Munich Signature by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene Read Free Book Online Page B

the hour and stroked his hair as his mother had once done. Yes, Charles was feeling better, but the one ache that had not receded was his longing to see Louis again. Louis. Father. And in the darkest nights when the pain awakened him, he cried for Mommy, although he knew she was gone to heaven.
    Murphy stepped through the door of the bedroom. He was all dressed up in a black coat and a crooked bow tie and shiny shoes so that he looked like a waiter in a restaurant. “How ya doin’ Champ?” Murphy asked brightly in American. Murphy often spoke American to Charles and then translated the meaning. Someday, Murphy promised, maybe Charles and Louis could go to America and it would be important to understand the strange language even though the boy’s cleft palate made it impossible for him to utter even one word.
    Charles pulled his frail hand out from under the blue down quilt and gave Murphy the thumbs-up signal. Another way to say, “Okay.” Murphy had told him.
    At the sight of the thumb, Murphy roared with laughter and returned the sign. “Okay, kiddo! Swell!”
    These were other ways Americans expressed approval. Charles had decided that there were far too many ways for him to learn them all, but he liked that Murphy was teaching him all the same.
    The doctor wiggled a finger in his own ear as if to clear away the strange jumble of sounds emanating from Herr Murphy. “Do you understand what this crazy American is saying, Charles?” The doctor laughed.
    Charles nodded and raised his thumb again.
    “When he’s well enough to travel,” Murphy said in Czech, “Elisa and I will take him back to America. To New York, where you say that doctor can repair his mouth. He will need to understand a little English.”
    The doctor nodded as he replaced his stethoscope in the big black bag. “That sounds quite unlike any English my poor ears have ever heard.”
    “Believe me—” Murphy winked at Charles who could not understand any of the conversation now—“what I am teaching him is a great deal easier to speak than Czech! He would have to have a palate as strong as a nutcracker to say hello in your language!”
    “That may be so.” The doctor smiled in agreement. “But Czech is a beautiful language, a language of poets. And we shall hope that Herr Dr. Sohnheim in America shall perform his miracle for the child.” Now the doctor closed his bag and clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Unbelievable that the Nazis should refuse this child surgery to repair his deformity. And then also to remove Herr Dr. Sohnheim from his position at the university hospital in Berlin.”
    “What the Nazis have lost, America gains. What they did not tend to for little Charles will be taken care of. The same doctor who might have mended him in Berlin will now have the opportunity to do so in New York.”
    Once again, the doctor spoke German to Charles. “You see, my boy? You are very lucky, indeed!”
    Charles nodded, although he had understood nothing but his own name and the mention of another doctor and a place called New York. Murphy had mentioned the place before. Charles would like it, Murphy had promised. Charles dreamed about seeing this place with Louis. Moving pictures. The game called baseball. Parks to play in without fear of the Gestapo. And sausage called hot dog, which Charles would eat when his mouth was well. Such dreams were almost too wonderful! When Charles thought about it all, sometimes he would cry out with the joy of it, which made poor Frau Anna come running to the bedroom to check on him. She always seemed frightened, and now, Charles resisted the urge to cry out when he was happy. He saved his utterance for his most lonely moments, when he thought his heart would break with the need to see Louis. Father. Mommy. And then when he cried, Anna would call Elisa, who sat on the edge of the bed and played dear old Vitorio for him as Leah had done. Elisa did not play nearly so well as Leah, but she made Vitorio sing