Julius Rosenthal will make candy no more and other short stories, Nicholas Russell [android pdf ebook reader TXT] 📗

well. “I know you are no communist, but I am sad to say truth and facts mean little to these men. Wait here and let me see what I can work out.”

Hans slipped between Julius and the wall before turning the corner and disappearing. Julius looked to the yard and could see at least six soldiers with their eyes fixed on him. He turned from their gaze and leaned against the wall, thinking of the day Rabbi Kline had knocked on his door telling him of Albert’s passing. Julius’ world was changed that day, one of its brightest lights taken from him. Standing here now with the image of Rabbi Addlemen’s bullet riddled body laid out before his flock. Julius couldn’t get the image from his mind it played over and over again.

Julius was so occupied with his thoughts he didn’t realize it was over an hour before Hans returned. The weight and stress that seemed to hover over Hans when they last spoke was gone, his face alight with a broad smile and he clasped Julius on the shoulder. “I have made the arrangements; I need you to sign these papers and you will be free to go.”

“What are they?” When Julius asked the question, Hans’ face changed. Before he spoke Julius knew what he was going to say; they wanted his store.

“Just sign them. If you sign them, he will sign a visa that will allow you to travel to Switzerland.” Hans’ voice was strained and the stress seeped back into his shoulders. “Please, Julius I am begging you.”

Julius looked to Hans and nodded. He took the papers and the pen, and laying them against the side of the building Julius began to sign. As he did, Hans slipped his hands into his pockets and looked back to the soldiers moving about the yard. He smiled and nodded as the men looked on in disgust. After a few minutes Julius muttered that he had signed them, and Hans’ turned back. The moment his back was to the soldiers, his demeanor changed; his smile was gone. He pulled his hand from his pocket with what seemed to be a tightly folded white envelope. Hans took the forms and pressed the envelope into Julius’ hand. “Take this and say nothing to any of the soldiers about it.”

Hans started to step away when Julius realized he no longer had his recipe book. His heart began to race; he had given up his store, but he could not let them have the book. His hands were shaking as he reached out to take Hans shoulder. “I forgot my book.”

Hans turned back with a glance to the nearby soldiers. “Buy another one; it is not worth trying to return to your shop.”

“It is my recipe book and it is not at the shop it is in that sedan.” Julius pointed to the car that carried him across town. Hans looked to the car and back to Julius, debating for a moment what to do. Hans could not walk up to an SS car and take something without someone stopping him. Hans looked at the driver closely; he was leaning against the hood with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. Hans put together a plan in his head; he would bum a cigarette from the man, see the book, and make up some story of how Julius had wronged him and ask to have the book as revenge. Of course if his wife saw him smoking she would kill him. And if the Gestapo found out he was trying to return something of value to a Jew, they would probably kill him as well. Hans looked to the dull gray and cloudy sky, and remembered what an old friend had once told him: “Worry not, old friend; today is a terrible day and heaven’s angels work when it is warm and the sun is out.”

Casually, Hans crossed the yard; as he drew closer he was able to get a good look at the driver. The man was in his late fifties and looked as if he missed the daily training regimen. When he looked at the man’s face, an image flashed in his mind of three young men standing in the face of death; only two of those men still stood today. The driver looked up and froze. Their eyes met and the man pulled the cigarette from his mouth, attempting to speak but was unable to.

“It is good to see you Heinrich” Hans’ voice was calm betraying none of his fear.

“Hans, Itit is good to see you as well.” Both men smiled a half smile but it was obvious that something happened between the two in the past. “I did not realize you lived here, I would have paid my respects earlier.”

“I need a favor, Heinrich; that old man you dropped by here left a book in your car - I need to return it to him.” Hans turned to see his house and a shudder ran through him; he had not stepped outside since the Gestapo arrived. Seeing it now surrounded by men dressed like reapers made Han’s sick to his stomach.

“The Jew’s cookbook; the ugly one with the scar said he wanted it.” Heinrich reached into his pocket and removed a pack of cigarettes pulling another one free. He used the stub still smoldering in his mouth to light the new cigarette, dropping the first to the ground and then snubbing it out with his foot. “Normally I would say take it, but that one…”

Heinrich paused taking a long drag from the fresh cigarette. “I have been driving for him about a month now. You have to be careful with him. When he sees something he wants he simply takes it and finds a reason later.