Page 81 of The German Wife


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“She asked you not to speak to me?”

“I paid no mind at all—don’t you worry. Lizzie is just that kind of woman,” Avril said dismissively. “The only thing is... Huntsville isn’t a very big place, and the rocket program is an even smaller community. I’d hate it if that kind of bad blood spilled over to Jürgen and Calvin.”

I thought about Jürgen’s concern about his future citizenship application and started to feel uneasy. What would even happen if Jürgen fell out of favor with the rocket program? I could only guess that our fresh start in America would end. And then what would happen to us?

My heart sank. Maybe staying out of Lizzie Miller’s way wasn’t going to be enough.

“Has Calvin said anything to you about his wife?” I asked Jürgen that night. I was washing the dishes and he was beside me, drying them with a towel. Maybe any ordinary husband and wife wouldn’t notice such routine moments in a day, but I tried to be grateful for every single one.

“Not really. He did try to apologize after the party,” Jürgen said. He reached past me to put a mug back into a cupboard and explained, “He told me Lizzie’s brother served in Europe and has never been the same. But Cal hasn’t mentioned you since, which is a little awkward, since he’d been looking forward to meeting you.” He paused. “He never said a word about that break-in business. Someone else was behind it for sure—I doubt he even knew the police were called.”

“Is he a good man?”

“He’s the manager, but I have the greater technical knowledge—there’s always a tension in an arrangement like that. But he’s kind and generous. I enjoy working with him.”

“Lizzie seems a lot younger than Calvin.”

“She does.” Jürgen shrugged. “So? You’re four years younger than me.”

“That’s hardly the same. I heard she only married him for his money.”

“Sofie,” Jürgen said, giving a startled laugh. “Since when do you engage in that kind of gossip?”

“I’ve made one friend since we came here andshewarned me that Lizzie Miller has been telling the other women that you are a Nazi. That you were in the SS and ran a camp.”

Jürgen dropped the dish towel. He bent to pick it up, his movements slow.

“Lizzie Miller has been telling people that?”

“I avoided the question when Avril asked.” I hesitated, some instinct niggling at me. “It did seem more of a fishing expedition than an accusation, to be honest.”

Jürgen dried the last mug, then hung his towel up on a hook. He exhaled slowly, his expression pinched.

“I knowCalvin has only seen the sanitized version of my history—Christopher told me so himself.”

“Maybe you should talk to Calvin anyway?” I suggested carefully.

“And what?” he asked bitterly, shaking his head in frustration. “Tell him his wife might be starting rumors that have a hint of truth?”

I understood the self-loathing on his face, even if I hated to see it.

“So what do we do, then?” I asked quietly.

“We have to ignore it. All of it.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he interrupted before I could. “Sofie, all of these problems started when youand Lizzie Miller got off on the wrong foot. My work situation is far too important to all of us for me to drag yourpersonal conflict into it.”

Jürgen was right. These problems had all started with me and Lizzie at that picnic. One awkward conversation, two women getting off on the wrong foot—Lizzie not seeing our humanity, me getting defensive.

Maybe that was what I needed to fix.

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