Adeline knew she should shut up at that point, but she stared evenly at the secret policewoman and said, “I think I know that better than you, Lieutenant. I’ve lived under the Soviet system for most of my life. You’re just getting started, which means the file they have on you somewhere is still slim, but growing fatter every day, week upon week, month upon month, year upon year. Until they no longer have use for you.”
The secret policewoman sat back, studied her in reappraisal.
“You do not like living here, do you, Adeline?”
“I like my job. I like cooking. The school is good for my boys.”
“But things could be better for you, couldn’t they?”
Adeline felt uncomfortable, as if she sensed a trap of some kind.
“I have no complaints, Lieutenant,” she said.
Gerhardt’s smile was thin. “I think not. I think you have many complaints. But you are smart, Adeline. No one ever hears you say them out loud.”
Adeline said nothing.
The secret policewoman watched her, smiling as if she could read her thoughts.
“A warning, Adeline. Every day the border with the West hardens.”
Adeline frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Towers and fences are being built along the border. They have dogs patrolling in places now, with more being trained. And every day, more and more people trying to run west without permission are being shot. Especially refugees.”
“I don’t know what—”
Gerhardt’s smile evaporated. “Think twice before you are tempted, Adeline. I tell you this for your own good, as well as the good of your sons.”
“I still don’t—”
“You rarely speak of Frau Schmidt anymore.”
Adeline felt like she was being jerked in multiple directions. “What’s there to tell? She’s old. Her husband is sick. I go sit with her from time to time.”
“And the Russian officers who live there?”
She could see Lieutenant Gerhardt wasn’t going to leave without something to chew on, so she said, “One of them, Captain Kharkov, is a rapist.”
The secret policewoman’s chin retreated. “A rapist?”
“He tried to rape me last Christmas Eve in the church where I used to hide on Saturday nights and holidays. I held him off with a butcher knife.”
Lieutenant Gerhardt’s thin smile returned as she opened her book, saying, “Good for you, Adeline. I’ll make note of that.”
When the secret police car drove away, leaving her at the curb, Adeline made a show of heading toward home before looping back to the kitchen to retrieve her gifts, which she put in the canvas bag along with whatever other delicacy struck her fancy in the pantry. She left the Soviet officers’ billet for a second time, feeling more than a little rebellious and brazen at the way she’d handled Lieutenant Gerhardt and taken food from the Russians.
But why the warning about the border hardening? Did the secret policewoman know that Adeline had crossed into the British Zone in Berlin the year before? Or did she just take Adeline’s defiant tone as evidence she was unhappy enough to make a run for it?
In any case, it didn’t matter. By the time she reached home, the idea that people were being shot every day trying to cross the border was enough to snuff the idea from her mind.
Her landlord, Frau Holtz, was just leaving with an overnight bag, headed for Berlin to visit relatives with her niece. The Russian soldiers had already gone to the city.
“Looks like it’s just us for Christmas, Mama,” Walt said.
“Can we go cut a tree?” Will asked.
“Our room’s too small for a tree. But no glum faces now. We have been invited to the Schmidts’, just like last year.”
The boys cheered. Walt said, “Are we getting presents like last year?”
“Maybe,” she said, and smiled.
“Can we go sledding?” Walt asked.
“I’m sure.”
“At night?”
“No, there’s no moon tonight. It will be black as ink. But get your things together, and maybe you can sled before it turns dark.”
Ten minutes later, they were dressed in their warm clothes and out the door, with Adeline’s canvas sack filled with food and gifts. They took the long way around and reached the Schmidts’ farmyard as the sun was dropping toward the hazy horizon, sending slanted light through the leafless trees. Frau Schmidt was thrilled they had come and told the boys they could use the sled until dark. Thankfully, Captain Kharkov and his friends had long since departed. Adeline stayed out with the boys through their first run. Seeing them hike back up the knoll through the snow felt good deep inside her chest. How they’d grown in just a year: Walt was nine now, and Will seven.
“Mama!” Will cried. “Did you see how fast we went?”
“A speed record!” she called back. “I am going in with the Schmidts now. Don’t kill yourselves!”
“We won’t!” Walt yelled back.
Adeline smiled and walked a few light and unburdened steps. Then the reality that they were spending another Christmas without Emil brought her mood crashing down, just as it had crashed down a thousand times since he was taken. She trudged toward Frau Schmidt’s front door, almost overcome by sadness and gloom, worse than what she’d endured early that morning when depression had seemed like a shroud around her. Her longing for Emil now felt sewn through her, like strings on a marionette she’d once seen. She wanted to stop and pray for her husband’s safe return but did not know if she had the strength.
Finally, and barely holding back the grief welling up inside her, Adeline stopped walking. She closed her eyes and prayed to God to watch over Emil’s soul and to tell her if he was dead so she could make her peace with the end of him and the perpetual love she’d always feel for him no matter what life had in store for her next.
Tears dribbled down Adeline’s cheeks as she went up the stairs and inside the Schmidts’ warm and welcoming home. The tree was waiting for the boys to help with its decorating. Herr Schmidt
