by Liz Tolsma
“What does it matter? My violin is . . .” Her voice broke.
“It’s in the flat with everything else.” He shouldn’t have brought it up. “I’m sorry. That’s why you told me yesterday the life drained out of you. I’ll get it for you.”
Georg snorted. “I went to all this work to try to save your life so you can risk it again for a musical instrument? Aren’t lives more precious than possessions?”
Horst wrapped Anna in an embrace. “You don’t understand. This possession is her life. She, the violin, and her music are intertwined. To her, it’s like air.”
She relaxed against him. The warmth of her body seeped through the thin shirt he’d borrowed from Georg after they burned his uniform. “How do you know this? How is it you understand?”
“You forget that I’ve watched you these past months. When you play, your face comes alive. Your entire body.” She mesmerized him. Capture and enchanted him. But he couldn’t tell her such things in public. He’d already said too much.
“Pan Karas will be at the grocer’s around the corner in thirty minutes. You can take the alley over there. He will park his cart in back while he brings in the potatoes. Help Paní Doubeková onto the seat and slip under the straw. If you are not there when he is ready to leave, he will go without you. Is this all clear? Patricie?”
She kissed Georg’s cheek. “I’ve taken care of situations like this many times before.”
“But this time, you’re on the other side of the operation. Be careful.” Georg lifted his glasses and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “You are precious to me, Patricie. You always have been. You always will be. God go with you.”
“And with you.”
They exited the building into the dark, dingy alley. Horst kept his guard up, alert to every sound, every movement, his muscles tense. Stefan could jump at them at any opening.
Anna tugged on his sleeve. “Stop. Please. I want to take one more look at Prague. Let me peek at the street.”
“That’s not a good idea. Someone might see you.”
“I’ll be careful to stay in the shadows. I beg you.”
He couldn’t deny her. He motioned for the others to wait for them. At the corner, he and Anna crept between the buildings to where the city opened before them. She pointed in one direction. “Over there is the Prague Castle with its many spires reaching to the sky. And beyond it is the Charles Bridge.
“In that direction is the Orloj, the astronomical clock in Old Town Square. Táta took me there as a child. I tried to figure out which of the carved figures were the apostles Peter and John. I stared at the gold and blue dial faces, trying to make sense of it all. He told me one day I would understand.”
She quaked against him, the sunlight brightening strands of her dark hair. “Do you think someday we will understand all of this?”
He had no answer for her. Instead, he held her until her trembling eased.
“It’s time to go.”
“I fear I’ll never see this city again.”
He feared she was right.
January 1945
Anna stared out the dingy window. The rain wept from the trees in the farmyard at the edge of the hamlet where they had lived these past months. She couldn’t weep. Not any longer. Enough tears had fallen from her eyes to fill a small lake.
Because inside, she was as empty as the milk can in the morning. For months, she’d heard no music. Harbored no melodies in her soul. Nothing but a yawning void.
Even if she had her instrument, she had no song to play.
Babička and Maria Karas, the middle-aged farmer’s wife, sat at the scarred kitchen table, peeling potatoes to fry for dinner. Patricie curled up on the narrow divan, reading a book. Horst set aside his sketch pad, came to Anna’s side, and lifted the lace curtain a little more. “All you do is gaze outside, all day long. What’s wrong, beruško?”
The ache in her chest compressed at the sound of her father’s nickname for her. “I can’t feel it.”
“What?”
“The music. Inside, I’m dry. And scared. Scared I’ll never be able to make music again.”
“You’re mourning the loss of your violin.”
“The loss of music.” She dropped the curtain and turned to him. “I thought you understood. When you spoke to Georg at his flat that night, I thought you knew what music means to me.”
“I do.” His blue eyes, which she had first thought icy, now warmed to the color of the sea. “You leave this place and go to another of pure beauty. I know because, although I don’t play, I can also find escape in music. And in drawing.”
“And you haven’t drawn much since we came here, so I believe you do understand.” Still, it amazed her that he did. “But my violin is in Prague. If it exists anymore. I think your friend smashed it when he couldn’t find us.”
“I want to give you hope, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Why do you think he hasn’t found us yet?”
“Because Pan Klima and Slečna Kadlecová are good at what they do.” Horst caressed the back of her neck. “He would never think to look for us here.”
“He’s given up?”
He sighed and turned his attention to the rainy scene in front of them.
“Tell me the truth.” Anna touched his cheek, roughened with stubble,
and he gazed back at her with incredible intensity. Maybe she should never have asked him.
“Ne. Stefan is a driven man. He doesn’t quit until he gets what he wants.”
A bolt of cold raced through her.
He pulled her into an embrace. She rested against his chest.
The rate of his heartbeat did nothing to soothe her nerves. “And what has you so troubled? I see it in your eyes, too. Are you also scared?”
“Ne. That’s not what bothers me.”
She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “Then what? Why do you stare at the walls for hours on end, your pencil in your hand?”
He glanced at the ceiling, back at her, then at the ceiling again. “Are you sure to want to know? I’m not the man I appear to be.”
Her stomach did a little bounce. “Yes, I do.”
“Come with me, and I will tell you.” He led the way to the top of the stairs and motioned for her to sit. “This will give us a bit of privacy while preserving your reputation.” He winked.
Her cheeks warmed, even though the cold remained in the pit of her stomach. “Will you answer my question now?”
“My past haunts me.”
She rubbed her knees. “What did you do?”
He stared at the ceiling, his jaw tight. “Growing up, we lived next door to a Jewish watchmaker. I spent many happy hours there.”
She went cold all over.
“On Kristallnacht, I led a group of Hitler Youth who went to his shop, broke his windows, and looted his merchandise.” He swallowed hard.
“Oh, Horst.” Her words came out in a breathless whisper.
“I wanted my father to be proud of me, so I took part in beating him.”
Her held-back sob strangled her.
“What I did was wrong. That night, I got caught up in the mob mentality of my Hitler Youth group. I regretted it right away, but the damage was done. Nightmares plague me. Your music soothes me. You are my salvation.”
“Ne. I’m not.” Anna hugged herself. She understood at last why he was so upset about finding the Jews in their hiding spot.
“Can you forgive me for what I did?”
“It’s not my place to absolve you.”
“But now you will be afraid of me?”
She studied her fingernails. “I don’t know.”
He scooted in her direction. “I couldn’t bear it if you were.”
“I can’t answer that now.” With that, she fled to the room she shared with Babička and covered her head with her pillow. If only the tears would flow.
When darkness fell, Horst took advantage of the cover of night to get a breath of fresh air.
The walls of the tiny house closed in on him from time to time. The farmer, Karel Karas, and his wife couldn’t be more gracious. But six people crowded into the cramped living quarters without relief. They didn’t dare move about in the daylight. Even the small countryside hamlet had eyes.
His cigarette cravings gnawed at him, but smokes were impossible to get.
The rain had stopped about an hour before sunset, but had done its job in turning the farmyard into a muddy mess. Footsteps squished behind him.
“Hauptmann Engel, what are you doing out here?”
He stopped, and Patricie caught up to him.
“I needed to get outside for a while. To be free, if only for a moment.”
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Not at all. You might be able to help.”
“Me?”
“Tell me about your operation. How does it work? What does it do?”
In the dull light, she gave a wide gesture. “This is it.”
“This?”
“We forge identity papers, print pamphlets, and counterfeit ration cards. That’s what my brother does. This is a small part of the resistance movement. We, they, hide Jews and others the Nazis slate for arrest. Most of the Jews went to Terezín when their notices came. There aren’t many like Slečna Zadoková and her grandmother who hid.”
“And they would have gone if I hadn’t stopped them. Is that all?”
“You’ve seen the people come each week with ration cards and supplies to feed us. That’s what we do. What we’ll continue to do until our land is rid of the Germans.”
“Of men like me.”
“Ne, not like you. You see Slečna Zadoková and Paní Doubeková as people, not an ethnicity. You care about them. About her.”
“I do. And that’s what concerns me.”
“How so?”
They entered the barn. Horst took a risk and lit the lamp. Patricie smoothed back her brown hair.
“Haven’t you noticed how she longs for her violin?”
“I have. The same longing plagues me. To be without music is like going without vegetables. You live, but your body isn’t the same.”
“Her clothes hang on her. The light left her eyes the moment we set foot outside of Prague. I’m no musician, but I understand how our present circumstances dull the senses. I’ve tried and failed to appreciate this house’s architecture.”
“It’s simple and sweet. And our sanctuary. That alone should convince you it’s beautiful.”
“I never thought of it like that. Under that gabled roof, God protects us. Hides us. Yes, that is true loveliness.” Patricie couldn’t match him in height, but she outshone him in faith.
“Is that what you needed help with?”
“Ne.” He sat on a bale of hay and motioned for her to do the same. A horse whinnied in its stall. “I need your expertise.”
“In music?”
“In underground work.”
“What are you plotting?” She wrinkled her forehead.
“You have broken people out of prison?”
She gave a short, high-pitched laugh. “Out of prison? Ne, never. Who do you want released?”
“Anna’s brother.”
“You are touched in the head if you think you’re going to rescue a single soul from Terezín. People who go there never come back. Never. The place is fortified, walled, and guarded.” She jumped to her feet and paced in front of him. “No matter what you plan, it will never work.”
Maybe not. But he had to try. Had to prove to himself that he was better than his father. “But I’ve been there. I know the lay of the land.”
“Are you suggesting you’ll go in there yourself?”
He nodded.
“Have you forgotten you’re a wanted man?”
“That does make the situation more complicated.”
“Complicated isn’t the word for it.”
“Hush. Keep your voice down. I don’t want Anna, or anyone else, to know about this.”
“I should imagine not. She’d try to talk you out of it.”
“But if I can get her brother out and a violin, too, maybe she would eat again. I’m worried about her.”
“Getting yourself killed won’t help her feel better. And if they catch you, they’ll torture you for our location. Going into that place will endanger all of us. Think about this more.”
He stood in front of her to stop her back and forth. “I have to try. I can’t stand seeing her so dejected and melancholy.”
“Cheer her up some other way. Pick a few daffodils. Write her a poem. Draw her a picture.”
“You studied at the conservatory.”
“And what good does that do me now? You Germans stole my career from me. Before we had to flee, Hauptsturmführer Jaeger said he would arrange for me to play with the symphony. But here I am, forced once more to give that up. Here I sit, in the middle of the countryside, away from all I love.” She stared straight into his eyes.
Horst backed down. “I’m sorry. Each of us has had to make sacrifices. It’s not easy for anyone.”
She relaxed her stance. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t take out my frustration on you.”
“But that leaves us in the same place.” He made a circuit around the hay bale. “I want to help. My mutti was right. After Kristallnacht, she aided our Jewish neighbors. God commands us to love all people, doesn’t He? We’re all created in His image.”
“That’s why I do what I do.”
“But I can’t. Before, my uniform, my position, prevented me from doing any good in any small way.”
“You hid Slečna Zadoková and Paní Doubeková.”
“But I didn’t keep them safe. Or happy. I know it’s a risk to try to rescue her brother. And yes, I’m doing it for her, to put a smile back on her face. To hear her music again. In the end, though, I want to do this for myself. It’s selfish, that’s true. I sent people to their sure deaths. I can’t undo my crimes. Maybe I hope to absolve myself.”
“Only God can rid you of your guilt.”
“Can you help me? Will you?”
Lightning brightened the still-dark horizon as an early-season storm built. Through the flashes of light, Patricie worked to pack the cart with all the supplies Horst needed. “You are crazy to do this, you know that?”
“Of course I am. But Anna’s worth it. And I need to prove to her that I’ve changed. That I’m not the same person I was all those years ago.”
Patricie had a man like that. One who would put his life on the line for her. Georg would make the ultimate sacrifice, if he had to. But this life didn’t leave any time for love. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, commit to him until the insanity came to an end. If it ever did.
Because if she gave her heart to him and lost him, she’d break into a million little pieces. As it was, she had so little left. Not her music. The world inside of her was still. Silent. Too quiet.
She worked the kinks out of her shoulder muscles and stuffed several blankets under the straw. “Where’s Slečna Zadoková?”
Horst added a few loaves of bread and a wheel of cheese. “She’s helping Paní Doubeková get dressed for the day. We have to hurry. I don’t want her to catch me leaving. She’ll worry. And remember your promise not to tell her.”
“It’s a conditional promise. If I feel it’s necessary for whatever reason, I’ll share your secret.”
“Fair enough.”
“The beard is a nice touch. It helps to hide that crease by your mouth and your square chin.”
“Anna questioned why I grew it. I wish it were fuller, but there is no time for that now.” He pulled up the farmer’s rough pants, much too large for him. “And no one will recognize me in these clothes. Nor will they want to get close to me.”
“They do smell of cow.”
“Perfect. I don’t want the guards giving me too thorough an inspection.”
“Just remember to give your German a Czech accent.”
“That could be a
little more difficult.”
She laughed at his clumsy attempt. “Keep working at it.” A curtain in the kitchen window fluttered. “Hurry. Someone in the house is watching.”
Another peal of thunder rumbled in the distance. Horst stiffened, then shuddered. “Everything will be wet. I wanted to make David comfortable.”
“I put most of the supplies in a knapsack. Especially the clothes he’ll need. But if conditions at Terezín are like you say, he won’t mind.”
An unreadable expression passed over Horst’s face.
“What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He was lying, but she didn’t press the matter. “If you want to be there and home by dark, you need to get going. This journey will be all this old horse can handle.” She patted the animal’s rump.
“I think I have everything. The clothes and food. The bribe money, should I need it. The forged papers. You and Georg are good at what you do.”
Did he mean his comment as a compliment? She’d rather have there be no need for the job. The war meant she’d had to put her dreams for a career with the symphony on hold, too.
And she’d left Georg on his own. Perhaps, like Horst, she was trying to make up for her wrongs. “You’re all set then. I’ll pray for you and for the success of your mission.”
“Thank you. That means a great deal to me, knowing I won’t be alone out there.”
“If I could, I would come with you.”
“I know. But it’s best if I do this on my own. Farmers come in with supplies, true enough. But they don’t often bring their wives. It’s a scene women would rather not see.”
Out of impulse, Patricie leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “God go with you.”
The door behind them banged shut. Anna marched toward them. “What are you doing? Why are you kissing him?”
Words failed Patricie.
“And where are you going?”
Anna stood in the predawn light, waiting for Horst to answer. Or Patricie. Either one. She shivered and wrapped her hand-me-down housecoat around her. “Will someone answer? What’s going on? Where are you off to?” Did she even want to know the answers to her questions?