“I had to talk,” he said. “I told you that. They threatened my sister.”
“They always threaten someone, don’t they?” she said, and went inside.
Adeline moved through the shop quickly, knowing exactly what she wanted, and why. When she was finished, the voice in her head she called her safer-self told her to go to the checkout, to pay, and leave. But she got angry at that voice. She’d been listening to it for years. It was the same voice that said she didn’t deserve to eat when she was starving, the same one that blamed her for the first Walt’s death; the one that never failed to remind her that she was a refugee, someone no one wanted; the voice that whispered she was not as good as the people around her; the one that said don’t take chances, go along, protect yourself, protect the boys; the voice that always spoke out of fear.
Adeline stood there a long time, staring off into the middle distance before she finally asked where that voice had gotten her. Was she any safer than she’d been when she walked away from her mother? Other than the roof over her family’s head, a warm place for them to sleep, and a job that fed them well, she knew the answer was no. As long as she was here, living under the Soviets, dealing with people like Lieutenant Gerhardt, the answer would always be no.
Deep in her gut, Adeline felt the anger change, become defiance, and defiance felt good, so good she pulled out a pen. She scrawled a few more items on the list, then got them and put them on the counter along with everything Colonel Vasiliev had ordered. She added her money to the total and paid.
Outside, she handed the guard a chocolate bar. “If you tell the lieutenant about this, I will never buy anything for you again. Merry Christmas.”
“You can’t say that now.”
“And yet I did,” she said, and walked off toward the train station.
Eight hours later, Adeline pulled a roasted capon from the oven in the kitchen off the Soviet officers’ formal mess that she called the “white room” because Colonel Vasiliev had insisted on having white tablecloths to match the walls and floor. She moved the bird to a smaller oven to stay warm along with covered bowls of freshly made egg noodles with onions and two loaves of Russian brown bread freshly baked with little slices of garlic the way the Soviet colonel liked it. She opened the large caviar jar and poured the contents on a plate along with Vasiliev’s favorite crackers and four different kinds of cheese. Two bottles of vodka and three bottles of Riesling wine were already in a washtub out in the white room, packed in ice.
After setting the long table with fresh linen, silverware, and crystal, Adeline cleaned the kitchen to a shine. When she was finally done, she decided not to think about the things that were wrong with her life. Just for today, she’d go home and make every effort to celebrate the season with Walt and Will. And maybe she would take up Frau Schmidt on her offer to come and spend the holiday evening with her and Herr Schmidt again.
Thinking how excited the boys would be for their presents and feeling much better than she had all day, Adeline put on her coat, gloves, and scarf and went out into the frigid air. The late-afternoon winter sky had turned a thin blue that spoke of colder temperatures to come. She’d no sooner rounded the corner than the dreaded black sedan pulled up beside her. The rear window was already rolled down.
“Frau Martel,” Lieutenant Gerhardt said as if they were dear friends. “How lucky for me to catch you. Please get in. I’m sure you have much to tell me after your holiday shopping spree.”
Adeline had anticipated a visit from the secret police. It was why her canvas bag was empty. It was why she’d left her gifts behind, hidden in a cupboard in the pantry of the Soviet officers’ mess. She climbed in and closed the door. They stayed parked, the engine idling, the same dour driver smoking at the wheel.
“What’s in your bag?” Lieutenant Gerhardt said.
Adeline showed her it was empty and then handed her the receipt for all the items she’d purchased earlier in the day.
Lieutenant Gerhardt studied the list, her jaw stiffening. “The colonel buys all this?”
“No, there were other requests from at least six of his staff officers in there,” Adeline replied. “They all paid with their own funds. Good vodka mostly.”
“Name them. Break their purchases down for me.”
Adeline did, adding one or two of her items to each of the officers’ lists, and waited while Gerhardt scribbled in a brown notebook, then said, “What else?”
“I cooked, cleaned, and left,” Adeline said. “The officers won’t sit down to eat for at least another hour.”
Lieutenant Gerhardt continued to write, not looking up at her as she said, “You disappoint me, Adeline. I have asked you repeatedly to stay and listen to the conversations at the table.”
“And I have,” she said. “Is it my fault they only talk of women, food, drink, and how soon they can all go home to Mother Russia?”
The secret policewoman raised her head. “Why did you not stay this evening?”
“It is Christmas—”
“These feeble customs will no longer be recognized by the party, Adeline.”
“I got up at three o’clock this morning. I have worked hard for twelve hours, Lieutenant. I am going home to my sons now, and here’s a secret you won’t have to dig out of someone else: I will follow feeble customs not recognized by the party tonight and tomorrow, which Colonel Vasiliev has given me off for equally feeble reasons.”
Gerhardt set down her pen and gazed hard at Adeline for several long moments before leaning toward her, murmuring, “Do not mistake my gentle tone for
