The Sky Beneath Her(79)

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I want to.” He touched his index finger to his forehead in a salute. “The least I can do is get you safely into the United States.”

“Why would you help me?”

“Do you still have the coin I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It’ll bring you luck.”

He wasn’t a remarkable-looking man, but when he met my gaze, I noted the slight hardening of his jaw. I now glimpsed a darker man accustomed to the shadows. That man was cunning and clever.

“Thank you, Dr. Brooks.”

And then his expression softened. “Maybe one day we’ll meet after the war, and you can tell me your entire story.”

“It’s very dull,” I said.

“I doubt that very much.”





Chapter Thirty-Two


Gertrude





Friday, April 24, 1942, 1:00 p.m.


Minutes until the Oceanus is torpedoed


I was eating the last of the breakfast Dr. Brooks had left for me. Several times I heard heavy footsteps outside my door, and I suspected they were William’s. Whoever was there paused and seemed to lean close as if listening. I could feel eyes staring at me through the wood.

The baby kicked hard in my belly, forcing me to stand. I walked to the porthole, pressing my hand to the base of my back. My stomach had grown agitated over the last couple of days. The child wasn’t due for another seven weeks, and I wasn’t sure if this was normal or not. If I’d had my mother or another woman I could talk to, I might find out, but my mother was long passed, and I didn’t dare try to contact anyone.

As I stood at the porthole, waves rolled high around the ship. They rose and toppled as the vessel cut through the water.

Several passengers had finished lunch; I could hear them moving down the corridor, and then doors closing and silence. I turned from the porthole. How many times in Vienna had I seen others lost and afraid, clinging to hope? Keep moving.

As I crossed the room, I felt a large jolt. It caused me to miss a step, and I nearly fell forward. I reached for the bunk to steady my pear-shaped body. The ship often rocked, but I’d never felt an abrupt jolt like this. I stood still, listening for signs of distress. Seconds passed. A hush stretched.

Assured the vessel was fine, I turned toward my bunk to rest. I was again mid-step when a siren blared and echoed down the empty hallway.

Dr. Brooks had warned me to heed any alarm. And Dr. Brooks had told me to get familiar with my life jacket. I hadn’t done that. For the first time, I reached for my flotation device, then slipped it on over my big belly. I let out the straps several inches before I could fasten the side ties.

The alarm’s painful shriek was unnerving. Excited voices in the passageway blended with hurried footsteps. The ship was in trouble.

I grabbed Sigrid’s and my identity papers and tucked both in an oilcloth sack beside A Farewell to Arms and my few remaining loose diamonds. I checked the knife in my pocket and, despite my better judgment, grabbed the coin Dr. Brooks had given me.

If the ship hadn’t been struck, the precaution might be for naught. I tucked the pouch inside my bodice.

This couldn’t be the end of my life. I had come so far.

In the hallway, a growing tide of passengers dashed into their rooms and then hurried out likely with life jackets and whatever items they could quickly shove inside their pockets.

Realizing I couldn’t stay in my room any longer, I opened my door to the chaos and stepped into the fray. I kept my head ducked, praying William and Sigrid cared more about their own survival than me. Several people wrestling with suitcases bumped into me, jostling me sideways and forward. None looked back or offered an apology. It was a sea of panic.

I maneuvered through the current of people and climbed the stairs. An explosion blasted from somewhere in the boiler room, and the ship tipped hard to the left. Passengers screamed, and the ones ready to hurry down the stairs toward me hesitated. Did they have time to reach their life jackets, or should they stay on deck?

I gripped the banister and continued up the stairs. As I reached the top, my stomach cramped so violently, I doubled over. Two men and a woman pushed past me. I breathed deeply. The noise around me faded as I focused on calming my body. “Not now. Not now.”

Finally, the cramping eased, and I stood upright. I climbed to the top level and stepped out of the portal. I looked around and saw that so many had gathered on the deck. Artillery shells roared from the top deck as the sailors stationed at the large guns fired toward the rolling sea. Another woman bumped into me. I would have pitched forward onto the deck if strong arms hadn’t grabbed ahold of my arm.

When I looked up, William grinned. “Careful. It’s dangerous up here.”

I tried to jerk away, but he held tight. “Let go of me.”

“Not yet, Frau Gruber. First, we must get you to a lifeboat.”

My hand slid to the knife in my pocket. I gripped the handle.

The deck sloped left. The gears designed to lower the lifeboats on that side had been partly destroyed. William tightened his grip on my arm and pulled me toward the lifeboats sailors were now uncovering. Other passengers were gathering around, and several crew members forced them back so that they wouldn’t rush the first lifeboat. People clamored and pushed.