Page 88 of Flight of Dreams

“You would offer a job to a woman you barely know?”

“No.” She swats the suggestion away. “We would poach the world’s first airship stewardess from the Nazis. A woman who speaks a number of languages. How many exactly?”

“Seven fluently. I’m passable in three others.”

“Ten languages! Amazing. That’s a rare gift. So you see, our interest is not just in needing help with our children, but in tutoring them as well. We show you the world; you help Irene, Werner, and Walter learn to navigate it. I think that’s a fair trade.”

“It’s not that simple. Captain Lehmann knows I was planning to leave. I’ve been reprimanded. My papers have been confiscated.” She looks at Matilde. “They won’t let me off the ship when we land.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

“It’s plenty. I will be under house arrest.”

Matilde waves this off as if they were discussing the difficulties in negotiating a restrictive curfew. “That’s not a problem.” She peeks around the curtain and hands each boy a washcloth and a bar of soap. “Clean all of your parts. Especially the ones you can’t see. You have five minutes.”

“They are wonderful children. And I would love to care for them. But I’m afraid I don’t share your optimism about my situation.”

“So what is your alternative?”

“Return to Germany and continue my work with the Zeppelin-Reederei.” She does not mention Max or his proposal. That is too private, and she will not share it with Matilde Doehner. Not yet, anyway.

Matilde thinks about this for a moment and then changes tactics. “Do you know what my husband does for a living?”

“No.”

Matilde laughs. “Neither do I, if I’m being honest. Not the particulars, at any rate. But what I can tell you is that he is the general manager of Beick, Félix y Compañía, a wholesale drug company based in Mexico City. They dabble in a variety of pharmaceuticals but primarily focus on vaccines. According to his visa, Hermann was just in Germany to organize an affiliate company in Hamburg. Our visas stated that we accompanied him as dependents.”

Emilie squints. “Are you telling me that was not the case?”

“It was a partial truth. One of Hermann’s chemists went missing a number of months ago. The trip was a convenient excuse to find him.”

There are a dozen questions that Emilie could ask at this point, but she gets the impression that Matilde is more interested in completing her story, so she waits silently for her to continue.

“This chemist is a good friend of ours. A kind man. Practically a genius, if you want to know the truth. Generous. Charming.” Matilde pulls two towels from the canvas bag at her feet. “His name is David Rothstein. He is Jewish. And he is an outspoken critic of Adolf Hitler.”

“Oh.” Emilie sees what Frau Doehner is getting at.

“That is the Germany you are returning to. A place where brilliant minds are persecuted because they happen to be of an unpopular race.”

Emilie can’t be sure whether or not Matilde suspects her heritage. But if nothing else the woman does have an uncanny sense of the political situation at home.

“Listen, your offer is tempting. Please don’t get me wrong. I simply don’t see how it can possibly work.”

Again Matilde seems unperturbed. “Have you ever gone out in public with children, Fräulein? Gotten off an ocean liner or an airship?”

Emilie shakes her head.

“Have you ever taken them shopping or walked down the street with three of them in tow? Gone into a bank or a grocery store or a park with a pack of bickering children?”

It’s an interesting question, but Emilie can’t see how it pertains, and she isn’t sure if Matilde is trying to rub salt into what she perceives as an open wound. “No. I haven’t.”

“You really should try it sometime. It’s a fascinating experiment.” Matilde lifts two towels from the bench and shakes them out. “No matter how lovely or striking a woman is, when she goes out in public with children she becomes invisible. I once saw Luise Rainer standing at a bus stop in Düsseldorf—that was her hometown you know, she made it famous—next to a set of twins. They weren’t even hers. And she was dressed like a movie star. Thirteen men got on that bus and seven got off. Not one of them looked in her direction. Why? Because two children sat at her feet. This is a reality for every woman who bears a child. I was put out to pasture the day Irene was born. Children are the perfect camouflage.”

“And you are offering your children as camouflage?”

“Tomorrow when we land, things will be hectic. We will be late. Some passengers will be in a rush, others excited. The crew will be busy. There will be crowds awaiting our arrival. You will wear one of my dresses—”

“I’m a good deal taller than you are.”