Chương 7: A Jewish Question
Franz Weiher stepped over the threshold. He still held his wife's hand although he had to part with her. "I'll be home late tomorrow night, darling." He said and, in the hope of convincing her to let go of his hand, gave her knuckles a quick peck. "You know how these meetings are, they sometimes last much longer than expected."
"I know darling. And I do hope you have fun, but promise me you'll try not to come home too late tomorrow. Theodore always wakes up when you come inside."
"He's got my hearing, doesn't he," Franz said with a chuckle. "It'll prove useful later when he's older. It saved my life many times, you know."
"I know." She was still reluctant to let him go. It was an important event and an honor that he'd been invited. But she felt a pang of jealousy that she hadn't been, and that she was once again forced to remain at home with the children.
"Is there anything I should bring you back from Strassburg?" He asked with a warm smile. Franz Weiher was charming when he wanted to be, and he often used his wit to ease his wife's worries. Among the children, however, he preferred to keep a stern face. Who would teach them manners if not their father?
"If there's any groceries we can't get here."
"You're sending me off to Strassburg with just the wish for groceries?"
"Yes, darling, what else would-."
"I'll come back with flowers, and perhaps some French lingerie." He winked at her and drew her in for a fleeting hug. But she wouldn't let him go. She let out one sob and clung to his neck, unwilling to let him part.
"Ever since the war, I don't want to see you go, honey. I can't bear it, even if it's just for a short trip."
"I'll be alright, love. It's just a few kilometers, not anything too far. I survived battle my little bird, a short trip to Strassburg won't kill me. I'm not made of sugar."
"O, but your eyes are darling." They kissed each other on the lips. And when he pulled away Marlene tried everything to fight back tears. "Alright, you may go now. But take care of yourself, promise me!"
"I promise." Franz gently closed the door behind him. But he didn't walk away immediately. Instead he stayed and watched her turn and go back through the stairwell's hall to the door of their Stube (home) and disappear. He smiled to himself and broke into step.
"Herr Weiher!"
He froze and turned to look back over his shoulder. Nothing was there. He assumed it had been the wind, or his mind playing tricks on him. He started to descend the stairs that led from the front of the house down to the street. "Mr. Weiher!" The call was more urgent this time. And it was unmissable. He stopped and gazed up the steps.
There, hidden in the bushes, were the Blumenfelds.
Franz Weiher didn't hesitate. He trotted up the steps and strode to the bushes. "Good Evening, Mr. Blumenfeld." He said, extending his hand to the bushes. It rustled and a hand clad in a simple overcoat reached out and shook his. "To what do I owe this pleasure? And what in God's name are you doing outside of my house in the brambles?"
"We're, we're going to get deported, Mr. Weiher. Everything you've done for us, it's helped, it truly has. But yesterday Esther overheard two gentlemen speaking of us and she said they'd heard of a plea to have us...removed."
For a moment Franz was quiet. Then he straightened his coat and glanced over his shoulder nonchalantly. Nobody lurked in the streets behind him. Good. "Come out into the light, Mr. Blumenfeld."
Slowly, the Jewish family, led by Abraham Blumenfeld fought their way out of the bush. Franz greeted them all by name and a curt handshake, except for the little one, Golda. He dropped down to one knee and held out his hand. She placed her's in his and he gave it a light kiss. "How are you, little lady?" He asked politely. She giggled.
"I'm splendid, Mr. Weiher," she spoke with a lisp, "but I wish I could have worn my best dress. Mama said this one is more appropriate."
"This isn't your best? Why, you're just like Marlene! She owns so many clothes." With this, he stood up and turned his attention back to the head of the family, Abraham Blumenfeld. "Is this something we should step aside to discuss?" He asked, his voice low but not serious. Franz Weiher had a gift for speaking about serious matters in tones that wouldn't make anyone else interested except for the person who knew what he was referring to. It had saved him from many awkward explanations in the past and would continue to prove useful in the future. Especially in such matters.
"Yes, maybe just a little to the right." Blumenfeld agreed. They stepped about a yard away from the children and Blumeneld's wife Rebecca. She kept glancing over at them, obviously listening in, but did it discreetly enough that the children around her wouldn't notice. Especially not Golda. There was no need to upset the little one.
Franz offered the man a cigarette. He thanked him and took it gratefully, and Franz noticed how his hands trembled badly as he lit it. "Mr. Blumenfeld, why have you come to me?"
"I didn't want to, Mr. Weiher. But I am so afraid that they," he paused and swallowed hard, "might turn up tonight. If we're at home...I think it's best we don't stay there tonight. I prepared the house in such a way that they'll not suspect us leaving because of them. There's a letter I forged from an uncle somewhere further up in Germany who's asking us to visit. And we only packed for a few days trip. But it's far too late to go now and, since we don't have a car anymore...would it be possible for us to stay the night in your basement? We'd be out first thing in the morning."
"Don't you think they'll come knocking on my door if you disappear?"
"I very much doubt it. I mean - everything in our home points to us having left to visit family. Why would they think of coming here? And it would only be one night." Mr. Blumenfeld did his best to keep the pleading out of his tone, but there was nobody else to go to. Nobody at all. "I understand what this means for your family, Mr. Weiher, but...understand what it means for mine as well, please."
"I aplogize, Mr. Blumenfeld. But I really cannot. I'm on my way to Strassburg now, and Marlene will be alone with the children. I would be a terrible father and husband to put more worry onto her shoulders. She couldn't deal with it if they rang the bell while you were staying here. Not without me." His tone was empathetic but firm. "I can't afford to get into trouble, I think you understand."
Mr. Blumenfeld just nodded gravely. He reached out and shook Franz Weiher's hand politely. "I understand, Mr. Weiher. Thank you for speaking with me."
"Best of luck, Mr. Blumenfeld," Franz said with a forced smile. He held out his hand in a motion to have them walk down the steps away from his doorstep and down to the street. He made up the taillight, escorting them down the stairs in an unintimidating but neither friendly nor trusting way. The air was thick with tension between the two men. On the street, he saluted Mr. Blumenfeld with a "Heil Hitler" and then waved them off. He remained standing at the bottom of the stairs and watched them go down the street in a huddled bunch. Mr. Blumeneld didn't look back even once. Then they disappeared around the bend. He waited for a second longer, to make sure they would not return, then he turned on his heel and marched off.
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực