family. They were too young to keep a secret. Vater was taking the radio to hide it. The idea made her light-headed. She picked up the platter of Bratwurst.
“Would you like me to reheat this for you?” she asked her mother, hoping she could get her into the kitchen alone.
“Nein, danke,” Mutti said, taking the serving dish. “I’m sure it’s fine.” She pierced the sausage with her fork and scraped the rest of the onions onto her plate, her pinched face a curious struggle between misery and an attempt to put on a happy smile for her family.
“Did you have any trouble?” Oma asked in a quiet voice.
“Nein,” Mutti said. “Herr Bauerman was having problems getting our paychecks organized, that’s all. And Frau Bauerman is beside herself. All but three servants have been let go. She asked me to make lists of what was in the root cellar and the pantry, that kind of thing. Everything took longer than I’d thought.” She finally made eye contact with Christine. “Isaac was there, helping bring all the paperwork in from his father’s office.”
Christine braced herself. “Did you talk to him?”
Mutti opened her mouth to answer, but Vater came back in the room. She picked up her silverware and began to eat instead. Her father sat down, face red, shoulders hunched in frustration.
“If the other parties hadn’t been so busy fighting,” he said, “and if the country hadn’t been in such economic turmoil, we wouldn’t be in this mess! Hindenburg was too old and tired to put up a fight, otherwise he would have never appointed Hitler chancellor. That madman wasn’t elected by the people! And now that he’s arrested or murdered the opposition, he’s selling National Socialism like a preacher sells religion. You do not question. You obey. If not, then they’ll just get rid of you!” He slammed his fist on the table, and everyone jumped. The plates and dishes rattled, and Oma put a hand over her heart. Christine’s mother put her arm around Karl, who started to cry.
“We just have to hope for the best and keep going,” she said.
“But he allows the Gestapo to arrest anyone who criticizes him. Soon they’ll control everything! They already control what we read, and now, they want to control what we hear. There are no newspapers but the Nazi newspapers, and now they control the radio too!”
Mutti cleared her throat and frowned at him. “Right now it’s time to be together, share a meal, and be grateful for our family.”
“And they’ll throw you in jail for talking like that,” Opa said, gesturing with his gnarled, blue-veined hands.
Opa’s warning reminded Christine of the notice she’d read in the Nazi newspaper, Völkischer Beobachter, The People’s Observer: “Let everyone be aware that whoever dares to raise his hand against the State is sure to die.”
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
“Would you like me to reheat this for you?” she asked her mother, hoping she could get her into the kitchen alone.
“Nein, danke,” Mutti said, taking the serving dish. “I’m sure it’s fine.” She pierced the sausage with her fork and scraped the rest of the onions onto her plate, her pinched face a curious struggle between misery and an attempt to put on a happy smile for her family.
“Did you have any trouble?” Oma asked in a quiet voice.
“Nein,” Mutti said. “Herr Bauerman was having problems getting our paychecks organized, that’s all. And Frau Bauerman is beside herself. All but three servants have been let go. She asked me to make lists of what was in the root cellar and the pantry, that kind of thing. Everything took longer than I’d thought.” She finally made eye contact with Christine. “Isaac was there, helping bring all the paperwork in from his father’s office.”
Christine braced herself. “Did you talk to him?”
Mutti opened her mouth to answer, but Vater came back in the room. She picked up her silverware and began to eat instead. Her father sat down, face red, shoulders hunched in frustration.
“If the other parties hadn’t been so busy fighting,” he said, “and if the country hadn’t been in such economic turmoil, we wouldn’t be in this mess! Hindenburg was too old and tired to put up a fight, otherwise he would have never appointed Hitler chancellor. That madman wasn’t elected by the people! And now that he’s arrested or murdered the opposition, he’s selling National Socialism like a preacher sells religion. You do not question. You obey. If not, then they’ll just get rid of you!” He slammed his fist on the table, and everyone jumped. The plates and dishes rattled, and Oma put a hand over her heart. Christine’s mother put her arm around Karl, who started to cry.
“We just have to hope for the best and keep going,” she said.
“But he allows the Gestapo to arrest anyone who criticizes him. Soon they’ll control everything! They already control what we read, and now, they want to control what we hear. There are no newspapers but the Nazi newspapers, and now they control the radio too!”
Mutti cleared her throat and frowned at him. “Right now it’s time to be together, share a meal, and be grateful for our family.”
“And they’ll throw you in jail for talking like that,” Opa said, gesturing with his gnarled, blue-veined hands.
Opa’s warning reminded Christine of the notice she’d read in the Nazi newspaper, Völkischer Beobachter, The People’s Observer: “Let everyone be aware that whoever dares to raise his hand against the State is sure to die.”
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
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