Page 388 - The Book Thief
P. 388
Her suffering knees.
Her painful feet.
When first light appeared, she awoke and made her way back to the kitchen.
Papa was asleep with his head parallel to the tabletop, and there was some saliva
at the corner of his mouth. The smell of coffee was overpowering, and the image
of Hans Hubermanns stupid kindness was still in the air. It was like a number or
an address. Repeat it enough times and it sticks.
Her first attempt to wake him was unfelt, but her second nudge of the shoulder
brought his head from the table in an upward shock.
Are they here?
No, Papa, its me.
He finished the stale pool of coffee in his mug. His Adams apple lifted and sank.
They should have come by now. Why havent they come, Liesel?
It was an insult.
They should have come by now and swept through the house, looking for any
evidence of Jew loving or treason, but it appeared that Max had left for no
reason at all. He could have been asleep in the basement or sketching in his
book.
You cant have known that they wouldnt come, Papa.
I should have known not to give the man some bread. I just didnt think.
Papa, you did nothing wrong.
I dont believe you.
He stood and walked out the kitchen door, leaving it ajar. Lending even more
insult to injury, it was going to be a lovely morning.
When four days had elapsed, Papa walked a long length of the Amper River. He
