I smiled quietly and left the store, heart heavy as I went. The bookstore owner had been so kind—and he was right. People like Jürgen and I meant no threat to his town or his country.

But how could I possibly explain how complex our situation back home had been? The deception was necessary. That didn’t mean it was comfortable.

Another bright spark in those first difficult weeks was Avril Walters. She came round for coffee one day and promised she’d get her daughter Patty to look out for Gisela in the playground. Then she came back the next day with a bag of groceries to help me pack a more American-style lunch for Gisela. White bread and peanut butter featured much more heavily than I anticipated. She returned again later in the week with a bag of Patty’s old clothes for Gisela and helped me cut some of the length from Gisela’s hair so she could wear it down at school like the American girls.

Gisela and Patty hadn’t really clicked, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. Patty liked sports and dancing; Gisela preferred reading and drawing. The language barrier was just the final straw. I had a feeling that, but for Avril’s encouragement, Patty would have given up on Gisela right away, and I was grateful that she hadn’t. She seemed Gisela’s best chance for a friend, now that Claudia was still refusing to let Mila play with my daughter.

Avril insisted on taking me for driving lessons to help me learn the differences in road rules. She loaned me her camera, so that I could take some photos of Felix, Gisela, and Jürgen, then drove me to the store so I could get the film developed. When the photos were ready, I wrote a note to Laura, and Avril drove me to the post office. She came around for coffee or cake or lunch several times a week, and even once it became apparent the children had different interests, she still organized playdates with us. She was a godsend—my guide to all things American.

Avril and I were walking through the grocery store together one morning when I noticed Claudia Schmidt at the counter. She looked close to tears, frustrated as she tried to communicate with the clerk, who was visibly annoyed.

“Like I already told you,” the store clerk said, speaking slowly as if that would translate his words. “We won’t have any until next week.”

Claudia drew in a deep breath and held up a card. She pointed to it, nodding hopefully.

“Ma’am,” the clerk said again, drawing the word out even more. “We. Do. Not. Have—”

“Please excuse me a moment,” I said to Avril. Then I walked over and tapped Claudia on the shoulder. She scowled at me, then looked back to the clerk and pointed to the cardboard again.