Page 63 of The German Wife


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“Mama,” Georg said. I turned to find him standing in the doorway, eyeing Mayim warily. She and I shared a sad glance, and I rose from the sofa.

“I’ll help you dress for school, Georg,” I said, my throat tight. I hated to take him back to that place, but there was no alternative.

Not yet, and maybe not ever.

Lydia’s nanny was at the school gate dropping off Hans.

“Has Mrs. zu Schiller been called away?” I asked her lightly. She shook her head.

“No, she’s at home.”

“There was a family emergency and I tried to call last night,” I said hesitantly. The nanny looked at me uncertainly.

“There’s a handset near my rooms. I’d have heard the phone if it rang.”

“Would you mind asking her to call me when you get home?”

“Of course.”

I sat by the phone in Jürgen’s study, waiting for Lydia to ring. Mayim brought me more coffee, then took Laura outside to play in the courtyard. I stared at the window at the front of the room, trying to figure out howDietger might have heard us.

“Mayim said they’ve taken Jürgen?” Adele cried, bursting into the study without warning. I startled, and she crouched in front of me, cupping my face in her rough palms. “Oh my Lord, Sofie. I’m so sorry, treasure. I’m so sorry. Do you have any idea what this is about?”

“We...” I looked around the room, suddenly too scared to give voice to my suspicions, no longer even trusting the sanctuary of my home. “I don’t know,” I croaked.

Adele pulled me into an embrace, holding me hard up against her thin body with surprising strength. She released me, then rose.

“Is there anyone you can call? Those zu Schiller friends, perhaps?”

“I...I tried to call last night,” I said. “They didn’t answer. I asked Lydia’s nanny to have them call me.”

“Call her now,” Adele said abruptly. It didn’t occur to me to disobey her. I reached for the handset and dialed. This time, an answer came within a few rings.

“This is the zu Schiller residence,” the housekeeper said.

“Hello, it’s Sofie von Meyer Rhodes,” I said. Then I cleared my throat and asked, “Is Lydia at home?”

There was an awkward pause before the housekeeper said stiffly, “Mrs. zu Schiller is unavailable.”

“She’s expecting me for tea this morning...” I said weakly.

“Mrs. zu Schiller is unavailable, Mrs. von Meyer Rhodes,” she repeated firmly. “That includes for your morning tea, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll speak to Karl, then?”

“He is at Kummersdorf, of course.”

“Did you have some phone trouble recently?” I whispered, closing my eyes.

At this, she paused. Then she said thoughtfully, “It’s the strangest thing. Both of the phones had been unplugged. I only realized this morning when I was dusting. It must have been one of the children.”

The children hadn’t touched those phones. It had been Lydia or Karl, because they knew I’d be calling at an indecent hour.

There was a quiet knock at the front door just before noon.

Adele rushed to answer it, but Mayim and I followed at a safe distance. Jürgen was there, alone. One of his eyes was purple and swollen almost shut and he was visibly disheveled, but it seemed he’d suffered no other serious injuries. Adele embraced him, murmuring prayers of gratitude to God. Then she stepped aside, making room for me. I threw my arms around his neck and wept. He stood still and silent, his hands against my back, his breathing steady and calm.

But when I pulled away, I saw the miserable way he glanced between Mayim and me, and I knew this wasn’t over yet. Aunt Adele turned away and was facing the hallway toward the kitchen as if she couldn’t bear for us to see her cry, but her voice was thick with tears.

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