her. She deserves to be happy.”
“Everyone deserves to be happy.”
“Do you think so? Such an American idea. No, not everyone. But this time, yes.” She patted his arm. “So make her happy.”
“She’s in love with her husband.”
“Ach,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t be foolish. She’s in love with her own heroism. She got him out, that’s why she married him.”
“Out of Germany?”
“Yes, out of Germany, where else? She didn’t tell you? It was the only way he could leave-become a British citizen. She married him to save his life.”
“They’re still married.”
“Yes, it’s as I say. Never casual. She had an impulse, she does a wonderful thing for him. A favor. A political act, even. Except with Emma, everything is personal, not political. So then? Does she live with that for the rest of her life? Evidently. She follows him to America, to this camp. She plays hausfrau while he goes to the laboratory. She studies her Indians. Anasazi.” She pronounced each syllable of the word, a foreign-language joke. “Is that a life for her? So stubborn. This marriage-what is it? Some duty? I used to ask myself this. Now maybe you’ll give us the answer.”
He felt as if he had been pulled down a rabbit hole between past and future, his leg held in the grasp of her internal logic. To contradict her now seemed itself illogical. Like Alice, he began to doubt his own sense of things, and let go to follow his curiosity. She didn’t know what she was talking about; she might be right.
He must have been staring at her, because now she patted his arm again and said, “Yes, but not today, eh? Enough from this busybody, you think. But you don’t say. You are polite. Not angry, I hope?”
“Neither. I just don’t know what to say.”
She sighed. “Then that is the best answer.” They began to walk back toward the house. “You are right, of course. How can we know anything? We can only meet our destiny and then we know.”
“Do you really believe that?” he said, eager to change the subject.
“Oh yes, of course. I’m a great believer in destiny. All Germans are. Maybe that will make it easier for them when their destiny arrives, now that those idiots have destroyed them.”
“They don’t seem finished yet.”
“A death rattle, my friend. They are destroyed. There will be no Germany left at the end. Nothing. At least it will be the end of the gangsters too.” She tossed her head, as if to shake off her somber mood. “But that is what we’ve been working for, yes? You with your work, me with my palm trees. The end of the gangsters.”
“But if that was their destiny all along?” he said, sparring.
She smiled at him. “That is what makes destiny so interesting. Sometimes it needs a little push.”
Emma was waiting for them at the house, visibly anxious to be off. Hector was now on the roof, and she stood alone by the new wet wall, which glistened in the drying sun.
“I’m glad you came to see my land,” Hannah said to Connolly. “This is my whole country now.”
“But you have to leave it,” Emma said, joining them.
“I’ll come back. I have nowhere else to go. Hollywood is not a place-you can’t live there. This is a place.”
“Can’t you find someone to live here?” Emma said. “Then at least you wouldn’t have to send the horses away.”
“No, it’s better this way. I don’t want other people here. You come once in a while and be my caretaker. You always know where the key is,” she said, looking directly at Emma. “Anytime. Then I won’t worry.”
Emma, flustered, simply nodded her head.
“I don’t mind friends,” Hannah said to Connolly. “It’s the idea of strangers I don’t like.”
“But you had people here before,” Connolly said.
Hannah looked at him, puzzled at his interest. “Well, I couldn’t refuse then. Robert asked me.”
“Robert Oppenheimer?”
“Yes. Robert asked all the old-timers. We all knew him, you see. What could we do? Some army man said it was our patriotic duty-you know, they talk like that-but Robert, he was clever. He just said he needed a favor, and, you know, he’s charming, no one could refuse him.”
“I’d forgotten he had a ranch here,” Connolly said, backing off.
“Yes, in the mountains. For years. He loved to ride in those days. Does he still?”
“You haven’t seen him?”
“No one has. He never comes here. Is he still up on the Hill, or is that one of your classified questions?”
Connolly shrugged.
“Well, then, I don’t ask. But if you do see him somewhere, give him my regards. He should take care of his health, that one. And tell him that we’re still waiting to hear what it was all about. Making history, he said. Oo la, that sounds important, but what kind of history, eh? Anyway, never mind about history, my darling,” she said to Emma, giving her a goodbye kiss on her cheek. “Be happy.” She shook Connolly’s hand. “And you. Good luck with your destiny.”
“And yours,” he said, smiling.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she said, “I have the Ciro’s touch.”
Emma asked to drive back to Santa Fe, and he was surprised to find her inexperienced, coming up fast on curves and then jerking the clutch at the last minute as if she were pulling on reins. He was by now so used to her self-assurance that this inadequacy behind the wheel seemed touching, an opening. She held the wheel tightly, afraid the car would bolt.
“Sorry,” she said after an audible moan from the gears. “I haven’t got the hang of this one yet.” She spoke straight ahead to the road, unable to switch her concentration.
“It’s all right. It’s stiff.”
“No, it’s not. But thanks. How did you like Hannah?”
“She seemed to think we’d known each other for some time.”
“Did she? I wonder why. What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t get a word in edgewise.”
Emma grinned. “Yes. She can be like that. I wish she’d listen to Hector, though. There’s something wrong there. He was positively churlish. He’s usually rather sweet, in a way.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“No, really. But he seemed all on edge. Something’s happened.”
“The bust-up?”
“Maybe. Oh, don’t laugh. I know they’re an odd couple. Still, it’s sad to see any couple come to an end. They suited each other in a way.”
He felt for an instant that now they were a couple, falling aimlessly into a postmortem after dinner with friends. “What way?”
“Now you’re going to be impossible. I don’t know-the way people do. There’s no explaining it.”
“No.”
She glanced over at him quickly, then looked back to the road.
“She said you married your husband to get him out of Germany.”
“Did she?” Emma said nervously. “I married him. He got out of Germany. They’re not necessarily connected.”
“Not necessarily.”
She was quiet for a minute, avoiding the conversation. “Anyway, what does Hannah know about it?” she said, concluding an argument.
“I thought maybe you’d told her.”
“I didn’t. It’s her imagination.”
“Maybe she’s intuitive.”
“Maybe you’re not a very good intelligence officer. Do you always believe the first thing you hear?”
“When I want to.”
“Well, don’t.” She downshifted, flustered. “What else did she have to say?”
