Free Heart of Lies by M. L. Malcolm Page B

light up at the sight of her. But she did not feel compelled to explore the issue too closely. She’d spent too long mourning the loss of her mother’s love, and trying to earn her father’s, to be concerned about capturing anyone else’s.
    Near the end of her first semester Martha tried to confront the nagging restlessness invading her life. She decided that her general sense of dissatisfaction stemmed from boredom with school, and boredom with Munich as well. By December she concluded that a vacation and a job were the twin solutions to her ennui. A vacation to Paris, on her own, and a new career: surely that would cure her.
    Then she met Leo. Then she understood what she’d been missing. And now that she’d made that discovery, her whole existence seemed wrong without him.
    No, she would not see Harry today. She did not know what she would do today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that, or the day after that. Except wait.
    Time crept forward. Martha refused to leave the house, and refused to see anyone. She said she wanted to take advantage of some time alone to relax and read. After making her see a doctor, who confirmed that there was nothing physically wrong with his normally gregarious daughter, her anxious father had no choice but to chase Harry and the rest of her worried friends away.
    Christmas Eve arrived. Like many others German Jewish families who, over time, had become fully assimilated into the German way oflife, the Levys practiced neither Judaism nor Christianity. Many retained their faith in God, but, instead of following an established religion, they created an informal household liturgy grounded in a deep respect for the Ten Commandments, while blending some of the traditions of their heritage with secular celebrations of certain Christian holidays. It was therefore not unusual to find an old German Jewish family that celebrated Christmas, but not Hanukkah, or Passover, but not Easter.
    Christmas had been Ruth Levy’s favorite time of year, and after her death Martha carried on the tradition. She decorated the house, cajoled Bernice into helping her prepare mulled wine and treats for the carolers who strolled through the neighborhood, and bought small presents for her sister and her father. They reciprocated, although they did so only to please Martha. Neither cared very much about what was, in their opinion, a pagan celebration of the winter solstice co-opted by the Christians to celebrate the birth of their savior. Neither of them possessed the romantic spirit that allowed for the creation of Christmas magic. Martha, on the other hand, believed.
    This year Martha once again performed her annual rituals. She decorated the tree, put fir branches and candles in the windows, and cooked a lovely Christmas goose. But she did so with no magic in her heart. Her mind was focused on one single thought. Leo is due back at the Hotel Bristol the day after Christmas. The day after Christmas.
    Martha did not really think that Leo would be back at work on December 26th. If he were really in danger, how could he just go back to his regular job? But the people at the hotel might know something.
    To make an international call from Munich, one had to go to the post office. That is where Martha went, precisely at two o’clock in theafternoon the day after Christmas. One hour later, the operator put her call through.
    A bland, “Go ahead, miss,” signaled that the connection had been made. She took a deep breath.
    “May I speak to the manager?” she queried in German. She already knew from Leo that most businesses in Budapest used German as a second language because so few outsiders spoke Hungarian. “It’s a matter of some urgency,” she added.
    “One moment, please.” The silence stretched across the miles. At last a male voice responded.
    “Laslo Orgovany at your service. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
    “My name is Maria Schwartz. I’m looking for Mr. Leopold Hoffman. I’m a cousin of his. I