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Back The German Wife
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Praise
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. A NOTE FROM KELLY
  58. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  59. The German Wife - Reader's Guide
  60. Discussion Questions
  61. Booklist

“Hello. I speak English,” I said, then motioned toward Claudia. “But my friend here doesn’t.”

“Oh!” the American woman said, surprised but visibly relieved. “I’m trying to be friendly, but it’s awfully hard when we’re speaking different languages.”

“They’ll all learn in time,” I told her. “I’m Sofie, and this is Claudia.”

“Hello,” Claudia said awkwardly. The woman beamed at us.

“I’m Avril Walters.”

Claudia excused herself, wandering just a few steps to join a little cluster of German women. One by one, their eyes all flicked to me, then quickly away.

“Which one is your husband?” Avril asked. I pointed to Jürgen, and her eyes widened. “Jürgen Rhodes is your husband? Well, isn’t that something? My husband says he’s a genius.”

“Which is yours?” I asked. She pointed to two men who were standing side by side at the table. I recognized one as Calvin Miller, so knew her husband must have been the man beside him.

I glanced back to the German women and saw Claudia was whispering with one of them, her brows drawn. She shook her head fiercely, then looked back at me, but now when our eyes met, she looked away. My heart sank. The German men had been brought to America as prisoners, and even those who knew Jürgen’s history had no choice but to work with him, especially in the beginning. It was different for the wives. We had arrived as free women and could socialize, or refuse to socialize, as we saw fit.

“I’m just so excited to meet you,” Avril gushed, startling me with the volume of her voice and her enthusiasm. “I’ve never even met someone from Germany before. How did you learn to speak English so well?”

“I had British nannies when I was young, and sometimes we traveled with my parents,” I said absentmindedly, watching Claudia studiously avoid my gaze.

“You know what, Sofie?” Avril said, flashing me that warm smile. “We should have coffee next week.”

8

Lizzie

Dallam County, Texas
1933

Dad didn’t come out of his room that night, and Mother retired to join him just as soon as she finished her meal.

I decided that Henry wouldn’t mind me raiding his stash of gin, so I let myself into his bedroom and retrieved the bottle from under his bed. When I heard the sound of the Model T returning, I met him on the porch.

“Hey, sis,” he greeted me. He took the bottle of gin out of my hand, opening it and downing a few generous gulps without preamble. He never did seem to notice the burn the way I did.