Magda did.
The midwife’s eyes roamed over Magda’s broken face. She slowly shook her head. Below them, the front door opened and slammed shut. Captain Koenig was on his way back to town to meet those trucks, no doubt. They would hunt through the district, looking for Jews, and torture—or kill—those who helped them.
“It’s all right,” Magda said. She opened the door and let the midwife in.
Jana was at Frau Koenig’s side, pressing a compress to the woman’s forehead. When she recognized Magda, her eyes widened. Yes, Magda had come back.
Frau Koenig sucked air between gritted teeth, then panted, shaking knees raised, her robe and nightgown hiked up to her hips. Eva strode to the bed, apparently shedding her misgivings. In a soothing voice, she began giving Frau Koenig instructions, followed by requests for the things she would need. Then she asked Magda and Jana to leave the room.
Magda followed Jana downstairs and into the kitchen. They waited, drinking Ersatzkaffee and speaking in whispers. At midnight Magda convinced Jana to go upstairs and sleep some. It was deep into the middle of the night when Magda awoke from where she had fallen asleep at the table. Something had changed. She rose and touched the items in her dress pocket—the Taubers’ possessions—and went upstairs.
“Bring me the washcloths and water,” Eva said in greeting. A newborn cried in her arms.
Magda did as the woman instructed. Jana appeared in the doorway. Magda nodded at her.
From the bed, Frau Koenig whimpered queries. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine, Frau Koenig,” Eva replied. “You have a boy.”
Magda stood over the child, a feeling of absolute calm washing over her. She reached out and touched the dark, wet hair on his head and smiled at Eva, serene as she had not felt in years. The midwife looked curiously at her.
Moving to Frau Koenig’s side, Magda removed the vial in her pocket and the stopper. She handed it to Jana, who poured a few drops into the glass of water on the side table.
“Bring me my son,” Frau Koenig panted.
“We will,” Jana said soothingly. “The midwife must finish washing him first. Here, take this. It’s a little opium. It will help you sleep. You should rest, and then I will bring him to you.”
Jana raised the glass of water to the exhausted woman’s lips. “I’ll stay here with you, Frau Koenig. I’ll stay here with you until you have awoken.”
When Frau Koenig laid her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes, Magda returned to Eva and gestured for her to follow her.
“You should go call her husband,” Eva whispered as she carried the newborn downstairs.
“I will do no such thing.” He’d said to search every house, even his.
Eva put a hand on Magda’s shoulder, but Magda shrugged it off. She opened the door to Dr. Tauber’s office and then went into the adjacent examining room. She switched on the lights, reached into her pocket, and withdrew the double-edged knife.
Eva frowned. “What is that?”
“I will perform a mitzvah. I need you to hold the boy still on the table.”
The midwife shook her head and stepped back. “What do you mean?”
“And I need permission from the community.” Magda studied the midwife. “Yours will do, but Jana has already given hers.”
“But—”
Magda stepped toward her. “This child will be blessed in the tradition of this household.” She leaned in toward Eva, lifted the baby from her arms, and whispered, “Samuel is alive!”
Eva released the child and stared at Magda in disbelief.
“It’s true. I am his sandek. The closest I shall be to a godmother. But Koenig is going after him. He doesn’t know it but Samuel is at the convent across the river.” She held the knife up and showed it to Eva. “There will be no blood. The only horror here will be Koenig’s when he discovers that his son will never be able to serve the Führer.”
Eva’s eyes grew wider, but when she slowly dropped her hand, her fear transformed into intent before Magda’s very eyes.
“You may stay or you may go,” Magda offered. “If you stay, you will have to leave with me tonight. As you are.”
Eva’s gaze never left Magda’s face as she bent over the child.
Magda stroked the boy’s head, his face, his chest. She examined him. His birthmark was on the back of his right thigh.
She soothed the boy one last time and looked at Eva. “Do I have your permission?”
The midwife nodded.
Magda raised the knife. “Then l’chaim. To life.”
9
June 1942
The sound of a baby’s cry brought tears of relief. Magda left Aleš and Eva behind as she ran the last few feet to the mountain hut. Renata waited outside with an infant in her arms. Magda scooped the bundle from her, tears streaming as she kissed Samuel’s sweet face. She remembered how he had weighed in her arms the last time she’d held him, the day Koenig and Walter had come. Now he was bigger, with chubby cheeks and Frau Tauber’s blue eyes.
Renata crossed her arms. “And? Are you happy with yourself?”
Magda took his right hand in hers and shoved the cuff of his sleeve up with her thumb. There it was, the brown birthmark on his wrist. She looked up from the baby, and Samuel began to fuss. She shushed him and cooed at him. It had been too long. He could no longer know who she was.
“It was a terrible risk,” Renata continued. “Terrible, Magda.”
Magda could say nothing to this; she still did not quite understand herself. She pictured Richard Koenig coming home and lifting his son into his arms for the first time. She did not know how long it would be before he would take enough interest to examine his child, before he—and his wife—realized what had been done. But when he found out, she could see his square, boxer physique striding across the room in that uniform, the doors slamming, and the fury. That fury would precede the
