Free Mrs. Tuesday's Departure: A Historical Novel of World War Two by Suzanne Elizabeth Anderson

the desk to gather her coat. “Actually, her salvation was a matter of politics. Since she was neither Jewish, nor a Communist, they quickly lost interest. Good for her, too bad for the students who were.”
    “We’re lucky you were here,” I said.
    Deszo smiled bitterly, “You won’t be so lucky next time, Natalie. If she shows up again they’ll take her away. The Arrow Cross will be ruthless now that the Germans have arrived. They’re not only rounding up the Jews, but anyone else who tries to speak out against their plans.”
     
    When we entere d the outer office, the police were gone. The Dean stood in the center of the room nervously stroking his beard.
    “Thank you,” I said, grasping his hand. “Thank you for your help.”
    He looked over to where Anna stood wrapping her scarf around her neck, humming a melody as she tucked the ends into her coat. “Natalie, your sister was a great poet.”
    “Is,” I countered.
    “No, not anymore,” he said, shaking his head. “In different times, her outburst would have been regarded as the eccentricity of a brilliant but wounded mind. But now, she is a danger.”
    “I know,” I nodded sadly.
    “Not just to herself.” He looked from me to Deszo. “But to others, to the University. I won’t defend her next time.”
    I looked into his eyes, but he turned his head, releasing my grip on his hand. “She’s no longer welcome here.” He walked to his office and closed the door.

Chapter Thirty-Four
    When we lef t the building, I was surprised to see that it had started to snow. The walkway that bisected the park leading to the street was dusted with white, muffling the sounds of the city. Bare tree branches caught snowflakes in their outstretched arms and slowed their descent to earth. I felt cut off from the rest of world, safe in this winter landscape. The scene could have been any one of many happy memories of the three of us leaving the university to meet Max for dinner. How many evenings had Anna and I walked on either side of Deszo, our arms linked through his, laughing at the double takes we’d get as people looked from me to Anna, noticing our identical faces and the proud way Deszo escorted us, as if we both belonged to him. I suppose in some way, he really believed that. Max would meet us outside the restaurant; I’d break from Deszo’s grip and rush to kiss my true love. We’d tuck into a table and spend the next three hours drinking wine, sharing the day’s events. At the end of the meal, Deszo would light a cigarette, Max his pipe, Anna and I would lean toward one another and begin to whisper. Then the evening would continue at a café for coffee and desert. How happy we’d all been. Our lives were successful and out futures bright. In this moment, I would have traded places with Anna, would have stayed in the window to the past with the longing for all that was now gone.
    Deszo and I walked on either side of Anna, each of us holding her elbows. Anna chattered happily, leaning her head back to catch snowflakes on her face. I followed her upward gaze and then turned to look back at the window where she’d sat with her hand pressed against the glass like a child.

Chapter Thirty-Five
    At the edg e of the park, we saw the crowd waiting for the tram. We joined them, stamping our feet against the cold that seeped through the soles of our leather shoes. We stood with our backs to the biting wind. After fifteen minutes, it was clear that the tram had stopped running or would be impossibly full by the time it reached us.
    “I need to get home to Mila,” I said to Deszo.
    “Isn’t Ilona there with her?”
    “No, she left with Bela, yesterday.”
    Deszo looked startled then angry. “She left Mila.”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know.” I brushed the snow from Anna’s shoulders and pulled her collar closed around her scarf. “But she’s my responsibility now, I have to get home.”
    “We’ll have to walk,” he said.
    We