by Tricia Goyer
By the time she got back to her hotel room and sat at the desk, Amity’s feet ached. Kicking off her shoes, and taking a deep breath, she sat down to write the words she knew her employer didn’t want to hear.
23 January 1939
Dear Clark,
I’ve been in Czechoslovakia for only a little over a month, but it seems as if I can’t remember a world beyond the troubles here in Prague. I’m staying near Wenceslas Square, and if I had stayed in this touristy part of town the whole time and avoided the newspapers, I never would have known there is so much heartache in this land. Here, people are still shopping and going to cafés. They have afternoon tea and attend the opera. It’s only when I head to my office or travel outside the city and meet the refugees that I understand the real struggle. I hear the heartbreaking stories of Jewish refugees and want to shout them to the world.
Why aren’t people in the free world doing more? When will they stir from their comfortable lives and try to make a difference? Can’t each person at least help one, sponsor one child? Is that too much to ask? Thankfully, Britain and France have stepped forward and put up extra money for immigration, but what good is it if we have no families to open their homes?
As you can tell, I am passionate about doing more in the face of this tragedy. These families never wished such loss and heartache for their lives. They are being targeted for reasons that don’t make sense. Why should one race be killed by another in the name of racial purity? Why should children be orphaned and forced to face life alone without parents, without hope?
We have been working hard, and the first transport has left with twenty children. I helped to organize a master list for all the various relief organizations, and our hope is that things can work more quickly now—especially with Andrew’s help in London, trying to get sponsors.
I am certain by now that you can guess where this letter is heading. Even though I asked for more time, I must ask for the same thing again. There is too much work here for me to return to London. There are too many lives at stake. I still desire to honor my contract for you, but I beg that you will allow me to stay a little longer. Children’s lives are at risk. As a compassionate man, I know you understand.
Please tell Celia how much I love and miss her. I rather miss you too. You’ve always been just as much of a friend as well as an employer. To tell you the truth, I often have wished you were here so I could talk through some of these issues with you, seeking your advice. Please tell everyone in London that I miss them. I especially miss Mrs. McGovern’s cooking. When I return, is it too much to ask for a whole chicken and mushroom pie all to myself?
But most of all, of course, I miss the peace of not hearing so many heart-wrenching stories. Sometimes the only way I can remind myself that this world is still a good place is to picture Celia in the conservatory, sitting before the fire with a good book. Oh yes, and to see you, Clark, by her side, looking on with love. Someday I will return to both of you there, but pray that before then God will use me to bring much good to this heartbreaking situation.
With all my love,
Amity
Amity finished the letter and sealed it in an envelope. She’d decided to give Clark no time frame of when she’d return. She did not want to give him a promise, only to have to again tell him she needed to extend her time.
It was hard to do, sending her plea for more time back to two people she cared about so much. How easy it would be to return to London. To spend her days in peace and relative luxury. To put the worries of others behind her. But she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she made that choice. Sometimes one had to choose what was hard because it was also what was good.
She’d been thinking about another choice too. A choice she needed to talk to Madeline about. Amity rose and glanced around the luxurious hotel room, her toes squishing into the plush carpet. It was too much. Too extravagant. Especially in contrast with what others lived in around the city.
Andrew had paid for this hotel room through January, and he had given her the money for February too, promising to send more as needed. He assured her that he would pay for the room from his own funds as long as she stayed in Prague, but Amity felt guilty every time she walked into it. Why should she live in such luxury when most of the people she worked with went to bed hungry at night?
She would talk to Madeline. Her friend must know of a small room she could rent not too far from their office. Surely the cost of a few nights in the hotel could cover a simple, rented room for a full month. And then Amity could use the extra money to help pay for the children’s needs.
That’s what mattered most—the children. Twenty were saved, but hundreds, no thousands, still needed help to escape these borders. They were worth fighting for—her heart told her that every day. And as she looked at each one, she felt a growing love she couldn’t explain. Her hope was that the Germans would be kept at bay. And her prayer was that she would be able to get many more children out of this country before it was too late.
EIGHTEEN
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Monday, January 23, 1939
When Amity arrived at the office later that day, Madeline was sitting down with a mother and her two daughters, who looked to be about ten and eleven years old. The woman had a round face and rosy cheeks, yet her wide eyes were full of sadness.
Instead of interrupting, Amity sat down. Emil joined them, translating the woman’s story.
“She said her husband is in a concentration camp.” Emil spoke low near Amity’s ear. “She has tried everything to have him released, but it hasn’t done any good.”
The woman’s chin quivered as she spoke. Even though Amity could not understand the woman’s words, the emotion was clear.
“The Jewish committee has advised her to send her two daughters to England,” Emil explained. “She is heartbroken because they are all she has left. She says that she cannot imagine life without them, but she feels she has no choice.”
“That is a hard decision to fall on her shoulders alone, isn’t it?”
The mother’s face was desperate, and she gripped her daughters’ arms as if fearful that at any moment someone would come and take them away.
“She wants to know what else she can do,” Emil continued with emotion catching in his own voice. “She says that if they get on a transport, at least they will be safe, even if her husband is not.”
The woman released a shuddering sigh. Her hands covered her face and the sobs came. She continued talking, and her daughters cried along with her. Seeing the way the girls clung to their mother, Amity’s heart ached. How many similar stories had she heard? Dozens.
Emil wiped his eyes. “The woman says she wouldn’t mind if she knew this was a temporary situation. But how does she know? She says part of her knows deep down that she will never see them again, but she still begs Madeline to put them on the list.”
As she watched, Madeline did put down both girls’ names, but Amity knew there had to be at least five or six hundred children ahead of them. Would they ever get that far on the list? Would they even be able to get any more of the children out? Things were moving too slowly. There were not enough sponsors or funds for even fifty children. Andrew said he would work on it, but still, how much could one man do?
Finally, when all the paperwork was complete, the woman rose to leave. Emil stood and offered to buy the woman and her daughters some lunch. As if on cue, Madeline took a few bills out of her shirt pocket and pressed them into his hand, enough to cover their lunch and a meal for Emil too.
Before he left, Andrew had given Madeline money to help people in such a way, but she guessed that Madeline was also including some of her own funds.
“Make sure they have some red meat and vegetables,” Madeline commented to Emil in English. “Their skin looks awfully pale.”
“Yes, I will do that.” Emil opened the door, obviously telling the trio of the local restaurant he would take them to because happy expressions filled their face
s.
The older of the two girls reminded Amity of Celia. Maybe it was the long, straight black hair. If only Celia could see these young women. She’d want to help too.
Suddenly a chill carried down Amity’s spine. Excitement stirred in the pit of her stomach, and she knew what she had to do. Even though she’d just finished a letter to Clark and posted it, she needed to write another. She had no doubt that once Celia heard of the condition of these children, she would do all that she could to help their cause.
If Clark was stubborn and determined, Celia was more so, and Amity knew the most important part about dealing with a strong-willed person was to turn them in the right direction. After that, they easily picked up the reigns and joined a cause they felt passionate about, no matter how difficult.
Excitement grew within Amity over the idea of Celia helping to find sponsors for the children. She was young, passionate, and not easily swayed. Amity couldn’t think of a better choice to assist Andrew’s efforts. She would write a letter when she finished her work tonight. But first, Amity had to talk to Madeline.
Even though the mother and daughters had left with Emil fifteen minutes prior, Madeline still sat in the same position. She was reading over their paperwork again before filing it away. If anyone knew the importance of making sure every box was filled in correctly it was her. But today Madeline looked defeated, drained. All the work and so little movement seemed to be impacting all of them.
Amity sat beside the woman. She took her hand between hers and squeezed. “It’s hard, isn’t it, day in and day out?”
“Yes, it is hard, but at least they are here. I cannot help but think of all those families who were stuck in Germany or the Sudetenland. What must they be going through? Do they have any hope at all?” Madeline closed the file and turned to Amity. “Before you came in, the mother was telling me that her sister and two sons decided to stay in Germany. They were being hidden away in the basement at the home of a former employer. Another cousin was forced to leave her home because a German family wanted to occupy it. The worst part is that trying to save her daughters, she had to leave behind her widowed mother with some friends. Can you imagine having to make that decision?”
“No. If only there was more we can do. And you have done so much, Madeline. You have given so much.” Amity focused on the woman’s eyes, hoping to instill courage. “With Andrew in London, I’m praying things can move more quickly, but we will always need more resources. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Andrew has me staying in the Hotel Evropa, but it really is too much. I was considering how much money could be saved if I found accommodations elsewhere.”
“Like another hotel?”
“Actually, I was thinking of an apartment—or a room I could rent. If you know someone you trust, I would love to be considered. I only need a bed and an indoor toilet.”
A smile flashed on Madeline’s face.
“What? What do you find so funny.”
“Oh, it’s just that I’ve only had an indoor toilet for the last five years, and our weekend house outside the city still has an outdoor loo—isn’t that what the British call it? I was just trying to picture you out on our property using the toilet outside at night. I know I shouldn’t find it funny, but I do.”
Amity returned the smile, happy to again see a brightness to the woman’s face. “Yes, that would be quite a comedy, I have to say so myself.” She brushed her auburn hair back from her shoulder and raised the pitch of her voice. “An indoor toilet, please. I will not do with any less.”
Madeline chuckled along with her and then paused with a new brightness to her eyes. She pressed her lips together as if she were holding in a secret.
“What? What is it?” Amity pleaded.
“Well, I happen to have an extra room in my apartment. Two rooms, in fact. Both of my daughters are married, but I have not had it in me to sell our family home. There have been many times I’ve considered offering to bring one of these families home, but something inside has kept me from offering. Now I know why. The space was meant for you.”
Madeline suggested a price for rent and some meals, and Amity couldn’t have been more pleased. “Can I move in the first of February?”
“Yes, of course. And then I can keep a good eye on you.” Madeline patted her hand. “I still worry you’re not taking care of yourself as you should.”
NINETEEN
London, England
Thursday, February 2, 1939
Clark shuffled his newspaper and lowered it, picking up his cup of coffee. Beside him Celia was sitting at the breakfast table, but she’d pushed all the food to the side, refusing to eat.
Celia’s face was pale, anxious. “I don’t understand how you let Amity stay in Czechoslovakia. Have you read the news?”
Clark lifted an eyebrow and narrowed his gaze at his daughter. What had he done except read the news of late? Heaven knew he had gotten little writing done. But at least, after visiting Antonín, he had a story idea and was writing a couple of pages a day. It wasn’t close to the pace he’d kept before Gwen’s sickness, but at least it was something. It felt good to be writing again, creating again.
The mounting conflict between Germany and Czechoslovakia was enough of a distraction, but the ache was more intense because the house felt so empty without a woman’s presence. It had been three years since Gwen’s death, and now Amity was gone. He didn’t know why he’d let her go either.
When Amity’s letter had arrived for him a few days prior, he’d been sitting on a settee in the conservatory, attempting to read a novel, but he hadn’t gone through more than three pages. And even though he’d been sitting there for an hour with book in hand, he had no idea what the story was even about.
As soon as Mrs. McGovern had arrived with the mail and he had seen the envelope with Amity’s handwriting, he’d guessed the reason for the note. He hadn’t been surprised that she’d wanted to extend her stay. What he hadn’t expected was how thoroughly Amity had turned her back on her old life with him and Celia.
He took a sip from his coffee and then turned to his daughter. “I’ve read the news. The world is in a sorry state, and I’m not sure how we’ll be able to stay out of a war. I also am just as upset as you are that Amity is in such a dangerous place. But weren’t you the one who first said that traveling to Prague would be an adventure?”
“It was just a bit of a joke.” Celia took a bite of toast and then dropped it back on her plate. She added a generous portion of marmalade to it and then took another bite, pleased this time.
“I thought for certain that she wouldn’t go.” Celia sighed. “I did like the idea of her going to help Jewish refugees, but now…” She opened her arms wide. “The house is just so empty without her.”
“There are still the two of us, plus Mrs. McGovern, the maids, cooks…” His daughter was right. The place seemed empty without Amity’s light and presence.
Celia placed her cloth napkin by her place setting, rose from the chair, and then stamped her foot. It was just a slight stamp, not like when she was three, but Clark clearly saw the child still within her lanky form. “You should have insisted she stayed. Or insist now that she return. All you have to do is tell her you changed your mind. In fact, you can still do that. Send a telegram and tell Amity that you need her back immediately.”
“She’s my employee, not my daughter. I can’t control where she goes or what she does.”
“You could have told her that if she went, she’d be out of a job, instead of offering her a contract for another two years.”
“Is that really what you want?” He placed his fork and knife on the plate, removed his napkin from his lap, rose, and walked toward the wood burner. There was a slight chill in his bones, but for some reason he had a feeling it wasn’t because of the temperature of the room but rather the ache in his heart. “You saw the determination in Amity’s eyes once she was packed. Although I’m certain she was worried about leaving us, she was also excited
about helping. If I had insisted that she shouldn’t go, I’d be placing an advertisement for a new tutor this very day.”
Celia crossed her arms over her chest and moved to the window. “Yes, well, can someone stop Hitler’s madness? Then maybe Amity will return home. Parliament should be ashamed, conceding to Hitler’s demands in the first place.”
“So many emotions and worries inside you these days.” Clark sighed. “Ever more like your mother by the day. Did I tell you the first time I spotted her twenty years ago? She had drawn the attention of every person at a cocktail party, declaring that it wasn’t right that Austria expelled all Habsburgs from setting foot in the country they used to rule. Since it was happening in Austria, most people from Britain didn’t waste their time or energy worrying about ousted foreign leaders. After all, we were just happy there was some sense of peace after the Great War. But to your mother it mattered. After all, can you imagine that happening in Great Britain? Can you picture Parliament kicking out King George VI and Lady Mary, and stating they could never set foot in in the United Kingdom again? Your mother thought that appalling.”
Mrs. McGovern entered to check on their breakfast. Even though her lips were pressed into a thin line, the bright cockiness of the older woman’s eyes told Clark she no doubt overheard their conversation and had her own opinion, but Clark wasn’t in the mood to hear what it was.
“Mrs. McGovern.” Celia turned from the window. “I spoke with Father earlier, and we’ve decided to ask you to limit our desserts, except for Sundays. It really isn’t necessary in times like these.”
The old woman’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Yes, that is fine…if you are sure. But maybe we should start after tonight. I already had Cook start on a Bakewell tart.”
Celia sighed, as if annoyed, but Clark could see from his daughter’s eyes that she was reconsidering their optional rationing. “If Cook already started on her bake, I don’t want those ingredients to go to waste.”