to the kitchen, but did not turn on a light. Barefoot on the hardwood floor, her feet cold and trembling, she turned the edges of the brown paper that contained the parcels and looked inside. There she stood, aghast, as she uncovered coffee, onions, apples, flour, and fabric. Once again she heard a noise, this time from outside the window. She quickly moved back behind the wall, just as the baby began to wail again. She raced back to the child’s side, picked him up, and held him close to her. She put him against her bare breast, and for a moment he sucked the air as he searched for her nipple. Frantically moving his head about and still crying, the infant demanded that Petra help him. Soothingly, she placed the nipple in his mouth, and as she tenderly stroked his cheek, the baby started to nurse.
Unsure of what she might encounter, this time Petra stayed in the nursery. Somehow she knew what she’d seen should not alarm her, regardless of the fact that the large quantity supplies she’d observed had been forbidden by the Nazis. Peace came over little Hans’ face, and by the light of the moon he looked like an angel as he suckled, making sounds of pure satisfaction.
Petra vaguely wondered where all the forbidden food had come from. What had she just seen? It did not behoove her to entertain these thoughts. She must mind her own business, she thought, as she sat rocking slowly and stroking the baby’s soft, bald head. Perhaps the Bruch meiers stole and hoarded food. She didn’t care. She just did not want them to be caught. Hiding food from the Germans was considered treason and carried a severe punishment. She could not conceive of what that punishment might be, but from what she’d learned about the Nazis, she had no doubt it would be cruel. So now she knew where Hans disappeared to at night. But the details remained a mystery. The baby’s grip on her bosom released as his little hands opened. He slept. Petra experienced a tingling in her arm from holding him, as she carefully placed him back into his bed, then left to go to her own. For a long time she lay awake, unable to forget what she had seen. She cared so much for this family; she could not bear to think of their suffering. Still, she would not confront Siegland with the question.
Chapter 11
T
he baby changed and matured with each passing day. A glimpse into his strong-willed personality was apparent in his tiny, determined jaw. When Petra tried to put him down to sleep, his fists balled up and his face reddened as he cried out in protest. But the child loved Siegland and quickly came to recognize every line on her kind, familiar face. When he reached for her, which did more frequently than for his own mother, she responded with a fierce, protective adoration that she had never known before. Siegland enjoyed every moment, and she spoiled him. Hans could not so much as whimper before she lifted him out of his cradle and gently rocked him until he closed his eyes and slept. At night by the fire, Klaus played with Hans with the toys that he had made for him, and the old dog licked the baby’s face.
By mid-summer, Petra had grown strong and in desperate need of a change of scenery. Siegland offered to watch little Hans while she went out to help Klaus on the farm. Grateful for the break from routine, she agreed. Petra learned to milk the cow, gather the eggs from the hen house, and feed and tend to the plow horse. She helped with the crops to the best of her ability, and informed Klaus proudly that she would be there to assist in the harvest as well. Never having had any help from anyone, the old man welcomed this new daughter in a way that surprised even him. He enjoyed teaching and showing off his expertise in his work, and she learned quickly. Klaus soon discovered what Siegland had always known: children filled a household with tremendous love. At first, fear of the Nazis had made him consider sending Petra away, but now he delighted at having the