He spun his wheelchair around to face her. “Never give anything up for me,” he said. “Never sacrifice anything. Never say you can’t go somewhere or do something because you have to take care of your crippled husband. I want you to have a full life that gives you everything you ever hoped for. That way you’ll be happy, you’ll stay with me, and you’ll go on loving me.”

Rebecca’s question had been little more than a courtesy, but clearly Bernd had been thinking about this. His speech moved her. “You’re so good,” she said. “You’re like Werner, my father. You’re strong. And you must be right, because I do love you, now more than ever.”

“Speaking of Werner,” he said, “what do you make of Carla’s letter?”

All post in East Germany was liable to be read by the secret police. The sender could be jailed for saying the wrong thing, especially in letters to the West. Any mention of hardship, shortages, unemployment, or the secret police themselves would get you in trouble. So Carla wrote in hints. “She says that Karolin is now living with her and Werner,” Rebecca said. “So I think we have to infer that the poor girl was thrown out by her parents—probably under pressure from the Stasi, maybe from Hans himself.”

“Is there no end to that man’s vengefulness?” said Bernd.

“Anyway, Karolin has been befriended by Lili, who is almost fifteen, just the right age to be fascinated by a pregnancy. And the mother-to-be will get plenty of good advice from Grandma Maud. That house will be a safe haven for Karolin, the way it was for me when my parents were killed.”

Bernd nodded. “Are you not tempted to get back in touch with your roots?” he asked. “You never talk about being Jewish.”

She shook her head. “My parents were secular. I know that Walter and Maud used to go to church, but Carla got out of the habit, and religion has never meant anything to me. And race is best forgotten. I want to honor my parents’ memory by working for democracy and freedom throughout Germany, East and West.” She smiled wryly. “Sorry to make a speech. I should save it for the parliament.” She picked up her briefcase with the papers for the meeting.

Bernd looked at his watch. “Check the news before you go, in case there’s something you need to know about.”

Rebecca turned on the TV. The bulletin was just beginning. The newsreader said: “The American president, John F. Kennedy, was shot and killed today in Dallas, Texas.”

“No!” Rebecca’s exclamation was almost a scream.

“The young president and his wife, Jackie, were driving through the city in an open car when a gunman fired several shots, hitting the president, who was pronounced dead minutes later at a local hospital.”

“His poor wife!” said Rebecca. “His children!”

“Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson, who was in the motorcade, is believed to be on his way back to Washington to take over as the new president.”