“To Josef. Sometimes the most courageous love is whispered in the quietest moments.”
Meaningless words from a very long time ago, Held mused. He returned to his papers and with a dismissive wave of his hand muttered, “Keep it.”
Michael clasped the book to his chest. “Really? Thank you. Thank you, very much.”
Uncomfortable with this show of emotion, Held pushed his spectacles higher up his nose and nodded, shuffling papers awkwardly about the desk.
Michael turned to leave and then stopped at the door. “I guess it’s safe to tell you now that I hate mathematics.”
Held scoffed, then muttered, more to himself than to Michael, “So I have surmised.”
As Michael reached the door, Elke pulled him quickly by the arm into the corridor.
Held noted the empty place where the book had sat unopened for many years. He took a deep breath and closed the drawer. He was about to return to his grading when he noticed something on his desk. Gingerly, he picked up the flyer Michael had dropped.
The classroom door opened, and Held called out, “Mr. Blum, you forgot…”
But instead of Michael, he was surprised by Hannah Pender. The new university secretary, a striking woman with fine cheekbones and thoughtful blue eyes, was rarely seen away from the front desk. Her clothes today, he noticed, were a dark blue A-line skirt, that hugged her hips and emphasized her shapely legs, and an ivory-coloured blouse with a lacy neckline. As she walked in, she spoke in perfect German to a serious-looking Nazi officer who followed.
A small group of soldiers accompanied him and stood to attention outside the door, their severe gray uniforms sharp-edged and out of place against the elegant high-banked windows and pleasant wood-paneled hallway.
“This is Professor Held,” Hannah said. “He tutors advanced mathematics.” She approached his desk. “Hello, Professor. We are just checking on your students.”
Held responded, bewildered, “My students? My room is empty.” Under his desk, he clutched the census notice in his hand. He didn’t need any questions about why he had it or why it had been torn down.
Hannah smiled nervously and nodded.
The Major walked purposefully around the classroom, taking in every detail. Stopping at the large arched windows, he looked up, seemingly mesmerized by a spider building a web in a high corner outside. As the spider bobbed and wove its gossamer threads, a gentle breeze captured its work and rocked it like a hammock at sea. In the classroom, the only sound, the ticking clock, built its own tension with each stroke marking time. A bead of sweat formed across the bridge of Held’s nose under the rim of his glasses, and he quickly swiped it away with his free hand. The Major turned slowly to face Held.
“Professor Held? Interesting name.”
The professor nodded slightly.
The soldier approached the desk, speaking in German. “I believe that word is the same in Dutch as it is in German, meaning ‘hero.’ I hope you are not planning on being one.”
Held methodically pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and looked up at the officer, answering him in Dutch. “I’m afraid I am.”
A curious expression crossed the soldier’s face, accompanied by a forced smile; he knotted his eyebrows as if he were weighing up the professor.
Held continued with his well-versed return. “I teach literature students who would rather be learning the classics how to understand algebra.”
The soldier realized the professor was joking and laughed. A forced, overblown laugh meant for show, controlling and demanding attention. He recovered quickly and took a long, hard moment to scan Held’s desk as he nodded slowly.
Professor Held shifted in his seat and glanced at the wall clock. “Is there anything else? If you don’t mind, Mrs. Pender, I do have to prepare. I have another class arriving soon.”
Ignoring him, the Major walked back toward the window and looked out at the icy view once more. Through the feeble shafts of sunlight, columns of sleeted snow started to fall again. Mrs. Pender smiled awkwardly at Professor Held. As they waited, the air between them felt like it tightened. Eventually, the captain turned. “I think teaching is a fine profession and, as long as you keep your heroics to algebra, things will go well for you.”
With that, the Major nodded before striding out of the room. Mrs. Pender followed. Held waited until the footsteps faded before letting out a ragged breath. He screwed up the census notice and dropped it into his wastepaper basket.
He stood and stretched before walking to a cupboard at the back of his classroom, where he took out a small key from his waistcoat breast-pocket to unlock the door. The cupboard was completely empty except for a pristine wireless with a rich, mahogany veneer. Held reached in and turned the large dial. The display glowed, and the wireless crackled into life. Lilting classical music filled the dry space and cut through the suffocating air. Sitting back down at his desk, he removed his glasses, closed his eyes, and took a deep, slow breath.
At the end of the day, Held added a new equation to the blackboard to be solved by his first class, wrapped a wool scarf tightly around his neck, and put on his coat. With his hat and satchel in hand, he exited the classroom. Moving wordlessly through the corridors, his eyes cast down, he gave an air of deliberate aloofness. As a result, no one talked to him or even acknowledged him. It was as if he were invisible. Making his way to the university’s main desk, he noted Hannah Pender instructing a young woman about her duties.
Mrs. Pender turned and spoke. “Oh, and here is Professor Held,” she said to the young girl. “Good evening, Professor. You will want your mail.”
Held nodded.
Hannah turned to instruct her protégée about which pigeonhole to fetch it from. As she moved around behind her desk Held pretended to be focused on the mathematics book he was holding, but couldn’t resist giving her a sideways glance. She was very attractive, he mused, more attractive than the woman who had just retired from the same job. She had been square-built, with wiry hair, a constant look of disappointment, and the beginnings of a mustache. This new secretary, this Hannah Pender, was very different.
“So sorry about the intrusion today, Professor,” she continued, turning to him as he looked down quickly toward his hands. “We have so much to do, and we have the German Army to answer to as well. As if I weren’t busy enough. And now I have this young girl, Isabelle, all they could spare me, who I have to train, and as you know I have only been here a few weeks myself…”
As she chattered on, Held waited, watching her, trying not to draw attention to the fact he was studying the shape of her face and her soft brown curls.
Isabelle, a mousy girl with wispy, brown hair tamed into a hairclip, appeared at Hannah’s side and handed her a bundle of mail, which Hannah then presented to Held. Hannah continued to chat about the weather, her workload, and the drop in enrollment as he quietly shuffled through his letters. As she leaned forward to await his instructions he caught a wisp of her perfume, violets or maybe it was lilac. Not wanting her to see how much of a distraction it was to him he hastily replaced a couple of pieces of mail on the desk and put the rest in his bag, turning quickly and saying, “Good evening, Mrs. Pender.”
Hannah took his discarded mail and smiled. “Good evening, Professor.”