For Such a Time by Kate Breslin Read Free Book Online Page B

I get for saving your life?”
    “Of course not, Herr Kommandant. Thank you.” She swallowed her misery, grasping his real meaning. For now, anyway, she would remain his prisoner.
    “You’re most welcome.” His darkened profile relaxed. “I wish you pleasant dreams.”
    After he left, she settled back in bed and tried to sleep, but memories of Anna kept her awake—and her anxiety over the colonel’s motives.
    He’d told her of his plan to obtain a secretary from Munich, a place with doubtless hundreds more qualified for the post. And yet he’d made up his mind to hire Stella, even before knowing her explanation for the red JUDE stamped on her papers.
    Why had he chosen her? She had no wealth, no affluence. And who could possibly desire a bald, bruised scarecrow of a woman? He would have raped her tonight in this room, otherwise.
    Stella watched as shadows danced across the ceiling. Aric von Schmidt frightened her. She also found herself drawn to him—a more terrifying prospect than the fat Nazi who accosted her in Mannheim or the guards at Dachau who bruised her with their clubs.
    This man, for whatever reason, toyed with that place inside her long buried beneath degradation, despair, and mistrust . . . a place as deep as her soul.
    The part of her that yearned for human love.

    Stella blinked against the early morning’s achromatic brightness and rolled onto her back.
    “ Guten Morgen ,” a voice whispered from the doorway.
    She jerked her head around, then groaned in relief. “Good morning yourself, mischief.”
    Joseph’s brown eyes lit with amusement. He obviously felt safe with her. That was something.
    “Where’s Helen?”
    “She’s making breakfast,” Joseph answered. “Herr Kommandant says you can eat in your room this morning. And you don’t have to work today.” He paused. “Did you have a nightmare?”
    Stella sat up in bed. “What time is it?” she asked, ignoring his question.
    “Six fifteen.”
    “I’m getting dressed and going downstairs.” She didn’t doubt the boy’s words, but she wasn’t falling for another Nazi trap, either. The thought of returning to Dachau made her shiver.
    Joseph looked glum. “I’m supposed to . . . help you, if you need me to.”
    Stella hid a smile at his obvious discomfort. “You can help me find my underthings.”
    His mouth dropped, and a furious blush stained his cheeks.
    “I suppose I can manage on my own,” she relented, taking pity on him. His relief was comical. “Give me thirty minutes to get ready, all right?”
    He nodded before turning to swagger from the room. Stella tried not to think of Anna. Later , she promised herself, when it won’t hurt so much.
    She eased out of bed, stretching sore limbs as she stumbled toward the window. The fortress stood against the pewter sky like a secret island rising above a sea of white. Stella could only glimpse the tallest spires inside the stronghold. The place seemed impenetrable.
    She shivered once more at the sight of barbed wire and searchlights staking off ground to the right of the entrance. Theresienstadt was no haven. Its walls didn’t protect; they trapped their victims, just like the gates at Dachau.
    Did the people inside suffer as much . . . or worse?
    Stella spun away. She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t help them, anyway.
    Inside the bathroom, she avoided her reflection in the mirror. The red wig had found its way in from the car to a wire stand beside the sink. Doubtless the colonel’s unspoken command was that she wear it.
    Stella turned on the shower, again feeling a need to wash despite her bath the previous night. The clove-scented soap she’d been given reminded her of Havdalah , when the closing of each Sabbath was blessed with spices like cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon—an offering for sweetness and peace in the coming week.
    She tried to focus on that memory as she welcomed the hot, clean water against her skin. Stella ignored the pang of guilt