“I will make sure that your dress is repaired,” he informed her, a lump finding its way to his throat. With that, he left the room and shut the door. He knew precisely what he needed to do.
The next morning Josef woke very early, before it was even light, and lit a fire. Even though it was late spring, he felt the need to warm himself. He moved about his house, gathering his last few things. Ingrid would not be safe in Amsterdam. He would have to take her somewhere else.
He thought about Sarah’s sister, Yvette. And though he had not spoken to her in a very long time, he knew she and the rest of Sarah’s family would welcome him with open arms. They lived in the country, in the south, far away from the high emotion in Amsterdam.
Waking Ingrid, he informed her of his plan.
“We need to leave, Ingrid. Now that the city is open, I need to take you away so you can be safe. I will find you some of Sarah’s clothes, and we will put a headscarf upon you and tell people that you have lost your hair because of an illness. We cannot stay here. Too many people know who you are, and this could happen to you again. I know Sarah’s family will take care of you.”
Without reservation, Ingrid agreed, and Josef went down to prepare them some of the food from the Allies packages. He packed more food for their travel and looked out of his kitchen window one last time. A furry body threaded its way through his legs. Dantes would have to come too, he was still as spritely as ever.
Picking up his cat he whispered into his velvety ear, “There will be plenty of mice for you in the country, Dantes, my friend.”
Josef thought about Mrs. Epstein and wished he could rewind the clock and hear her music one last time through his window. He thought about Michael and hoped, wherever he was, he was safe. He couldn’t think of the alternative. It was too hard. His only hope: that with the war ending, Michael had made it through somehow into Allied land. He wished he could wait and stay to see if Michael returned to him. But he also knew that Ingrid needed him now. He had let her down once before, when she was a little girl, and he would not do it again. He would make sure she was taken care of this time.
Maybe after this experience she’d be able to connect in a more honest way, heal and maybe even find love again. She had more chance of survival away from the city. It was her only hope. Emotions were high in Amsterdam, and he had to leave as soon as possible, fearing the longer he lingered the more dangerous it would become for his niece.
He brought some of Sarah’s clothes down from the attic and Ingrid dressed. And while it was still dark, he finished up what needed to be done in the house, and locked the doors. The last person he thought about as he secured the shutters at the windows was Hannah and his heart felt like a stone in his chest. Since his feelings had become clear in the last few months there had not been a good opportunity to tell her how he felt. He cursed himself for not just blurting it out instead of waiting for the right time. But that right time had never come, and now he had more pressing needs. Maybe after he settled Ingrid he could come back and tell her? Or he could write her a letter? But then he realized he couldn’t risk bringing Ingrid’s shame down onto anyone else. That would be unfair. He didn’t know how her dishonor would play out. There could be a trial, even a prison sentence, her disgrace could last a long time. He was prepared to endure that, but he could not do that to the woman he loved. If one day he and Hannah were meant to be, it would happen at the right time. But for now his priority had to be to care for Ingrid.
He stepped back from the window realizing what he had just thought, he had never admitted it before, even to himself. Josef loved Hannah, and even though they had never had a chance to explore a relationship, that was how he felt. The feelings had crept up on him because he hadn’t recognized them, he hadn’t recognized them because it hadn’t been like the love with Sarah; that young, passionate devil-may-care love that is only reserved for the young without years of real life to color it. This was different; deep and meaningful but still as strong and in some ways so much more real. He wished he’d had an opportunity to explore it, but the war seemed to have endless ways of derailing people’s plans and his love life seemed a small price to pay in view of what so many had lost of far greater value.
Taking Dantes in a basket, Josef and Ingrid moved through the streets of Amsterdam, which were still recovering from the celebrations of the day before.
As they left, the roads were strewn with flags and “Welcome” messages for the troops, and the peaceful tranquility of Allied life passed them by. Canadian soldiers on patrol waved at them as they traveled along. For just a moment, Josef paused and looked around at his ravaged city and thought how different the morning felt after so many years under Hitler’s regime. It was as if the whole of Amsterdam was purring its content. It felt peaceful at last. Then, taking Ingrid’s arm, as they hurried toward the train station, he felt relieved he could finally breathe again.
Chapter 57
Hannah woke up and thought about the day before. She had been at home when she heard the commotion on the streets. The war had ended. After years of desolate silence, it sounded strange to hear people shouting, laughing, and cheering. She raced to Oma’s, and her friend’s tearful, ruddy face beamed as she hugged Hannah so tightly she thought she might crack one of her ribs.
“We can finally start to live again,” her old friend said, squeezing Hannah’s hand, “instead of just surviving.”
After a celebratory cup of tea, Hannah, overcome with emotion, headed home. She opened her front door to her grandfather clock chiming its message of endurance, and she felt stinging loneliness. She wished more than anything that Clara could have been here to share the news. The memories of her and Eva, and her family, and so many friends that she had been robbed of stung her. What had it all been about? What had it all been for? Somehow to her, the victory felt hollow, some cruel joke of freedom when all she felt was bound. Bound to a past and to people who no longer existed except in her heart.
She thought of Josef. Once her mother had become ill, she had barely left her side, needing to use all of her own will to keep Clara alive. They both became cocooned in their own sadness as she dealt with the death of her mother and then he had to cope with the trauma of Michael’s complete disappearance on the day his house was raided. Both preoccupied with their own grief, it felt as if it had consumed all the air between them.
If they’d had the chance to get to know one another better, maybe she would have felt she could have wept on his shoulder or he could have opened up to talk about his own loss. But there had been no understanding between them, and she didn’t know how he felt. She had seen something in his eyes from time to time, but he had never given her any confidence to believe that this was anything more than a friendship. She knew how she felt about him, she had known for a long time. But she had been careful over the years, sensing the journey his heart had been on. She had heard rumors from other members of staff over the years about the tragic death of his wife and had watched him go from being very closed down to so much stronger, more open. Particularly in his act of hiding Michael and even contracting a deadly illness to save his life, showed her how brave and strong he was. And in all that time she had loved him. Surely now they could put this war behind them and maybe finally explore a relationship together? She had pictured him kissing her so many times, him holding her in his arms and now—if he loved her too—there was nothing to hold them back.
She decided on a plan. In all this time she had waited for him to make the first move but now she was going to take matters into her own hands. She would go to his house the very next day and invite him out for coffee. Then she would tell him once and for all how she felt about him and let the cards fall where they may. During the war, with there being no absolute certainty of it been won by the Allies, she had barely considered happiness for herself and had only looked to ways that she could serve. But now she wanted to be selfish. Now she desired to be loved. And Josef was that person for her.
The next da
y, Hannah was nervous. As she got close to Josef’s house, an excitement fluttered in her chest with the weight of her feelings for him.
She made her way up his path and knocked at the door. There was no reply, and with a heavy heart, she decided to return later.
But when she returned that evening, there was still silence. Suddenly, a fear gripped her. What if he was inside and had become sick again or was incapacitated from hunger? She shouted through the door but couldn’t even hear the cat. Using the key that she still had, she walked hesitantly into the cold and empty house.
As she moved from room to room calling his name, she noticed the starkness around her. Always sparsely decorated, it was completely barren now. Whatever little had been there earlier that had not been broken or destroyed by the Nazis, Josef had obviously swapped for food during the winter.
She made her way hurriedly upstairs and knocked gently on his bedroom door. It swung open. Creeping inside, she was surprised to see that his bed was stripped and his wardrobe was open and empty. What did it mean? Could it be that Michael had returned and he had taken him somewhere safe? But Amsterdam was safe now. And why would he pack a case? Not to mention where was the cat?
She went down to the kitchen and sat at the table for a second as the weight of the quiet engulfed her. Josef was gone. She didn’t know why or where but she had this terrible sinking feeling that she might never see him again.
Closing and locking the front door behind her, as she made her way home that evening she rebuked herself for not talking to him earlier about how she’d felt. She knew she’d seen something in his eyes, but she’d not questioned it then. And now, she realized despondently, there might never be the opportunity.
Chapter 58
Six weeks later
The days after the war were a roller-coaster of joy and tragedy accompanied by hard work as the nation tried to get back on its feet. One quiet Friday evening Hannah heard a knock at her front door. She had been preparing schoolwork for the young children of the neighborhood who she was tutoring individually to help with their studies while the school system was still being reconstructed.
Assuming it was a student, Hannah had opened the door. But she didn’t recognize the young woman standing on her doorstep. Even by Dutch standards, where people had lost so much weight, this young girl was shockingly thin. She could see the bones in her slender arms, and her collarbones were protruding through the blouse she was wearing. Her dark cropped hair didn’t seem to match her body, and her cheekbones were hollowed out, framing dark eyes that peered out at her in bewilderment and with a sense of fear.
The young woman threw herself into Hannah’s arms as something familiar seemed to register deep in Hannah, that she had dared not consider. But, when a tiny voice filtered through from beneath the layers of her clothes, it confirmed it.
“Hannah, it is me, Eva.”
The young girl clung to Hannah desperately. But how could this tiny fragile young woman, barely more than bones and fear, be the same child she had known so many years before?
She hugged Eva back tightly, hoping that this wasn’t a dream, that Eva had truly come back to her. They remained like that on the doorstep, for how long Hannah did not know. When Eva finally drew away, and Hannah looked at her clearly for the first time, she was euphoric, someone, someone she cherished had made it back alive from the concentration camps. How had Eva managed to make it through the war when they’d lost so many? There had been terribly high numbers in the newspaper of people who had been killed and fewer than a quarter of the Dutch Jewish people who had been sent to the German death camps had returned. Hannah had ultimately given up hope of ever seeing the Herzenbergs again. But here was a miracle right in front of her.
She led Eva into the front room and into her usual armchair. Then she built a fire even though it wasn’t cold; she felt a desire to nurture and mother this young woman.
“I will put on the kettle, Eva, and we will drink tea!” she sung out, realizing immediately how ridiculous it sounded, but not knowing what else to do, needing to create normality, a sense of where they’d left off.
Eva nodded, and once in the kitchen, Hannah allowed her tears to continue to stream freely down her face as she said out loud over and over again, “Thank you, God. Thank you for this miracle, God.”
Once she had composed herself and the kettle was warming on the stove, Hannah returned to the room, observing her young friend who was staring mindlessly at the fire. When their eyes met, Eva’s bottom lip trembled as she finally spoke again.
“They’re all gone, Hannah. All of them have gone. Willem, the baby, the boys, my father, my mother. I went back to the house first, and I waited. I’ve been waiting for days. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Her voice cracked as Hannah sat down hard into an armchair and shook her head in disbelief as this new pain gripped her chest like a vice. Hannah wasn’t even sure how to respond to such overwhelming grief; she felt helpless to comfort her. It was too much pain all at once and with immense sorrow she realized Greta was gone along with her whole family. Everyone, except Eva.
Leaning forward, she gently took hold of both of her young friend’s hands. “You were right to come here. I am overjoyed to see you, Eva. You are alive and this is a miracle.”
“They didn’t kill me because I kept myself busy. I thought about Clara’s words.” Eva stopped and looked about her then as if she expected Hannah’s mother to come in at any moment. “Where is she? Is she here? I want to tell her that her words kept me alive. The Germans didn’t kill me because I would sew for their wives and knit for them. But I still never believed that I would make it out alive. But then one day I was free and I need to tell Clara about it all.”
Hannah shook her head, despising the fact she was dealing this young woman yet another blow. She couldn’t say the words, but Eva sensed them automatically. It appeared this was news she was used to receiving. “Oh,” was all Eva could utter as fresh tears appeared in her eyes.
The kettle whistled and Hannah was grateful for a brief respite to give both of them a moment to deal with the grief that was settling in the room like a shroud.
They were quiet as Eva sipped her tea and then as she finished her drink she said, “I went to the authorities too. They say they have had considerable trouble locating… anyone in my family. They are not sure,” and then she filtered to a whisper, “if there is anyone left.”
Hannah took Eva in her arms again and held her tightly, whispering into her ear, “We are family. We are a family. And my mother will take care of all of them in the next life. Clara will be there with them, and you and I will be a new family.”
Eva’s body melted into Hannah’s as if those were the words she’d been waiting to hear, as though she had been desperately searching to find a soft place to fall that she could call home, and she sobbed into Hannah’s shoulder. Hannah stroked the dry bristles of her hair as she tried not to imagine what she had been through.
After that day, Eva moved into Clara’s old room and didn’t leave Hannah’s home. She had slowly unpacked the story of the last days with her family. Then as time went on she began to open up about her painful experience that echoed so many that Hannah was hearing about, terrifying things, inhuman atrocities that had been done to so many people. Even though Eva was relieved to be safe, fear seemed to cling to her and her childlike optimism never surfaced again. She suffered terrible nightmares, and Hannah would often find her staring out of the window, as if looking for those people who would never come home again.
One gift Hannah had been able to bestow was the Herzenbergs’ boxes she’d gathered, after Eva’s family had been arrested and before the Germans had raided their home. Eva had been so grateful for everything. Every tiny memory, every scrap of fabric, every childhood toy gave her a sense of comfort. She had especially savored her mother’s letters and the photographs of her family, which she kept in her most precious possession of all—Clara’s music box.
An
d it was the melody of Clara’s box that became the music that somehow represented their journey of healing. Hannah would wind it up and sit next to Eva on the bed and the two of them would lie, arms wrapped around one another, listening to it play over and over again as they would remember with great joy and sadness the people they’d loved and lost. And as Hannah tucked Eva in every evening she would marvel at the miracle of having her back in her life. That out of great tragedy had come some light.
Chapter 59
September 1947
Hannah shuffled through the pile of mail that had gathered on the mat in front of her door. Alongside the usual collection of bills, she noticed a white linen envelope and turned it over in her hand. It was from the university. Slipping it open, she pulled out a smooth white card. It was an invitation to an evening of music to benefit the Jewish refugees. Hannah nodded her approval; it was so sad that so many of them had been so traumatized by their experiences that they still feared reprisals from their own countries. For their safety and security, many of them had been placed in refugee camps throughout Europe, including several near Amsterdam.
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