Mrs. Tuesday's Departure: A Historical Novel of World War Two (14 page)

The street wa
s
crowded with people on their way home. A man in a heavy blue wool overcoat brushed past me and I caught a whiff of cologne.

My head snapped up, “Max!” My husband’s name slipped from my lips as I watched the back of the coat disappear into the throng ahead of me.

I stopped and let the crowd swarm around me. My head swam with Deszo’s accusations that I was betraying Anna. I thought of Mila and wondered how I would be able to keep her from being swept into the vortex of the war. Anna. Gunter. My stomach roiled. The thought of going back to the apartment repulsed me. I was as sick of those four walls as Mila and Anna. I turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Within an hour, I found myself standing in front of carved wrought iron gates that enclosed a small-secluded cemetery. The heavy latch gave way as I pushed against it.

In the twilight, I made my way along the path that lead between rows and rows of old plots. The tombstones stood bent and weathered with age, withered flowers lay in sullen heaps. Max was buried in one of the last available plots in a back corner near a garden wall overshadowed by buildings on either side. There would be no room for my grave next to his.

I found Max’s grave and knelt beside it. My fingers touched the engraved words of his name. Brushing aside the withered remnants of leaves, I leaned over, laid my head against the cold stone, and embraced its rough surface with my arms. I curled myself around the gravestone and held it as if I were embracing Max, the uneven ground jabbing my legs beneath the edge of my coat. I recalled his appearance in my dream and hoped to find him here.

“What should I do, Max?”

“What would you do?”

“Deszo was always your best friend. Of course, I can trust him. Perhaps I’m only imagining his interest in me. I know, I know, you always said it was a good thing you’d proposed first. I don’t think Deszo’s was serious, do you? I mean back then, we were all young and foolish, we were always playing games. You remember don’t you?”

“But what do I do now? You’re not here! I don’t like being responsible for all these people. And the German, Max. You forgive me for those thoughts don’t you? I couldn’t help it I am only human. No, I know that’s no excuse. Oh God, I am wicked. Max, am I so bad? I never considered another man when you were alive. Now, now, I am attracted to the same man who would eagerly kill our niece. God help me. I want to go away. I want to be with you, Max.”

Suddenly my face hit the ground.  A hand was rummaging through the pocket of my coat. I screamed and rolled to my side to sit up. He slapped me hard, my head slammed against the headstone and my ears rang against the shock. I screamed and he put a hand over my mouth.

“Give me your money.” The teenager hovering over me stank of liquor. His face was pockmarked, his hair greasy and dark, his clothes bore the filth of the homeless.

I cried out and managed to kick out at his crotch. He cursed, reared back to hit me again. Just then, anther young man standing over him joined him. The other boy pulled my assailant off me and swore, “Get back!”

“I’ll kill her,” the first one said.

“Off!” The other boy shoved him aside and bent over me, grasping my chin, turning my face into the dim light from a building adjacent to the graveyard, he said, “I know her.”

“
You know her
.”

“Yes!”

“She’ll turn us in to the police!”

“She won’t.”

I struggled to sit up. The boy who’d hit me backed into the shadows. The other boy knelt beside me, brushed off my coat, and reached for my arm to help me up.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said.

I pushed him away, “I can see that visiting the dead is dangerous.”

“Don’t you remember me?”

I looked at him and in the dim light his features became familiar. How strange that the thief was now my savior. “Jozef.”

“Yes.” He retrieved my scarf from the ground and handed it to me.

I wound the scarf around my neck and buttoned my coat. Gingerly I touched my cheek, the skin hot beneath my fingertips. “You don’t limit your thievery to homes.”

“A well dressed woman sitting in an empty cemetery is too tempting a target.” Jozef looked over at his accomplice, “I’ll meet you later.”

The other boy hesitated, “You better share whatever you get,” he warned and then moved off toward the entrance.

Jozef turned back to me. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my husband,” I said.

“How’s the girl?”

“You mean Mila. She’s fine.”

“Come on let’s get out of here,” Jozef reached for my arm. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, so you can steal more from me?” I tried to wrest my arm from his grasp but he held me tightly.

Jozef shook his head, “No, so someone else doesn’t rob you on the way home. It’s getting dark, you’re stupid to be out alone.”

“Then let go of me.”

“As you wish,” he said, releasing my arm. “I was just trying to help.”

The narrow path between the headstones was almost impossible to make out as a canopy of branches overhead blocked the light. I stumbled over a rock on the path and Jozef grabbed my arm.

At the entrance to the cemetery I paused, “I can get home by myself.”

“I think you better let me take you.”

I wasn’t sure if his tone contained threat or concern. He had saved me from a certain death from his friend. On the other hand, what if as his friend had intimated, Jozef had no plans of sharing a bigger haul.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Is your niece still looking for a safe place to hide?”

I paused, not certain whether to answer him truthfully. “She’s gone.”

Jozef searched my eyes and then a thin smile spread across his face. “Of course, I’m sure it was easy.”

“I have friends,” I replied defensively.

Jozef fell into step next to me. “Then you won’t mind if I escort you home. For your safety.”

I stopped again and turned to toward him. “What do you want? Money? Blackmail? To steal my possessions? I’m sorry I won’t let you. If you’re hungry, I’ll give you the small amount of money I have in my pocket and you can buy food. I have nothing more to offer you.”

“You’re drawing attention to yourself. You really know nothing about how to conduct yourself in the street, do you.” Jozef took my arm and steered me down the sidewalk.

I tore my arm away from him. “You are the enemy.”

Jozef shook his head. “I’m a thief by necessity. Mrs. Nyugati is more dangerous to you than I could ever be.”

I stopped again
.
Again, Jozef took my arm and continued to walk.

“What do you know about Mrs. Nyugati?” I asked.

“She’s one of my customers,” Jozef said. “Actually her husband is. I buy them things for their store that they couldn’t get otherwise.”

“What has she said?”

“She talks about the money she’s been offered to turn in people who are hiding Jews. She’s mentioned you.”

I attempted to break free from Jozef’s but his grip was too tight. “When did she say this?”

“This afternoon.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “About the time she saw Mila and your sister leaving the apartment and walking by her store.”

“Oh God,” I whispered.

“You’re lucky she only told me and not the Nazi
soldier
that was in the shop at the same time.”

I began to hurry toward home. “How do you know she didn’t tell him?”

Jozef’s arm slowed me. “Remember the point is not to draw attention to yourself.”

“How do you know she didn’t tell the Nazi?”

“Because I paid her off.”

“I don’t believe you!”

He tightened his grip around my arm and hissed, “Quiet.”

“You don’t have that kind of money,” I said bowing my head.

Jozef chuckled. “I probably have more money than you do. I’m a businessman. I profit from the war.”

“You’re just a young boy.”

“I’m fifteen. Don’t be so naïve,” Jozef chuffed.

My head was reeling trying to digest everything he’d said, trying to pick the truth from the lies. “Why did you pay her off?”

“Why do you think?”

“Because you believe you can make more by coming to me.”

Jozef didn’t reply but continued to walk me down the street toward my apartment. I tried to imagine a scenario that would get me out of this situation. I would pay anything he asked to keep his silence. I just wondered if I had enough money. This might be the first of many payments I would have to make to him.

“Tell me how much you want,” I repeated.

“You are protecting your niece only because her mother left her. Is that right?”

“Yes, why is that so strange?”

“Why risk your life for her?”

“Because I love her.”

“Mrs. Nyugati says the Jews killed Christ so it’s God’s retribution that they face now.”

“That’s ridiculous. God doesn’t stoop to the petty revenges of man. No, Hitler’s a charlatan, preying on the prejudices to further his own political aims.”

“He’s found a lot to follow him.”

“Yes, but why did you pay off Mrs. Nyugati? And how do you know that she still won’t turn in Mila to the Nazis? She could get paid twice.”

“She won’t tell the Nazis because she knows that if she does I will stop being her supplier. She also knows that the cost of betraying me is a lot worse than money.”

“What would you do?”

“Let’s just say that money couldn’t repair it.”

I had a new appreciation of Jozef. I knew he was warning me as well as informing. A boy of his age didn’t become a businessman by doing things according to the rules. I imagined there were very brutal methods required to operate in his chosen profession.

“But still,” I asked, careful now. “Why pay her off on our behalf?”

“If she informs to the Nazis once, they’ll come back to her for information again and again. I might be her next pay-off.”

“But she needs you,” I countered.

“She’s greedy, which makes her thinking predictable.”

“You want me to believe that you paid for Mila’s safety to protect yourself?”

Jozef looked at me and cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t believe that do you.”

“No.”

“You know Deszo Eckhart.”

There were to
o
many coincidences. I couldn’t imagine how Jozef would know Deszo, or why Jozef would be interested in him. What could Deszo possibly have to offer this street thug? How could their paths have ever crossed? I remained silent.

Jozef prompted, “You had coffee with him.”

“You’ve been following me.”

This time it was Jozef’s turn to remain silent. He dug his hands into his pockets and looked out toward the street traffic.

“Then why do you ask if I know him? Obviously if you saw me meet with him you know that I do.”

“I don’t know how well you know him.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“There are other ways for me to find out,” Jozef warned.

“What do you want with Deszo?”

Jozef squared his shoulders, as if to look older and more mature. “I think he and I could help one another.”

I wanted to laugh. How could this young thug, believe that he could have anything to do with Deszo? They were completely different. Deszo was a well-educated, cultured man, from an upper-class background. He was politically neutral, not given to intrigue. His most daring escapade as far as I knew was his long affair with my sister.

“Deszo is a professor. Are you planning to join the university? You’d like him to help you get in.”

Jozef laughed. “You know I’m too young to attend university. And in the middle of a war, education of that sort is a waste of time.”

“Then how do you imagine that Deszo could help you?”

“It’s Deszo’s other work that I’m interested in.”

“I am not aware that Deszo has any other work than his job at the University. But if you know differently, why don’t you go to him yourself?”

“He would never listen to someone like me. I need an introduction.”

“Leverage,” I said turning to look at him with new understanding. “You need Deszo to have a reason to help you and I am that reason.”

Jozef shrugged. “You’re an incentive.”

“And my incentive is Mila.”

“It’s a small thing I’m asking,” Jozef replied.

I hadn’t noticed how close we were getting to home. I looked up and saw my apartment building on the next block. “I need to think about it.”

Jozef nodded and said, “There’s nothing to think about. I want to meet Deszo, it’s a simple request.”