping will make you and your dad world renowned for your famous honey.”

Danner’s eyes flutter open. “You were supposed to give me my fortune for next week, not the rest of my life. Now, nothing will ever come as a surprise. It’s like reading the last page of a suspense book before making it past the first chapter.” He’s laughing as he speaks, but I sense a level of seriousness in his words—ones I don’t particularly understand since I don’t like surprises.

“I was only fooling you. Your real fortune is…”

Danner closes his eyes again, giving the appearance of allowing me one more chance.

“Next week?—”

“I’m going to tell you that…I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” he whispers, leaning in closer to my ear. His words steal my breath away.

“Me?” I respond quietly, realizing I’m now squeezing his hands much harder than he’s squeezing mine.

Danner shrugs. “I hope it’s okay that I said that.” The gentle hush of his voice tickles my ear and his gaze drops to our hands. “I…I think about you a lot when we aren’t together. We’ve always been honest with one another, so I think it’s only fair I tell you that.”

My cheeks heat and my heart pounds against the inside of my chest. He doesn’t know how often I stare at his front door, wishing it would open and he’d appear. He’s my favorite person to talk to. “I—I…”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I daydream about you during classes sometimes,” I confess. “And I count the minutes until school is over and we can walk home together. So…I guess we feel the same way, right?”

Danner smiles, the kind of smile where his eyes follow the upward curve and his freckles smoosh together. I realize we’re still holding hands and I glance over at Gerty, Otto, and Felix, curious if they noticed. I pull my hands away quickly, not wanting that form of attention from the three of them.

“Wait.” Danner’s eyes flash open. “What’s my real fortune?”

I forgot we were even talking about his fortune. I shake the thoughts around in my head. “Oh, right. Um, well, you’re going to receive news next week.” The words burst from my mouth. I’m not sure what news he’ll receive, but I’m sure something can be considered news.

“Well, I only want good news. Don’t forget,” he says.

“Oh, it’ll be good.”

“Emi, you can’t stop there. What do you think it’ll be?”

I catch myself staring into the depths of Danner’s stormy eyes, feeling a heavy sensation in the pit of my stomach. The back of my neck grows warm, and I close my eyes. “I—well…” Another chill spreads through my body and I can’t find my words.

“It’s the worst news ever,” Felix calls out, interrupting us. “It’s my turn. Move over,” he says, squeezing himself in between Danner and me.

“I just read your fortune!” Gerty shouts at Felix.

“I’m not taking in a stray cat next week. My father can’t even be around them without breaking out into hives.”

“Fine. Otto, I have your fortune ready.”

He groans and tosses his head back. “I don’t want to know.”

Danner shoves Felix to the side and sits back down beside me. “I wasn’t done yet,” he tells him. “Emi, you have to tell me if it’s good news or bad?” Danner asks again as Felix wraps his arm around Danner’s neck, horse playing like usual.

It’s bad news. I’m not sure why that thought is running through my head, but I’m trying to keep the words inside. There’s no reason to say something like that. I force a smile and say, “It’ll be good. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay then, if that’s the case…will you come to the bee farm with me on Sunday?”

His question takes me by surprise, but I answer without a second thought. “I’d love to!” My voice rattling with an awkward squeak as I startlingly remember my fear of bees. Danner winces at my response. He’s aware of my silly fear.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, still wincing.

“It’s time to get over my fear. I can do that,” I tell him, forcing myself to sound more positive than I feel inside. Regardless, I couldn’t imagine turning down an offer to spend time with him—bees or no bees.

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” he says as I step out the front door on this bright, sunny Sunday morning.

“I trust you,” I say, unable to hide the blush blooming through my cheeks.

“Here, I brought you a pair of gloves and a hat with netting to protect your face and neck.”

I’ll look ridiculous wearing this, but I assume he’ll be dressed the same way, so put my sense of style aside for today. We walk side by side toward the shallow woods that separate our homes from the rest of the city.

“Do you think you’ll be a honey farmer like your papa someday?” I ask, curious since Danner doesn’t talk much about his future dreams.

“I’m already a honey farmer. I’ll prove it to you today. Papa said I’m as good as any other and I’ll be well known for this honey someday.”

The leaves crunch beneath our feet as we enter the woods. “I know you’re scared of the bees, but are you aware that bees are one of the most important species on earth?”

I twist my lips to the side and raise my brow, questioning his statement, ready to argue the absurd fact. “I don’t believe that,” I say.

“It’s true. Albert Einstein said that mankind would be extinct within four years if we lost all the bees.”

“When did he say that?”

Danner shrugs. “It’s a fact. I don’t know. But I do know that bees are responsible for a third of the world’s crops and agriculture. A honeybee’s entire purpose in life is to keep our world from falling apart. Kind of like you. You talk about wanting to become a nurse so you can take care of people and keep them healthy. Some rare beings are born with a gift that keeps us all alive.”

“Like honeybees?” I repeat.

“And maybe you too.”

“I’m not a honeybee,” I argue through a giggle.

“Sure you are, a rare one only a few are lucky to be acquainted with.”

Danner takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, making my heart leap into my throat as my pulse buzzes through every vein in my body.

The walk is shorter than I thought—and hoped for—and we quickly see his papa in the distance, already working with the hives. Our hands part, drifting down by our sides.

Danner slips into his protective gear and then helps me do the same. “This will prevent the bees from stinging us?” I ask.

Danner laughs through his netted mask. “Stop worrying so much.”

“Emilie! You’ve finally agreed to let Danner teach you how to collect honey?” Herr Alesky shouts from across the open space.

“Yes,” I say, hesitation clear in my voice. He laughs too, sounding like Danner.

Danner collects tools from his father’s wooden crate and waves me over toward the buzzing hives. My heart pounds as I walk closer, wishing I could convince myself the bees won’t hurt me. “Okay, the first thing we have to do is light up this smoker tool so we can puff out a cloud of smoke toward the hives.”

“But why would you do that?” I ask, imagining bees swarming toward us out of anger.

“The bees will think there’s a fire in the woods and they’ll retreat to their hives for safety.”

“Oh.” I understand the logic, but still take a step backward as he prepares the smoker tool.

I watch as he performs the trick of getting the bees to hide inside their hives.

“Okay, now that they’re all inside, we’re going to pull out one of the wooden frames from inside the hive box. The bees will emerge with it, but you don’t have to worry about them. I promise.”

I take another step back, still terrified, but he gently slides the frame out, careful not to tap the sides. The bees come along, still attached, but he holds the piece out in front of him and gives it a little shake. Most of the bees return to the boxed hive. Danner pulls a brush-like tool out of his pocket and sweeps away the remaining bees. He’s completely in his element. I’m so focused on watching Danner extract a perfect film of honeycomb that I forget about being terrified.

“You’re doing great,” he tells me, even though he’s done all the work. “Come on over here.” I follow him away from the hives and over to a tree stump with a metal bin and a crank. He hands me the bee-less frame and shows me where to slide it into the metal opening. “Okay, now you crank away for about twenty minutes or until your arms give out, I suppose. Then, like magic, you have fresh honey.” He makes it all sound so easy when I know his father spends hours out here every day.

I’m eager to do this part, so I turn the wooden handle in circular motions, watching honey drip from the frame. Once I lose speed and traction Danner wraps his gloved hand around mine to help. I forget what I’m doing when I realize my back is against his chest and he’s curled around me to help crank out the remaining honey. I could swear there’s a hive worth of bees inside my chest, buzzing around, fluttering wings against my insides. The sweet, floral scent permeates the air around us and the warmth of his body embraces mine. It’s a memory I’ll never forget.

“Keep cranking, okay? I’m going to go grab the next few frames.”

A void fills the space that he was standing in, and I wish he were back already. “You’re right about the bees. They aren’t coming after me. I guess I’ve been worried over nothing,” I say, chuckling.

A dull thud, a clatter, and a forced sigh of wind expelling from lungs. I spin around, finding Danner face first on the ground, a knotted log wedged between his torso and the ground.

“Danner?” I shout, chasing after him, noticing he doesn’t move after I call his name. Fearing he may be unconscious, I drop to my knees by his side and sweep his hair off the side of his face, finding him struggling to open his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he mutters.

“What happened?” I cry.

I roll him to his side, finding a gash on the bridge of his nose and a couple smaller cuts on his lips. “Oh, Danner. Oh no.”

“I’ll be okay,” he says against his swelling lip. “I just tripped.”

I frantically try to find a handkerchief in my pocket but can’t manage to do much with the thick gloves on my hands. I tear them off, despite the sporadic bees flying around us and grab the handkerchief from my skirt pocket. I press it to his nose to stop the bleeding and scoot behind him to help him onto his back so I can prop his head up. Danner, calm as could be, stares up at me, blinking slowly as if studying something he’s never seen before. “You’re so beautiful, Emi,” he says.

Despite the heat flushing through my cheeks, taking the most flattering compliment while trying to keep my focus on his bleeding nose, I tell him to hush. Danner’s father notices what’s happening and rushes to my side, taking the handkerchief from my hand.

“He tripped,” I tell him.

“That’s going to leave a scar, son. We need to get you to the doctor.” Danner’s father is taller and bulkier than he is and can pull him up to his feet without much effort. “Young love should come with a warning label.” Danner’s father mutters the words quietly, but they were loud enough to embarrass us both.

“Will you stay with me?” Danner asks.

“Of course, for as long as you want me,” I say as we walk toward the edge of the trees.

“Wait here while I get my truck,” Herr Alesky says, leaving Danner leaning up against a tree and me by his side.

“I’m so sorry you’re hurt.” He takes the handkerchief away from his nose, finding the fabric soaked in blood. I take it from his hand and carefully dab up the blood on his lip too. “You’ll be okay.”

“I will. And you know what…at least I’ll always have a scar now to remind me of today, you…making your first batch of honey on the same day I realized you will absolutely be the best nurse this world will ever have.”