The Watcher (22 page)

“Have you forgotten that both Adrie and Nixie were born in Germany? When Nixie went to study in America,
she chose to become a citizen. I met Nixie several times when she visited Adrie here in Berlin. She stayed in touch with me over the years and sent me photographs of you from the time you were born. That is how I recognized you when I saw you. I gave those photos to your father, David.”

“So when she heard Adrie and I disappeared from Maine, she was sure we'd go to Germany?”

“Oh,
Ja
. She begged me to care for you if you needed help. I promised her I would. We have been able to communicate several times—secretly, of course.”

“Does she know I want to leave Germany?”

“Your parents are working to make arrangements for you once you get to Sweden.” Opa reached out and clasped both of my hands in his. “Wendy, you know how much they love you. You were their little girl too.”

“Oh, yes, yes. I do know.” My eyes filled with tears as I kissed Opa. “Thank you for all the kindness and caring you've shown to me. Thank you for being my grandfather. I will never forget you.” As I turned away, I saw tears in Opa's eyes too.

Barret walked with Watcher and me as I headed back to Lindenstrasse. We were quiet for a while. My heart raced as I thought about the trip and danger ahead, but Barret must have known my feelings, as he held my hand firmly. We stopped when we reached the park, and he let go of my hand.

“I will miss you terribly, Barret.” My voice shook. “But it is time for me to leave . . . to go home—to America.”

Barret reached out to me, kissed me first on the cheek, and then sweetly on the lips. “Good-bye, my Wendy
Vendy,” he whispered. “God be with you.” He held me tightly for a few moments, then turned and walked swiftly away, his white cane clicking on the sidewalk.

When I got home, I went to my room and hid everything Opa had given me under my bed until I could pack it. Then I joined Frieda in the kitchen. Watcher was under the table, gobbling up his supper, and I realized with a start that I had not removed his work harness.

“Come here, Watcher,” I said. He came to me, although he eyed his dish as if to say,
I haven't finished yet.

“That's a different harness, isn't it?” Frieda asked.

“
Ja.
It's so I can teach him how to be a guide dog—in case I ever need a guide dog.” I grinned at her as I unhitched the harness.

Frieda did not ask how I got it, but she gave me a curious look as she filled my plate with a delicious
süss-saure Klopse
—sweet-and-sour meatballs—on boiled potatoes. We ate dinner quietly, and I had an uncomfortable feeling that she sensed something was up.

After supper I ran upstairs. I had lots to think about before my trip. My knapsack was already packed and on the floor of my closet.

I was about to pack away the secret things Opa had given me today when suddenly I stopped, realizing that I hadn't put my knapsack on the floor of my closet. I had set it on the top shelf. I was certain of that. So how did it get on the floor? Perhaps it had fallen down while I was gone.

I picked it up and looked inside. Everything seemed to be in order—except there was a small leather pouch that I
did not recognize. Puzzled, I took it out and opened it. Inside was a wad of Germany money. Where had it come from? Had Frieda put it in there? She was the only person who had been home today. If she had looked in my backpack, she would know I was preparing to leave. I wasn't sure if I should ask her, but who else could it be?

I went down to the kitchen where Frieda was cleaning up the last bit of dishes. “Is this yours?” I asked, holding up the leather pouch.

She didn't answer right away and then she sat at the table. “It is yours now, Wendy.”

“There is a lot of money here. Why did you put it in my rucksack?”

“I want you to have it. You will need it if . . .” Frieda took a deep breath. “Let me explain. Your rucksack fell today as I was cleaning.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “It was not zipped up, and things fell out. I realized that you might be planning to go away. I may be wrong, and if so, forgive me, but it is easy to see you are not happy in Germany. I saw your reaction to the execution of the White Rose students—and your deep sadness for your friend Johanna.” She paused and scrutinized me expectantly. When I said nothing, she went on. “I assume you've decided to leave—perhaps to a neutral country. If it were possible, I would go away with you, but since I cannot, I want to help you escape if you can. The money is what I have saved over the years. You must get away before the war escalates even more.”

I went to Frieda and hugged her. “Oh, Frieda, come with me. We'll go together.”

“Oh, my darling child, I can't. I am too old for a venture like yours. Besides, Adrie trusts me and now she will be alone. I can at least stay and help her to get through whatever is ahead. If there is a God in Heaven, He must do something to stop this evil war.”

“You have been so quiet about—everything. When I saw how you cut your hand, I knew you were unhappy with what happened to the White Rose students.”

“I could not speak of my feelings to Adrie—or to you until now. Your mother put all her hope in the Führer and the Third Reich. When Germany is defeated, and it will be defeated, all Adrie's false dreams will end. Pity her, Wendy. She is a lost soul—and now she is about to lose you.”

“I can never forgive or forget what happened to Johanna and the Bible Students, or to the Jews, the White Rose students, or those babies in the Lebensborn,” I admitted. “Perhaps someday I will be able at least to pity Adrie and the others who allowed the unforgivable to happen.” I put my arms around Frieda. “I will never forget you, Frieda, and the sweet love and kindness you've shown me.”

Sunday night I sat at my desk and pulled out a box of stationery that Adrie had given to me and wrote the following letter.

Dear Adrie:

I am not happy to leave you. I remember all the wonderful, sweet things you have done for me all
my life. I have left because I cannot live in Nazi Germany. I am not a German girl. I am an American girl.

I must go away to a place where I can have freedom to question or protest, to speak up, to be brave.

I know you wanted the best for me. However, I cannot be what I am not. Inside I am and will always be Wendy Taylor from America.

I love you.

Wendy

PS I am leaving your ruby ring. I do not feel I deserve to have it, because I am not the wonderful German daughter you want me to be. I am also leaving the three wise monkeys because they are not wise. They are blind and deaf and mute about the evil in the world.

I placed the letter on the top of my desk—along with Adrie's ruby ring and the bracelet.

I
t was almost three thirty in the morning and the first faint light of dawn crept over the eastern sky. I strapped the work harness, along with his precious collar, onto Watcher. After I hitched him to his guide dog harness, he ran to the bedroom door and scratched at it, his tail wagging wildly in anticipation of a walk.

“No, no, Watcher. Quiet!” I said in English.

Watcher, who now understood commands in German and English, looked disappointed. However, he obeyed, lay flat on the floor, and watched me expectantly while I dressed into my traveling clothes—a plain brown skirt and a white shirt. I added a tan jacket, as it might be cold at this time of the morning, even in July. I also wore the strong boots to protect my feet—and to protect the precious secrets inside them. I would not be fashionable, but I would be inconspicuous.

After sliding my arms into my rucksack and adjusting the weight onto my shoulders, I went downstairs with Watcher at my heels.

The house was silent—no sign of Frieda. I looked around at the beautiful residence, so tastefully decorated by Adrie's artistic hand. “Good-bye, house,” I whispered.

We slipped out the door and headed toward the bus stop. After midnight the bus came every hour until six o'clock in the morning. I began my blind act even though it was still dark, and put on my sunglasses. This way no one could see my eyes, in case I unconsciously gazed in the direction of movements or sights. It was four o'clock when the bus arrived. Watcher did exactly as he should, pausing as the door opened and then climbing in with me.

“Good dog,” the driver said admiringly. I paid the fare I had set aside in the pocket of my jacket. “Where are you going,
Fräulein
?”

“To
zum Bahnof
.”

“I will call it out when we arrive,” he promised.

“Danke.”
Evidently my disguise was working.

I glanced discreetly at my ticket when I arrived at the train terminal. Track four was where my train to Hamburg was waiting. I purchased a cup of coffee and a slice of coffee cake from a vendor, and paid with the correct change, the way I had seen Barret tell the size of coins by fingering them. The server put the items in a bag and tapped my arm. “Here is your purchase.”

“Danke,”
I said, and sat down on a nearby bench.

I gave Watcher a doggy bone from my rucksack. “That's all you can eat until we get to Hamburg,” I told him. He devoured the bone eagerly, then sat up and looked around.

As I ate my coffee cake, I noticed the waiting room was filling up with early travelers. A few people looked at us curiously. I pretended not to notice. Suddenly Watcher began to wiggle and his tail pounded on the tile floor. He whined, then barked and stood up.

“What is it, Watcher?” I asked softly. “Come. Sit.”

He looked at me quizzically, whined again, and then he pulled away before I could grab his harness. Watcher bounded across the huge waiting room to a familiar figure, circled him several times, and then lay on the floor in front of him, quivering. I lifted up my dark glasses to see better, and gasped.

It was Barret! Had he come to say good-bye? Did he have a message for me?

“Barret!” I hurried across the busy waiting area. Barret appeared to be hesitant and uncertain as he stood there.

“Here I am, Barret.” As I linked my arm in his, I noticed he had a large backpack. “Why are you here? Where are you going?”

“With you,” he said. “I've decided to leave Berlin with you.”

My heart almost jumped out of my chest with joy and relief. “Oh, Barret, I'm so happy you decided to come! I can't believe you changed your mind!” I paused, and then
added, “I hope I didn't talk you into something you'll regret.”

“You didn't talk me into it, Wendy. I made my own decision. I had never really discussed it with Opa, but after you left, we talked about my leaving. Berlin will be a major target soon, and Opa agreed I would be safer somewhere else. He went right to work and was able to get my papers ready—using the same papers and contacts as yours—all except the Swedish birth certificate. There wasn't enough time to get one. But hopefully it won't cause a problem.”

“But what about Opa? He'll be all alone.”

“That's another thing. Opa says he will be investigated soon. There is a rift in his organization. Hitler has evidence that there is a traitor somewhere in that group. I am worried that something Opa did in the past may be exposed. Opa insisted I must leave, or I might be caught up in the problem and be ostracized too.” Barret closed his eyes, and I saw a tear slip out from under his lashes. “It was hard to leave. However, the thought of leaving with you made it easier.”

I put my hand on his arm. “I am so happy that you are coming. I hope Opa will be safe.”

“I hope so too. I fear for him.” Barret opened his wristwatch and felt the hands. “It's time to board. We better get to our train.”

No one questioned our identity when we showed our papers and tickets at Track four. The conductor, noticing Watcher was a guide dog, motioned us on board.