on the floor. He pivots and comes back toward Trudy. He is as tall as a tree; she tips her head up as he approaches and sees his worsted crotch, the muscles of his thighs pumping beneath the cloth.
Now you, he says, and begins to mark time again.
Raise high the knife!
Sharpen the blade to cut Jewish flesh.
Jewish blood will run in the gutters;
On every corner the Hitler flag will flutter—
Horst, says Anna. I really don’t think—
Trudy looks in her mother’s direction. Anna is standing behind the display case, watching the scene with dark and sorrowful eyes.
Saint Nikolaus rounds on her.
WILL you be quiet! he roars. WILL you for once in your Godforsaken life just! shut! up!
Then he spins and deals Trudy a backhanded blow to the face. She reels to the floor, her ears ringing. She doesn’t feel the impact of his hand. Her right cheek is numb from forehead to chin.
Saint Nikolaus’s shining boots pass a few centimeters from her nose. Trudy hears him yelling something unintelligible overhead and hears Anna’s answering cry. She tries to move, but the cement beneath her exerts a pull stronger than gravity.
You’re a disgrace, I’ve had it with the pair of you, Saint Niko-laus is screaming. Puling, whining, ungrateful! I’ve half a mind not to come back at all.
And then the strangest thing happens: the ceiling must open up, or perhaps the sky, for treasures rain down, forks and watches and rings and brooches. They shower around Trudy in a crashing, clanging cacophony. Not a one touches her, however, for Anna is there, crouched over her, shielding Trudy in her arms.
Yet terrified as she is, Trudy struggles to squirm free of her mother’s protective embrace. The press of Anna’s flesh turns her stomach, as does her smell. For Anna doesn’t smell like herself, sharp like celery beneath flour and honest sweat. She smells of bacon fat, of fish starting to go off. She smells like Saint Niko-laus. She smells like the man.
47
RAINER COMES TO THE DOOR MORE QUICKLY THAN ONE might expect, considering that it is nearly three in the morning. Trudy, however, is not surprised; she knows that he, like she, is prone to insomnia. He is as fully clothed as a man can be at this hour without being actually dressed, in pajamas and robe and his monogrammed slippers. He is even wearing his bifocals, as though he has been expecting just such an intrusion. The only signs that Trudy has disturbed him are his hair, which stands up in a cock’s comb at the crown, and a somewhat wild look about the eyes, and Trudy realizes belatedly that, given his past, Rainer will be even more alarmed than most by a pounding on the door in the middle of the night.
Why, Trudy, he says.
He lowers his chin to peer at her over his glasses, as if to confirm that she is truly there, then slides them off and slips them into a pocket of his robe. In his other hand is a paperback, a John Le Carré thriller.
My God, he says. What has happened to your face?
Trudy shakes her head.
It’s nothing.
It does not look like nothing, Rainer says, frowning. You really should have some ice on those bruises. Who has done this to you? What is wrong?
His concern makes Trudy shy. She digs her toe into the weave of the welcome mat.
I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, she mumbles.
Don’t be stupid. Come in. Whatever has happened, you can tell me just as well inside.
When Trudy doesn’t move, staring at her boots, Rainer takes her by the arm.
You are letting all the heat out, he tells her.
He walks Trudy into the living room and indicates that she should sit on the couch. But Trudy remains on her feet. She is panting a little, from the cold and her rush over here and the fear of what she has come to say.
And the only way to say it is to say it. Rainer is waiting, watching her. Trudy puts an icy hand on her breastbone.
I’m not who you think I am, she says rapidly. I’m not just an ordinary German. I’m the daughter of a Nazi officer. An SS officer. There. Now you know.
Rainer looks down at the book he is still holding.
I’ve never told that to anyone, says Trudy. Not even my ex-husband knew. And—
She buries her face in her hands.
I’m so ashamed, she cries. So ashamed. My entire life I’ve felt so— stained.
Rainer says nothing, but after a