The Plum Tree (7 page)

Her father had always been outspoken, but until today, she hadn’t thought anything of it. Then she remembered her mother having a talk with her and Maria a few months ago. She’d told them to keep quiet about their opinions, to be careful what they talked about in public. They should keep their conversations light, talk about the weather, the latest gossip, even boys, anything but politics. At the time, Christine had shrugged it off, wondering why her mother would think that two young girls would care about a subject so boring.

Vater sighed. “I’m sorry. Your mother’s right. Now is not the time to talk about the problems of the world.” He sawed a slice from his cold
Bratwurst,
put it in his mouth, and made an attempt to smile.

“Vater,” Heinrich said in a small voice. “In school yesterday we were told we had to put together a family tree. The teacher said the Führer wants to know if there are any Jews in our family. He said we should do as we’re told because we don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention. And our parents should bring in papers about birth, marriage, and baptism.”

Vater stopped chewing and shook his head in disgust. Opa took another helping of dandelion salad, then passed the bowl to Vater, acting as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Don’t worry,” Mutti said. “We’ll help you.”

Vater agreed, and they all finished their meals in silence. Christine forced herself to eat, then sat on her hands, waiting for Mutti to start clearing the table. As soon as her mother wiped her mouth and stood, Christine picked up the serving platters and followed her into the kitchen.

“I have a note from Isaac,” Mutti said. She reached into the pocket of her coat on the back of the door. “But it will be the last one. Your father is to know nothing about it. And I told Isaac the same thing I told you. The two of you are not to be in contact again until this is over, do I make myself clear?”

“
Ja,
Mutti.
Vielen danke,
” Christine said. She held the note tight in her fist. “May I go to my room now?”

“Go ahead. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

Christine ran up to her room and shut the door. She sat on her bed and tore open the envelope.

My beautiful Christine,

Meet me in the alley behind the Market Café, tonight at eleven o’clock. Be careful. Don’t let anyone see you.

Love,

Isaac

Christine fell back on her bed, the note clutched to her chest. How would she get through the next eight hours?

A few minutes later, just as Christine was pushing Isaac’s tightly-rolled note through a loose seam in her Steiff teddy bear, someone knocked on her bedroom door. She jumped and forced the message into the bear’s stuffing with one finger, then placed the tattered animal back on her desk and wiped her cheeks. She took a deep breath.

“Ja?”
she said, trying to sound calm.

“It’s me,” Maria said in a soft voice. “Can I come in?”

Christine opened her armoire and pretended to straighten her clothes. “Come in! The door is open!”

Maria slipped into the room, closed the door behind her, and sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded to ward off the chill. “What’s going on?” she said. “You were acting like a nervous chicken during
Mittag Essen.
And now you’re up here hiding in your room.”

Christine pulled a dress from her armoire and draped it over the back of her chair. “I’m not hiding. I’m just doing a little rearranging, that’s all. I think I might have a couple dresses to hand down to you. I’m getting so tired of wearing the same old thing!”

Maria stood and took the dress from the chair. “
Ja?
Like this one? Your favorite?”

Christine looked at the outfit in her sister’s hands. It was her blue Sunday dress, the soft cotton one with the gathered waist and embroidered collar. She loved that dress. And Maria knew it.
“Nein,”
she said, taking the frock from her sister. “Not that one. I told you, I’m just rearranging my clothes.”

“Mutti told me why she was home from work early,” Maria said. “But that doesn’t explain why you were so on edge.”

“The Gestapo could have been at the Bauermans’!” Christine said, hoping her frown looked convincing. “They could have arrested Mutti!”

“But she’s home now,” Maria said. “She’s safe.” Maria moved closer and put a hand on Christine’s arm, her head tilted, her eyes soft. “Remember that time everyone was supposed to bring a pear branch and three marks to school? Your teacher was going to have the branches carved into flutes, so everyone could learn how to play. You had the pear branch, but Mutti and Vater didn’t have three marks to spare. Everyone in your class had a flute except you. Instead of crying, you polished the banisters and swept the stairs, even though they’d just been cleaned a day earlier. Mutti thought you were being helpful, but I knew. I saw the sadness in your eyes. You were keeping yourself busy so you wouldn’t sit down and cry. Besides, you and I both know you barely have enough clothes to rearrange, let alone extras to give to me. I know you’re sick of them, but Oma won’t be making more anytime soon. Now tell me, what’s really going on?”

Christine’s shoulders dropped, and she sat down hard on the bed, her blue Sunday dress clutched to her chest. “Isaac loves me,” she said, an overwhelming rush of joy and misery making it hard to breathe.

Maria gasped. “How do you know? How did you find out?”

“He told me. This morning.”

Maria laughed and plopped down beside her. “Did you tell him you love him too?”

“Shhh . . . !” Christine cupped a hand over her sister’s mouth. “Vater might hear!”

Maria pulled Christine’s hand away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So? Did you tell him? Did he kiss you?”

Christine bit her lip, smiling and nodding, her vision blurring with fresh tears.

“He kissed you!!” Maria practically squealed. “How many times? What was it like?”

“Shhh!” Christine said again.

Maria rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry!” she whispered. “I’m just excited and thought you would be too!” Then she noticed Christine’s tears, and her face went dark. She grabbed Christine’s arm. “Did Isaac say or do something to hurt you? Gestapo or no Gestapo, I’ll go over there and straighten him out if he did!”

Christine shook her head.
“Nein,”
she said. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Well then, I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy!”

A lump formed in Christine’s throat. How do you explain the best and worst day of your life happening at the same time? Maria had known all along how Christine felt about Isaac; she’d guessed her older sister was in love the same day Christine had realized it herself. Christine had come home that afternoon, daydreaming about Isaac’s chestnut eyes and deep voice, remembering the way he’d smiled at her in the sunlit garden. With a warm, pleasant glow filling her abdomen, she’d been lost in thought, unusually quiet while helping Maria peel potatoes in the kitchen. Eventually, Maria nudged her and said, “What’s his name?”

“Whose name?” Christine said, coming out of her trance.

“Whoever put that silly, glazed look in your eyes,” Maria said, laughing.

In the end, Christine had admitted everything, swearing her sister to secrecy in their usual way: “Promise to God, all included, nothing counts.” The made-up phrase meant Maria had sworn to God, with no way out because it included everyone in the room and discounted the power of crossed fingers or whispered confessions to take it back. It was their private way of knowing a promise was real. So far, Maria had stuck to her oath about Isaac, just like she’d stuck to her promise not to tell when twelve-year-old Christine and Kate had snuck off to get their fortunes read by gypsies camping in the forest, or the time Christine had spilled Mutti’s only bottle of perfume on the bedroom rug. But that had been a long time ago, in a different world, back when they were children, before the Nazis made the rules. Things were different now. People’s freedoms, and very possibly their lives, were at stake.

Christine thought of Isaac’s note, hidden inside her silent teddy bear. The thought of meeting Isaac later, in secret, sent an electrifying current of excitement and fear through her body. She could barely contain herself and wished Maria would go back downstairs before she revealed everything. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be insane, ecstatic and miserable all at the same time, ready to weep one minute and rejoice the next, unable to explain it to anyone. More than anything, she wanted to tell Maria about the message and the secret meeting, but in the fear-charged atmosphere the Nazis had created, she was afraid Maria would try to keep her safe by telling her parents. Instead, she told her sister about the kiss in the orchard, about Isaac’s strong hands and soft lips, about the surprise invitation to the holiday party she’d never be able to attend. It was difficult not having someone to confide in, but even “Promise to God, all included, nothing counts” wouldn’t work this time. Christine couldn’t risk it.

“Just because you can’t work for his family doesn’t mean you can’t see him!” Maria said. “When you’re in love, you can’t let anything stop you!”

“The Nazis aren’t just anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mutti didn’t tell you about the other new law?” Christine said. “The one that forbids us to be together because Isaac is Jewish?”

Maria’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. “Oh
nein!
” she said, pounding her fists on her knees. “How is that possible? Who do those
Scheisse
head Nazis think they are?”

Despite her heartache, a small, half crazy-sounding chuckle erupted from Christine’s lips. Maria never swore. She tried to be a good Christian in every way, from never missing church to reminding them all to say their prayers every night. And she always admonished Vater for cussing. It was like hearing Oma use bad language.

“Why are you laughing?” Maria said.

“I’m sorry,” Christine said. “It’s just, hearing you call the Nazis names . . .”

“Well, they are
Scheisse
heads, are they not?”

“Ja,”
Christine said. “They’re worse than that. But be careful. Don’t let anyone outside the family hear you say things like that.”

“I know,” Maria said, pulling Christine close. “This just makes me so mad! I don’t understand any of it!”

“Me either,” Christine said. Ever so slightly, Maria rocked her big sister back and forth, and Christine found herself thinking again what a wonderful mother Maria was going to make someday. There was no doubt Maria would smother her babies with love. Of all the members of their family, her little sister was always the first to hand out hugs and kisses. Whether welcoming their father home from work, or kissing her little brothers’ bumps and bruises, she was the most physically affectionate person Christine had ever known. But now, Christine could tell, hugs were the only comfort her sister could offer. Like everyone else, Maria didn’t know what to say when it came to the unbelievable things the Nazis were doing.

“Don’t worry,” Maria said. “This won’t last forever. It can’t. It just can’t. And besides, love conquers all, right?”

C
HAPTER
4

A
t ten forty-five that night, Christine opened her bedroom door and listened, her heart in her throat, Isaac’s lucky stone clenched in her fist. At first, she thought the house was silent, her family sound asleep in their beds, but then, her stomach dropped. The radio was still on in the living room, a tinny, frenzied voice chiding the quiet hours of darkness. For the first time in recent memory, her parents were up past ten.

Two hours before, she’d gone downstairs to say good night, certain that everyone would be getting ready for bed. To her surprise, she’d found Mutti and Vater in the living room with Oma and Opa. They were sharing a warm beer, another bottle warming on the woodstove, and listening to the new radio, her father and Opa at the table, Oma and Mutti on the couch. Christine stood beside Vater’s chair and listened to Hitler’s brusque voice, wishing he’d end his tirade so her parents and grandparents would go to bed.

“I am personally taking over command of all armed forces,” Hitler shouted. “We have successfully completed the Anschluss, the annexation of Austria into Germany, and so, my homeland has finally come home. After years of persecution and oppression, ethnic Germans in the Sudetenland have become part of greater Germany. Soon, the master Aryan race will have the
Lebensraum,
‘living space,’ we deserve!”

“That madman wants to take over the whole world,” Opa said.

Oma shushed him and leaned forward. Mutti looked up at Christine, her eyes tired and puffy.

“Are the boys asleep?” she whispered.

“
Ja,
and Maria too,” Christine said, hoping Mutti wouldn’t notice her quick, short breathing. She’d thought that by the time she wanted to sneak out later, everyone would be fast asleep, but here they were, so engrossed in the radio they looked like they were going to be up all night.

“You look tired,” Mutti said. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I’m going up now. I just wanted to say
gute Nacht
.”

Mutti stood and gave her a hug. “Don’t be worried if you hear the sound of the old radio coming from our room,” she whispered in Christine’s ear. “But let us know if it’s too loud.”

“I will,” Christine said, wishing her father had burnt the old radio in the kitchen stove. Instead, her parents had hidden the radio beneath their bed, in a small wooden storage box with a folded blanket over the top, to make it look like a chest full of linens. It was just one more thing to worry about. She already felt shaky and out of control, tossed about by the twists and turns of life, like a broken twig swept away on a raging current.

Pretending to be interested and trying not to fidget, she forced herself to listen for a few more minutes, afraid they would ask what was wrong. When she couldn’t stand it another second, she said good night and went up to her bedroom, crawling beneath the covers in her dress, just in case her mother came in to see if she was all right.