Departures

The younger male Stutzman touched a finger to the space between his upper lip and his nose. “It’s going to be one, I hope.” At the moment, the growth was hard to see. For one thing, he had only just turned sixteen. For another, his hair was even fairer than his father’s. And for a third, he’d chosen to keep untrimmed only a toothbrush mustache; the first Fuhrer’s style was newly popular again.

Walther Stutzman differed from his son in appearance only by the presence of twenty-odd years and the absence of any vestiges of a mustache. As he handed Gimpel his topcoat, he asked quietly, “Tonight?”

“Yes, I think Alicia’s ready,” Gimpel answered as quietly. “I told her she could stay up late. How has A

“Well enough,” her father said.

“We’re still here, after all,” Esther Stutzman put in. A slim woman with light brown hair, she peered at Gimpel through glasses thicker than his own. Somehow, in spite of everything, her laugh managed to hold real mirth. “And if she hadn’t done well, we assuredly wouldn’t be.”

“Wouldn’t be what, Aunt Esther?” Alicia Gimpel asked, a doll under one arm.

“Wouldn’t be standing out here in the hall talking if we expected the curly-haired Gestapo to be listening in,” Esther said. Her grin took all sting from the words.

Imitating her father, Alicia said, “Oh, quatsch!” A

“Di

They all paused to admire the fragrantly steaming pork roast before Gimpel attacked it with fork and carving knife. With onions, potatoes, and boiled parsnips, it made a feast to fight the chill outside and leave everyone happily replete. Most of the talk that punctuated the music of knife and fork was praise for Lise’s cooking.

Smooth wheat beer mixed with raspberry syrup accompanied the meal. The two younger Gimpel girls, who usually were allowed only small glasses, got grownup-sized mugs. They proudly drained them dry, and were nodding by the time their mother brought out dessert. They munched their way through the little cakes stuffed with prunes or apricots or mildly sweet chocolate, but the filling sweets only made them sleepier. The food slowed Alicia down, too, but she was buoyed by the prospect of sitting up and talking with the adults.

Seeing her daughter’s excitement, Lise Gimpel said, “She doesn’t know yet how boring we can be, with our chatter of children and taxes and work and who’s going to bed with whom.”

“Who is going to bed with whom?” Esther asked. “It’s more interesting than taxes and work, that’s for certain.”

Susa

“It is not practical, not for me,” he answered stiffly, rubbing a finger over his peach-fuzz mustache.

“It is not practical for any of us, as Susa

“It’s wiser not to draw the attention of the Security Police in any case,” Lise Gimpel said with her usual solid good sense. “Even children know that.” She looked at her own two younger children, who were valiantly trying not to yawn. “After I get the table cleared away, time for the little ones to go to bed.”

Heinrich Gimpel nodded to Walther and Gottlieb Stutzman. “Nice to have some other men in the house for a change,” he said.

“You are outnumbered, aren’t you?” Walther said. “Me, I kept the numbers even. But then, that’s what they pay me for.” He had a moderately important post with the computer design team at Zeiss.

Everyone, even the men, pitched in to help Lise cart dirty dishes and leftovers (not that there were many of those) back to the kitchen. The two younger Gimpel girls took off their party dresses and put on long cotton nightgowns. They collected kisses from the grown-ups, then went off to their bedroom, not without a couple of sleepily envious glances at Alicia, who got to stay up.

Alicia herself looked curious and excited. She sat on the edge of the couch, her eyes now on her parents, now on Susa

Her gaze swung to her friend A

“Yes, I have.” A

“All right,” Alicia said, part way mollified. Then she said, “Why are all of you staring at me like that? I don’t like it.” She twisted around to bury her face against a sofa pillow.

“It’s an important secret, dear,” her mother answered. “Come out, please. It’s such an important secret, you can’t even tell it to your sisters.”

That got through to Alicia. Heinrich saw her eyes go wide. He said, “You can’t tell it to anybody at all. We waited until you were old enough so we could tell you, because we wanted to be sure”-as sure as we could be, he glossed mentally-”you wouldn’t give us away by telling someone you shouldn’t.”

“I’ve known for a year now,” A

“What is it, then?” Alicia said. “You’re right, A

Heinrich and Lise did not answer, not right away. Now that the moment was here, all the gentle introductions they had pla

The girl stared, then shook her head, as if at a joke. “Don’t be silly, Aunt Susa

Heinrich Gimpel shook his head, too, to contradict her. “You are a Jew, Alicia. Your sisters are Jews, too. So is Susa

The color slowly drained from Alicia’s cheeks as she realized her father meant what he said. “But-but,” she faltered, and then rallied: “But Jews were filthy and wicked and diseased and racially impure.” All the textbook lessons; Heinrich remembered how he had learned them, too. Perhaps trying to convince herself, Alicia went on. “That’s why the wise Reich got rid of them. That’s what my teacher says.”

“One of the hardest lessons anyone learns is that not everything your teacher tells you is true,” Walther Stutzman said. “For us, it’s doubly hard.”

“Is A