Читаем A good German полностью

“Well, not for good,” Emil said pleasantly, caught by the hand but trying to sidestep any sentiment. “I’ll come back sometime. You know, it’s my home, after all.”

“No,” Professor Brandt said faintly, touching his arm. “You have done enough for Germany. Go.” He dropped the hand, looking at him. “Maybe things will be different for you now, in America.”

“Different?” Emil said, flushing, aware that the others were looking.

But their eyes were on Professor Brandt, whose shoulders had started to shake, a raw, uncontrolled blubbering, catching everyone off-guard, an emotion no one expected. Before Emil could react, the old man reached out and clutched him, wrapping his arms around him, holding on, a death grip. Jake wanted to look away but instead kept staring at them, dismayed. Maybe the only story that really mattered, the endless ties of life’s cat’s cradle, tangled like yarn.

“Well, Papa,” Emil said, leaning back.

“You made me so happy,” Professor Brandt said. “When you were a boy. So happy.” Still shaking, his face wet, so that now the others did turn away, awkward, as if he had somehow become incontinent.

“Papa,” Emil said, still helpless in the grasp.

Then Professor Brandt pulled away, collecting himself, patting Emil’s upper arm. “Well, but here are your friends too.” He turned to Jake. “Forgive me. An old man’s foolishness.” He stepped aside, ceding place, not bothering to wipe his face.

Emil looked at Jake, oddly relieved, grateful for any interruption but now uncertain what to do. He started to offer his hand.

“So,” he said, “all ends for the best.”

“Does it?” Jake said, ignoring the hand.

He nodded at Jake’s sling. “The shoulder. It’s all right?”

Jake said nothing.

“It’s a misunderstanding about that. Shaeffer told me.”

“No misunderstanding.” Jake opened his mouth to speak again, then glanced at Professor Brandt and instead just turned away.

“We certainly don’t want that,” Breimer said, genial. “Not after what you two have been through.”

“No, we certainly don’t want that,” Shaeffer said pointedly to Jake, a signal to take Emil’s hand.

But the moment had passed, because now Emil had turned too, toward the edge of the gate area, where Lena was coming around the corner with Erich. She was bent over, talking to him. When she glanced up and saw the waiting party, she stopped, slowly raising her head. Another second and then she began walking again, shoulders back, determined, the way she’d come into the Adlon dining room. Not in her good dress this time, a cheap print with tiny flowers, but beautiful, catching the light just by walking in it.

“What’s she doing here?” Shaeffer said as she approached.

“That the wife?” Breimer said. “Well, why the hell not? Say good-bye to her husband.”

Within earshot now, standing in front of Emil.

“No, you’re mistaken,” she said to Breimer, but looking at Emil. “My husband died. In the war.”

She moved past him, leaving a silence. Jake looked at Emil. The same flustered expression he’d given Professor Brandt, a confused despair, as if he had finally glimpsed the missing piece, then seen it float away before he could tell what it was.

“In the war?” Breimer said.

Lena took Jake’s arm. “They’re boarding. Come, Erich.”

Rosen put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and they moved toward the stairs behind the GIs with duffel bags.

“Now, remember to hold hands, yes?” Lena turned to Rosen. “You have the lunch?”

Rosen held up the bag with a tolerant smile.

Lena knelt in front of Erich. “Like the mother hen, that’s what he hug. A hug from my chick. Always so good. I’ll write to you. Shall I do that in English? Dr. Rosen can read, then you. You can practice, how’s that for a plan? Jake too. Come,“ she said to Jake, standing up, ”say goodbye.“

Jake hunched down, one arm on Erich’s shoulder. “Be good and listen to Dr. Rosen, okay? You’ll have lots of good times. And I’ll come visit someday.”

“You’re not my father?” the boy said, curious.

“No. Your father’s dead, you know that. Now Dr. Rosen is going to take care of you.”

“You gave me your name.”

“Oh, that. Well, everybody gets a new name in America. That’s how they do it there. So I gave you mine. Is that all right?”

Erich nodded.

“And I’ll come to see you. I promise.”

“Okay,” the boy said, then reached up and put one arm around Jake’s neck, a quick hug, but careful of the sling so that the thin arm was almost weightless, light as a loose strand of yarn. “Geismar,” he said. “That’s English? It’s not German?”

“Well, it used to be, before. Now it’s American.”

“Like me.”

“That’s right, like you. Come on, you’d better hurry if you want a window,” he said, shooing him to Rosen.

“Don’t forget to wave,” Lena said as they started down the stairs. “I’ll be watching.”

She turned, acknowledging Professor Brandt for the first time by touching his sleeve. “So it’s good you came. We can see over there,” she said, turning from the group toward the big window.