Jake backed out of the doorway. Why examine her there? The only thing Danny’s doctor would know. But who else could he have called? He saw the hands on her white thigh.
In the kitchen, he stirred the fake coffee in a cup. No sugar, nothing. He heard them talking down the hall, questions, Lena’s faint replies. He picked up the cup to take it in. But Rosen didn’t want him there. Instead he put it on the table and sat watching it grow cold. Hannelore’s hair had come undone, a messy girl even in her sleep.
When Rosen finally came out, he washed his hands again under the kitchen tap. Jake started for the bedroom.
“No. I’ve given her something to sleep.” He poured some of the kettle water into another cup and dropped in a syringe needle. “She should be in a hospital. Why did you wait? ”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“These girls,” Rosen said, shaking his head. “Who did the abortion?”
“What abortion?” Jake said, stunned.
“You didn’t know?” He went over to the table and sipped some coffee. “They shouldn’t wait so long.”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes, it’s done. But there was an infection. Lack of hygiene, perhaps.”
Jake sat down, feeling sick. Another bed, hands probing, not washed.
“What kind of infection?”
“Don’t worry. Not venereal. She can work again.”
“You don’t understand. She’s not-”
Rosen held up his hand. “That’s your affair. I don’t ask. But she’ll need more penicillin. I only had the one dose. Can you make an injection? No, I thought not. I’ll come back. Meanwhile, use these.” He put some tablets on the table. “Not as strong, but you need to bring the fever down. Make her take them, never mind the taste.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, taking them.
“They are expensive.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“A valuable girl,” Rosen said wryly.
“She’s not what you think.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Just give her the tablets.” He glanced toward the couch. “You have two here?”
Jake turned away, feeling like Danny stung by Sikorsky’s money. But who cared what Rosen thought?
“Did she tell you she had an abortion?” Jake said.
“She didn’t have to. That’s what I do.”
“Are you a real doctor?”
“You’re a fine one to ask for credentials,” Rosen said, then sighed and took another gulp of coffee. “I was a medical student in Leipzig, but of course I was thrown out. I became a doctor in the camp. No one asked for a degree there. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
“And now you work for Danny.”
“You have to live somehow. You learn that in the camp too.” He put down the coffee cup, ready to go. “So, the tablets, don’t forget,” he said, getting up. “I’ll come tomorrow. You have something on account?”
Jake handed him some money. “Is this enough?”
He nodded. “The penicillin will be more.”
“Anything. Just get it. But she’ll be all right?”
“If you keep her off the streets. At least no Russians. They’re all diseased.”
“She’s not a whore.”
“Well, I’m not a doctor, either. Such niceties.” He turned to go.
“What time tomorrow?”
“After dark. But not so late as this, please. Not even for Danny.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“You don’t have to thank me at all. Just pay me.”
“You’re wrong about her,” Jake said, wondering why it mattered. “She’s a respectable woman. I love her.”
Rosen’s face softened, surprised at the words, something from a forgotten language. “Yes?” he said. He turned away again, his eyes weary. “Then don’t ask about the abortion. Just give her the tablets.”
Jake waited until the steps had died away in the stairwell before he closed the door. Don’t ask. But how could he not? Worth putting your life at risk. A matter of hygiene. He put the cup in the sink, then turned out the light and started down the hall, exhausted.
She was sleeping, her face smooth in the soft glow of the lamp. The way he had imagined it, the two of them in bed, his bed even, holding each other as if the war hadn’t happened. But not yet. He sank onto the chair and took off his shoes. He’d wait here until it was light, then wake Hannelore to keep watch. But the chair was springy, poking at him like thoughts. He went over and lay down on his side of the bed, still in uniform. On top of the sheet, so he wouldn’t disturb her. When he reached over to switch off the light, she stirred with a kind of dreamy restlessness. Then, as he lay staring up at the dark, she took his hand and held it.
“Jacob,” she whispered.
“Ssh. It’s all right, I’m here.”
She tossed a little, her head moving in a slow rhythm, so that he realized she was still asleep, that he’d become part of the dream.
“Don’t tell Emil,” she said, her voice not quite in the room. “About the child. Promise me.”
“I promise,” he said, and then her body relaxed, her hand still locked in his, peacefully, while he lay staring at the ceiling, wide awake.
