The road from the village to Villa Liška brought her to a point where she could see the tower and the outskirts of Litoměřice. The river was to her right, and even from here she could see that the bridge to Theresienstadt was fortified and well guarded. She was soon on the main road, which would lead her to the front gates of the villa. Over the ridge and there it was: the familiar limestone facade, the towers, the pool covered for the season. There were no vehicles in the front drive, and the fountain was dry. She lifted the latch of the gate and went inside the compound. Smoke rose from the kitchen chimney.
And then a child’s giggle and feet crunching on the gravel on the far side of the house.
Magda froze.
“You get over here,” a woman’s voice called in German.
Magda turned to the gate. It was too late to flee—she was too far inside.
A toddler, a wide smile on his face, came around the corner and stopped at the sight of Magda. His smile disappeared, and his face turned into a mask of fear.
“I told you to—”
Jana appeared. She snatched the boy into her arms and glared at Magda.
“It’s me,” Magda said. “It’s me, Jana. Your son. From the front. I was…I was injured.”
Jana and the boy both stared at her. The boy began kicking his feet. He had dark-blond hair, had Koenig’s dark eyes. A shoe flew off as he struggled to get down.
Jana lowered him to the ground and took his hand, approaching Magda with slow steps. “I don’t have a—” She gasped.
“It’s me,” Magda stressed again. “How are you?”
Jana assessed Magda from head to toe. She put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue. “Well, I! That’s almost good.”
The boy whimpered.
Magda dropped down to his level. “Hello there. What’s your name?”
The boy pressed himself into Jana.
“They named him Robert,” Jana said.
Magda pointed to the front door. “May I come in?” Was it safe was what she was asking.
Jana led the way and let Magda in. The front foyer had not changed much. Magda peeked down the hall. The doors were all shut, but Jana bustled through the service door, and Magda hurried behind her, casting a glance at the photo of Koenig still on the foyer table. In the dining room, a new portrait of Hitler hung on the wall.
Jana sat the boy at the kitchen table, handed him a piece of sliced apple, then whirled on Magda. “I was wondering what happened to you.”
“Why is he here?” Magda pointed to the child. “I thought they were all gone.”
“They are. Frau Koenig and the Obersturmbannführer are in Berlin, but…” Jana looked heartbroken as she gazed at the child. “Robert is practically my child, Magda.”
“Is there anyone else here?”
“I’m the only one.”
“Good. Come with me.”
Magda left the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time. The door that led to what was once Eliška’s bedroom stood open. Magda walked over and leaned in the doorway.
There was a crib opposite to where Eliška’s bed had once stood, and the room had been painted a soft duck-egg blue. There were toy airplanes and tanks on the floor, and on the dresser, a photo of Robert alone in the expanse of the rose garden. There was a wooden train set and a push toy with a little dog on four wheels. It almost looked like a normal boy’s bedroom.
Jana came beside her, Robert in her arms again. Magda rubbed a finger along his cheek. He jerked back, burrowing into Jana’s neck.
“He’s a good boy.” Jana’s voice was shaky.
Magda dropped her hand. “I’m not here because of him.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Magda peered at Jana. She looked older, and she looked terrified. “I need to get to Aleš’s old room.”
Without further explanation, Magda took the stairs to the top floor and strode to the last door. She pushed it open. The bed was neatly made, but the room was empty. She dropped to the floor and began plying the floorboards up. When Jana walked into the room, Madga looked up.
“Are you going to help me?”
Walter stopped before Magda, still sprawled on the last steps. She sobbed and pleaded with him again to not take Eliška. He removed the cap from his head and squatted down next to her.
“Magda, Magda. Magdalena.” He shook his head. “What might have happened if you had been just a little—just slightly—kinder to me? I ask myself that. I wonder whether I might have wanted to be a better man.”
The Wehrmacht soldiers lifted Eliška from Aleš’s arms, then took him into a rough hold and shoved him through into the dining room. Two other men moved toward her, but Walter held up his hand.
“Not her.”
The men stepped away.
“Come with me.” He held a hand out to her and fished a handkerchief from his pocket. He pressed it to her eye. “Your nose is bleeding. Bend forward. Breathe slowly. It’s probably broken.” He was leading her through the service door and into the kitchen. He pushed her down onto the bench at the table, then went into the pantry. He returned with something from the icebox. Magda could not focus on it.
“Here, put this on the nose. Yup. It’s definitely broken.”
“Where’s Aleš?” Her voice sounded funny in her ears.
“He’ll be taken in for questioning. Don’t concern yourself with that now.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Me?” Walter stepped back, hands behind his back. “I won’t do anything to you. I’ll leave you here. There will be someone else you’ll have to deal with now that I’m done.”
Magda pressed the cold mass to her nose. The pain throbbed
