"We can. We are safe."

Anton relaxed, but did not let go of my hand, barely glancing at luscious displays of food as we walked toward the escalators in the middle of the store.

After we mounted the escalator to the children's clothing department, he counted the disappearing stairs ahead. "Where do they go?"

"They stack up in the cellar," I answered with a smile.

"Then where do they come from?"

I laughed. "They go back down the other side. It's a giant metal belt of stairs."

We almost reached the top when he backed down the escalator.

I took his bony hand. "We can jump the last step together. One, two, three."

We jumped safely onto the second floor, under the disapproving eye of a matron wearing a loden-green Bavarian hat. I resisted the urge to apologize for our boisterous behavior. We were paying customers and entitled to a little frivolity.

Anton told me he'd never owned any new clothes before. He studied each article after I gave him the responsibility of picking colors and fabrics. I bought three trousers, three shirts, three undershirts, three pairs of underwear, and a nightshirt. Lugging our increasingly heavy bags, we went to the shoe department and bought a pair of leather shoes that he assured me were the same color as moccasins. We'd long since used up my paycheck, but I still had my money from the sale of the necklace.

When we arrived at the cafe for a late tea, Anton looked at the dessert cart with wide eyes.

"You can order something." I unfolded his stiff linen napkin and put it in his lap. "What would you like?"

"The brave desires . . ." His voice trailed off.

I ordered a glass of milk, a pot of warm tea, and a piece of tart plum cake with a dollop of whipped cream.

He stared at the cart, hypnotized.

"Your father used to love the apple strudel."

"Apple strudel," he said.

I glanced down at the square of plum cake. Red plum crescents covered with a thin layer of clear jelly topped the cake. I had not eaten plum cake in at least two years. The whipped cream next to it was heavy and held its shape. Perfectly whipped, Mother would have said.

"Start eating whenever you wish," I told Anton.

He nibbled his strudel. "It's delicious!" He sounded surprised.

I laughed and took a bite of my own, savoring the tart plums. I took a small forkful of whipped cream, then chased it down with a sip of hot, strong tea with honey. It tasted like the promised land.

Anton and I ate in companionable silence, each of us savoring the luxury of sweets. It felt wonderful being extravagant with him in the way I'd always wanted to be with Ernst. Anton looked splendid in his new finery. I'd bought a new burgundy jacket for myself. Ernst would have admired it. I'd slipped my old coat into the shopping bag, with the ring still pinned in the pocket.

Time got away from me, and it was early evening when, full and lazy, we stepped out of the store with our purchases. The store was closing, and they locked the door behind us.

I looked out from the archway at the dark, overcast sky. Rain pelted down.

Anton squeezed my hand. "Soldiers."

A sea of brown uniforms surrounded the store's entrance. Men's faces shone orange in the flames from their torches. "Not soldiers," I answered, struggling to keep fear from my voice. "Nazis."

I bent down to look into Anton's frightened blue eyes. "Do not let go of my hand unless I fall down. If I fall, run. Take a taxi to Aunt Bettina's. I will come for you."

"A brave does not leave his fallen friends."

"A brave must obey his chief," I said.

"I do not know the way."

I wrote Bettina's address on a twenty Reichsmark bill and tucked it into the pocket of his new trousers. "Give this to the taxi driver and he will know where to go."

Anton nodded, and together we stepped out of the protective shelter of the arch. I pushed forward, the shopping bag with the ring and coins heavy in my hand. Cold rain blew into my face.

At least a hundred Nazis stood between us and the street, carrying signs with carefully printed Nazi slogans, such as "Don't buy from Jews" and "Germans, protect yourselves." Nazi flags, red with a white circle and black swastika in the middle, waved in the wind. I strode through the crowd, head held high.

A round man dressed in a shopkeeper's suit pushed his way to us. "Don't you know that Germans need that money?" Spittle sprayed my face. My shoulder crashed into his, and I slipped on wet cobblestones. I caught my balance, kept going. Anton clutched my sweaty hand.

"Are you a Jew or only a Jew lover?"

We were halfway through the crowd. The only way out was through. The crowd sang the "Horst Wessel Song," the unofficial Nazi anthem.

"Hold high the banner" rang out. At least I no longer heard individual jeers. The street was clear ahead. We were almost free.

A strong hand wrenched the shopping bag from my hand. I gasped. The ring was in that bag.

"Anton," I shouted down to him. "Run. I must go back."

I tried to pry my hand out of Anton's grasp, but he would not let go. His round eyes stared at me, and he shook his head.

"Anton," I said. "Let go. Go to Aunt Bettina's."

The crowd closed around us, chanting. Anton would not let go.

"The chief orders it," I yelled above the chants. If he would not go to Bettina's, I had to send him somewhere. "Run to the advertising pillar with the red words."

Anton released my hand and darted between the legs of the men surrounding us. I lost sight of him immediately.

"Prove that you are German," shouted a harsh voice. "Show us papers."

I thought of my identity papers, safely traveling to America.

Had Anton gotten free? A brown wall of men crowded in on me. "Germans protect yourselves," they chanted.

Bettina would see him taken care of, if only he could make it to her. I raised my arms to protect my face.

"Halt," shouted a voice. "She is a German woman, and she is not to be treated that way."

I turned toward the voice, but I could not tell who had said it.

"Hannah," said a different voice at my shoulder. "It's Wilhelm."

Wilhelm, Ernst's friend from El Dorado. Let him bear witness, if nothing else.

He held my shopping bag and wore a Nazi uniform and a reassuring smile. I was dizzy from relief and would have fallen, had there been room. He would get me out of the crowd, back to Anton. Wilhelm hooked his hand under my elbow.

A tall, muscular man with close-cropped blond hair shouted, "Enough."

With a military precision more frightening than their mob behavior moments before, the singers turned away from us. Wilhelm and I walked to the other side of the street unmolested while the mob waited for the next victim to come through the doors.

Anton darted out from behind the pillar and threw his arms around my knees. I bent and held his trembling body, stroking his hair. "We are safe now," I said. His heart thundered against my chest, racing like a bird's.

I glanced over his head at the brawny man who had called off the crowd. He was the same bull-like man who had struck Wilhelm and marched him out of El Dorado.

"We are safe," I repeated and stood, lifting Anton in my arms. He wrapped his arms around my neck and buried his face in my shoulder.

"Of course you are," said Wilhelm. "We don't harm women and children."

"Thank you, Wilhelm," I said. "For helping us. Who spoke?"

"My father," Wilhelm gloated. "He's in charge of the demonstration. He is very highly placed in the SA."

"I am grateful that he let us go." I stroked Anton's hair. His heartbeat slowed. He raised his head and looked at Wilhelm.

"Naturally, Hannah." Wilhelm took the other shopping bag from me. "Please let me see you safely home."

"We'll take a taxi." I never rode in taxis. They were too expensive, but now I had money. Even though it was a few short blocks through elegant shops to the subway station at Potsdamerplatz, I wanted to get away from the Nazis immediately. I scanned the wide street for a black automobile with a familiar checkerboard stripe on the side. A street car rattled by in a flash of red and cream, but otherwise the usually busy street was deserted. No one wanted to get too close to a Nazi protest.

I walked down the street, carrying Anton.

"You have great courage." Wilhelm offered Anton his hand to shake. "I am Wilhelm."

"A brave has the courage he needs." Anton did not take his arms from around my neck to shake Wilhelm's hand.

"But why should he need it?" I asked. "To buy clothes and eat cakes?" Wilhelm had the good grace to look ashamed. "We don't want to frighten good German citizens."

"Yet you do." I raised my hand for a taxi. Anton tightened his arms on my neck. A taxi drove by without stopping. I swore under my breath.

Wilhelm raised his hand, and a taxi stopped in front of us, its top raised against rain. He climbed into the front seat and turned to face us. I gave my address to the driver and climbed into the back, setting Anton next to me. He squeezed my hand. I glanced out the window at the automobiles passing us. It felt strange to be in an automobile. Decadent.

"You shouldn't buy from the Jews," Wilhelm said. "Not when so many German storekeepers are going hungry."

"And what of the Jewish ones? Do they not need to eat?"

"They will find a way," Wilhelm said. "They always do."

"Are you a warrior?" Anton asked. His grip on my hand loosened.

"Yes," Wilhelm answered with a smile.

"No," I said at the same moment.

"I wear a uniform," Wilhelm explained, ignoring me. "And I am part of a unit. We are trying to restore Germany to greatness."

"Regardless of the cost." I pulled Anton closer to my side.

"There is always a cost."

"And no cost is too great when others are paying it."

Wilhelm turned to Anton. "And I have weapons. Would you like to see my knife? It's an SA dagger. Only special warriors get them." He looked down at his waist.

"Where is it?" Anton asked excitedly, peering over the seat at Wilhelm while still holding on to my hand.

"I can't find it," Wilhelm said, looking back up. "It must be at home."

Anton looked unconvinced, but he sat back down.

"How is your brother?" Wilhelm turned to me. "Still off with his soldier man?"

"I have not seen him today." I glanced at rain-slick streets. Ghostly light reflected from the tall streetlamps, but it was more comforting than orange Nazi torches.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Perhaps you are correct, and he is with the soldier you said he went to meet," I said, thinking of the ring. "Was the soldier a Nazi?"

"Maybe a Nazi. Maybe a member of the regular army." Wilhelm pulled at his too-red lower lip. "Ernst would not give me details. He said it would be too dangerous to tell me."

My heart quickened. "Did you believe him?"

"I think it was a game, but I don't know, and I don't care. Does he miss me?"

"I imagine so." I tousled Anton's hair, and he looked up at me, surprised.

"So he doesn't talk about me?" Wilhelm asked.

"I don't see him often."

"More than I, I bet." He stared out of the window, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

"I am sorry, Wilhelm."

"I thought we were so close in school," he said. "Did he tell you?"

"Not much."

"He used to defend me against the other boys. He is a powerful fighter. Once he even stood up to my father."

"What happened?"