Someone Named Eva (11 page)

Milada, Milada, Milada.

I could almost hear the name on the breeze blowing in through the window and filling the lace curtains.

T
H
E
next morning I was awakened by happy shouts coming from Peter's study.

I slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, following the noise to the doorway. I stood there watching Peter and his father wrestle playfully on the floor.

"Vater! Vater! I will get you, Vater!" Peter pounced on top of Herr Werner, who sat crouched on the floor like a cat, with his shirt untucked and his uniform jacket slung over a chair.

"Ah! What a man you are!" Herr Werner growled playfully and rolled Peter onto his back, tickling him. "What a big strong man you are!" Peter was still dressed in his sleeping clothes, his hair sticking out in all directions.

"Hans," Frau Werner was standing behind me.

Peter and Herr Werner both stopped in mid-play, and Herr Werner frowned at his wife. Peter looked from his mother to his father and then at me.

"Play is good for the boy. Helps him to be a man." Herr Werner ran his fingers through his son's hair. Peter giggled.

"Hans," Frau Werner repeated, her voice tight. "It is time for his bath."

"I'll send him when we're done, wife." He didn't look at her as he spoke but winked at Peter, cuffing him playfully on the shoulder.

"Come, Eva, it is time for your bath as well." Frau Werner turned briskly.

Peter followed his mother with his eyes, and when she was no longer in sight, he looked up at me and stuck out his tongue. I blinked in surprise. I had not been around boys for some time, but it reminded me of something my own brother would have done. Then I followed his mother to the washroom that Elsbeth and I were to share. It was large and gleaming white, with two separate claw-foot tubs. One was already full of water and bubbles.

"Our maid, Helga, drew the water for you," Frau Werner said as she led me into the room. "Here is a robe. The towels there are yours." She pointed to two soft white towels hanging from a gold loop by the tub and left me to my bath. Her manner had changed from the previous night. She had become brisk and efficient, a mother getting her daughter ready for the day.

I climbed into the tub and sat, breathing in the scent of lavender and letting the warmth seep its way into my skin. I lifted small handfuls of water and watched it drip between my fingers. From down the hall came the sounds of Herr Werner leading Peter, finally, to a bath in his own washroom.

The water felt soft and luxurious. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a bath. We had taken quick, cold showers at the center and had scrubbed with soap that always smelled like medicine. The showers left me feeling awake, but never feeling good or even really clean.

After my bath I ate breakfast by myself in the kitchen and was happy to be left alone. I could hear the sounds of Peter and Elsbeth getting ready for the day and their mother trying to hurry them along. The voices of servants echoed from various parts of the house, and periodically I would hear Herr Werner's loud voice or heavy footsteps upstairs. I sat eating quietly, wondering what was to happen to me in this house with this family.

***

I was left to myself for much of my first couple of days in the Werner household, and I spent that time trying to find my way around the inside of the huge house and wading through the great sea of lawn outside.

I was away from guards for the first time in two years, and I thought about running away. I could have escaped into the small woods that bordered the house, running until I couldn't run anymore and then lying down to sleep in the hope of awakening from this nightmare, back in my bed in Lidice. But each time I thought about leaving, something stopped me.

It was the smell that clung to everything inside and outside of the house. It was unlike anything I had smelled before, and it seemed to be everywhere at once, but its cause remained unseen. Some days it was strong, almost overpowering, while other days it was barely present. I knew something nearby had to be causing it, something unknown and awful. It was the fear of what I might find that kept me from running.

Elsbeth sometimes followed those first few days, hovering behind me. She obviously wanted to be near but was trying to stay far enough away to give me some privacy. She would keep a watchful eye over me until her mother or one of the servants shooed her away or assigned her an errand or chore.

As I wandered through the house, I was struck by how much it reminded me of a museum I had visited once in Prague, with its ornate artwork and dark wood paneling. Everything in the house was lavish and splendid, so perfect that I was afraid I might break something if I touched it.

Besides the bedrooms and studies, there was a huge sunroom on the second floor, which opened onto a large porch that wrapped all the way around the second story of the house. Peter's dog, Kaiser, would sit on the back porch with me and chase the butterflies that came to rest on the flowers. Helga, the maid, made sure there were always fresh flowers in the house, as if trying to use their fragrance to mask the ever-present smell.

A huge formal ballroom took up most of the first floor. One side opened onto a wide spiral staircase that elegantly swept up to the second floor. On the center wall of the ballroom was a framed picture of Hitler. It was almost life size and was accompanied by two red flickering candles and a vase of fresh flowers.

Next to the staircase was a library, with shelf after shelf of books that reached all the way to the ceiling. Some shelves were so high that a special ladder with wheels was needed to reach the books. In all my life I had never seen so many books.

Across from the library was the only room in the Werner house that was locked. Its door was plain compared with everything else in the house, and when I first found it, I thought perhaps it led to a washroom or closet. I turned the knob, but it refused to open. I shook the handle gently, and suddenly Peter was standing between the door and me.

"You can't go in there." His green eyes pierced me from beneath his short blond bangs.

"I—I didn't know," I stammered, pulling my hand away. I hadn't even been aware that he was following me.

"It's Vater's office, and he is the only one allowed inside. Sometimes I can go in. But you cannot." His eyes flashed with an adult kind of authority and narrowed to slits. Suddenly, I felt afraid.

"All right," I told him. "I didn't know."

"You will get in trouble if you ever go in there."

"I understand, Peter. I understand," I said, smiling at him uneasily. He crossed his arms and planted his feet in a firm stance.

"Vater is a very important man, you know. Very important," he said.

Elsbeth appeared next to Peter, nudging him aside. "Come now, Peter. Leave Eva alone. Cook made some treats for you."

"Chocolate biscuits?" Peter's face broke into a grin, and he uncrossed his arms, looking like a little boy again.

"Of course! Hurry, while they are still warm."

We watched him run off to the kitchen, then Elsbeth turned to me, her face serious. "Peter's right. About both things."

"What things?"

"Vater has an important job in the Nazi party, and you will get in trouble if you go in there. It's his office and he keeps it locked. Not even Mutter is allowed in. Peter is allowed sometimes, but no one else. You must stay away." Her eyes locked on mine, and something in her voice told me I shouldn't ask any more questions.

Herr Werner both frightened and fascinated me. His eyes were like Fräulein Krüger's, pleasant on the outside but hiding something hateful and frightening inside. He was tall and muscular but had a round belly that protruded over his belt. His mustache was always perfectly trimmed, and yet his hair flew wildly about his face, as if he often ran his fingers through it. He wore a lot of cologne, but that never quite covered the other smells that constantly clung to him: cigar smoke, wine, and that same smell that hung in the air around the house.

I had been instructed to call him Vater, but I tried not to call him by that if I could. I could hardly get the word out of my mouth without choking.

He was nothing like my own papa, who was short and trim with dark, gentle eyes that folded into small wrinkles at the corners when he laughed. There was nothing mysterious or hidden about my papa. He was who he was: strict but fair and kind to everyone. And someday, I knew, my own papa would come for me.

Herr Werner seemed to have only a certain amount of kindness within him, as if it was something that would run dry if he used too much of it. He was rough and rude with his servants and barely tolerated Elsbeth and her mother. But with Peter he was always kind and gentle, showing a side of himself I would not have believed existed if I had not seen him playing with his son. Because of this, I did not trust him.

After two days of watching me wander through the house, Elsbeth grew tired of following. She became my guide, leading me through various rooms and telling me stories that went with each.

"This is our recreation room," she said, leading me down a staircase near the kitchen and into a huge finished basement. It was fully equipped with games, exercise weights, a phonograph, and a dartboard. One side had a huge floor-length mirror and another side had a ballet barre attached to the wall.

I nodded, not saying anything, letting her lead the way. Like every other part of the house, the basement was large and elegant, although it was cool and smelled musty. At one end was a hall that led to a room, about the size of the formal dining room, and an even smaller room off of that. Elsbeth stopped at the entrance to the first room.

"This," her voice became a whisper, "is for air raids."

I nodded. Even though the Nazis had been in Czechoslovakia for three years before I left, I had not experienced air raids until I was at the center. The raids had been frightening, horrible things that happened during the night. A shrill whistle from the guard awakened us, and we would spring into well-rehearsed action, covering the windows with blankets and huddling together in a lower-level room. There we would stay, listening to the windows upstairs rattle and shake as planes carrying bombs droned close overhead. Even though we always emerged safe, I never slept well for many nights afterward.

I had heard no such sounds since arriving at the Werner house.

"We are far enough away from the fighting," Elsbeth said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "But Vater is very important, you know, and we live very close to his work. He is the commandant of a prison camp." She looked at me and patted my arm. "But don't worry," she added, suddenly cheerful again. "We have never needed this place.

"And this," Elsbeth continued, "is a most special radio. It uses batteries and can be taken anywhere. Mutter has another one upstairs in her sewing room just like this one. She likes to stay informed as to how the war is progressing."

There was a war. It could be easy to forget that while living in this place, in the midst of such luxury and quiet. Were there really people still fighting against the Nazis? By now I was sure they must be in charge of the whole world.

I nodded again, following Elsbeth back upstairs. Besides their maid, Helga, and their butler, Erich, the Werners had the chauffeur, Johann, a groundskeeper, Karl, and a cook, Inge, all of whom lived in a smaller house close to the edge of the woods. Inge was old and wrinkly and very fat. The Werners never called her by her real name but referred to her simply as Cook, a name she seemed to embrace. She made the most delicious foods I had ever eaten. Her meals were rich and filling and mixed with spices and textures I had not tasted before.

Usually we children and Mutter ate in a small dining room off the kitchen. If Herr Werner came home from work early enough, the entire family would eat together in the formal dining room, which had a long dark wood table and a huge chandelier hanging above it. The crystals of the chandelier twinkled and glittered with light from the small candles hidden inside its dozens of crystal cups. Before dinner Helga would climb a ladder and light each candle individually. Even though there was an electric light nearby, the Werners were very proud of this antique chandelier.

My first dinner in the formal dining room took place on my third night in the Werner house. Cook served plates and plates of delicious foods: bratwurst, Wiener schnitzel, sauerkraut, and strudel.

"Did you enjoy your dinner, Eva?" Mutter asked as we finished dessert.

"Delicious, thank you." My voice sounded strange to me when I spoke, echoing in the large space of the dining room.

"We have only the best," Herr Werner replied, finishing the wine in his glass in one gulp.

I ate the last bite of my strudel and stood, taking my dish off the table and reaching for Elsbeth's at my side. An immediate and absolute silence filled the room, and everyone froze in place. Peter's eyes widened and he stared at me, his spoon in midair. I quickly put the plates back on the table and sat down, realizing I had done something wrong. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Eva." Mutter's voice was firm. "The servants are here to clear the table. It is not proper for you to do this chore."

Everyone remained still, and the room stayed unearthly quiet. I braced myself for what was to come from Herr Werner, sure that beatings were within his nature.

Helga suddenly rushed in to clear the table, and her quick movement so startled me that I did what I had done repeatedly at the center.

"Heil Hitler!" I said, giving the Nazi salute toward the picture of Hitler on the wall. "I apologize to the Führer and to the family."

Mutter released a small sigh, and Herr Werner nodded at me and then at Helga.

Everyone relaxed while Helga finished taking the dishes away. I sat with my hands in my lap, looking down at the now-empty table.

For the rest of that evening and late into the night, something restless and ugly swirled inside me. I was bothered, but I wasn't sure by what. I tried to tell myself that it was because I wasn't used to having people serve me. But deep down I knew that wasn't really what had upset me.