“Oh, I’m fine by myself. Work keeps me busy. There are many patients and war heroes who need constant care and attention. Just what I need.”
“Are you happy?”
“I am.”
I meant it. I had people who needed me at the hospital, and when I came home, I read poetry and listened to classical violin music on the radio. Lola, of course, was always on my mind, and sometimes, her executioner Eichmann. I had sought to find any news about him whenever I could. During the war, I had heard from the patients in the hospital about the Nazis, and after the war, many gruesome details from Europe also emerged. I had compiled the crimes committed by Eichmann.
In the summer of 1941, Eichmann announced the deportation of fifteen thousand Berlin Jews and forty-five thousand Viennese Jews to Poland; in the winter of 1941, Eichmann, newly promoted to Sturmbannführer for his devil’s work, directed five thousand Berlin Jews, all aged between fifty to eighty, to drain the Rokitno marshes during the freezing winter, who were later joined by women and children, in a deliberate business to murder them all.
At the beginning of 1942, when the Jews were banned from leaving their countries, Eichmann was actively involved in eliminating them, arranging transportation to camps, and recruiting criminals to torture Jewish prisoners. He proposed the Final Solution for the Jews in Germany, Poland, Prague, Bohemia, and Moravia. When Himmler began the mass extermination of the Jews in gas chambers, Eichmann was responsible for arranging the arrests, driving the prisoners in cattle cars to the gas chambers. After the Jews were murdered, he was the head of the team that disposed of thousands of bodies.
Had Lola been alive, she would have tried to assassinate the mass murderer again.
I had learned, too, with great fury, that he had escaped after the war, carrying gold bullion, together with other criminal Nazi officials, and had vanished in Germany, leaving no trace. Maybe one day he would be hunted down and tried in the court of justice. When that day came, Lola’s soul would be at peace.
Monto said, “I came here with an important message, Grace. Someone from London reached out to my father a few months ago. She said that she knew you and asked to get in touch with you. My father is busy with his work in Egypt, so he asked me to meet you.”
“Where’s she from again?”
“London.”
I didn’t know anyone overseas.
“I’ve talked to her over the phone. She flew in yesterday. I told her to come here to meet you. I hope you don’t mind. Look, there she is.”
Near the tall arborvitae, a young woman, about eighteen, walked toward me; she wore a green ankle-length dress and a necklace with a six-pointed silver star. Her face was plump, her eyes green.
“There you are. I’ve been searching for you since the war ended. Do you remember me, Tante Grace?” Her voice was familiar; her English had a sweet accent.
I dropped my flowers. Of course I remembered her, her small frame tucked close to my body as I smuggled her out of her family’s apartment, her lonely figure stumbling toward the carriage, carrying a suitcase half her size, and her favorite toy, a music box that had been left behind and lost, like her aunt. She had wanted to stay, but I couldn’t keep her.
“Eva,” I said. She is here! Eva—whose life Lola and I had fought for.
Eva hugged me, her face fitting in the nook between my neck and shoulder, just as it had when she was nine years old. “I’m so happy I found you.”
“Ten years, Eva! It’s almost ten years, isn’t it? How was life in London? How did you get through the war? Tell me. Oh, tell me. I have so many questions. Is this real? I can’t believe it.” I was laughing and I was crying too.
And Monto was smiling. You’ll have two children, he had said.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Though this story features historical events and figures, this is a work of fiction. Some names, characters, organizations, events, dates, and incidents are products of my imagination or used fictitiously.
Dr. Ho Fengshan, who rescued thousands of Jews between 1938 and 1940 by issuing them life-saving visas to China, is lauded and admired by many people worldwide. It is my honor and privilege to reimagine his life in Vienna. Any errors or failures in this novel are my own.
Dr. Ho Fengshan had a distinguished diplomatic career after Vienna. He later served as ambassador in Egypt, Mexico, and other countries, representing the Republic of China. After his retirement, he lived in San Francisco with his family. It is said that during his lifetime, he didn’t speak to his family about his heroic efforts to rescue Jews in Vienna. He described his tenure in Vienna briefly in his memoir, written in Chinese, published in 1990. His heroic deeds were only discovered after his death in 1997. He was posthumously recognized with the title Righteous Among the Nations.
Grace Lee is loosely inspired by Dr. Ho’s second wife, although little is known about her. The story of Grace and Lola Schnitzler is completely fictional.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not have been possible without the studious care and attention of my agent, Rachel Ekstrom Courage, and the entire team at Lake Union: Danielle Marshall, Melissa Valentine, Nicole Burns-Ascue, Jen Bentham, Tegan Tigani, Gabriella Dumpit, the copyeditors, the proofreader, the cover designer, and the marketing team. My profound gratitude also goes to Jodi Warshaw, who acquired this project when it was only a seed of an idea.
I’m indebted to my dear friend Andrea Peskind Katz, the founder of Great Thoughts’ Great Readers, once again, for brainstorming and informing me of Dr. Ho Fengshan’s story. Thank you for your suggestions and support along the way.
Thank you to “the” Mike Leibling, the wise man across the pond, for many delightful talks, counseling, and the proposal of the angel in a previous title.
Thank you to Cathie Ghorbani and Helen Lui for your warm embrace and generosity, and my deep gratitude to the diligent librarians for supplying me with all the books I requested. Among them, the memoir by Irena Wiley, last checked out in 1967! Imagine my thrill!
Boundless thanks to Timothy Hummel, for researching tirelessly the information on Dr. Ho Fengshan’s family. And to Andrea Abrams, for your enthusiasm, for your steadfast support, and for introducing me to Mr. Hummel.
Many, many thanks to Maria Totniou for examining the German passages in this novel.
I’m extremely grateful to my writer friends, the gracious souls who have lifted me on my publishing journey: Dianna Rostad, Kate Quinn, Kathryn Craft, Carrie Callaghan, Pam Jenoff, Patti Callahan Henry, Kristin Harmel, Lisa Barr, Chanel Cleeton, Sally Koslow, Erica Rubock, Diana Giovinazzo Tierney; my new friends in Boston: Kimberly Hansle-Lowrance, Anjali Mitter Duva, Yelena Lembersky, Helen Fremont, Kerri Maher, Crystal King, and Jessie Chen; and all of my Tall Poppy Writer friends.
My heartfelt thanks also go to the intelligent, loving women whom I’ve met since the publication of my first novel: Susan Blumberg-Kason, Jocelyn Eikenburg, Sarah Johnson, and Cathie Coyne. Thank you for your support and friendship.
To my friends and family who have read all my books and will hopefully keep reading my books: Marcy, Judy, Lisa, Sue, and Gail. To my family in China: yet again, you’ll need to wait for the Chinese translation.
To Rabbi Geoffery Dennis at the CKA, for your meticulous reading and support. To my friends and neighbors who have read my books and recommended them to their friends and family, thank you.