It was still dark outside, too early for the breakfast bell. My eyes fluttered open and then closed tight. Once again the bell clanged. This time I heard my father’s feet hit the floor with a heavy thud, and I jumped from my bed. The distant yet distinctive clang was the watchman sounding the fire alarm. I yanked the curtain away from the window and peered outside. No sign of fire, but when I lifted the window, the frightening odor of smoke wafted on the nighttime breeze. I grabbed a lightweight shawl from the foot of my bed and slipped it over my shoulders before cracking open the bedroom door. Father was already in the parlor wiping sleep from his eyes with one hand and lifting a suspender onto his shoulder with the other. He shouted for Stefan to hurry and follow him. When he caught sight of me, he motioned toward Oma’s room. “You stay here and keep your grandmother inside. No telling what we’ve got out there.” He cranked his head toward his bedroom. “Stefan! Now!” The boy’s half-tucked shirt hung like a ruffle along the top of his trousers.
