by Liz Tolsma
“Why would you ask me that? Do you have a personal interest in her?” Stefan searched Horst’s face.
“Nein, nein, nein.”
“Only the guilty protest so much.”
There wasn’t much to pack. Anna stuffed as much as she could in the two cases the order allowed them each to bring. Fifty kilos a piece. A bedroll. Blankets. Household utensils like pots and bowls and tea strainers. Warm clothes. As many socks and stockings as they had. Babička’s heart medication. Vitamin tablets. An extra pair of shoes. In the midst of it all, her violin.
But did it matter what they brought? They faced the same fate as the rest of their family. No one knew how long until their turn came, but it would come.
Would they see David at Terezín? Her day brightened. He held to some strange philosophies and teachings that Táta and Máma disapproved of, and ran with the secular intellectuals of the city, but he was her brother. Her flesh and blood. Other than Babička, all she had left. How good it would be to embrace him, to hold a part of Táta and Máma again.
Babička hobbled into the living room from the bedroom, dragging her two suitcases behind her. The load was too much for her to carry. Anna packed as many of Babička’s things into her own cases as she could. Her grandmother may have to leave hers behind at some point. They needed to walk. She couldn’t lift the heavy bags.
How long would she survive? Days? Weeks? Tears, Anna’s regular companion now, gathered in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away and drew in a deep breath, letting it out little by little. “You are ready, ne?”
Babička’s hand trembled as she stroked Anna’s cheek in the way she had a thousand times before. “Yes, I am, for whatever the Lord has prepared. I’m ready to meet my Savior at the time He has appointed.”
“Don’t talk like that, please. I’ll take good care of you. Stay strong. I need you.”
“I trust Him, Anna.”
“And I do too.”
“Then all will be well. Underneath, deep down inside, you have more strength than you know because He has given it to you.”
“At least it’s not raining. We can be grateful for a beautiful winter day. I’m afraid the cold will return soon enough. Do you have all that you need? Are you sure you have plenty of warm clothes? You can’t have too many. It may be very chilly.”
Babička smoothed back a piece of gray hair which had escaped the knot on the top of her head. “Don’t fuss so. I’m prepared.”
Anna surveyed the flat again. Times had been difficult, but happiness and joy and celebrations had filled the space. Her parents made sure of that. Their voices echoed here.
Years ago, when they had the chance to flee, she hadn’t wanted to move from Prague. Leaving her beautiful city ripped her apart.
But she was never destined to stay here.
Would she still be able to hear her family’s voices when she left?
Anna helped Babička on with her boots, then slipped her own feet into her fur-lined ones. Today they may be too warm, but in the coming weeks, she would appreciate them. She grabbed both of her valises. Babička moved to follow suit.
“Ne, ne. Leave your bags. Once I have mine down, I’ll bring yours. I’ll take care of them.”
“You can’t. We have too much.”
“Don’t say that. We’ll get it all to the train somehow.” Those cases contained all that remained of her past.
They exited the apartment to the tiled hall, then down the curved staircase with its wrought-iron rails to the main floor. She left her bags at the bottom of the steps, then retrieved Babička’s.
No more turning back. The time had arrived to face the future.
Anna grasped the door knob.
“Wait. Stop.”
She jumped. What did Hauptmann Engel want? “We have to leave, or we’ll be late.”
“Don’t go.”
She didn’t want to. “We don’t have a choice. You have commanded it.”
“Not me. I want to offer you a different option.”
Babička stepped beside her. “What are you saying?”
“Come inside, and let me explain how I plan to help you. To save you.”
Anna shook her head. “You have no such thing in mind. We’re dirty Jews to you. I don’t know what you have planned. Perhaps you think I know where there are Jews in hiding, and you want me to give them up in exchange for keeping our names off the list for a few more weeks. But I know no such thing, nor would I ever divulge it to you.”
He finger-combed his light, straight hair. “You have to trust me.”
She clutched the handles of the suitcases ever tighter. “I could never trust you. I never will.”
As she turned for the door, he grabbed her by the arm. “Fraulein Zadoková, please. Frau Doubeková, talk to her.”
Babička set down her valises. “What do you have in mind?”
“I can’t tell you in the hall. Come inside.”
Her grandmother picked up her suitcases and followed Hauptmann Engel into his flat.
“Babička, wait. How can you trust him?”
“I can’t. But I trust the Lord.”
Horst breathed a sigh of relief when Frau Doubeková and Anna followed him into his flat. He’d prepared everything for them, knew just what he would say to them, what he would do. What he hadn’t expected was Anna’s resistance. How could she turn down his offer of help? Of salvation? Did she truly want to go to her death?
“Please, sit down.” He motioned to the green sofa against the wall. “Let me get you a cup of tea.”
Anna helped her grandmother to sit, then turned to him. “No tea. Just tell us what you have planned for us. How you say you’re going to help.” Her dark eyes were wide, her skin pale. She bit her full lip.
Her fear was understandable. He nodded. “You’re going to stay here. I’m going to hide you.”
She tugged on her ear. “Here?”
The old woman grinned. “The Lord has provided, Anna. I prayed for salvation from this fate if it be His will, and He has made a way.”
“You can’t be sure of that. Hauptmann Engel might be plotting something else.”
He sat beside Anna, her hands small and dainty. Like his mother’s. “I know you don’t trust me. I struggled with this, but I believe the Lord wants me to help you. I can’t let you go to the camp.”
“Why? So that I can continue to play for you whenever you demand it?”
“I can’t deny that I love your playing, but that is not the reason. What my fellow countrymen are doing is wrong. I can’t allow them to take you and do to you and your grandmother what they did to the rest of your family. David begged me to help, and so I am.”
Anna’s grandmother took over. “Děkuji. May the Lord bless you for what you’re doing.”
With that, Horst and Frau Doubeková made the decision. Anna slumped against the lumpy couch cushions and closed her eyes.
“I will take care of you. I promise.”
“And where will you hide us when the Gestapo comes looking for us? You know they will when we don’t show up at the exhibition hall.”
Of course. He couldn’t have Anna and her grandmother sitting on the sofa in the living room when his German friends knocked at his door and demanded entrance. He had put away his drawing of her. Why hadn’t he devised a way to conceal them? “We’ll think of a place to hide you.”
“You need to think fast. It’s only a matter of time before they get here. And you promised to take care of us.”
He prayed it was a promise he could keep.
The soft, gray blanket of evening covered the city of Prague. The distinct chilliness of winter hung in the air. Anna stood in Horst’s kitchen, cleaning up the few dishes from supper. He loved the clink of dishes, her soft humming. The place was homier with her here.
He stirred the fire in the living room’s stove, then turned to Frau Doubeková. “Are you warm enough? Perhaps you need a blanket for your lap?”
She shook her head. �
�Your mother raised you well. Not many young men would bother with an old lady like me.”
“You aren’t a bother. I think my mother would like you.” He sat on the sofa and pulled out his sketch pad. The way the dying light caught Anna tonight as she had played for him. The image seared itself into his brain, but he had to record that moment. He leaned against the back cushion, drew up his knees, and worked on imitating Anna’s likeness on paper.
“What is that?”
The pencil slid from his hand when Anna spoke. He hadn’t heard her come into the room and slip into the spot beside him. “You.”
“I see that. You have some artistic talent.”
“Most architects do.”
“But why draw me?”
“Because you’re beautiful.” His heart gave one good, hard knock against his ribs.
“I’m nothing special. There are many other interesting things to draw in Prague. There is the Charles Bridge. With all thirty of its statues, it should take you some time. The Klementinum isn’t far from there, with the elaborate Mirror Chapel, the Baroque Library Hall loaded with inlaid wood and a massive fresco, and the Astronomical Clock, which is one of my favorite places in the entire city.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. “You are passionate about Prague.”
“There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather live. I hope, as Minister of Architectural Preservation, you are as fervent about it as I am.”
“I’ll be sure to visit all of those sights. But I like to draw things other than buildings. Anything of beauty that captures my eye. Like you. Especially when you’re playing. You radiate the loveliness of the music.”
“Your time would be better spent on saving the charm that is Prague.”
From the bowed living room window, a movement caught his eye. A green, canvas-covered truck screeched to a halt in front of his apartment building.
The moment they knew was coming arrived on their doorstep.
He dropped the pencil on the floor. “The Gestapo is here. Time to head to the cellar.” He tore the page from his book, folded it, and stuffed it in his pants pocket.
With a bit of effort, Frau Doubeková pushed herself to her feet. “Can you help me, young man? These old legs don’t work as well as they used to.”
Horst seized Anna’s grandmother by the hand and pulled her along as fast as she could manage. The three of them slipped into the hall. The truck’s door slammed shut. Voices sounded on the front steps.
“Hurry, hurry.” He opened the cellar door. Anna skipped down the stairs. The building’s old entry door squeaked open. His hands dampened. They had no time to lose. He scooped up Anna’s grandmother and hustled to the bottom of the steps. The clomp of jackboots sounded on the floorboards above them.
He shushed the women.
They scurried to the back corner of the stone cellar where a little nook, used for cold storage at some past time, hid behind a door. Earlier, he had torn out the shelves. “You’ll have to squeeze together.”
Anna bit the inside of her cheek. “Please don’t turn us in.”
“Never.” Was she more afraid of the Gestapo or of him?
A deep voice above them shouted orders for the house to be searched.
This hiding place wasn’t perfect. No doubt about that. He’d have to use his position as a German officer to convince his colleagues that there were no Jews here.
He shut the door to the little room. Wiped his damp hands on his khaki pants. Hurried upstairs. At the top, he met a Gestapo officer dressed in black garb who gave him a straight-arm salute.
Horst returned the greeting. “Why are you here?”
The soldier peered down his nose at Horst. “Who are you?”
“Hauptmann Engel. Minister of Architectural Preservation for Prague. I’m billeted here. Let me repeat my question. Why are you here?”
“Did you know Jews lived in this building?”
“Ja. They were deported today.” He forced the corners of his mouth to turn upward, as if happy about this turn of events.
“They never showed up as ordered.”
Horst touched his chest. “They didn’t? But I saw them leave the building myself. They turned down the street in the direction of the exhibition hall.”
“Where did they go?” The man stepped forward and glared at Horst.
“How should I know? I never kept track of them. They told me they received their notices and were leaving. That was it. Otherwise, they steered clear of me.”
“My men are searching the building now.” A thump from upstairs confirmed his statement. “Stand aside. Let me look in the cellar.”
Horst didn’t move, though his legs wouldn’t hold him upright much longer. “No need. I was just down there. I heard a noise a bit ago and investigated it. A mouse. He disappeared into a little hole in the wall. No Jews down there. And like I said, I saw them leave this morning. They are gone.”
“They could have returned and hidden somewhere here.”
“That’s possible, I suppose. But if they aren’t upstairs, then they aren’t here. I chased that mouse all around. If they hid in the cellar, I would have discovered them.”
One of the underlings strode down the hall and opened the door to Horst’s flat.
His stomach performed loop-di-loops. He’d shoved the women’s suitcases under the bed, but they weren’t well hidden. His plan had been for them to take their valises when the soldiers arrived, but they didn’t have time to grab them and make it into the cellar. “Halten sie. There is no need to search my quarters. Why on earth would any Jews be in there? Get out, and leave my place alone.”
The commander nodded. The man backed away from Horst’s apartment.
“Have you found anything?”
“Nein. Not a trace of any Jews besides what they left behind in their flat. Nothing of value.”
“Then we are finished.” He turned to Horst, his shoulders raised, his chin upturned. Every inch in control. “I will watch you. If I find that you are hiding these women here, your punishment will be swift and lethal.”
The dark pressed in on Anna, little air in the miniscule shelter to provide relief. She leaned away from Babička to avoid crushing her frail grandmother. The floorboards above them creaked with the weight of German soldiers.
Hauptmann Engel had shoved them into this tiny space. It wasn’t even safe. Anyone who came into the cellar would see the door, open it, and find them. Her breath came in gasps. “Why did we trust him? He has no intention of protecting us. He plans to lead the Gestapo right to us.”
Babička’s whisper was firm. “Thinking the worst is not good. Why would he stop us from going to the hall this morning if he didn’t plan on caring for us? Why did he go to the trouble of making this hiding place for us if he meant to turn us in? It would have been easier for him to let us go with the transport.”
What Babička said made sense, but it didn’t stop Anna’s cold sweat. “The soldiers will come down here and find us right away. This isn’t a good spot.”
“It’s fine. He won’t allow the Gestapo down the stairs.”
“And what about our bags in his flat? How will he explain those away?”
“Don’t create problems, Anna.”
If she had room, Anna would stomp her foot. “I’m not creating them. They already exist. This is never going to work. And our fate will be worse. If the Germans don’t shoot us on the spot when they find us, they will certainly skip Terezín and transport us directly to the eastern camp and gas us.”
“Then that is God’s will.”
“How can this be His will?”
“We don’t understand it, but it is.”
“Believe something you don’t understand? That’s impossible.”
“No, beruško, that is faith. Look at how He has provided thus far. We should be on the train right now.”
If she had to choose between a transport train or hiding in this cellar, she supposed she would choose the cellar. It gave Babička an extra fe
w days of life, at least.
Voices came from the top of the stairs, one angry and demanding, the other calm and sure. If the angry one opened the door . . .
Anna’s hands ached from clenching them. Jackboots thudded above them. More German voices speaking words she couldn’t decipher. The darkness strangled her.
After a long while, the footsteps moved in the direction of the front door. It clicked open, then shut. Silence descended. Hauptmann Engel didn’t come for them. How much longer would they have to wait for release? Maybe the soldiers arrested him, and he’d never come.
Should they slip out on their own? She reached for the knob. Babička stopped her. “He is waiting to be sure they are gone and that they are not coming back.”
Anna held her breath. Keep them away, Lord.
More time passed. How long had they had been stuffed into this closet? Her feet throbbed from standing so long. Her head buzzed. A round of dizziness swirled her brain inside her skull.
When she was sure she would faint, the basement stairs creaked. Moments later, the door opened. Anna fell out of the closet and into Hauptmann Engel’s arms. She peered into his crystal blue eyes. “They are gone, ne?”
“Ja.” The crease around his mouth deepened.
Her vertigo faded. She pushed against his solid chest and righted herself. “What if they return?”
“I don’t think they will.”
Anna helped Babička from the hiding spot. She stared at her grandmother, whose hands and mouth shook.
Their survival depended on him being right.
David made his way through the darkened streets of Terezín. The little village hummed, but not with the sounds of happy families around their dinner tables nor of children playing in their yards. Heart-wrenching weeping filled the air, the gut-twisting cries of suffering.
He coughed into his handkerchief, now stained brown.
Yet over this pitiful din drifted the lullaby of strings and the song of a piano. Its plaintive melody guided him to a ramshackle building, where a single bare bulb lit a large but dingy room.
Egon Ledeč nodded to him without missing a note of the song he played. He closed his eyes, his face peaceful, though its features were sunken. He drew his bow against the violin strings with studied ease, much the way Anna did.