Free Saving Amelie by Cathy Gohlke

The tension between monarchs . . .” He closed his eyes. “They all want the same thing eugenically—ultimately—but refuse to align themselves with Germany for fear of what the world thinks. They don’t understand. We’re standing on the precipice!”
    “We’re in the middle of a war!”
    He brushed the air again. “It will blow over. France, Britain—they’re no match for Germany. They’ll soon see and come to their senses. As will Poland.”
    She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m afraid I’m like those nations you met with, Father. I don’t understand either.”
    He was massaging the bridge between his eyes. “What is it? What do you not understand?”
    Taking the deep chair opposite him, she leaned forward. “On Friday—the day the Führer declared war on Poland—”
    “A counterattack, he said.”
    She ignored him. “I saw something that disturbed me greatly—something I hope is not what it seemed.”
    He opened his eyes. “And what is that?”
    “I was shopping in the city. As I was waiting for a trolley I saw a van—its windows painted black—stop before an asylum for handicapped children.”
    “Perhaps the children were going on a trip.”
    “I didn’t say they’d gone anywhere. What makes you think they went somewhere?”
    He waved his hand in dismissal once more, but she saw his shoulders tighten. “A supposition—you said there was a van.”
    “Actually—”
    But a knock at the door startled Rachel.
    “Come in!” Dr. Kramer called, seemingly relieved, rejuvenated by the sight of the waiter wheeling the cart with their dinner.
    They’d barely begun their meal when Rachel tried again. “You’re right, Father. The children were loaded into the van, but I don’t think they were going on a pleasure trip. The woman in charge said they were going for treatment. What sort of treatment would an entire vanload of handicapped children be going for—children with different handicaps?”
    “How can I know that? Only their doctor would know.”
    But she persisted. “At the gala I heard Herr Himmler talk about those who would become a drain on German society in the event of war—those whom the Reich could barely sustain in peacetime could not be supported during war. What did he mean?”
    Her father was clearly annoyed by the turn in conversation. “How can I know what he was thinking? Rachel, you take these things too much to heart.”
    “But that’s the nature of eugenics, isn’t it—to weed the weak from the strong?”
    “Yes, of course. But you needn’t worry. You’re a perfect specimen.” He winked, as though he’d made a joke.
    “How? How will they do it?”
    “What Germany does is Germany’s affair. Just as what America does is America’s affair. We share our research, we benefit mutually from the findings of that research, but we do not dictate medical policy from one country to another.”
    “But I’ve heard—”
    “Rumors? Never give credence to rumors. You know better than that. What is important is that Germany is at war, and all her resources are needed for her soldiers. We’ll be fortunate indeed if Herr Hitler continues to channel funding to Dr. Verschuer’s work.”
    Rachel tried again, but her father cut her off. “We owe Germany and Dr. Verschuer a great debt. Do you understand what it will mean to eradicate diseases such as tuberculosis, polio?”
    “But not at the cost of other lives. You can’t justify—”
    “Unusual sacrifices are sometimes called for in order to achieve a greater good. We must all make sacrifices. And contributions.”
    Rachel’s frustration built so that she barely knew how to respond. “Father,” she pleaded.
    “You’re in a position to make a valuable contribution. Your bloodline is pure; you are healthy and intelligent.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    He reached for her hand. “You carry the Aryan bloodline that all Germany, all the world, craves. By choosing someone of a similar, suitable