“Jacob,” Lena said faintly, then clutched his hand, holding it with her eyes closed.
“Get her something to drink. She’s burning up. Some water. You can spare that, can’t you?”
Hannelore glared at him, then started for the kitchen. “Maybe it’s good you’re here. You can feed her now. I’m finished with this business.”
“Nice girl,” Jake said as she left. “Friend of yours?”
Steve shrugged. “A few times. She’s all right.”
Jake glanced over at him. “I’ll bet.”
“Here,” Hannelore said, returning with a glass of water.
Jake raised Lena’s head and made her drink, then dipped his handkerchief in the water and put it on her forehead. Her eyes were open now.
“You came back,” she said. “I never thought—”
“It’s all right now. We’ll get you a doctor.”
“No, don’t leave,” she said, still holding his hand.
He looked up at Steve. “Listen, I need your help. We have to get a doctor.”
“She’s German, isn’t she? Army docs don’t treat civilians.”
“There’s a man back at Ronny’s. He knows me. Ask for Alford.”
“Alford? I know Alford,” Hannelore said.
“Good. Then you go with him. Tell him it’s urgent-tonight. And have his doctor bring medicine. Penicillin, I guess, whatever he has. Say it’s a personal favor to me.” He stood up, pulling out his wallet. “Here. Tell him it’s a down payment. If it’s more, I’ll pay him tomorrow. Whatever he wants.”
Hannelore’s eyes widened at the sight of the money.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jake said. “Every mark. I’ll check.”
“Go to hell,” she said, offended. “Go get him yourself, then.”
“Listen, Hannelore, for two cents I’d turn you in. They’ll make you a rubble lady. It’s hell on the nails.” He looked at her red fingertips. “Now get dressed and do it.”
“Hey, you can’t talk to her—”
“And I’ll have you up for fraternizing with a Nazi. And assaulting an officer. I can do it, too.”
Steve stared at him. “Tough guy,” he said finally.
“Please,” Jake said. “She’s sick, for Christ’s sake, you can see that.”
Steve glanced over at the bed, then nodded and began to put on his pants.
“I’m not a Nazi,” Hannelore said. “I was never a Nazi. Never.”
“Shut up and get dressed,” Steve said, throwing her the dress.
“You were always trouble for me,” she said to Jake, still disgruntled, pulling the dress over her head. “Always. And what made you so perfect? Sneaking around with her. I knew all the time. Everybody knew.”
“Here,” Jake said, handing Steve the money, “you take it. He’s a young guy. Slick hair.” He took a key from his pocket. “My jeep’s there, if you want to drive back.”
Steve shook his head. “She can walk.”
“What do you mean, she can walk? Where are you going?” Hannelore said, still arguing with him as they went out the door.
“You mustn’t be angry with her,” Lena said in the sudden quiet. “She’s had a hard time.”
Jake sat on the bed, looking at her, still trying to take her in. “You’ve been here. All the time,” he said, as if that were the remarkable thing. “I passed the other day—”
“I knew she had the flat. There was nowhere else. The bombs—”
He nodded. “Pariserstrasse, I know. I looked for you everywhere. I saw Frau Dzuris. Remember?”
She smiled. “Poppyseed cakes.”
“She’s not fat anymore.” He wiped her brow, letting his hand rest on the side of her face. “Have you been eating?”
“Yes. She’s good to me. She shares her ration. And of course she gets a little extra from the soldiers.”
“How long has that been going on?”
She shrugged. “We eat.”
“How long have you been sick?”
“A little while. I don’t know. The fever this week.”
“Do you want to sleep?”
“I can’t sleep. Not now. I want to hear—” But in fact she closed her eyes. “How did you find me?”
“I knew the dress.”
She smiled, her eyes still closed. “My good blue.”
“Lena,” he said, smoothing her hair. “My god.”
“Oh, I must look terrible. Do you even recognize me?”
He kissed her forehead. “What do you think?”
“That’s a nice lie.”
“You’ll look even better after the doctor fixes you up. You’ll see. I’ll bring some food tomorrow.”
She held her hand to his head, looking at him. “I thought I’d never see you again. Never.” She noticed his uniform. “Are you a soldier? Were you in the war?”
He turned slightly and pointed to his shoulder patch. “Correspondent.”
“Tell me—” She paused, blinking, as if caught by a sudden pain. “Where to begin? Tell me everything that happened to you. Did you go back to America?”
“No. Once, a visit. Then London, all over.”
“And nowhere.”
“I told you I’d come back. Didn’t you believe me?” He took her by the shoulders. “Everything’s going to be the same.”
She turned her head. “It’s not so easy, to be the same.”
“Yes, it is. You’ll see. We’re the same.”
Her eyes, already shiny with fever, grew moister, but she smiled. “Yes, you’re the same.”
He brushed the bare hairline above his temple. “Almost, anyway.” He looked down at her. “You’ll see. Just like before.”
She closed her eyes, and he busied himself wetting the handkerchief, disconcerted by his own words. Not like before.
“So you found Hannelore,” he said, trying to be conversational, then, “Where’s Emil?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice curiously detached. “Dead, maybe. It was terrible here, at the end.”
“He was in Berlin?”
“No, up north. For the army.”
“Oh,” he said, not trusting himself to say more. He stood up. “I’ll get some more water. Try getting a little sleep before the doctor gets here.”
“Like a nurse,” she said, closing her eyes.
“That’s right. I’m going to take care of you. Go to sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”
“It seems impossible. I just opened the door.” Her voice drifting.
He turned to leave, then stopped. “Lena? What makes you think he’s dead?”
“I would have heard.” She moved her hand up, covering her eyes. “Everyone’s dead. Why not him?”
“You’re not.”
“No, not yet,” she said wearily.
He glanced at her. “That’s the fever talking. I’ll be right back.”
He walked through the main room to the kitchen. Everything the same. In the bedroom, littered with Hannelore’s clothes and bottles of lotion, he could imagine being somewhere else, but here it was his flat, the couch against the wall, the little table by the window, not even rearranged, as if he’d simply gone away for the weekend. The kitchen shelves were bare-three potatoes and a few cans of C rations, a jar of ersatz coffee. No bread. How did they live? At least Hannelore had her dinner at Ronny’s. Surprisingly, the gas ring worked. A kettle to make coffee. No tea. The room itself felt hungry.
“It’s cold,” she said when he put a new wet cloth on her forehead.
“It’s good for the fever. Just keep it there.”
