The Doctor’s Daughter: Totally heartbreaking and completely unforgettable World War Two historical fiction by Shari J. Ryan

Author:Shari J. Ryan [Ryan, Shari J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803143729
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

MAY 1943

SOFIA

Sunday nights seem to be the only time the three of us are in the same room at the same time. Dinner is quiet as usual, and with nothing left to do between supper and bedtime, our parlor is the only place to go, unless Mama and I lock ourselves in our bedrooms.

“What are you reading, mały myszka?” Papa asks, sweetly. He has been trying harder than usual, perhaps to make me hate him a little less. In truth, Isaac’s words stung me the other day when he defended my father. I wanted to tell him he didn’t understand, but he of all people would.

“The Grapes of Wrath,” I say with a raised brow.

“Where on earth did you find a copy to read?”

“The library has one copy and I had been waiting,” I reply, simply.

“Haven’t you read the book before?”

“I have, but I suspect there are parts I might not have understood as much last time.”

Papa clears his throat. We’ve all read the book.

“Sofia,” he says, placing the newspaper he has been reading on his lap, “I understand your motivation to be a hero in times like these, but it isn’t as simple as saving a person from starvation. Surely, you understand this.”

I reposition myself on my chair and hold the book up higher. “You asked me what I was reading, not what I was thinking. Besides, isn’t that your purpose in life? To be a hero to others?”

Papa slaps his hands on top of the newspaper, crinkling the pages. “My purpose in life is to care for you. How can I make it clearer? I don’t want to live in this miserable silence with both of you, knowing how unwanted I am in my own house. Imagine being in a place where no one wants you?”

He can’t be serious. We have a front-row view of that very scene out on the farm. “I suspect it’s hard for you to imagine anything at all.”

With a huff of aggravation, he says, “For your information, I am not the enemy. In fact, I’m very much the opposite. I have hurt no one, but apparently my own daughter and wife. I’m a doctor—a profession I worked toward my entire life—and now I’m being scrutinized for my accomplishments, but only by the two of you. Do you think I side with those mongrels in uniform? Do you think I’ve become one of them?”

“Haven’t you?” Mama asks, without lifting her eyes from the magazine she is thumbing through.

Papa sweeps the newspaper off his lap and onto the ground, the sheets splaying out toward the fireplace. “I took the position because they told me doing so would keep my ‘Jewish wife and daughter safe.’”

“Yes, but I thought Jewish people in mixed marriages and families aren’t being affected by the laws like the other families? We aren’t safe at all then, are we?” I ask, dropping my book down onto my lap.

“Sofia, we have raised you to be Jewish. You were not baptized like me. Unfortunately, we are at a greater disadvantage for that reason.

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