For Such a Time by Kate Breslin

she felt at such luxury. Suffering had become a way of life. Would she be a fool and deny Pleasure’s offering?
    Back in her room, she found the armoire filled with colorful sweaters, pants, scarves, and socks. One drawer held a profusion of lace; as she rummaged through panties, bras, garter belts, and real silk stockings, she marveled at Helen’s generosity.
    Once she’d located a white cotton slip that wouldn’t slide off her hips, Stella perused the dozen tailored suits crammed inside the cabinet. Mildly curious over the varying sizes, she chose the smallest of the lot: a houndstooth jacket and matching skirt.
    Donning the outfit, she had to double the jacket’s belt around her waist. Afterward she bit back a cry as she stuffed her tender feet into a tight pair of high-heeled pumps; she hadn’t worn real shoes in months. Sucking in a painful breath, she tottered back to the bathroom and put on the hairpiece.
    Stella forced herself to look in the mirror. Hadassah Benjamin, a Mischling , half Jew, bursting with a young woman’s exuberance, had ceased to exist. In her place stood Stella Muller, subdued Austrian bookkeeper and suitable stock for the Third Reich. A frail disguise comprised of no more than a scrap ofofficial-looking paper, a red wig, and beneath her bruises the inherent fair features of a Dutch grandmother.
    Staring back at the stranger with beggar’s eyes and hollowed cheeks, Stella wondered for the thousandth time how something as insignificant as a Nazi’s pride had turned her world upside down. Loaded into a cattle car reeking of unwashed bodies and excrement, she’d spent endless hours standing between sweaty strangers and suffocating from the lack of fresh air. Her parched throat had warred with the mounting pressure in her bladder as the beast that trapped them all in its maw plundered steadily along the tracks toward Dachau. To God Forsaken . . .
    She leaned against the sink, overcome by a sudden wave of exhaustion. The colonel was right. How could she leave when the simple act of getting dressed depleted her strength? How far would she make it, trapped in a body still so weak?
    Frustrated, Stella stumbled back to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Joseph and again noticed the small black book on the nightstand. A Bible. She’d seen it the previous night but was too tired to take much notice.
    She picked up the leather tome, feeling its weight. Her co-worker, Marta, had possessed such a book; many times her best friend had tried in her earnest, gentle way to convert Hadassah to Christ.
    Perhaps that was why they were best friends, she thought with a wistful sigh. Marta’s efforts hadn’t borne fruit, but Hadassah was always touched by the genuine concern for her soul.
    She let the Bible fall open to a random page and immediately recognized the words of Psalm twenty-two from her own Jewish Tanakh :
    My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
    Why are you so far from saving me,
    so far from the words of my groaning?
    O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer.
    Snapping the book shut, Stella shoved the Bible inside the nightstand drawer. The rest she knew by heart—King David spoke of hope and his complete faith in God for deliverance.
    Her only deliverance lay in tatters. The ruins of her home in Mannheim, the haunted, glassy-eyed faces of those dead and dying at Dachau. Anna’s face . . .
    A sharp knock sounded at the door. Stella’s mouth felt dry as she made herself move to answer it. Would her clerical skills satisfy the colonel’s expectations, or would he send her back to that place?
    Joseph leaned against the jamb and quickly straightened when he saw her. A shy smile touched his lips. “You look pretty, Fräulein.”
    His compliment had the power to bolster her confidence. Stella’s shoulders eased, and she offered an affectionate smile. “Now that’s something a lady always likes to hear, Joseph. Danke .”
    He ducked his head shyly, then