by Lynn Austin
Ans had watched in speechless outrage as Miriam had sewn a yellow star onto the sweater Mrs. Spielman had knit for Elisheva’s first birthday.
Then, two months ago, another shocking proclamation announced that all Jews in Nazi-occupied Europe would be transported east to resettlement camps. Churches across the Netherlands protested, and Ans had dared to hope that the Nazis would relent. But according to the newspaper Ans had just received, midnight razzias had begun in Amsterdam, with the Gestapo pounding on doors and rounding up entire families. Ans wished she hadn’t shared the news with Eloise so abruptly.
“So all of our protests were for nothing?” Eloise asked. “They’re going through with the deportations?”
Ans nodded and dropped into a chair, still holding the newspaper. She didn’t tell Eloise that the former refugee camp at Westerbork was now being used by the Nazis as a prison and deportation camp.
“The editor is calling for more active resistance,” Ans said.
“Meaning what? Are we supposed to fight them in the street? What will we use for weapons? They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but so far my pen hasn’t done much good.” Eloise ripped the half-finished page from her typewriter and crushed it into a ball. Ans knew from experience that taking action might keep Eloise from despair, but what more could they do?
Ans rose to her feet again. “We have to help the Jews here in Leiden find safe places to hide. We can’t stand by while the Nazis round them up and take them who knows where. I’m going to warn Miriam and her family. Are you coming with me?”
“Of course.”
They stepped outside into the stifling afternoon and were both perspiring by the time they reached Miriam’s apartment. The haunting violin music that floated down from an open window on the second floor stopped when they rang the doorbell. Miriam was alone with the sleeping baby, her father and husband out working odd jobs to put food on their table.
Ans sat down in Miriam’s living room to tell her about the newspaper report. “The Gestapo in Amsterdam are going from house to house every night, rounding up Jews. They know exactly where everyone lives because of the address registrations last year.” The color seemed to drain from Miriam’s face. Ans hurried to finish. “You can’t stay here and let them take you and your family. We need to find a way to help you escape before it’s too late.”
“Where? . . . How? There’s no place to go!” Miriam stood as if preparing to run, and Ans could tell that one of her panic attacks was starting to take hold. Eloise made her sit down again.
“Let’s think this through,” she said. “What about your father’s plans to escape to Switzerland? Elisheva is older now, and—”
“It’s too late. They told Abba that the passeur has been arrested. Escaping by that route is no longer possible.”
The news brought a dread-filled silence that seemed to swallow all the air. The baby whimpered as she awoke from her nap, and Miriam hurried into the bedroom to get her. Elisheva wore only a diaper and had been sweating in the hot apartment. Her little round face was red, her damp hair plastered to her head, but she recognized Ans and gave her a sleepy grin. Ans reached for her. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Miriam set her down, and she toddled over on wobbly legs. Ans held her close, remembering when her sister, Maaike, was that age, waddling around the farmhouse and pointing to everything with delight. Ans ached to see her family, but it was impossible. She couldn’t leave Eloise. Working with Ans on the newspaper was the only thing that kept her afloat most days.
“You can’t stay here and wait for the Nazis to take you,” Eloise said. “Move into our town house. We’ll hide all of you there.”
“How will we get there with these on our clothes?” Miriam plucked at the hated yellow star on her dress. “It’s illegal to be caught in public without them.”
“We’ll figure out a way,” Ans said.
“If they stop us and ask for our identity cards, they’ll see the J. And if we’re carrying suitcases . . .”
Miriam was right. The Nazis had thought of everything as they’d patiently laid their trap.
“Show this newspaper to your father and Avi when they get home,” Ans said, pulling it from her bag. “Then burn it. I’ll come back tomorrow with a plan.”
Eloise trudged up the stairs after they returned home and went into her bedroom instead of her workroom. “I would like to sleep now,” she told Ans. “Please leave me alone.” She tried to stop Ans at the door, but Ans followed her inside.
“I need your help, Eloise. We have to come up with a plan to move Miriam’s family here without being noticed. Do we know if we can trust your neighbors?”
Eloise turned away to stare out the window. “We can’t fight the Nazis. They’re too strong. This war is different from the last one. This time we’re going to lose.”
“So you’re just going to give up, Eloise? You’re going to let those monsters take Miriam and Avi and that beautiful little baby away?”
“I can’t watch everyone I love die again. I can’t! I won’t!”
Ans crossed the room and grabbed Eloise’s shoulders, turning her around and shaking her. “Eloise, stop it! I just heard you promise Miriam that her family could hide here. Are you going to break that promise?”
Eloise grasped Ans’s wrists, pulling her arms down and pushing her away with surprising force. “I told you I need to sleep! I’ll think about everything later!” She had never argued this way before, and it terrified Ans.
“Let me get your medicine—”
“I can take it myself! I’m not a baby!” The word seemed to trigger something inside her, and Eloise collapsed to the floor, sobbing. “That baby . . . that beautiful little baby . . . I watched everyone die in the last war, and I can’t do it again . . . I can’t!”
Ans sank down beside her, holding her tightly and letting her cry.
When Professor Huizenga arrived home an hour later, he found them there. It had been one of the longest hours of Ans’s life. “Come, darling, take your medicine now,” the professor soothed. He waited in their bedroom until she finally fell asleep.
“What happened?” he asked Ans afterwards. She saw his concern. He wasn’t accusing her.
“We read in the underground newspaper that they’re starting to round up all the Jews in Amsterdam, and it was too much for her. I know she handles things better when she has something to do, so we went to Miriam’s apartment to warn her and her family. Eloise offered to hide them here. But seeing the baby triggered Eloise’s grief, and . . .” She couldn’t finish as sorrow clogged her throat.
“Did the newspaper say when the roundups might start here in Leiden?” Ans shook her head. “Might your friend on the police force know?”
“I-I could ask him. I’ll run over to his apartment right now and see if he’s home.”
“Ans—thank you for helping Eloise today,” he said, stopping her. “She told me she pushed you, and I’m sorry—”
“Neither of you needs to apologize. I never should have let Eloise see the newspaper. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“I agree that we need to hide Miriam’s family here, but we’ll all be in danger when we do. I can’t ask you to stay here and risk your life, Ans.”
She drew a deep breath, aware of the danger she would be in but also aware of her love for her friends. “I want to stay.” She didn’t lie and say she wasn’t afraid, because she was. “I’ll be back after I talk to Erik.”
It was too hot to run all the way across Leiden, but Ans walked as quickly as she could, hoping to catch Erik between shifts. Thankfully, he was home, just changing out of his uniform after a long day at work, and he answered the door without his shirt. “Ans! What brings you here?” His skin felt hot as she hugged him. She wanted to kiss him and linger in his arms, but her errand was much too important.
“I need to ask you something,” she said. “I just read the news that—” She halted, realizing her mistake. She had read the news in t
he illegal underground newspaper. The newspaper that she’d promised to stop distributing. She felt the blood rush to her face and cleared her throat to start again. “I learned that the Gestapo is taking Jews from their homes in Amsterdam and transporting them out of the country. The Dutch police are being forced to help them do this, and—”
Erik put his finger to his lips to shush her and pulled her inside, closing the door. He gestured for her to sit, then turned away for a moment to put on his shirt. “Ans, you must be more careful about what you say,” he said, fastening his buttons. “Someone might overhear you.”
Ans wanted to shout the news of this injustice from the rooftops. She struggled for control. “I came to ask if you knew when—?” She thought of baby Elisheva and swallowed a sob. “If you knew when the Jews will be rounded up in Leiden? The Gestapo does their dirty work after curfew so people won’t see what’s happening to these innocent men, women, and children, but I need to know when it’s going to happen here!”
He sighed and sat down on a chair across from her as if sensing that she didn’t want to be close to him right now. He bent forward, arms on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees. “We haven’t been told anything specific. But something must be about to happen because they’re reworking our schedules, assigning more of us to the night shift.”
Ans closed her eyes, unable to stop her tears. “And you’ll have to help them?”
Erik started to speak, but she stopped him. “Don’t say you have no choice. If every man on the police force refused to—”
“If we refused, we would be sent to the labor camps along with the Jews we’re defending. Listen, Ans, I’m as trapped as your friends are. They have no place to run or hide, and neither do I. How can I get out? Where would I go? Home to Java? The Japanese are all over the Pacific, and they’re even more bloodthirsty than the Nazis. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Don’t tell me that! There must be something!”
Erik slowly shook his head. She thought she saw tears in his eyes. Then the muscles in his face tensed as he clenched his jaw to keep his tears from falling. He stood. “I was just about to fix something to eat. A dish with spices from home. Stay and have dinner with me, Ans, and then I’ll walk you home before curfew.” He reached for her hand, but she hesitated. “Please? I’ll show you how we cook in Java. You’ll need to know for after we’re married.”
Ans wiped her eyes and accepted his hand.
Erik had told her what she needed to know. Miriam and her family had to go into hiding right away. But Ans couldn’t bear to think that Erik might be the one who pounded on their door in the middle of the night.
CHAPTER 27
Miriam had the Sabbath table set and dinner prepared by the time Abba and Avi came home. She’d had only enough flour to bake two tiny loaves of bread, and the cholent had more beans and potatoes than meat, but they would light candles and share the special meal together. She dreaded showing them the underground newspaper. Each time her husband and father left the apartment to look for work with yellow stars conspicuous on their clothing, Miriam’s fear for their safety made the hours apart seem endless. Today, after reading about the persecution in Amsterdam, she listened with even deeper anxiety for their return.
Their footsteps sounded slow and weary as they trudged up the stairs, but she breathed a prayer of thanks and opened the door to greet them, holding Elisheva in her arms. Avi smiled and kissed both of them. “No hugs until I wash,” he said. His clothes were damp with perspiration.
“Where’s Abba?”
“Right behind me. There was a letter in our mailbox.”
Miriam took one look at her father’s pale face when he entered with an open envelope in his hand and felt a panic attack grip her. “What does it say?” Miriam thought she already knew the answer.
“We must be ready to be transported to Amsterdam next week.” His voice trembled with emotion. “They will come after curfew to fetch us. We are each allowed one suitcase, which we must carry ourselves.”
“No!” Miriam buried her face in Avi’s chest and wept, not caring that he was dirty and sweaty. His arms came around her, enveloping her and the baby. “Ans and Eloise warned me this would happen, but not so soon! Everything’s happening too fast!”
“It seems we have no choice,” Abba said. “I see no way out this time.”
“Yes, there is.” Miriam dried her eyes, determined to be strong. “Ans and Eloise said we shouldn’t wait for them to take us away. They offered to hide us in their town house.”
“How will we get there without being seen?” Avi asked. “If we wait until after dark, we’ll be breaking curfew.”
“Ans is coming back tomorrow with a plan.”
“God bless them,” Abba said as tears ran down his face. “They are saving our lives for a second time. May the Almighty One bless them for this.” He and Avi bathed and changed their clothes, then walked to the synagogue to pray. The other men would have received the same notice by now. The sun wouldn’t set until after curfew on these long, hot summer days, but as soon as the men returned, Miriam lit the candles and they sat down to eat the Shabbat meal.
“The Sabbath is our island of peace and rest,” Avi said as he broke the bread. “Tonight, let’s not talk of tomorrow.” But Miriam knew the future was on everyone’s mind and a prayer for deliverance in each of their hearts while they ate.
It was still the Sabbath the following afternoon when Ans arrived at the apartment with an old-fashioned hatbox. They sat around the table, still spread with the white tablecloth, to hear her plan.
“Professor Huizenga and I came up with the idea last night,” she said, opening the box. “The safest time for all of you to be out in the open will be on Sunday, when everyone in Leiden will be walking to church. I brought each of you a Sunday hat, and a dress and white gloves for you, Miriam.” She pulled the items from the hatbox and handed them out. “We also added ties like the Dutchmen wear on Sunday.”
Abba looked uncertain as he fingered the necktie. He used to seem so strong and robust to Miriam with his broad face and sturdy body, but he’d been whittled down in the years since leaving Cologne, and silver threads now peppered his dark, thinning hair. “And you believe these disguises will work?” he asked Ans.
“We are praying that they do. Get dressed on Sunday morning and hide all the belongings you want to take in the bottom of Elisheva’s baby carriage. Then stroll out the door and walk to the Pieterskerk for the morning service like all of the Christians will be doing. We’ll be waiting to meet you at the front entrance. Professor Huizenga said he hoped you wouldn’t be offended, but he thinks it’s best if you sit through the church service with us. He’ll be telling people that you are refugees from Scheveningen, on the coast, and that the Nazis forced you to evacuate to build their fortifications. We’ll all walk back to the town house together after the service.”
“But won’t there be people there who know me from the university?” Abba asked. “You will all be in danger if someone reports this deception.”
“That’s why Professor Huizenga thinks it would be best if you and Avi shave off your beards. And, Miriam, you’ll blend in better if you cut your long hair and wear it in a modern bob. I can help you cut it if you want me to.”
Miriam reached up to touch her hair. Avi loved it long, but she would shave it all off to save her family. “Yes, of course I will.”
“What about our identification cards?” Avi asked. “The police can ask to see them at any time.”
“That’s another reason why we chose a Sunday morning. So far, the Nazis still show respect for that day. And there will be so many people coming and going to church, they can’t possibly check everyone’s ID.”
Abba rose from the table and took both of Ans’s hands in his. “I will never be able to thank you and the Huizengas for your kindness and generosity. But I wonder if I may impose upon you for one last favor. I’ll show you what it is.” He disappeared into his bedroom and
came out with the suitcase he’d used to carry his books and papers from Cologne, opening it to show Ans what was inside. “This is the scientific research I’ve been doing. Please give it to Professor Huizenga for me. If you are stopped, you might well be carrying it for him. He knows what I’ve been working on. He’ll understand what all of it means. Someday, when Leiden is free again, perhaps an enterprising graduate student can finish where I left off.”
The words sent a jolt of alarm through Miriam. “You’ll finish it yourself when that day comes, Abba.”
He smiled. “Then he will keep it safe for me until then.”
“I’ll take it to him,” Ans said. “And I agree with Miriam—you’ll finish your research yourself one day. The tide of this war is certain to change soon.”
“I pray that you’re right.”
“What about your violin, Miriam?” Ans asked. “Shall I take that for you too?” Miriam froze for a moment, unable to imagine being without it.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Avi said.
“Y-yes. Thank you.” She went into the bedroom to get it, pausing to run her hand over the violin’s smooth wooden case. She opened it and peeked inside as if checking to see that a baby was safely asleep, then closed the lid and fastened the latches. She held it to her chest for a moment, feeling foolish. After all, it would be waiting for her at the town house tomorrow. Yet it was much more than that. This move brought another change in her life, wrenching her from a place of relative comfort and security to a new and more dangerous stage. She pulled air into her lungs, determined to be strong for Elisheva’s sake.
They didn’t talk about Ans’s plan after she left. Avi lit the havdalah candle that evening, reciting the words that marked the end of the Sabbath day, then blew out the candle, plunging their apartment into darkness.