the discussion for another day. She would have suspected that his interest in marriage was waning if not for his increasing ardor when they were alone. At first she enjoyed it, but when he began urging her to go further than she wanted, murmuring breathlessly between kisses that they were going to be married anyway so there was no reason to refrain, and he didn’t need her to be a virgin on their wedding night as long as he was the only man she had been with, she became annoyed and unhappy. What if she got pregnant? What if something happened and they didn’t marry after all? He assured her nothing would go awry, but the world was veering sharply toward the wrong and no one knew for certain what the future would bring. She still loved Dieter, but she found guilty comfort in their decision not to marry until she finished her education, and in the fact that it took years to earn a doctorate.
With Dieter proving a poor conversationalist, Sara relied on Mildred’s study group for engrossing political conversation, Amalie for long heart-to-heart talks about her hopes for the future. But for someone without a job, Natan was curiously unavailable. He still met Sara for weekly lunches, but he stopped coming around for breakfast and declined an invitation to spend a weekend with the family at Amalie and Wilhelm’s estate in Minden-Lübbecke. Then, one Wednesday in late June, Natan failed to show up for their weekly lunch, and the following Saturday, he did not come home for Shabbat.
“He always lets me know if he has to cancel,” Sara’s mother said, a deep groove of worry appearing between her brows.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Sara’s father. “Perhaps something came up at the last minute.”
“Perhaps he’s met a nice young woman, and he’s celebrating Shabbat with her family tonight,” said Amalie, smiling brightly for her daughters. Sylvie and Leah smiled back, but Sara knew no one else at the table believed it.
The next morning, when Natan did not answer his phone, Sara decided to go see him. The Untergrundbahn seemed to make the trip across the city more slowly than it ever had, but eventually Sara was racing up the stairs to Natan’s flat, knocking on the door, and calling his name.
He did not answer.
She tried again, and when he did not reply, she checked under the loose piece of carpet below the door hinge for his spare key. It was gone. Heart pounding, she peered through the mail slot and saw a few envelopes scattered in the entry.
She rose, thoughts racing. Many of his friends had emigrated, and she was not sure how to reach those who remained.
Then she realized exactly where to start searching.
Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at the offices of the Berliner Tageblatt. She had visited Natan at work frequently through the years, but she did not recognize the pretty young blonde sitting at the receptionist’s desk. “I beg your pardon,” Sara asked, as calmly as she could. “Is Natan Weitz in today?”
The young woman frowned, thoughtful. “I don’t believe he works here anymore.”
“Perhaps he’s here visiting a friend.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see him come in.”
Sara searched her memory. “Is his boss here? Simon Auerbach?”
“Herr Auerbach resigned two weeks ago.”
“Would you phone him for me, please?” Sara heard the rising panic in her voice and took a deep breath. “Or give me his number and I’ll call him from home? Whatever is easier for you.”
“I’m sorry, but he moved to Canada. I could give you his address—”
“No, thank you.” Then a thought struck. “Konrad Dressler. May I speak with Konrad Dressler?”
“Miss Weitz?”
Turning, Sara discovered a trim man in a fine suit studying her with concern. “Yes?”
He shook her hand. “Karl Meinholz, senior editor.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Natan had always spoken well of him. “I’m looking for my brother. Have you seen him recently?”
In reply, Meinholz invited Sara to accompany him to his office. She accepted the chair he offered, but before she could say anything, he held up a finger, shut the door, and sat down behind his desk. Only then did he speak. “I regret that Natan Weitz is no longer on the staff of the Berliner Tageblatt. That would be against the law.”
“Yes, I know, but Natan has so many friends here, and I haven’t been able to reach him.”
His brow furrowed. “When he stopped coming around, I assumed he had left Germany.”
“Natan has no intention of leaving. I last saw him