by Lynn Austin
Then she thought of Bep’s mother. Miriam Leopold had placed her daughter in Lena’s hands, releasing her and trusting Lena to care for her child. Lena must do the same with her children. She must place them in God’s hands, trusting Him to protect them.
“Yes, we understand the risks,” Lena said. “We believe this is what God is asking us to do.”
“I’ll start sending them to you in a few days. And if anyone sees me coming and going to your farm, tell them I’m Elisabeth’s father. I work for the railroad.”
“My father is willing to help too,” Lena said. “Did you talk to him? He’s the village dominie.”
“I will. But it’s safer not to reveal any details about the workings of the underground. The Gestapo is ruthless in their use of torture to learn our secrets. That’s why we never use real names or reveal the scope of our network. Your father will know nothing about what you’re doing. And we’ll advise him not to tell you about his involvement.”
After Wolf left, Lena needed the reassurance of Pieter’s arms around her. She leaned her head against his chest, comforted by the steady thumping of his heart.
“I won’t say that I’m not afraid,” she told him, “because I am.”
“Remember why we’re doing this, Lena, why we’re taking risks and putting ourselves and our family in danger. Know in your heart that this is what God is asking us to do.”
“I’ve been a Christian all my life, and I’ve wanted to serve Christ. But I never imagined it would mean this. I love my life here on the farm with you. I love being a mother and raising our children. But the war has turned our lives upside down.”
“They’re not upside down, Lena. They’re growing outward. God gave us this farm and the work that we both love to do, and now He wants us to offer it back to Him.”
“You’re right; you’re right. But you may need to remind me from time to time. I’ve never had to lean on God so hard before.”
Lena covered Bep with a blanket before climbing into bed beside Pieter. As much as she longed for the world to be different, she had to believe that God knew the bigger picture of what He wanted to accomplish. And she had to believe that she and Pieter and the people she loved all had a part to play in what He was doing.
CHAPTER 34
The Gestapo returned to search Eloise’s town house just before dawn. “They’re never going to leave us alone and stop looking for us, are they?” Miriam whispered to Avi as they huddled outside on the ledge. He held her tighter in reply. Insects buzzed in the warm August night, and a smoky half-moon shone through the rustling treetops. It should have been lovely, but Miriam no longer saw beauty in a world gone mad.
Elisheva was safe on the farm, for now. Miriam was relieved when Ans returned, reporting that all had gone well. “She’ll be safe with my parents. She can be a happy child there.” Miriam tried to picture her daughter playing outside in the fresh air, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair and laughing as clouds, like fluffy sheep, drifted across the sky above her head. But Miriam’s arms ached with longing for her daughter. How long would it be until she could hold her again? Would Elisheva even remember her?
Miriam was practicing her muted violin the following afternoon when Ans came up the attic stairs to speak with her and Avi. Her face was red with exertion, her hair sweaty.
“I just returned from meeting with my contact, and I have news to share. Come down to the office where it’s a little cooler.” Her somber expression warned Miriam that the news would be difficult to hear. She held tightly to Avi’s hand as they went downstairs.
“They’ve found hiding places for both of you,” Ans said. “Here are your new ID cards with your new names.” Avi was now Andries Bakker. Miriam was Christina Bos. “Someone is coming for Avi this afternoon, and—”
“This afternoon!” Miriam cried. “That’s too soon! I’m not ready! I can’t say goodbye again after just losing Elisheva! I can’t!”
Avi drew her into his arms. There was still so much she wanted to say to him. A few short hours weren’t long enough to tell him how much she loved him and how much his love meant to her.
“I know, Miriam. I know,” he murmured. “But the Almighty One brought us together in the refugee camp, and He brought me here to you after the invasion. If it’s His will, He’ll bring us together again when this war finally ends.”
But what if it isn’t His will? She was afraid to ask that question.
Avi released her, and she saw him struggling to compose himself. “What do I need to do?” he asked.
“Someone from the underground will come to our back door, posing as a repairman,” Ans said. “You need to pack a bag, a winter coat if you have one, and be ready to leave with him. Someone will come for Miriam tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
After all of the endless hours in the attic, time was passing too quickly now. Miriam lay beside Avi on the bed they’d shared after their wedding, trying to say all the things they wanted each other to remember. Her heart felt as if she were keeping watch beside a deathbed. This was really happening. Avi was really leaving today. Who knew how long it would be until they could sleep beside each other again?
Much too soon, Ans knocked on their door. “He’s here, Avi. I’m sorry.”
Avi took Miriam’s hands in his to pray one last time, fighting his tears. “We place our lives in Your hands, Almighty God. We entrust our future to You. You brought us together in the beginning, and now You are separating us. We pray that it be Your will to unite us with each other and with our daughter, Elisheva, once again.”
The man waiting in the kitchen wore coveralls. He had unstrapped a large toolbox from his bicycle and carried it inside as if making repairs. A second bicycle had mysteriously appeared on the back stoop. The man gave Avi coveralls like his to wear and a hat to cover his hair. He put Avi’s clothes and belongings inside the toolbox and an extra rucksack. Miriam felt as if she stood at a great distance, watching everything happen to someone else, not to the man she loved.
“Ready?” the repairman asked.
Avi nodded. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled Miriam into his arms one last time. “I want you to live, Miriam! Live! Do whatever you need to do to stay alive, and I will too. We must believe that we’ll be together again when this is all over.”
“I love you, Avi.”
“I love you too.” He kissed her. The door closed behind him. Miriam couldn’t bear to go to the kitchen window to watch him ride away. They’d wrenched her heart away when they’d taken Elisheva. Now her soul was gone as well.
She walked upstairs to the attic as if in a dream. She was alone. Alone. All of the people she loved most in the world were gone. She took her muted violin from the case and began to play, weeping tears of grief through the music, tears she could no longer shed.
A long time later, Miriam heard footsteps on the wooden stairs. Eloise and Ans both joined her, carrying a tray of food. “You missed supper,” Eloise said. “We brought you something to eat.”
“Thank you. That was nice of you.” Miriam didn’t tell them she was too heartsick to eat. She hoped they would leave again. But Eloise sat down on the dilapidated trunk with a sigh. She was an elegant, delicate woman and looked out of place in the dreary attic, like a priceless jewel in an ugly wooden box.
“Miriam,” she said softly. “I know how you feel. I know. And I won’t lie and tell you that it will get better, and that you’ll find a way to go on, because right now you probably don’t want to go on.”
Miriam looked away, staring at the dormer window that had been her family’s only door of escape these past few weeks. She knew Eloise’s story. She knew how much her friend had lost in the first war and the toll it had taken on her mind and her health. If anyone understood Miriam’s losses, it was Eloise.
“I hate them!” Miriam said. “They’ve taken everything from me. My home in Cologne, the life I had there, my mother and aunts and uncles and cousins. Then they took my home and my family away for a second time when the
y took Abba. Now they’ve separated me from my daughter and my husband. They’re even taking my name. I have nothing left. Nothing.”
“I understand,” Eloise said. Miriam looked into her eyes as if into her soul and knew that she truly did. “Don’t escape into the darkness like I did, Miriam. Don’t let them do that to you. The darkness isn’t an escape; it’s the pit of hell. Don’t believe the voice that whispers that ending your life is the only way out.”
Alone in the attic that night, Miriam longed to fall asleep and never wake up. But her mind refused to shut down, replaying every wonderful moment she’d spent with Avi and Elisheva. She stayed awake, afraid to allow those memories to fade. Tomorrow she would begin a new life all over again. She would stay alive as Avi had begged her to do. She would live one day at a time.
At ten o’clock the next morning, a man arrived at the front door carrying a medical bag. Ans showed him into the front room, where Miriam waited with Eloise. “Good morning, I’m Dr. Elzinga. And you must be Christina Bos.”
It took her a moment to react to her new name. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“I’m here to take you to a safe house, Christina. I’ve been allowed to keep my car, you see, so I can care for my patients. I can travel relatively freely.” Miriam heard his words but barely comprehended them. He pulled a folded white dress and cap from his bag and handed them to her. “This nurse’s uniform is for you. Go ahead and put it on. I’ll stay for a while as if I’m attending a patient, then we’ll leave together.”
The mumble of voices faded behind Miriam as she carried the uniform upstairs to change. It was too baggy, but she supposed it didn’t matter. The cap felt strange on her short hair. She fetched the suitcase she’d packed and ran her hand across the smooth wood of her violin case for a final time, as if caressing a loved one’s face. It would be ridiculous to bring the instrument into hiding.
She started to leave, then turned back, unable to leave her violin behind. It was the last piece of her life that still remained, and she would cling to it, whether she’d be able to play it or not. She dumped some of her clothing out of the suitcase and put in the bow and violin, wrapping a sweater around it to protect it.
“If people need to be moved, I’m often the one who transports them,” Dr. Elzinga was saying when Miriam returned to the parlor.
“We’re very willing to house new guests,” Eloise replied.
Miriam felt the slow thudding of her heart when it was time to say goodbye. Eloise hugged her fiercely. “I know I’ll see you again,” she said. “You’re a strong woman, dear Miriam.”
Ans was trying to be brave but couldn’t stop weeping. “You’ll be in my prayers every single day,” she said as she hugged her.
Miriam didn’t cry. Or perhaps she couldn’t cry. She felt strangely dead inside as she closed the door and walked away from the friends she loved. It seemed strange to be outside on a hot summer day, hearing sounds that had been muted in her attic shelter and feeling the sun on her skin. She resisted the urge to run to the doctor’s car for safety and looked back only once as they drove away, memorizing the house and the friends who lived there.
Leiden’s canals and buildings and bridges moved past her window as if she were watching a film. The Molen de Valk towered in the distance. She remembered how pretty and picturesque the city seemed when she’d first arrived here with Papa—before the Nazis defiled it with their swastikas and their hatred.
“Are you all right, Christina?” the doctor asked. He kept glancing at her as he drove as if worried that she would break down.
“I’m fine.” Her eyes remained dry. Every part of her felt numb. Her heart had begun to die the day Ans took Elisheva away. And when she and Avi crouched on the ledge outside the window that night, hiding from the Gestapo, a deadening paralysis had spread slowly through her. It reached her heart the moment she’d kissed Avi goodbye. Miriam had stopped feeling. Now it was pure survival. She must stay alert, stay alive, so they would all be together again.
“I don’t know how long you’ll be able to stay with the Ver Beeks,” Dr. Elzinga said. “They’re eager to help, feeling that it’s their Christian duty, but you’re the first person they’ve hidden and they’re nervous about making a mistake. We have no idea how nosy their neighbors are. Be warned that you may need to be moved several times.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. The fewer attachments she made, the less pain she would feel at their loss.
“We hope to get you out of Leiden altogether and away from the larger cities, where the Nazis are more active.” They crossed the bridge over the canal, the tires humming, and left the old city, passing the train station, where Nazi soldiers strolled the platform. Miriam turned away so she wouldn’t have to see them.
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up to a tidy brick home, nestled close to its neighbors in a row of similar houses lining the narrow street. It seemed cheerful and welcoming with colorful flowers beneath a large bay window and pretty lace curtains. Miriam gazed up at the blue sky as they waited for Mrs. Ver Beek to answer the door, wondering if it would be her last glimpse of it for a while.
The Ver Beeks were a quiet, plainspoken couple in their fifties who lived a simple, hardworking life without frills or frivolity. They welcomed Miriam into their home as if she were a guest, not a fugitive, giving her a bedroom on the second floor across from theirs and inviting her to eat with them at their round kitchen table. They bowed their heads to thank the Lord for their food before eating and read from the Bible each evening when they finished. Miriam would only need to hide when someone came to the door.
“As long as you don’t go outside, Christina, and you stay away from the windows, no one will know you’re here,” Mr. Ver Beek said. Miriam wasn’t sure if he meant the Nazis or nosy neighbors. She helped cook and clean and wash their clothes, but Mrs. Ver Beek was a reserved woman who seemed content to work in silence and not ask questions, which was fine with Miriam. Evenings were spent reading or listening to the radio.
“I’m mindful each moment of the day that you’re risking your lives for me,” she told the Ver Beeks after supper one evening. “I will always be grateful to you.” She hoped her words conveyed her sincerity, spoken in her accented Dutch.
Mrs. Ver Beek’s reply was matter-of-fact. “I’m sure you would do the same for us.”
Miriam had nothing to do during the day when Mr. Ver Beek was away at his job as a school janitor and Mrs. Ver Beek was busy at her church. Miriam longed to play her violin but knew it was impossible. Instead, she would take the instrument from its wrappings and close her eyes, fingering the silent strings and practicing the bowings without making a sound. She silently rehearsed the Tchaikovsky concerto and the Mendelssohn piece, melodies that Elisheva and Avi had loved, then composed imaginary letters to them, telling them about her days and asking if they were safe and happy. Each night before falling asleep, Miriam cradled a pillow in her arms, pretending it was Elisheva and that she was singing her to sleep. She imagined Ans’s mother holding her at this very moment and singing the same song to her before tucking her into bed. Those thoughts were the only things that kept the darkness, which Eloise had warned about, from closing in.
CHAPTER 35
Ans held Erik’s hand as they crossed the bridge over the Witte Singel and made their way to Van der Werff Park. Swift-moving clouds blew across the afternoon sky, erasing patches of blue the color of Erik’s eyes. A damp breeze from the Noordzee promised rain, but Ans didn’t care if she got soaking wet, as long as Erik was beside her again. “It seems like our times together are becoming very scarce,” she said as she sat down beside him on a bench.
“It’s not by my choice. I would be with you every day if circumstances allowed.” His arm tightened around her shoulder, anchoring her to him as if he feared she would float away. The last time she’d seen Erik, she’d left without kissing him goodbye, and she had regretted it. Loving someone was so wonderful and yet so difficult.
Ans ha
d asked Erik for a chance to explain what her faith meant to her and why she needed to fight the Nazis and help her Jewish friends. And now here they were.
Ans had become even more involved with the underground, meeting regularly with Havik, delivering false ID cards and stolen ration books. She’d helped Miriam and Avi hide in the town house attic and had carried Elisheva to the farm past terrifying Nazi soldiers. Any one of those actions could have gotten her arrested, imprisoned, or shot. But she wouldn’t stop doing this work, even if it meant losing the man she loved. Miriam said Avi had assured her that the Nazis couldn’t destroy their love, but maybe he was wrong. Weren’t they coming between Ans and Erik, sabotaging their love for each other?
“Life under the Nazis is becoming unbearable,” Ans said after searching for a place to begin. “I hate that they’re pulling us apart. You’re working for them, and I . . . I’m working against them.”
She paused, fearing his reaction. Havik had warned her not to trust anyone, and now that she’d told Erik the blunt truth, she wondered if he would feel it was his duty to report her.
When he didn’t respond, she dismissed the thought, trusting his love. “I don’t think either of us is going to change our mind, are we? You aren’t going to stop . . . and neither am I.” She looked at him, waiting for his reply.
He gazed forward at the canal, shaking his head. “I’m in too deep,” he said. “They’ll never let me leave.” And he would never be allowed to quit the NSB. She remembered the disgusting Nazi propaganda she’d seen in his apartment. The Dutch Nazi Party held rallies around the country, and the thought of Erik participating in one of them made her sick to her stomach.