The Plum Tree by Ellen Marie Wiseman Page B

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