The Baker's Daughter

Chapter Five

NAZI WEIHNACHTEN PARTY

19 GERNACKERSTRASSE

GARMISCH, GERMANY

DECEMBER 24, 1944

It had begun to snow. Thousands of iridescent spindles careened blindly down to earth. Elsie leaned back and let the spongy flakes pile on her face. The chill cleared her mind, and though she shivered, she remained in the alley’s silence, watching the world transform into a fairy-tale masquerade. The dirty streets were powdered white. The dark trees, trimmed neatly in crystal. Parked cars were already being transfigured to mounds of sugar. She loved new snow. It changed everything.

The wind swept under her dress, numbed her legs, and shot goose bumps up her back. She hugged her arms to her breast. Josef’s ring on her hand was ice cold. She pulled it off and rubbed the metal warm between her palms. It was a beautiful ring from a good man, but she felt little for a moment so big. She turned it round and round, rubies and diamonds, red and white. Why couldn’t it simply be another Christmas present? Like the dress and champagne.

She began to put it back on her finger when she noticed something, a scratch? No, too precise and even. She turned the ring toward the window light. Worn to near nothing, an inscription: Ani ledodi ve Dodi Li. Hebrew.

A wave of heat flushed through her body, and her chest tightened under a varnish of flash-frozen sweat. She knew the Gestapo confiscated all Jewish valuables, but she never considered what became of them. Like their owners, they simply vanished.

The snow picked up. The flakes were no longer light but beaded with icy hearts that pricked the skin. The wind stung her eyes. She blinked away the tears so she could clearly see the ring. It was someone else’s wedding band, and she wondered if that unknown finger missed its weight.

Elsie steadied herself against a blanket-covered crate under the balcony and breathed the frosty air until her heart slowed its pounding.

“What are you doing out here?” Kremer pushed through the back entrance doors.

Elsie slid the ring on. “The heat inside—I guess I’m not very good with champagne. I’m fine now.” She reached for the doorknob, but he stopped her.

“Look at you—you’re shaking. How long have you been out here?” He rubbed her arm with rough fingers.

“I should go in,” said Elsie.

“You need somebody to warm you up.” Before she could pull away, Kremer yanked her into his coat. His breath reeked of red wine and sausage.

“Major Kremer, please.” Elsie tried to free her arms, but her limbs were heavy and cold.

“You smell like a baker’s daughter.” He leaned in. “Do you taste like a baker’s daughter?” He kissed her neck.

“Let go! Stop!” she yelled.

Kremer put a hand over her mouth. “Hush!” he commanded. “If you make another noise,” he growled into her ear, then unbuttoned the holster of his gun. “Officers have been commended for shooting female spies in the act of seduction.” Holding her tight with one hand, he quickly pushed her skirt up and slipped his other up her thigh.

“Disgusting pig! How dare you!” She kicked hard and pulled away. “I am not a spy!” She spit in his face.

He slapped her, spinning her around. “Such a pretty fräulein and with so much spirit.” He thrust her forward against the crate, pinning both her arms overhead. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He fumbled with his belt buckle.

“You beast!” Elsie cried. “I’m going to tell Josef!”

Kremer smiled. “Do you think he’d still want you—after he finds out that you seduced me?” He pushed up her chiffon and undid his trousers. “And on such a holy night as this?”

“Please,” Elsie panicked. “I’ve never …”

His thighs were hot and coarse; the friction of his stiff uniform against the beaded gown broke her skin beneath in small puncture wounds.

“Whose story do you think they’ll believe, eh? An immoral concubine or an officer of the Third Reich.”

“God, please!” she cried.

Kremer wrenched her arms tight and anchored his feet.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream, a single note, cracked the air like a siren. And to her shock, Kremer let go. She fell to the ground. Delicate crystals dotted his muddy footprints.

The banshee’s cry continued.

Kremer took out his gun and did up his pants. He aimed left and right before homing in on the source. The wooden crate behind them. He yanked off the covering.

The Jewish boy sat inside with a blanket draped over his head like a Nativity figurine. Sound emanated from the hooded face.

“Quiet!” Kremer ordered and cracked the metal butt of his gun against the wooden slats.

The boy’s note did not waver.

“Jewish demon!” He cocked the pistol.

Elsie crawled to the banquet doors and met Josef’s boots coming out.

“Elsie!” He lifted her to her feet. “What is going on?”

Kremer stood with outstretched arm; the polished barrel pointed at the boy’s head.

Elsie buried her face in Josef’s stiff shoulder.

“Günther, put the gun down!” Josef boomed.

The boy hushed.

“He’s a Jew. Why waste time driving him back to the camp?” Kremer’s finger moved for the trigger.

Josef slapped the gun from his hand, and the bullet zipped through the dark snowfall. “You do not have authority,” roared Josef.

It was the first time Elsie had seen him angry. Her body trembled at his ferocity.

Josef picked up the gun from the powdered street and emptied the chamber. Bullets dropped soundlessly into the snowbank. He placed the barrel against Kremer’s forehead. Neither spoke.

The wet chiffon grew stiff around Elsie’s body, a gossamer cocoon of ice. She tasted iron. A finger to her mouth returned crimson. The inside of her lip was split, and she sucked the warm blood to make it stop.

The blanket over the boy fell away, exposing a pale skull and tear-streaked cheeks. His chin quivered and reminded Elsie of the only time she’d seen her nephew Julius. After he was born, they visited Hazel in Steinhöring. Julius cried for milk from the bassinette. So small and fragile; his tears seemed too large in comparison. The Jewish boy looked the same. Elsie wanted to reach out to hold him and rock them both.

“Josef. My friend,” said Kremer.

Josef pressed the metal against his skin. “ ‘And then she will call all those before her judgment seat, who today, in possession of power, trample justice and law underfoot …’ ” He pushed the gun harder and spoke steadily, a man entranced. “ ‘Who have led our people into misery and ruin and amid the misfortune of the fatherland have valued their own ego above the life of the community.’ ” He pulled back. The barrel left a circular indent on Kremer’s forehead.

Josef composed himself. “It would do you good to understand our purpose.” He handed the empty gun back to Kremer, cleared his throat, and readjusted the cuffs of his uniform jacket so they aligned perfectly. “They are serving dessert.” He took Elsie’s arm and opened the door; the strains of festive violin spilled out to the alley. “Come, Günther.”

Kremer obeyed and followed behind.

The boy in the cage was silent. Elsie wanted to look over her shoulder one last time but kept her eyes forward for fear of being turned to a pillar of salt.