Page 28 of Library of Forbidden Books

“Maybe it’s time to look at the situation more pragmatically. If we join, we can protect the Secret Library and resist from within.” Klaus spoke gingerly, knowing the landmine he was treading on with Lena.

“I refuse!”

At Lena’s outburst, several patrons turned to see where the noise had come from.

Klaus pressed his luck. “But Derek works for the minister of war, the Nazi in charge of the army.”

Helene glared at him and answered in a measured, quiet tone. “Thanks to him, no one is messing with us.”

“Fine, fine, but at some point we’re going to have to choose.” He sighed and returned to the shelves where he had been working.

After lunch, Gabor showed up unannounced. He and Lena had been seeing one another for two years, though nothing was official. Lena was head over heels for him.

That afternoon, Gabor was dressed up more than usual. He came up to the librarians with a confident smile and, before even saying hello, dropped to one knee before Lena. He pulled out a small red velvet box.

Lena, typically unsentimental, gave a little jump and squealed and clapped her hands over her mouth. “Gabor! You aren’t . . .”

“Lena,” he did not let her finish, “would you marry me?” His smile grew even wider as he opened the box. He had positioned himself precisely so that the light from the window glittered off the small diamond set in gold.

“Oh my goodness, is this really . . . ?” Lena looked around frantically and her eyes locked onto Helene’s.

Helene gave her an encouraging smile and nodded.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Lena squealed.

At that, Gabor stood and scooped his fiancée into a big hug. “Then let’s do it as soon as possible. I know you don’t like big ceremonies or religious fanfare.”

Lena pulled back a bit. It was true that she had frequently ranted against such showiness, but now that it was happening to her, it felt different.

“Well, actually . . . it doesn’t have to be the wedding of the century, but if we’re going to get married, let’s do it properly.”

One of Gabor’s eyes rose in surprise, and he gave her another kiss. “It will be my pleasure to turn you into Mrs. Frick.”

Helene had fallen into a routine of spending most afternoons at the Secret Library. She had managed to shelve the books and catalog them. Though no one utilized that library, it brought her immense satisfaction to walk the shelves and do a silent roll call of the titles and their condemned authors. She took comfort that, at least for now, the Nazis suspected nothing.

Since the year before, when they moved the first load of books into the Secret Library, Helene had participated in a few other clandestine missions. However, opposing the regime was becoming increasingly difficult, since the Nazis dissolved almost all other political parties, took control of the churches, and dismantled even the smallest expression of group organization. Plus, most Germans were pleased with their new leader, or at least they acted like they were.

Helene’s family refused to go into exile. Her grandmother, Dorothea, though her weak legs no longer allowed her to leave the house, seemed unconcerned. And at family meals, her grandfather frequently commented that Jews had always been persecuted and that this, too, would pass.

Helene paused before the works of Zweig. She ran her hands along the spines of his books, then opened the box containing his papers. It brought back the memory of their conversation over dinner on that magical night in Austria. Helene had heard that, though the Nazis did not control Austria, Zweig had gone into exile in London to warn the world about the dangers of Hitler and the Nazis.

She looked out of the window that faced the plaza. The sinister Gestapo building looked dark despite the light reflecting off its facade. There were rumors about the terrible things that happened in its basement. Sometimes it was better not to know.

She went down to the ground floor and out the front door, locking it behind her. She passed through the gate and headed for the trolley stop. After she’d gone about three hundred yards down the road, she sensed a presence. Glancing back, she caught sight of an elegantly dressed man a few paces behind her. His face looked slightly familiar.

Helene slowed down as she drew near her trolley stop. The feeling of being constantly watched was not new, but this felt different, and she was nervous.

“Madam,” the man said as he came up beside her, “I’m sure you won’t remember me.”

She turned toward him, holding out her ring finger.

The man nodded with respect and stood at attention as if Hitler himself were walking by. “When I first encountered you I believe you were not yet married. You and a friend had witnessed an unfortunate incident in the trolley. Thankfully, such things no longer occur in Germany.”

The memory all came back to Helene. He was the Prussian secret policeman who had saved them from the impending blows of the SA.

Helene weighed her words carefully. “Indeed, the SA aren’t bothering people on the streets anymore.”

He nodded. “They weren’t bad boys, though their education left much to be desired. Things are different now. Where are you coming from? I thought you worked on the south side of the city.”