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I nodded slowly.
“Only a matter of months,” I said hesitantly. “And you think...”
“I told you. They will hang me.”
“But surely—”
“Sofie,” he interrupted me, his voice raw. “If you saw the conditions at Mittelwerk, you would understand why I will hang.”
“And if you decline the SS invitation—”
“Whether I wait and surrender to the Allies or refuse to join the SS now, the outcome will be the same. This final line is one I can refuse to cross. It is too late to make one shred of difference to the people we have failed, but at least I will have the dignity of knowing I madeoneright decision.”
“Have you thought about what happens to the children if you refuse to join the SS? They will be pariahs,” I whispered hesitantly.
“I’ve thought of nothing butthat since last night,” Jürgen said abruptly. “Things will be difficult for them until the war ends, but they will recover eventually.”
Stricken, Jürgen pulled me close, and I pressed my face into his neck and I wept.
“Hold on,” I pleaded, between my sobs. “Just play the game until the war ends, Jürgen. Just buy us a little more time for a miracle.”
“We are the last people on earth who deserve a miracle.”
“We’ve made mistakes, but we aren’t bad people.”
“You have no idea the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve watched happen, without ever once speaking up. You have no idea if I’m a bad person.”
He started to cry then in a way I’d never imagined my strong, brave husband ever would.
“I miss Aunt Adele,” he choked out, his voice hoarse.
“Me too,” I whispered.
“She would know what to do.”
It’s not always the strongest trees that survive the storm. Sometimes it’s the trees that bend with the wind.
I knew exactlywhat Adele would tell us to do, but I was no longer sure it was the choice we should make.
We checked out of the hotel the next morning. My eyes were puffy and my throat sore from crying, and Jürgen seemed every bit as tender as I felt. We made the final leg of the journey back to Nordhausen without a word. The privacy of the hotel was gone, and neither one of us seemed in the mood to playact. That night we stayed in at the villa, in the home that I now knew once belonged to a Jewish businessman. And just like Jürgen, I felt that man everywhere. By the time the sun went down, I couldn’t bear another minute of it.
“I need to go to bed,” I told Jürgen, my voice hoarse. Through all of this, he was doing what he’d been doing all afternoon—sitting at the dining room table, marking up diagrams with notes in pencil. He glanced at me, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Can you come too?”
I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to lie to me—to tell me that it was all going to be okay. Instead, he looked back to the blueprints, his gaze hollow.
“I need this for tomorrow. I’ll be in soon.”
Jürgen was already out of bed when I woke the next morning. I could hear him moving around in the living room. As I roused slowly from a fitful night’s sleep, he appeared in the doorway, fully dressed.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay to have breakfast with you,” he said. “I have an early meeting and I slept in—I’m already a little late.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position and stared at him. He was freshly shaven and wearing a suit. He looked at his watch, clearly anxious about the time.
“What...have you decided...?” I started to whisper, but I stopped, unsure how to ask him if he’d made a final decision without giving away his doubts to a potential audience.
He shook his head, then took two steps to the bedside. He bent to kiss my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “I won’t do anything drastic without talking to you. But if I call and ask you to come, find a way to get here to say goodbye?”
We’d cleared the air but resolved nothing. I caught his elbow just as he moved to straighten, and then I scrambled to my knees and threw my arms around his neck.
