Free The Other Half of Life by Kim Ablon Whitney

gotten distracted and played beneath his level. He looked up, hoping to see the face of someone buoyed by an unexpected win. Instead he saw the steady gaze of a man who knew just what he was doing.

Chapter Eight

    “A ll they have is war novels,” Thomas lamented to Priska. Boredom had set in again, and they were looking over one of the shelves in the library. Thomas fingered the spines of the books:
Die Gruppe Bosemüller, Aufbruch der Nation, In Stahlgewittern
.
    “It looks like someone from the
Reichskulturkammer
has been here,” he said.
    Thomas kept looking as Priska drifted over to the window.
    “Here's one that might be all right—” Thomas said, but Priska cut him off.
    “Look,” she said, a devilish grin spreading across her face. Thomas came over to the window and saw what she was pointing to—
Ortsgruppenleiter
Holz was fast asleep in one of the deck chairs. Thomas was surprised he had lethimself fall asleep in public. He looked almost helpless with his cane lying against his chair.
    Priska whispered to Thomas, “I have an idea.” Before he could ask what it was, or discuss its merit, Priska was on her way out the door. She snatched Holz's cane and quickly switched it with the cane of an elderly woman who was also sleeping nearby. Both were wooden, but Thomas noted that the woman's cane seemed to be made of a different kind of wood. It was mahogany, whereas Holz's was a lighter color.
    Priska motioned for Thomas to follow her. They waited on the other side of a large crate. Priska's face was full of anticipation. When Holz woke, he bolted upright, as if he was ashamed he had fallen asleep. He immediately reached for his cane. The moment his hand was on it, he tensed. So much for playing a trick on him for any length of time, Thomas thought. In that one moment, he had realized it wasn't his cane. He jumped out of his chair, searching the area. He located his cane against the woman's chair and grabbed it. He tucked it under his arm and jabbed her leg with her own cane. “
Aufwachen!
”
    She startled awake and looked at him with scared and confused eyes.
    He barked, “You had my cane.”
    “
Entschuldige, mein Herr
,” she said. “I must have gotten confused and taken it by mistake. Please forgive an el derly lady's careless mistake.”
    He took her cane and threw it at her. It hit her across the chest and she let out a small yelp. She stood up, took the cane, and shuffled off. The
Ortsgruppenleiter
stepped toward her empty chair. Thomas saw him pick up something from the armrest. It was silver and glinted in the sun. He slipped it into his pocket and headed off down the deck.
    “Did you see that?” Priska asked, coming out from behind the crate. “What was that he took? A cigarette case?”
    Thomas nodded. “I think so.”
    “I didn't even think he'd notice the cane so fast. He must have been disgusted at the idea of a Jew touching his cane.” Priska shook her head. “I feel terrible. I never thought he'd take it out on her, or steal her case.”
    Thomas furrowed his brow, replaying the scene in his head. It was true that Holz would likely have been disgusted; but then why didn't he automatically wipe the handle clean with a handkerchief?
    “How can we get her case back?” Priska said.
    “I don't know. I'm not sure we can.”
    Priska sighed.
    “Come on,” Thomas said. “I think I found a book.”

    Thomas had never slept very soundly. Back in the apartment in Berlin, there had always been too much going on. He would wake in the wee hours of the morning, listening to snippets of conversation. It was late at night that his parents worked on ways to conceal the information theysmuggled out of Germany. They came up with what Thomas thought were ingenious ways to hide papers. They hid them in secret compartments in hairbrushes, mugs of shaving cream, and cigarettes. Once, his father had even designed a way to hide papers in a chessboard. Sometimes when Thomas woke up, his father would hand