The Nazi Bride

Chapter 1 – The Last Summer

Munich, July 1932

Jack Müller ran. His sister was behind him, close enough that he could hear her panting, but not close enough to catch him.

“Jack!”

He laughed and sped up. The grass came almost to his knees in places, the sun burned on his head, his shirt stuck to his back, and under the trees the light flickered between the leaves. Ahead of him lay Kleinhesseloher Lake; between the trunks he could already see the water.

“You’re not allowed to go to the lake!” His sister already sounded out of breath.

Jack looked back at her as he ran. “Who says?”

“Mama!”

“Mama’s way back there.”

“She can see you!”

Jack glanced over his shoulder. The two families had spread out in the shade of a few big trees. Two blankets lay side by side, so close together that nobody knew anymore which belonged to the Müllers and which to the Schreiners. Baskets stood open in the grass, bottles cooled in a bucket, the grandparents sat on folding chairs, and the women had taken off their hats. The men stood a little apart, talking, as always. As always.

Jack saw his mother, and she was in fact looking at him. So he swerved.

“Coward!” his sister shouted.

“Look who’s talking!”

He ran back, straight across the meadow this time. His sister tried to cut him off, but Jack dodged to the right, then to the left.

“You’ll never catch me!”

“Wait!”

“Too slow!”

Jack looked at her, and that was his mistake. He didn’t see what was in front of him.

Something small was suddenly standing in his path. Jack managed to slow down, but not quite enough. His leg brushed the child, and Clara Schreiner lost her balance and sat down hard in the grass.

For a moment nothing happened.

Jack stopped. Clara looked at him, and Jack looked at Clara. Her eyes were huge and blue. Then her face scrunched up, and Jack knew that look.

“No.”

Clara’s lower lip trembled.

“No, Clara.”

She took a deep breath.

“I hardly even touched—”

Clara screamed.

Jack winced. It was unbelievable how much noise could come out of such a small person.

“Jack!”

His mother. Of course.

“I didn’t do anything!”

Clara screamed even louder, and now everyone came, Clara’s mother first, Jack’s mother right behind her.

“What happened?”

Jack pointed at Clara. “She fell over.”

His sister put her hands on her hips. “You ran her over.”

“I did not.”

“I saw you.”

“I only touched her a little.”

Clara was still sitting in the grass, bawling.

“She’s acting like I kicked her.”

“Jack Müller.”

His mother had used his full name. That was never good.

“But I didn’t—”

“Enough.”

She picked Clara up, and the little girl clung to her at once.

“There now. It’s all right.”

Clara pressed her face against her shoulder and sobbed. Jack stood beside them and found the whole thing extremely unfair. He hadn’t done it on purpose, and besides, Clara had simply been standing in the way.

“She was only startled,” said Clara’s mother.

Jack pointed at her. “See?”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have to watch where you’re going.”

“But—”

“Jack.”

He fell silent and kicked at a tuft of grass with the toe of his shoe. The little ones always got their way, just because they could scream.

Clara slowly lifted her head. Her face was red, tears clung to her lashes, and a strand of fair hair lay across her forehead. Jack’s mother took out a handkerchief.

“Come on, let me see you.”

Clara tried to turn her head away.

“Hold still.”

Jack grinned. At least he wasn’t the only one who had to do what his mother said.

Then Clara looked at him, and Jack stopped grinning at once.

“What?”

Clara sniffled.

“I said sorry,” said Jack.

“You did not,” said his sister.

Jack glared at her. “I’m saying it now.” He looked at Clara. “Sorry.”

Clara went on staring at him. Jack held up his hands.

“She doesn’t even understand me.”

His father, who had come up behind the women by now, laughed. “That might be an advantage.”

Jack gave him an indignant look. His mother had to smile too. Then she looked at Clara, properly this time, and brushed the hair from the little girl’s forehead.

“What eyes.”

Clara’s mother nodded. “The Schreiner eyes.”

“She got them from me,” said Clara’s grandfather.

His wife snorted. “Of course.”

“It’s true.”

Jack’s mother smiled at Clara. The little one had stopped crying by now; only her nose was still red.

“And that fair hair.” She stroked it once more. “You’ll grow into a beautiful girl.”

Clara’s grandmother nodded, satisfied. “I’ve been saying so since the day she was born.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Clara was a baby. Babies weren’t beautiful. Babies were small, loud, and mostly sticky.

Clara’s father came closer. “A beautiful girl?”

“Without a doubt,” said Jack’s mother.

“Then I might as well start worrying right now.”

The grown-ups laughed, and Jack didn’t understand what was funny. He looked at his sister. She nodded quietly toward the meadow, Jack nodded back, and slowly they backed away.

His father noticed. “Where are you two off to?”

Jack stopped. “To play.”

“Then play.”

Jack grinned. He needed nothing more. He turned and ran, and Clara was forgotten before he reached the next tree.