Chapter Eight
It’s been four weeks since that incident, and everything has calmed down to normal. Sophie and her friends were rescued by the resistance, who took the bait that they were Jews. I was worried about what would happen to them, but I haven’t gotten any information on what happened to them past that. Gretchen was supposed to have tripped down the steps, and everyone seemed to look past what happened.
My father and mother never told the Fuhrer what happened, in fear of what might happen to them, and as far as I know, he was never informed.
Everything had smoothed back out, all until what happened today.
I was on an errand with Frau Muller, looking for a dress for her next Nazi Party. We hurried only down the street, looking for the hairdresser, because Frau Muller insisted that my hair had grown far too long, when I caught a small curl of smoke rising out from a store in front of us.
We were pretty close to my house. In fact, my grandmother lived in the house behind the burning store. She lived behind the burning store!! “Frau Muller! What about Grandmother?” I asked, tugging on Frau Muller’s lacy sleeve. My mother gasped. “Oh my heavens! What do we do?” “We go see if she is alright,” I muttered, hurrying in front of Frau Muller, down the street and around the corner.
There it was! A small corner was smoking, but otherwise, everything seemed fine. We rushed up to the house, gasping for breath.
My grandmother emerged from the smoky house, coughing as the smoke hit her ancient lungs.
“Mother! Are you alright?” My mother rushed up to Grandmother, leaning over her. My grandma coughed, her face a ghostly white. I hurried over to her, patting her back gently. “Those…evil…Jews…” Grandmother gasped in short breaths. My mother frowned. “What did you say?” she asked, leaning closer to Grandmother.
“Those Jews set my house on fire!” Grandmother shrieked, raising her hands above her head. “They threw Wilhelm in the flames! He is gone…” she moaned, stretching out her right hand toward her smoking house. “Mother, Father died thirty years ago,” Frau Muller tried to explain, and I placed an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon Grandma, we should get you to the hospital.”
The nearest hospital was about a fifteen minute walk from Grandmother’s house, because her house was near the town square. The platinum blond nurse informed us that Grandmother only has mild shock and smoke damage in her lungs. She would have to stay at the hospital overnight, due to her memory loss and the fact that my family would be gone for a rally in Vienna for several days, and would be leaving tomorrow.