by Liz Tolsma
They passed a few private berths. “Stop there.”
Horst turned around to make sure he’d heard Georg right. “This is ours?”
“It is.”
He didn’t say any more until the four of them tucked their small amount of luggage into the rack above them and sank into their worn velvet seats. “Why this?”
Georg shrugged. “I have a feeling my Reichsmarks will soon be useless. Might as well spend them. Besides, this is much more private. Less chance to be singled out.”
Horst nodded. He sat beside Anna, very aware of her presence. Even though they didn’t touch, the heat radiating from her body warmed his. She sat with her back rigid. He caressed her shoulder, trying to get her to relax. “It will be fine.”
“I don’t know. Such a bad feeling has settled in my stomach.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Georg crossed his arms.
“I trust God.” Paní Doubeková grinned.
Anna remained tense. “I’m clinging to Him. That’s all I can say.”
Horst leaned just a little closer to her. “When I was a boy, Mutti took me to the market with her every Saturday. We rode the tram. While the workings of it fascinated me, getting on and off terrified me. I was afraid I might slip and the wheels would run over me. But I trusted Mutti and clung to her hand. She never let me down.”
“Are you clinging, too?” She gazed at him with such intensity that it stabbed at his core. Like she wanted him to struggle along with her. She needed to know she wasn’t alone.
“Yes, I am. To face this final journey is hard, not knowing what’s ahead. I’m afraid of this, like I was of the tram’s sharp, metal wheels.”
Paní Doubeková tapped her cane on the train’s floor. “Each of us clings, my beruško. That’s all our frail human nature can do.”
Anna snuggled into him. “If your heart is pounding like mine, Babička, you’ll need your medicine.”
The old woman touched her chest. “My heart is fine.”
Georg shushed them. “Enough talk like that. We must appear as normal travelers. Any nervousness might give us away. Or at least, bring additional scrutiny we don’t want.”
Once again, the whistle blew its lonesome cry, and the wheels creaked and squeaked as they pulled from the station. Each slow turn brought them that much closer to the Americans. To possible freedom.
No guarantees. Life offered none of them.
But God does.
The small whisper in his heart brought Horst a measure of comfort. God didn’t guarantee ease in this life. He didn’t guarantee anything other than peace in Him and eternal life for those who believe.
The checkered Czech countryside flew by the window, hypnotizing him. He dozed, Anna tucked in beside him.
A rap at the compartment’s door roused him. Anna sat up. He, too, straightened as the visitor slid open the door.
A Wehrmacht soldier stood there. “Identification.” The man stared at each of them for several seconds. Did his gaze rest on Horst longer? Did he look familiar? Maybe.
Nein, he had to be imagining things. He should have never shaved his beard. God, don’t let him look too hard.
The soldier examined Anna, Georg, and Paní Doubeková’s cards and handed them back to each person. He held onto Horst’s. “I’ve seen you before.”
He didn’t want to speak too much. One thing Georg told them to do was to say as little as possible. “Ne.”
“Where are you from?”
“Prague.”
“How long did you live there?”
The German pressed him for answers, forcing Horst to say more. “All my life.”
“What is your occupation?”
“Architect.”
“Do you speak German?”
“Ja.”
The soldier narrowed his green eyes and stared long and hard at Horst. “How do I know you aren’t lying?” He spoke in German. “Who are these people with you?”
“My new wife, her grandmother, and a friend of ours.”
“Your German is perfect.”
“My parents lived in Austria. I learned from them.”
“They failed to teach you good Czech.”
Horst furrowed his brows, as if he didn’t understand what the man meant. But his throat went dry.
The soldier didn’t believe him.
He tapped the little identification book on his hand. “I know you. I have no doubt.”
“Perhaps we met at a pub along the way.”
“Nein, that’s not it.” He leaned in for a closer look.
Horst forced himself not to flinch.
“Your mouth. Your eyes. I know you. Let me think.”
Horst would rather he didn’t. “Perhaps we met long ago on a ski holiday.”
“I don’t forget people once I meet them.”
“I don’t recognize you. You must have me confused with someone else.” That, at least, was the truth. He didn’t know the man. Was pretty sure he had never seen him.
The soldier straightened. His face brightened.
Horst’s midsection cramped.
“You aren’t Czech.”
He went cold all over.
“We were in the same class in military training.”
Horst squinted, trying to remember.
The soldier took off his cap and tilted his head, revealing a shock of bright red hair.
The memory flooded back. Marcus Kuhn. They had been together in basic training.
Marcus also recalled it. “Horst. Horst Engel.”
“Nein. You are mistaken.”
“That is who you are.” Marcus sneered. “The man missing for the past year. The man who hid Jews.”
“Ne.” Anna stood, dropping her own card on the floor. “I know him. He’s my husband. We grew up together in Prague. We went through school together. There is no way he is the man you say he is.”
Something about the way she phrased that hit him between the eyes. He is not the man you say he is.
No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the Horst Engel who’d smashed windows, vandalized Jewish property, and beat a man on Kristallnacht just to please his father. He wasn’t the Horst Engel who’d received a commission from the Reich’s high command. And he wasn’t the Horst Engel who’d arrived in Prague, proud of his position, unaware of what was expected of him.
“Does that mean you, too, are lying?” Marcus thundered, his words echoing throughout the cabin.
Anna shook her head. “It means you are wrong. Perhaps he looks like him, but this is not the man you seek.”
“I should shoot you both.”
Horst stepped in front of Anna. Marcus would not take the life of the woman he loved. Never. “I am Václav Filipek, like it says on card. Take me if you have to, but leave my wife alone. She is innocent.”
“All of you are under arrest.” The man tore Horst’s identity booklet in two.
He slammed the compartment’s door shut with a clang.
The clinking of the shutting door reverberated in Anna’s ears. The soldier stood guard outside the compartment. Across from her, Georg sat with his mouth wide open. Babička clutched her cane, her knuckles white.
Anna gazed at Horst. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. His shoulders slumped. She rubbed small circles on his back. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is. If not for me, he would have accepted your identification and let you go. I’m the one who put you in this predicament. It is my fault.”
Georg returned his card to his pocket. “If I learned nothing else during the course of this war, I learned this. Nothing ever goes according to plan. Bumps and hiccups happen along the way. It’s what you do about them that determines your fate.”
“The Lord will save us.” Babička’s mantra.
“She’s right.” Anna nodded.
Horst opened his spring-blue eyes and stared at her. “I’m not going to give up. Whatever I have to do, I will get you to safety. All of you. So far, none of us has accepted any Nazi di
rective.”
Anna stopped rubbing. “My parents did. Babička and I would have if not for you. You delivered us.”
“And put you in danger. But no more.” His voice was more resolute than she’d heard it since the day he’d brought them into his flat. “We need a plan. A way to escape.”
Anna pulled away. “Escape? You’ve gone mad, ne?”
“Young man, I think you forget that I’m a very old lady. I cannot outrun a trained military man in his prime. Never in my life, even in my younger days, could I get away from him.”
“I am the only one who will have to outrun him.”
Anna squeezed her hands together. “I know where you’re going with this, and I don’t like the sound of it. You can’t be serious. You would give yourself up for us?”
“I don’t intend for him to catch me. But if he does, it’s what I have to do.”
She went numb. “Ne. Ne. Ne. I can’t . . . I won’t . . . lose you. Not you. Ne.” She fidgeted in the seat.
Horst pulled her close. “Calm down. This is trust in action. You are going to have to remain composed and keep a level head. Can you do that?”
Could she when every part of her tensed in panic? Could she when his life depended on it? “I don’t know.”
He whispered into her hair, so only she heard his voice. His soothing words. “Yes, you can. I trust you.”
She sucked in air and drew deep into herself. “Tell me what to do.”
Once, just once, did Hauptsturmführer Jaeger come for Patricie. She survived. Her injuries healed. Where was he? What was he plotting?
Fear left her. She had no strength for it. She didn’t think about the future. Or the past. She concentrated on the moment, on getting through this particular slice of time.
The war’s end had to be near. Had to be. The news Pan Karas had given her before her capture promised Allied victory in Europe soon. If she could hang on a few more minutes, hours, days, perhaps she would live. Would once again taste freedom.
And be able to tell Georg all he meant to her.
How foolish she had been. A man, a wonderful, tenderhearted man, loved her with great passion. And she loved him too. A physical ache pierced her chest whenever she thought of him.
But she’d put him off, thinking there would be a tomorrow. After the war. They could be together after the war. They could get married after the war. They could start a family after the war.
Now she knew better. Tomorrow might never come. Why had she ever put it off? She should have seized the moment. In his flat, after she’d failed to help the boy, she should have told him everything. Should have gone to him and allowed him to love her.
That time would never come again. She couldn’t do it over.
But if she held on, just for a little while longer, perhaps God would grant them another chance. They could yet be happy. Marry. Have children. Grow old together.
How long, O Lord? How long?
The suffocating solitary confinement didn’t end. Time had fused together into a single lump. Endless. Like the big, blue ocean she’d only heard about. Or the Czech countryside covered in snow.
Every part of her body ached. Each joint protested at the slightest movement. The pounding in her head didn’t cease.
With a long, loud groan, the metal door holding Patricie inside the small fortress creaked open.
“Come with me.” The guard, a different one than before, motioned for her to follow. He held a weapon in his hands.
She stood, the world spinning in circles. She leaned against the wall until the ground righted itself. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” The man cuffed her hands behind her back. With his rifled trained on her, he led her in a brisk walk through the courtyard.
She had a difficult time keeping up. Her lack of food and exercise over the past few weeks hindered her. “Please, stop. Let me rest.” She glanced at him.
The tall, fair-haired guard grinned. But not a birthday-party sort of grin. More like a you’ll-get-what’s-coming-to-you one. “You’ll have plenty of time to rest later.” But he paused until she caught her breath.
“I haven’t been out in, I don’t know how long.” Overhead, birds chirped. The grass shone emerald in the brilliant yellow sunshine. She basked in the warmth of it. “It’s spring.”
“May second, to be exact. You won’t forget the date.”
Her shrunken stomach clenched. Why wouldn’t she? Was she to be released? Or tortured again?
As they progressed through the courtyard, they proceeded through a long, arched tunnel into another yard. A red brick wall rose on one side. Grass opened like a carpet in front of her.
A few other women and their guards occupied the space.
She searched their faces for a clue. Any clue. And Hauptsturmführer Jaeger. Where was he? She expected him to be here.
Women’s faces, which should be round and soft, were hard, angled, withered. One lady whimpered. The rest hunched over.
Resigned.
“Line up against the wall.” The guard grabbed her, his grip tight, and shoved her against the rough brick. A slight breeze stirred the air. The wind carried the odor of filth, illness, and decay.
But she inhaled the scent of roses and lilacs.
The guards lay prone on the grass, their weapons focused on the women.
The reality of what was about to happen dawned on her. Time ceased. Blood pounded in her ears, in her neck. Her breaths came in rapid succession.
Was it worth it? Hauptsturmführer Jaeger’s last words to her played over in her mind. Visions of Eliška’s and Anna’s faces flashed before her. One she’d failed. The other she hadn’t.
The crescendo of an orchestra washed over her. Tears streamed down her face.
Would she change anything? Ne, not a thing. Except maybe for Georg. But she followed God’s leading in her life and accepted whatever fate that brought.
She was willing to give her life. She could make the ultimate sacrifice.
Was it worth it?
She lifted her hands to heaven.
Yes, oh yes, it was.
“My life is nothing now. I’m surprised Marcus didn’t shoot me right away. Deserters and traitors are not tolerated in the German army.”
Horst’s words froze Anna’s heart. “Not to me, it isn’t. Your life is very important. You have me to live for. Our future to fight for.”
He stroked her cheek as the train wheels clacked westward on the track, the rhythm a drumbeat that matched the throbbing in her head. “And I will. I’ll fight to the bitter end, if I have to. Believe me, I won’t give in. He’s just one man.”
Should she be relieved or terrified? “One with a gun.”
“Ah, but you forget that I knew him in military training. His looks have changed enough that I didn’t recognize him at first, but I remember what he was like. His strengths. And weaknesses. That, I can use to my advantage.”
“He has the same advantage.”
“Oh, my Anna, please don’t worry. Whatever the outcome, remember that I love you. And I’ll find you. We’ll be together some day.”
“It won’t be soon enough for me.”
He kissed her then, right in front of Georg and Babička. But she didn’t mind. Instead of words, she allowed the melody in her kiss to speak to him. To tell him of her love for him. To tell him she would wait for him. To tell him good-bye.
“I love you, Horst.”
“Oh, my Anna.” He caressed her cheek, kissed her forehead, her eyes, her mouth. “I love you more than you’ll ever know. Leaving you is ripping my heart out.” He kissed her again, hard, possessive. Then, he broke away and rubbed her arms.
He straightened, his tone turning serious and business-like. “Be ready to go at the next stop.”
She clung to him.
Babička bowed her head in prayer. The words wouldn’t come for Anna. Please, please, please. That was the only petition her broken heart cried.
&n
bsp; Georg sat with his back straight. No emotion played across his thin face. She guessed he must be thinking about Patricie, wondering where she was, what was happening to her.
And in a matter of hours, she would be in the same position. Wondering about Horst. Where he was. If he was safe. Alive.
She inhaled, long and slow, even though her arms and legs, hands and feet all trembled. Like water over a dam, she would never be able to control the panic if it broke through. She had to remain calm. For all of them, she had to stay clearheaded.
Much too soon, the little hamlets strung out across the farm fields drew together, closer and closer as they approached the station at Žatec.
The train slowed.
So did time.
With one last screech of the brakes, the train jerked to a halt.
Anna glanced at the soldier. He remained at his post, legs akimbo, clenching his rifle.
Horst squeezed her hand and gave her one final peck on the cheek. Then he left her side. She shivered, but nodded to Babička and Georg. “Are you ready?”
Babička whispered, “Amen,” and nodded. Georg did too.
Anna slid to the edge of her seat, ready to jump into action.
Horst moved to the door. Anna helped Babička to stand. Georg leaned forward, ready to spring.
She bit her lip as Horst slid the door open. “I need to have a word with you, Kuhn.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” Hauptmann Kuhn blocked the doorway. How would they ever get out?
Horst didn’t wait for his rival to make a move. With one fluid motion, he punched Kuhn in the face. Kuhn staggered. Fell to the floor. Horst stood over him.
The doorway was clear. Anna grabbed Babička and headed for the exit. Her grandmother’s cane tapped on the floor as they rushed out. They approached the steps and the line of people waiting to disembark.
They had to hurry. Had to get away from here. Couldn’t these people move any faster?
Georg swept up Babička in his scrawny arms. How did he have the strength to carry her? “Excuse me.” He wriggled to the side of a man in an old-fashioned business suit. “Pardon me.” He pushed by a young woman loaded down with bags. “This old woman is ill. Please, let me through. We have to get medical care as soon as possible.” His voice held a hint of panic. Genuine, to be sure.