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

Our nearest neighbor was three miles away, and just like us, the Hutchinson family had neither a phone nor a car. There was a chance if one or more of us tried to walk there, even through the dark and the tail end of the storm, we’d find they were not in any position to help us. And then we’d have a three-mile walk home in the dark to contend with.

“I’ll go,” Henry said.

“You can’t,” Dad said flatly, shaking his head. Henry opened his mouth to protest and Dad exclaimed, “Goddammit, Henry! Would you think something through for once in your goddamned life? What if the storm rears up again? The only reason Mother and I didn’t suffocate right away was that we had the car to shelter in. It’s not worth the risk.”

“But—she looks—” Henry started to say. Then he broke off.

“Dad,” I whispered, a different kind of tear filling my eyes now. “I don’t know if Mother can wait until tomorrow.”

“Well, she has to,” Dad snapped, but then his expression crumbled, and he looked between me and Henry, remorse in his gaze. “She’d kill me if I let you go out there again. We just have to wait.” He turned his attention back to Mother, and he kissed her forehead and whispered gently, “You have to hold on, Ida, you hear me? Just until the sun comes up. Then we’ll get you help.”

Henry went outside to bring us fresh water and to survey the damage, but he refused to give us details of what he’d seen. Dad stayed in the bedroom with Mother, but I got a broom and started to clean. I swept so much dirt out of that house that there were piles of it, two and three feet high, all along the edge of the porch.

Within an hour, it was dark again—this time as it was supposed to be, because the sun had finally set.

I don’t know when I realized Mother wasn’t going to make it. Maybe I should have known from when I first saw how bad she was, or maybe it was better that I didn’t realize, since there was nothing I could do anyway. Slowly, though, over the hours of that long night, I started to wonder and then I started to suspect and then a heavy dread settled over me.