The Watcher (9 page)

Adrie took a deep breath. “Now, there's one thing I need to stress again. Do not climb up to those top shelves.
The books up there are out-of-bounds for you. They are all in German and . . . nothing you'd be interested in. Do you understand?”

“I wasn't going for the books. I was trying to fix the cord. . . .”

“I know, I know.” Adrie stood up and pulled me by my hand. “Let's go down and fix that drapery cord together.”

When Adrie, Watcher, and I reached the library, however, Frieda was already on the ladder, untangling the cord. We all laughed as Watcher tried to follow Frieda up the ladder, and then slipped to the floor.

“You silly little dog.” I gathered him into my lap. He looked up at me remorsefully and then licked my face. “I love you to pieces,” I told him.

When I looked up, I could see Adrie watching us, and I wondered what she was thinking.

You have never told me you love me,
I wanted to say.

A
drie and Frieda surprised me with a party for my fifteenth birthday. Of course it was just Adrie, Frieda, and me—who else did I know who would attend my party? If I were back in Maine, I'd have a real party with Jill—my best friend there, the one who stood by me. And I'd invite Quarry—the boy who lived in the lighthouse. Mom and Daddy would drive up from New York. I wondered what Mom and Daddy were doing today. They were sad, I was sure.

Frieda made a beautiful German chocolate cake, and we ate dinner in the dining room. I was also allowed a small glass of wine. Adrie presented me with a gold charm bracelet. It had three gold monkeys hanging from its links.

“Oh, Adrie, you remembered how I fell in love with Jill's bracelet. And now I have one too.” I held out my hand, and Adrie fastened the bracelet on my wrist.

“Yes, I do remember. Her father—that singer—sent it to her while he was on tour, as I recall.”

“Her dad is famous! He's on the radio all the time in the States,” I reminded her. “But her bracelet was silver, not gold—and it didn't have ruby eyes like these monkeys do.”

“I thought the ruby eyes would match your ring. And rubies are your birthstone.”

“You always think of everything. Thank you, Adrie.”

“Each of these wise monkeys has a lesson to teach.” Adrie took my hand and pointed to the first monkey. “This one has his hands over his eyes. That means ‘see no evil.' The second has his hands over his ears—‘hear no evil.' And the third has his hands over his mouth—see? This advises you to speak no evil.” She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What do you think they are telling you?”

I was silent as I thought about this. Then I answered, “I shouldn't believe everything I hear—or speak about it. And if I see something that is ugly or cruel—I must close my eyes to it.”

“
Ja. Gut!
The monkeys warn you that thinking, speaking, or dwelling on negative things—or things you don't understand—can harm you.” Adrie patted my hand and stood up. “That is the best advice I can give you.”

The following few weeks flew by quickly, and it was near the end of August before I realized it. I went to the park several times, determined to meet with Barret and his grandfather again, but they were never there when I was. I
began to wonder if I had dreamed the whole incident of that day in the park.

Meanwhile, I was enjoying my work with the children at Lebensborn. Once, Dr. Ernst had come in with her daughter, Gertrude—along with Gertrude's sidekick, Rikka. I'd avoided them, thanks to Johanna, who hid me in a closet on the third floor. We laughed after they left, feeling satisfied to have outwitted the two wicked stepsisters, as we called them in English (between ourselves).

I loved Johanna. We shared lunchtime together, which was when she helped me to speak German. I found her to be sweet, fun, a caring worker, and soon the dearest friend I ever had anywhere.

When I showed her my bracelet and what it stood for, she was quiet and thoughtful. Then she said, “Do you think that advice—see no evil or hear no evil—is always correct? Sometimes aren't we responsible to open our eyes and see the wickedness and evil in the world and then speak up about it?”

“I hadn't thought about it like that,” I answered, suddenly disappointed in myself.

We both loved the children at Lebensborn. Hunfrid, who was my favorite, was getting to be comfortable in his new home. He was speaking some German words and called me “Ven-dee.” He called Johanna “Yo-Yo.”

Johanna played a small accordion, sang German folk songs to the children, and before long Hunfrid and I were singing them too. One of the favorites was an old German folk song.

Lady-bird! Lady-bird! Pretty one, stay;

Come, sit on my finger, so happy and gay.

With me shall no mischief betide thee.

No harm would I do thee, no foeman is near—

I only would gaze on thy beauties so dear,

These beautiful winglets beside thee.

“That's only the first verse.” Johanna gave me a long look then said. “To me, you are the lady-bird.”

“How so?”

“You could have stayed in a happy, safe place, but you flew off to Germany.”

“No, I sailed off to Germany,” I said with a laugh. “Tell us what happens to the lady-bird. Sing us the second verse.”

Lady-bird! Lady-bird! Fly away home;

Your house is on fire, your children will roam!

List, list, to their cry and bewailing!

The pitiless spider is weaving their doom!

Then, lady-bird! Lady-bird! Fly away home,

Hark, hark! To thy children's bewailing!

“That's scary. I'm not sure what it means,” I said. “If I am the lady-bird, who are the children? And who is the pitiless spider?”

“That's the riddle for you to figure out,” Johanna said with a little smile.

I didn't know why the song and its meaning made a nest in my head, but I found myself wondering about it often.

I
wanted desperately to see Barret and his grandfather. At times I wondered if their story and warnings were just a hoax. But I was still curious how they knew I was in Germany, and why they waited and watched for me. I had to find out.

Therefore, I was pleased when Adrie told me on Friday night that she had to go away on business. She was in her room, packing a suitcase, and called to me.

“Wendy, I have to go to Munich for a while, and I'm hoping you won't go out after dark when I'm gone. You have to maintain your schedule at Lebensborn. Be careful! Promise me that you will stay at home and not go gallivanting off somewhere.”

“Where and how and with whom would I go gallivanting?”

“You know what I mean.”

“How will I get to Lebensborn?”

“Take a bus. One leaves from the corner of our street on the hour and half hour, and goes almost to the Lebensborn door. Or you can call a taxi. Oh, and by the way, I've called Frau Messner, and she's going to arrange for you to learn German with Johanna on your lunch hours from now on.”

“Did you need to get permission? Johanna and I have already been doing it for weeks.”

“I wasn't sure how wise it would be for Johanna to be used in that way without permission. After all, she is a . . . detainee. She may be bright, but she is also stupid. All she needs to do as a German citizen is sign her name on a paper and she'd be free.”

“I don't think she's stupid. I think she's brave and loyal to what she believes.”

“You think she's loyal?” Adrie turned and glared at me. “On second thought, perhaps I should not allow you to spend time with her.”

“Oh, I have no idea what Johanna believes—it has nothing at all to do with me,” I replied, and quickly changed the subject. “So why must you go to Munich? What if it's bombed?”

“It is an important city and could be a target at some point,” Adrie replied. “However, they are prepared with siren warnings and have many shelters everywhere.”

“Why are you going?” I was worried for her—and for myself, too. What if something happened to Adrie? I'd be alone in this strange country.

Adrie sat on her bed. “I have to go because . . . there is a resistance group there that is causing trouble.”

“Sabotage?” I asked.

“No, although it might lead to that. This is a group of students who print leaflets filled with lies about our Führer. They call themselves the White Rose group.”

“What are they saying in the leaflets?”

“Terrible things. ‘Every word that comes from Hitler's mouth is a lie,' ” Adrie quoted in a sarcastic voice. “ ‘When he says peace, he means war, and when he blasphemously uses the name of the Almighty, he means the power of evil, the fallen angel, Satan.' Imagine! Calling our Führer, Satan! I should not be telling you all this, but since you were worried, I wanted you to understand that I am not in great danger. My job is to find out who the leaders of this gang are.” She shut her suitcase. “Everything will be fine.”

“I hope so.”

“I've left money and bus tokens on my desk. There is a phone number where I might be reached, but only for an emergency, Wendy.”

I carried Adrie's overnight bag and her briefcase out to the car, and she took the suitcase. Frieda came running out with a thermos and a brown bag filled with cookies for Adrie's trip. After a few words with Frieda, Adrie climbed into the car and drove off.

That night I found it hard to sleep. There were too many new questions creeping into my thoughts—especially Herr Strohkirch's words:
. . . tucked and hidden away are the memories that Adrie's tried so hard to keep
from you . . . and even from herself . . . pieces of your background that are awaiting you in that house. Then, when you are ready, we will meet again.

I sat up. Since I couldn't sleep anyway, I thought I might as well start my search for whatever it was that Adrie might have hidden from me. The first place I'd check would be that top shelf in the library. There had to be something important up there or Adrie would not have made such a scene. If there was something about my life and my father in those books, I had every right to know.

However, I'd need to be extremely careful. If Adrie found out, I didn't know what she would do.

T
he clock on the table by my bed said one fifteen. Surely, Frieda was asleep by now. I slipped out of bed, peeked out my bedroom door, and found the house silent and dark. After taking a flashlight from my bedside table, I tiptoed down the shadowy hallway to the stairs.

I made my way noiselessly into the library so neither Watcher nor Frieda would hear me. After shutting the library door, I flashed the light on the closet and opened it. Then I carried the heavy ladder to the bookshelves, praying that I would not stumble or drop it. I turned the switches that locked the legs and set the ladder up against the shelves.

Cautiously, I climbed each rung and flashed my light on the leather-bound books on the highest shelf. I stood on the top rung of the ladder, reached up as high as I could, and was able to pull three of the heavy books toward me.
Holding the books under one arm, I climbed down the ladder, set the books on the reading table, and turned on the desk lamp. To my delight and excitement, I discovered two of the books were photograph albums. I chose the third book to examine first, saving the photos until last.

I discovered that the third book contained documents written in German. As I sifted through them, one in English caught my eye. It was my birth certificate from the State of New York—city of Buffalo. There was my name, Wendy Adriane Dekker. Birth Date: July 25, 1927. Mother: Adrie Dekker; Father: Karl Dekker.

Well, that was interesting. Adrie says I am 100 percent German. However, even if my parents are German, I was born in the USA; that makes me American as well!

I wondered if the other documents were important to me, but since they were written in legal-looking German, I put everything back in the book and set it aside.

The pictures in the first album, yellowed with age, were of men and women who I didn't know, dressed in old-fashioned clothing.

Why should these photographs be off-limits?
I wondered. I had no idea who these people were. As I reached the back, I found pictures of a smiling baby and the name Adrie written in faded ink. I couldn't help but smile. She was a cute baby who reminded me of me in my own baby pictures back in New York. I wondered if Adrie had any of my pictures here. She must have received pictures of me as I was growing up. I closed the album and set it aside.

The last book was thick with photographs mounted or
stuffed loosely in the pages. When I opened it, photos fell out onto the table and floor. I gathered them together and set them on the tabletop.