the German police. The United States was particularly difficult to enter, for potential immigrants must provide affidavits from American citizens willing to become their sponsors. They also had to secure a place on the waiting list within the quota permitted for each country of origin, and with thousands of German Jews desperate to escape to America, the competition was fierce. The uncertainty obliged them to apply to several different countries at once, creating an exhausting and expensive bureaucratic snarl with no guarantee of success.
From his contacts in the international press, Natan had learned that the United States, Canada, and Great Britain were reluctant to increase their quotas and allow more impoverished people to flood their shores when they were already struggling with unprecedented unemployment, poverty, and widespread hunger due to the Great Depression. He had heard rumors that the number of German Jews allowed to enter the United States was actually far below what the quota stipulated. “Antisemitism isn’t exclusive to Germany,” he had told Sara the previous autumn, little guessing how crushed and bewildered his offhand remark had rendered her. Her entire academic career had been devoted to American and English literature. Every American she had ever met had been kind and generous, although it was true that she hadn’t met very many. Even so, she could not bear to think that the country she had admired from afar for so many years, a country founded on liberty and religious freedom, would reject her and her family simply because they were Jews.
The next morning dawned sunny and clear, with a sparkling white blanket of snow covering the landscape outside Sara’s window. Smiling at the muffled laughter of the children as they played somewhere downstairs, she quickly washed, dressed warmly, and hurried to the dining room where the families were gathering. After breakfast, Sara’s parents offered to show Mr. and Mrs. Panofsky and Mr. Panofsky’s mother around the grounds while Natan and Sara took the children sledding. Natan, caught off guard, looked so wary that Sara had to laugh, but the children were fairly bouncing in their chairs from excitement, so he smiled and agreed.
After an hour outside in the clear, crisp winter air, Sara knew her brother did not regret being conscripted to entertain the children rather than spending the day clattering away on his typewriter. The nearest hills were either too tame for Hans or too steep for Ruth, so instead of racing downhill, Sara pulled Ruth on one sled while Natan pulled Hans on the other, escorting them on their own tour of the estate, over the bridge and into the woods, singing and laughing, pausing to study the tracks forest creatures had left in the snow. They deduced from the paths traced through the drifts that the older set had made the rounds of the orangery, the greenhouse, the stables and indoor riding arena, and the gardener’s cottage before returning indoors to a warm fire.
Late in the morning, Sara and Natan hauled the children up a long, gentle rise and paused at the top to catch their breath and to admire the view of the entire Riechmann estate spread out below all around them.
“See that man down there?” Natan said, his cheeks red from cold as he knelt between the two sleds and pointed to a frozen pond at the northern edge of the forest, fed by the same creek as the moat. “That fellow is Mr. Albrecht, the groundskeeper. He’s clearing the ice for us so we can skate after lunch.”
Hans let out a cheer and Ruth clapped her mittened hands together in delight. Then Natan’s last words sank in and both children suddenly realized they were hungry. Her own stomach rumbling, Sara swung Ruth’s sled around and followed the trail Natan broke through the drifts down the slope, careful not to let the children’s sleds get away from them.
The children’s grandmother met them at the back door and quickly ushered them indoors, smiling as she noted their rosy cheeks and shining eyes. As she helped them out of their coats, boots, mittens, and scarves, Natan quickly shrugged off his own winter gear and hurried away, whistling, no doubt intent on typing a few paragraphs before lunch. As the elder Mrs. Panofsky took charge of her grandchildren, Sara hung up her things and went upstairs to change, rubbing her hands together to warm them.
Just as she passed the library, she heard Mr. Panofsky say, “But are you certain the staff is absolutely loyal?”