Chasing Shadows

by Lynn Austin

  The Allies had arrived in Leiden. Ans dragged Eloise and everyone else in the town house—including Sientje and Meta, who hadn’t dared to go outside in three years—over to the city center to welcome them. Eloise’s household had food again, thanks to parcels the Allies air-dropped into starving cities for five straight days. Ans could hear the noise of the celebration long before she got close enough to see the Canadian soldiers for herself. “They’re here . . . they’re really here,” she murmured. Liberation! Freedom! What glorious words! She and Eloise had made it through the war. They had survived.

  Dozens of young women ran to the soldiers, hugging and kissing them. Children climbed onto their army vehicles. The citizens of Leiden looked thin and dirty and hungry, their clothes worn, yet they laughed and cheered and waved flags, happy to be alive. And free. Ans hoped she never took freedom for granted again.

  Eloise gave Ans a nudge as they watched the celebration. “Such handsome fellows, these Canadians, hmm? What do you think?”

  Ans smiled and nudged her back. She hadn’t noticed. She’d been scanning the faces in the crowd, wondering if she would see Erik, wondering how he was and what he would do now that the war was over. Continue as a policeman? Return to Java? She also wondered how long it would take to get over him.

  “I’m tired,” Eloise said after a while. “Let’s go home.” They told the others they were leaving and walked home to the town house. There was nothing to do now but wait to hear from Professor Huizenga. Ans knew he was on Eloise’s mind every waking moment and when she lay in bed at night, unable to sleep. She had asked Ans to sleep in her bedroom with her and she’d agreed, afraid to leave Eloise alone. Caring for the people who’d taken refuge with her had kept Eloise strong so far, but Ans didn’t think she would survive the loss of her husband. Ans could never keep Eloise from despair without Herman. She prayed that she would know what to do if he didn’t return.

  Three days later, victory in Europe was declared. The Nazis had surrendered. When the trains started running again, Meta and Sientje decided to return to Amsterdam to search for their families. Ans stood with them on the windy train platform to say goodbye. “The Nazis confiscated everything we owned before we went into hiding,” Meta said. “We need to start the process of getting everything back.”

  “You’ve shown such courage,” Ans said as she hugged them. “Professor Huizenga will be so grateful to you for helping Eloise when he couldn’t be here.”

  “The Huizengas saved our lives. We’re family now.”

  Eloise had excused herself from going to the train station, saying she hated goodbyes. Ans found her sitting alone by the window in her ravaged bedroom when she returned. “Did the ladies get off all right?” Eloise asked.

  Ans sat down on the floor beside her, leaning against the frameless bed. “Yes. I was sorry to see them go. But they promised to visit.”

  “You need to go home to your family, Ans. They must be so worried about you.” Ans had tried in vain to reach the farm by telephone. The nation was still in chaos after the liberation, and apparently telephone service hadn’t been restored to the village. She’d posted a letter, but who knew when it would arrive.

  “I’m not leaving you, Eloise.”

  Two of the families from the bank had also moved out, and with each goodbye, Eloise had begun the long, slow journey into melancholy like a cart rolling downhill, picking up speed as it went. Ans was reminded of how they’d waited to hear from Professor Huizenga in the hours after the Nazi invasion. She hadn’t known then how best to help her, but experience had taught Ans ways to block Eloise’s descent and keep her from crashing at the bottom.

  “I’m going to volunteer with the Red Cross here in Leiden,” Ans told her the morning after Meta and Sientje left for Amsterdam. They were sitting in the kitchen, eating tasteless porridge. “Come with me, Eloise. They could use all the help they can get.” A plea for help had appeared in the newspaper, now free from Nazi control. There had also been articles and photographs detailing the Nazi atrocities in the concentration camps. She and Eloise had both wept when they’d seen them. Surely it couldn’t be true. How could such things happen in a civilized world? Miriam and Avi and Professor Jacobs were on their minds and in their hearts.

  “I don’t think I would be much help to the Red Cross,” Eloise replied. “I was trained as a journalist, not a nurse.”

  “There are dozens of things you could do, like handing out food in the soup kitchen or helping displaced people reunite with their families. You could help those who’ve lost everything find a reason to go on. You know what that’s like, Eloise. I know you do.”

  “And what if I don’t have a reason to go on, myself?”

  Ans didn’t reply. She wouldn’t offer false hope and empty words. The uphill road for Eloise was too steep. And they were both too weary. At last Ans sighed and said, “Just walk over there with me this morning. We don’t have to stay and help if you don’t want to, but the walk will do us good.”

  Eloise agreed, and after finishing breakfast, they got ready to go. Ans opened the front door and was startled to see an old gray-haired beggar with stooped shoulders and ragged clothing standing in front of the house. He had a wreck of a bicycle with him, and he was staring at the muddy flower beds that should be blooming with beautiful tulips, as if wondering where they’d gone. Eloise came through the door behind her. She recognized the beggar first.

  “Herman!”

  He dropped the bicycle and they held each other tightly, weeping, touching each other’s faces, murmuring their love for each other, their joy. Ans watched, thanking God through her tears.

  “Aren’t you going to let me inside?” the professor finally asked.

  “Oh, Herman! I need to explain something first. I need to tell you what I’ve done to your beautiful home. We needed fuel, you see, to stay warm, and so the furniture and woodwork is gone. Up in smoke. But what else could I do?” Ans was overjoyed to see her friend’s fluttering hands and hear her breathless, gushing voice as she soared uphill on wings. “And food—there wasn’t any food, and no money to buy it, and there were so many people depending on me, so I had to sell some of our lovely things and—”

  He put his fingers over her lips to stop her. “I don’t care about any of that. Just you.” Eloise hugged him again and then led him inside. His gaze was on her the entire time, blind to everything else. Ans decided to move the professor’s bicycle to a safer place and give them privacy, and as she was wheeling it around to the rear of the town house, she had a sudden thought. She could go home! She could ride his bicycle home to see her family!

  She left early the next morning, just after the sun rose on what promised to be a beautiful Sunday morning. She pedaled so fast in her eagerness that she arrived in the village while everyone was still in church. The sanctuary was packed with people, every pew taken, so she stood in the rear to wait until the service ended.

  As she listened, the past came rushing back to her—the discontent she’d once felt in church, her restlessness and longing for something different. And with those memories came a flood of guilt. How arrogant she’d been to say that the church didn’t make a difference in people’s lives. She’d had no idea how God was working in their minds and hearts. She’d chafed at sitting here week after week, but the words and songs had worked their way deep inside her just the same, and she’d found them rooted there when she’d needed them so desperately. All along, this congregation, her parents, and her grandparents had been helping Ans nurture a relationship with God.

  Opa wasn’t in his usual place behind the pulpit. Ans didn’t see him anywhere. One of the church elders stood in his place to offer the closing prayer and benediction. But Mama and Papa were in their usual pew, with Wim and Maaike and little Elisheva. Thank God, thank God.

  The congregation crowded into the aisles afterwards, and tears filled Ans’s eyes as she watched her parents talking with people, smiling and laughing. She couldn’t get to them through the cr
ush of people, so she would have to wait. But then her mother happened to look back and saw Ans standing in the rear of the church. She gave a cry of joy that startled the people around her, and she began pushing her way down the crowded aisle, elbowing people out of her way. She reached Ans at last and pulled her into her arms, holding her tightly, rocking her. There was no need for either of them to say a word.

  Papa and the others hurried to her as well after people saw what was happening and cleared the way. He wrapped his strong arms around Ans, lifting her from the ground. “You’re as light as a feather! Welcome home! Welcome home!” The farm was home, and this church was too. Wim and Maaike each wanted a hug, but Elisheva held back. Ans was a stranger to her.

  “How big she’s grown,” Ans murmured as she fingered Elisheva’s dark braid. She was as beautiful as her mother, with Miriam’s delicate features, her dark hair and eyes. But Elisheva had Avi’s smile.

  Please, God . . .

  “Let’s go home,” Papa said. He took Ans’s hand, plowing a path for her through the curious crowd, then out of the church and down the front steps.

  “Where’s Opa?” Ans asked. “Why isn’t he here?”

  Papa halted and drew her into his arms again. “He’s in heaven, Ans . . . with Oma.”

  “What? . . . No! . . . Oh no! . . . What happened?” She pulled back and turned to Mama, begging her without words to say it wasn’t true.

  “An ammunition train was destroyed and the Nazis came for reprisals. They were about to choose someone from our village . . . Opa offered himself.”

  The joy Ans had felt a moment ago was swept away by grief. None of them spoke as they walked through the cemetery to his grave. She saw the rawness of their grief as well. His grave beside Oma’s made his death real to Ans but no less painful. The Nazis had been angels of death, sweeping thousands, millions of innocent people to their graves.

  “Don’t hate them,” Mama said as if reading Ans’s mind. “They’ll win if we hate them.”

  Papa put his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go home.” Wim loaded her bicycle onto the truck, and they drove down the familiar road to the farm, all six of them crowded into the cab. “So . . . all my children made it through the war,” Papa said.

  “Yes. We all made it,” Ans replied.

  “Thank God. Thank God.”

  After lunch, Ans sat in the front room with her mother and sisters, trying to catch up on all they’d missed in the years since they’d seen each other. The room seemed smaller to Ans than when she was a child, but the warmth of her memories and the love she felt from her mother, seated beside her, could have heated the entire farmhouse. Maaike and Bep sat side by side on the piano bench, the little one concentrating as if learning to play was of utmost importance. “She loves music,” Mama said. “She always has.”

  “I see that. But what’s wrong with our piano? It sounds terrible.”

  Mama smiled. “I’ll show you when they’re finished.”

  “When I was in prison,” Ans said, “I longed to see you and tell you how sorry I was for fighting with you. And for leaving the church.”

  “None of that matters. You’re here now, and all is forgotten.”

  “There were so many other things I wanted to tell you. I met someone before the war. Erik and I fell in love, and I thought we would spend our lives together.”

  “Did he die?” Mama asked, her voice soft.

  “No. But it would have been no less painful if he had. He was a policeman in Leiden, and when the Nazis came, he worked for them. At first he thought he was simply adjusting to new commanders. He didn’t want to be sent to a work camp, and he thought he could still be a good policeman. But the Nazis kept demanding more and more, and he gave in. He helped them round up Jews like Elisheva’s parents and grandfather. He helped raid homes where Jews were hiding and arrested everyone. He stood by while Nazis tortured people. In the end, it broke my heart to realize that Erik had collaborated with the Nazis because he was selfish. He didn’t care about others. He only wanted to save himself.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ans. You’ve suffered so much.”

  “We all have, Mama.” Her words rested heavily in the room.

  After a while Mama asked, “Have you thought about your future plans now that the Nazis have surrendered?”

  “I think I’ll need time to get used to freedom first.” Ans smiled. “When I moved to Leiden, I was so naive. I didn’t know anything about myself or what I wanted to do with my life. The war has taught me so much about God and people—and about myself. I know those experiences have shaped me and changed me . . . I’m just not quite sure what it all means for my future yet.”

  “Before you left home and we were arguing so much, I went to Opa for advice. He told me that your stubbornness and your strong will might be your greatest asset one day. I see now how right he was.”

  Ans laughed and hugged her mama. “Have you heard anything from Elisheva’s parents?” Mama asked.

  A wellspring of sorrow opened in Ans’s heart at the thought of Miriam and Avi. “No, but I haven’t lost hope.”

  “I’ve been showing her the photographs of her family.” She gestured to the album on the table next to Ans. “I’ve been trying to prepare her . . . but for what, I don’t know. It’s going to be hard to let her go. One more loss to grieve. She’s my beloved daughter—but she isn’t.”

  “It will be hard for her, too. You’re the only mother she remembers.” Ans reached for the photograph album and opened it, leafing through the pages. She found the letter Miriam had written to Lena and the one she’d addressed to Elisheva. “Have you read this to her?” Ans asked.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Maybe it’s time.”

  Mama drew a deep breath as if for courage, then nodded. “Bep, honey, come here for a minute. I want us to read this letter together.” The girl played a few more notes, then slid off the bench to sit on Lena’s lap, leaning comfortably against her shoulder. “It’s from your mother, the one you had before you came to us. Remember how the baby rabbits grew inside their mama? Well, you grew inside this mother that way.”

  “I knew your mother,” Ans said. “I remember when you were still in her tummy, and I saw you when you were first born. They named you Elisheva—it means ‘God’s promise.’ Your mother and father loved you very, very much. They were so sad when they couldn’t take care of you anymore. I’m the one who brought you here to stay with this mama and papa for a while.”

  Lena opened the envelope and pulled out Miriam’s letter.

  “Darling Elisheva,

  From the moment you were born, you’ve been our joy, our life. Saying goodbye and letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But there is no other way for your father and me to save you. The only chance you’ll have to be safe, to live, and to grow and become a woman someday is to release you into another mother’s loving arms. You’re much too young to understand these dark times and the painful choices we are forced to make. Many good, loving people are giving their lives to free the world from the evil that is causing our separation. People have risked their lives to save our family, and I pray that we can find a way to thank them.

  If we meet each other again, dear Elisheva, the day will be as joyous as the day you were born. If we don’t see each other again until the World to Come, please remember your father and me from the photographs in this album and know that we love you with our very life and with our every breath.

  May God be with you, my beloved child.

  Your loving mama”

  Lena refolded the letter and tucked it into the envelope. “Will I see that mama and papa again?” Bep asked.

  An arrow of pain pierced Ans’s heart. “We’re not sure yet,” she replied.

  “Can I finish my lesson now, Mama?”

  “Yes. You’re doing so well, Bep.” She returned to her seat on the piano bench and began practicing again.

  “Bep’s mother has been such an inspiration to me t
hese past three years,” Lena said. “She showed me how to place the people I love into God’s hands. I’ve learned from her courage.”

  “So have I, Mama. I need to go back to Leiden tomorrow and wait for her parents. If they’re alive, that’s where they’ll go. Then I’ll bring them here.”

  CHAPTER 63

  Everyone in Westerbork rejoiced when the Nazis surrendered. The war in Europe was finally over. Miriam would be able to travel across the country to Leiden, although the Canadian soldiers warned that the devastation would make the journey difficult. The Nazis had blown up bridges and dikes and flooded large areas of the country. Their demolition squads had destroyed the docks in Amsterdam and Rotterdam, leaving a wasteland in their wake as they’d retreated. Miriam relived her long journey from Cologne as she crossed the Netherlands in the overcrowded railcar. She’d fled across the border at night with Abba six years ago, and after several months in Westerbork, they’d made this journey to Leiden together, filled with hope for the future. How lovely the Dutch countryside and quaint villages had seemed. But now the view from the train was very different. She might have been traveling across a different country.

  Burned-out tanks and demolished vehicles littered the landscape. Every city they passed through had bombed-out buildings and gaping craters in the roads and fields. Allied soldiers swarmed everywhere with their guns and tanks and army vehicles. The Canadian soldiers had been right about the chaos, but after dozens of frustrating delays and detours, Miriam finally arrived, exhausted, at the Leiden train station. It had also suffered damage. She hurried through the old city to the town house, crossing bridges and canals, dodging rubble, carrying her suitcase with her violin tucked inside. With every step she took, she offered a prayer that she would find Avi and Elisheva and that they would all be together again.

  Ans answered the front door. She took one look at Miriam and burst into tears. “Miriam! Thank God, thank God!” Miriam had held herself together all this way, but now a tremor started deep inside her that threatened to loosen all her bones and muscles.