Chapter 28 The Bookstore
The Bookstore
Berlin
The run-in with Kummer in the park changed Helene’s life once more. The next week, she went to the Neukolln library. When
Lena and Klaus saw her pushing the stroller, their jaws dropped.
Helene announced that she was back but undercover. She would take over the Secret Library and, if they needed her, she could
help out in the Neukolln branch as well. Lena said Helene should stick to the Secret Library, since inspectors came by the
Neukolln library frequently. Kummer was eager for any pretext to lock them up and shut down the branch. Instead, Lena suggested
that if Helene wanted to be around books, she could work in a Jewish bookstore called Kedem Blumstein & Bronstein. Lena knew
the founder, Lipa Bronstein. His business partner had moved back to Jerusalem, and Lena knew he could use some help.
The next day, Helene went to Kedem and spoke with Lipa, a determined, idealistic man who refused to emigrate like so much of Berlin’s Jewish community had.
The Jewish population was barely half of what it had once been.
Helene remembered her grandfather talking about Kedem, which specialized in works on Zionism and everything that had to do with the Holy Land. She and Lipa hit it off at once.
Helene developed new routines around her redefined purpose. In the mornings, she would take Alexander to her parents’ house
and leave him with her mom. After almost losing Alexander at Moringen, it was hard for Helene to walk away from him, but her
parents delighted in the baby, and he was happy to be with them. She went from her parents’ house to Kedem and spent the morning
assisting the few customers who dared enter. In the leadup to the Olympics, the Nazis had backed off on pressuring Jews, but
as soon as the games were over, the anti-Jewish policies returned with a vengeance. Helene would leave Kedem in time for a
late lunch with her parents, and then she would take Alexander with her to the Secret Library. After a stint of work, she
would head back home and get supper together, which she and Derek ate after putting Alexander to bed.
Helene loved her new schedule, especially the afternoons. Every day she would walk the rows of shelves with Alexander and
tell him what the different books were about. Sometimes she pulled out a book and read him a passage aloud.
“I know you didn’t understand any of that, sweetie, but books need to breathe, you see. These poor volumes are suffocating
without anyone to touch or read them.”
One afternoon she sat and read Alexander the first few pages of Goethe’s Faust. “‘I’ve studied now philosophy and jurisprudence, medicine, and even—alas!—theology . . .’” Her voice echoed against the shelves, and Alexander’s earnest face was concentrated on hers, as if his fourteen months of life allowed him twenty years of understanding.
But Helene’s expressions were what held his attention.
He moved his mouth and cheeks to mimic the joy exuding from her as she savored each word.
Books had once again saved Helene from despair.
Before leaving, Helene and Alexander went to each floor and bid farewell to the books. It grieved her that no one could read
them. But as long as the Nazis were in power, the most important thing was to preserve Germany’s cultural heritage, however
little this mattered to the majority of the population.
Outside, it was chilly, and the sunlight was almost gone. On the way to the trolley stop, Helene cast a glance at the imposing
Gestapo building directly across the street. The sight always evoked the smell of the office where she had been held, along
with Kummer’s ever-threatening voice. Chills ran up her spine.
Half an hour later, Sebastian was helping Helene lift the stroller up the three steps to the elevator. Just before the door
closed, he handed her a letter.
“This came for you.”
Helene thanked him and put it in her pocket.
On the way up to their apartment, she studied the envelope.
It was addressed to her and in a child’s handwriting, neat but uneven.
Helene recognized the name of Anna’s grandson.
It had taken her months to track down an address for the family of her protector and friend from Moringen, but she had finally made contact with a relative taking care of the grandchildren.
Avoiding details that would be censored, she had written a long letter about Anna’s impact on the women at Moringen and her last days, especially the message she had wanted her grandchildren to hear.
Helene teared up reading the short note written to her.
It thanked her for making sure Anna’s last letter reached them and wished her a long, happy life with her family.
Just before opening her front door, Helene heard a noise from Mrs. Smith’s apartment. Concerned, she knocked. To her great
surprise, a couple in their thirties opened the door. They gave her an analytical look up one side and down the other. Helene
suddenly felt very shy.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”
“Yes?” asked the man brusquely. His face was made of sharp angles, emphasized by the scar on his broad forehead that looked
even larger than it was, since the man’s hair was brushed straight back.
“I’m sorry,” Helene said again, “I thought something was going on with my neighbor, Mrs. Smith.”
The man frowned and was going to shut the door when the woman spoke up. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid
Mrs. Smith passed away. We’re the Meyers. We just moved in. In fact, some of the old lady’s furniture is still in here . . .”
Helene was taken aback. How was it possible that she had not known that Mrs. Smith had been ill, much less had actually died?
“What about her cats? She had two of them.” Stupidly, it was the only thing Helene could think of to say.
“We’re not very fond of animals, so we sent them to a home,” the woman explained. Then she stepped forward and held out her
hand. “I’m Lauralei, and this is my husband, Joss.”
Helene shook her hand, then Lauralei bent down to look at Alexander.
“And aren’t you just the cutest thing!” she said in a wistful, singsong voice. Straightening back up, she declared, “So from now on we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I hope you and the baby will come over for tea. You do like tea, don’t you?”
Helene was slow to react, trying to assimilate this new reality. Finally, she said, “Oh yes, of course.”
“Well, then, it’s settled. Your baby is just a peach. He’s the perfect specimen of our Aryan race.”
“Heil Hitler!” Joss barked, and Lauralei joined the salute.
Helene raised her arm somewhat less enthusiastically, then turned to her door. She could not fully untangle the reasons why,
but that run-in had unsettled her. She was disproportionately sad about Mrs. Smith’s death, and then there was the strange,
negative energy coming from the new neighbors.
Helene could not shake the feeling or stop going back over the conversation the entire night. She did not mention it to Derek.
They would have to get together with the new neighbors to keep things from getting too awkward and to avoid raising suspicion,
but the thought of being in the same room with them was completely unappealing to her.