“That isn’t true.” But even as Ava offered her protest, she was aware of the weight of his words on her conscience.
He frowned at her platitude.
He was not the only one to be disappointed. Ava understood what he meant far more than most might. There had been a time when she started over, marked with demeaning labels she did not want to identify her. An orphan, the child without parents to care for her. A new girl at a new school with no friends and a strange accent. A little sister who robbed her elder brother of the college education he should have had.
But now was not for her or her life story. Understanding and knowledge were wasted if one did not apply them to life.
Ava pushed the letter back toward him and settled her hands on the table, focusing on him and only him. “Tell me who you are, Otto Müller.”
His chin lifted. “I am an engineer. I trained at Arts et Métiers ParisTech.”
Ava recognized the name from a text she had recently photographed on French engineering. With so many factories in France, it had been her hope to identify weaknesses that might help the US grind Nazi operations in France to a halt.
A smile teased at his lips. “You know the school.”
“It’s renowned.”
He nodded in gratitude. “I excelled there at industrial engineering. So, you see why I could not remain in Paris when the Nazis were coming.”
A man of his experience would have immediately been put to work by the Germans to manufacture arms. At least, until all Jews were made to quit their jobs and relocate.
“I tried to convince my sister to join me,” Otto continued. “But we lived in France since we were children, when our parents moved there for my father’s job. He too was an engineer.” He sighed. “France is home. I should have pushed harder for Petra and her family to leave as well.” He shook his head, as if doing so would free him of regret.
“Even in Marseille I was not safe,” he continued. “As the Germans swept over the border, the embassies were overrun as were the ticket offices. I cannot count the hours I spent waiting in an endless queue, sleeping where I stood, going without meals. But when you are a French Jew, and your other nationality is German…” He gave a cynical smirk. “I finally paid someone to forge an exit visa from France and a transit visa into Spain, then Portugal. They all worked, except Spain, who imprisoned me for two weeks before a friend could bribe my way to freedom. Once I arrived here, I fell yet again into an exhaustive wait. One of the lucky ones to have escaped…” He gave a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh.
“The Nazis have taken everything from us.” Grief lined his face and his shoulders sagged in defeat, his pipe held loosely and forgotten in his left hand. “Our families are gone, our homes commandeered and given to those who spoke against us, our jobs are nonexistent, our futures unknown and we have nothing but the belongings that will fit in a suitcase or upon our backs. We have succeeded in escaping them, but they have still succeeded in destroying us.”
Ava shook her head. “No.”
Otto’s brows rose, his stare incredulous. “I was a man of great wealth and influence. I commanded respect wherever I went. Now I am nothing.”
“You aren’t,” Ava said vehemently. “Not when you are here to tell your story. Not when there are those like Ethan who work miracles with limited resources to get you onto safe shores. Not when people like me are photographing your books, your correspondence, your papers, and your lives to share your heritage, to ensure Hitler can never make any of you into nothing. He will not succeed in destroying you.”
Otto stared at her, and emotion sparked in his eyes. “It is the fear of every generation that the rising youths will destroy this world.” He pushed the envelope toward her. “I believe you just may save it.”
She hesitated as she reached for the letter.