Tempting Fate (41 page)

“I’m delighted you thought of it, then,” he said, smiling now at his ward. “And you, Laisha, did you like it?”

Laisha answered earnestly, with the careful concentration that was characteristic of her. “Yes. I swim well, and that is part of the pleasure.”

Olympie and Bruno grinned. “She beat us all,” Olympie said proudly. “I could not catch her, or Bruno either.”

“That’s because you did not mind being caught, and I did,” Laisha said with a toss of her fair hair. She was growing rapidly, developing a coltishness as her arms and legs lengthened. She had more energy than grace at the moment, and a stubborn determination to excel at all she did.

“Why should it matter?” Bruno teased her. “It’s only an hour spent in a lake. It’s not important.”

Laisha turned to him with sudden tension. “
Everything
is important. That’s where people make their mistakes; they think that only certain things deserve attention, but that’s wrong. Isn’t it, Papa?”

“What a ferocious, fey child you are,” Ragoczy said fondly. “Of course everything is important, but time, Laisha, there is so little time.”

Amalie sighed in agreement. “And time has made my departure necessary,” she said as Ragoczy handed her out of the pony cart. “Hedda is watching Dietbold, but it is time I was with him again.” This announcement was met with protests from her three children with her.

“I will have Nikolai drive them down later, if that would be satisfactory with you, Frau Schnaubel,” Ragoczy suggested. “There is no pressing reason for them to leave, is there?”

“Well,” Amalie said, considering the offer, “I don’t suppose they can get into any more mischief up here than they can at home. If it is no imposition, then of course I accept for them.”

“Hardly an imposition,” Ragoczy told her as the three children voiced their approval. “Emmerich and Bruno can take turns trying to beat Laisha. I don’t know if Olympie finds that idea very attractive, but they’re all more than welcome. I have certain projects that need my attention, and this will give me a little more time to myself. There. Once again time is the crucial factor, isn’t it?”

“As always,” she agreed. “Anything I add would be ungracious.”

“Then it’s settled. Nikolai will bring Bruno, Olympie, and Emmerich back after supper. Your husband should be home by then.” He walked beside her toward her automobile, squinting in the brightness.

“Is there something the matter?” Amalie inquired as she noticed his discomfort.

“I am … somewhat sensitive to sunlight. An inconvenience at this time of year.” He held the door open to her. “Thank you for allowing your children to stay.”

“I’m delighted you want them.” She fiddled with the ignition, and when it caught, she waved to her children, who were just getting out of the pony cart. “If they become troublesome, just send them home.”

“I’m not anticipating any difficulties,” Ragoczy told her, and stepped back to allow her to drive away. He started toward the shade of the entranceway and relief from the relentless brightness, shading his eyes with his raised hand. He was stopped by Laisha, who ran impetuously up to him and threw her arms around his waist. “What’s this?” he asked, looking down at her. “Is something wrong, my child?”

“No,” she said after a moment. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t watch me play.”

“I will. But not right now.” Even with his native earth in the soles of his shoes, the sun was beginning to distress him. “I have a few things to attend to in my library, and then I’ll come out to watch you. Where are you going to play?”

“On the court.” She had improvised a kind of volleyball court not far from the stables. The net was made from old kitchen towels sewn together and hung between two pine trees, and the space was irregular, but she had said she preferred it to more formal arrangements.

“All right.” He did not add he was pleased that there would be shade under the trees, affording him some protection. “Take Bruno and Olympie and Emmerich into the kitchen for some refreshment, and then let me know you’re ready. Will that do, Laisha?”

“That’s fine,” she said, releasing him. “I want to put on my riding breeches, anyway.”

“Very good,” Ragoczy approved, going into the open door at last.

“Graf Ragoczy,” Bruno called out as he saw him start to close the door, “is it all right if we pick some of the flowers? I’d like to take some to Mother.”

“Of course,” Ragoczy answered from the darkness of the doorway. “Leave me a few, Bruno.”

The young man—for he was clearly no longer quite a boy—laughed merrily and sprinted off toward the back of the Schloss.

Roger was waiting in the hallway, his lined and tranquil face amused. “She’s a fine girl, my master,” he said as he closed the door.

“She is,” Ragoczy agreed at once. He went toward the library, then paused. “Have you had any word from Petrograd?”

“No. I fear that’s a lost cause.” He gestured his helplessness, “The way things are there, I doubt it would be possible to investigate further.”

“That’s what I’ve been worried about. Well, I suppose that we have to be let go. A pity. There is much I’ve learned here that could be of use.… An inexpensive synthetic fuel would be a great deal of help, and not just there. We can’t depend on the Americans forever, no matter how much petroleum they have.” He opened the door to his library. “In half an hour I’m expected to watch Laisha best the Schnaubel children at volleyball. Remind me, if I become too engrossed.”

“You won’t need it, but very well.” Roger turned away and went off toward the stairs that led to his master’s private quarters.

Amalie Schnaubel turned off just before Hausham, glad to be getting home at last. It had been a wonderful afternoon and for the first time in many weeks she felt both relaxed and optimistic. With any luck, Simeon would return with good news and the apprehension that had sapped her strength and her good humor would be gone. She was glad that Simeon had taught her to drive, for with him working at some distance from home and their house so isolated, she felt less vulnerable with an automobile at her disposal. She pulled into her driveway, bringing the Opel to a halt not far from the door. As always, she checked the brake carefully and left the gear set in reverse. She brought her purse and the traveling case containing her wet bathing costume out of the automobile and went into the house.

Hedda met her at the door, her homely features set in worried lines. As she had so many times before, Amalie sighed for this child, hoping that she would reveal some acceptable talent or intellectual gift that might compensate for her good-hearted but disastrously plain face. She kissed Hedda on the forehead. “How did it go today?”

“Fine,” Hedda answered. “There were some men here earlier who wanted to talk to Papa about something, but they went away. They said to tell him that they’d be back.”

“You didn’t let them in the house, did you?” She tried to keep her tone from being critical, but saw from the way the child pulled back from her that she had not been able to do so. “Hedda, Hedda, don’t be so worried,” she said, putting her arm around the girl. “I’m not angry with you, little one. There are precautions we learn to take with those we love. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, or to Dietbold. I didn’t mean to be sharp with you.”

“They were hard men,” Hedda said, as if in explanation of her reaction.

Amalie thought of the many cruel remarks she had heard from those living in the area, and made a moue of distress. “Yes, many of them are. They’re very … clannish here,” she said lamely, wishing she could shield all her family from the rancor of the landowners.

“It’s because we’re Jews, isn’t it?” Hedda asked blandly. “They don’t like Jews.”

“That’s part of it,” Amalie admitted. She had come to the nursery and stood over the high bed where Dietbold lay. The boy was sleeping, his hands clenched on either side of his head, his mouth pursed.

“Why don’t they like Jews? Why don’t they like
us?
” Hedda demanded, her voice raising a little in her hurt and confusion.

“Because of … oh, there are many things, but it starts with religion. We’ve told you about the Christian beliefs, Hedda. Now, hush, or you’ll wake your brother.” She thought of her own ambivalence when she had realized the hatred in which Jews were held. She had been not quite nine, younger than Hedda, and her parents had reminded her that it was the fate of God’s Chosen People to suffer in this world. At the time she had felt inward nobility that had helped her to disregard the slights of children at school and their parents, but more recently, when she saw her own children made victims of intolerance, she found it more difficult to recall that inward purpose that had sustained her through her own youth.

“Why do we have to be Jews, if people don’t like them?” Hedda’s tone was sharper, and it was apparent now that she had been frightened.

“Because we are, Hedda. And I don’t want to hear any more of this right now.” She watched Dietbold stir in his sleep, making little grunts. “I’ll have to change his diapers when he wakes up,” she said inconsequently.

“I won’t be Jewish,” Hedda announced, and before she could be rebuked for this, she ran out of the room and up the stairs, seeking that corner of the attic where she often sat with her daydreams for company.

Amalie’s throat was suddenly tight with unshed tears. Automatically she reached to pick up her infant son as he started to squawl. It was so much easier with babies, she thought as she opened her blouse for him. There was a rocking chair in the corner, and she sat there while Dietbold nursed, trying to shut out the uncertainties of her life and concentrate only on the satisfaction of that little mouth on her breast. Later she would find Hedda and do her best to explain. For the time being, she wanted to be content with her life, if only for the ten minutes of peace here in the nursery.

She had changed the boy and straightened her clothes when the knock came at the door. Frowning slightly at the interruption, she was about to leave Dietbold on his bed but he cried when she put him down, so she dandled him on her hip as she went to the front door.

There were six men, one of them somewhat familiar to her: Konrad Natter, that was the name. He had been at a party somewhere—was it that dreadful evening at Wolkighügel?—and had shunned her and Simeon. She stood quite straight “Yes, gentlemen? Is there something I can do for you?”

The best-dressed of the men gave her an angry smile. “Yes, Jewess, there is.”

Amalie went faintly pale at the fury in his eyes. “If this is all you want, then I must ask you to leave.”

“It is we who ask you to leave, Jewess,” Natter said, bracing one hand against the doorframe. “We had assumed that your husband made arrangements already.”

“My husband is not here. He should return soon.” She tried to close the door. “If you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to.”

“She’s got another one of them,” one of the men muttered, nodding toward Dietbold. “They’re determined. Give them that.”

Amalie was now genuinely frightened, and she pushed at the door again. “Get out of my house!”

One of the men shoved the door open so that Amalie staggered back. Dietbold began to wail.

“Her house! What right have you to this house, you whore!” Natter yelled at her as he followed her into the entryway. “These houses are for Deutschlisch, not the likes of you. You’re draining our country, polluting our blood.”

With an inward sickness, Amalie realized that all five men were half-drunk and filled with alcoholic bravado. “Leave now, and I will not complain to the police. If you do any harm here, then you will be prosecuted.” She wanted to sound reasonable, but the shrill edge of fear robbed her words of conviction.

“You think you’re clever, you Jews, but there are those of us who are not deceived.” This time the speaker was a tall, middle-aged man with military bearing. “You were the ones who brought us to ruin in the Great War.”

“That’s a lie,” Amalie whispered, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “A lie.”

“Do you say that an officer would lie?” Natter demanded, reaching out toward her. “You filth! You human offal!”

“Get out!”
Amalie shrieked as the last of the men forced his way into her home. Dietbold was yelling now, his tiny fists pulling at her blouse, his whole body turning plum color from his infant hysteria.

“Listen to her!” the well-dressed man shouted. “Leave here!”

“No, scum,” the middle-aged man declared. “We will not get out. Our duty lies here. You were warned.”

“Warned?” Amalie repeated to herself. What had Simeon not told her? She looked about her, seeking safety in a house that suddenly seemed inhospitable to her.

“We have our task to perform!” Natter cried out.

This was supported by boisterous approval. “Deutschland will be protected!” the middle-aged man said in ringing tones.

With a stifled scream, Amalie broke away from the man and ran down the hall toward the kitchen. There was a back door, if she could reach it, and perhaps she could get away. If not, the stout wooden door would discourage them, and then they would only vandalize the house.… Then she thought of Hedda, and the cold dread seized her. What might these drunken, brawling, hate-riddled men do to her child? She sobbed and clutched Diet-bold more tightly to her side, wasting precious seconds as she fought the confusion. If she screamed out, she would alert the men that Hedda was in the house, but if she did not, the girl might come down the stairs to investigate … Oh God, God, God, she thought as the sound of feet behind her spurred her to action again and she raced toward the kitchen. She dragged the door open and rushed through it, trying to swing it closed in the face of her pursuers.

Konrad Natter reached the door before it was shut and with a bellow jerked it out of her hand and thrust it sharply back against her.

The thick wood caught her with terrible force across the chest and forehead, stunning her and jolting her nearly off her feet. She swayed, her hands out to keep from falling, and Dietbold dropped from her protective hold onto the brick floor, where he twitched once before blood began to seep out of his nose.