by Tricia Goyer
The youngster cried out in Czech—a language Ami couldn’t understand—and stretched her arms toward the door. Compassion filled Ami’s chest, and before she could stop herself, she sunk to the floor and scooped the young child into her arms.
“Her parents?” Amity looked up to Andrew. “Where are they?”
“They left on yesterday’s transport—to England. They would go only if I promised I’d find a way for their daughter to join them. We’ll care for her here until we figure something out. Before we leave today, we’ll prepare a file for her and add her to our list.”
Amity tucked the girl’s head tight under her chin and rocked the child back and forth. The girl’s cries subsided, and she snuggled her forehead against Amity’s neck. Still, even in her silence, the girl’s frame trembled with each breath, and Amity wished she knew the words to comfort her soul. But what comforting words could she give? She didn’t have a clue how to help all these children, not even this one.
Peering over the girl’s mussed hair, Amity met her brother’s gaze.
“Madeline should be here soon to help us with the paperwork. You’ll be talking to those who come here and traveling to the refugee camps, discovering the most desperate cases and documenting them. It’s so frustrating, though, because even after all this work, I have no idea whether our children are going to be chosen from all the lists they are given. And sometimes I think the Home Office gets so tired of the pressure of trying to decide which list to work from that they push the whole mess to the side.”
“No matter the fights there, I’ll do my best to help here.” Amity brushed a dark curl back from the girl’s face, stroking her cheek. She hoped the girl would sit well for her photograph. She couldn’t imagine a sponsor seeing a photo of a little one like this and not wanting to help. “It’s an easy job, isn’t it, preparing files? It’s a job I can do?”
Andrew smiled as a young boy approached. The boy apparently hadn’t bathed in weeks. Yet when the boy stretched his arms out to Andrew, her older brother did not hesitate to sweep the child into his arms.
“I know you can.” Andrew patted the boy’s head. “I don’t need someone to worry about their food and clothes. We have agencies set up to do that. I just need someone to listen, to collect their stories, and to make sure all the paperwork is done correctly. We need to know which ones have plenty of money to ensure their child’s safety and which ones can’t afford their next meal. And I need you to help reassure those who can’t bear the thought of parting with their little ones that we’ll do our best to care for them. You have an honest face. They’ll trust you, Amity.”
“Yes, but if my heart aches for this one, how can I handle the grief of them all?” She stroked the young girl’s back in big circles until the trembling stilled.
Andrew fixed his gaze on her. “The Lord will sustain you. He will not leave you now. And I have more help for you too—a translator named Emil. A good man…you’ll like him.”
Andrew lifted to his toes and whistled. A man across the room turned, waved to Andrew, and smiled. And that was the thing Amity noticed first. In a room of tears, his smile lit her aching heart.
Amity knew from the first five minutes of knowing Emil that he did nothing halfheartedly or half paced. He looked to be her age. He was just a few inches taller than her with a thin frame and broad shoulders. His clothes hung on him, no doubt because like so many in the city he had trouble finding food. Emil’s light-brown, curly hair appeared soft as lamb’s wool, and his large blue eyes seemed to trap her in their gaze.
He was handsome, but in a boyish way—not like Clark, who was more mature and proper. If Clark had been here, he would have systematically introduced himself to each family, sitting down with them to discuss their needs. Emil seemed to work in a different way. His eyes scanned the crowd until he was drawn to the one person—one child—whom no one seemed to notice. It was as if he were the defender of the underdog, a voice for those easy to overlook.
Within an hour, Emil had given Amity a tour of the entire building. The room she’d first entered was simply one of many that housed displaced children. At least a dozen others were just as full, the circumstances just as heartbreaking.
When they finished their tour, Emil explained more about the situation of those leaving the Sudetenland. He knew from experience because he, too, had escaped with his life just a month prior. “There are so many of us who are waiting to see if we can get travel documents to England.”
Emil gazed off in the distance as if a pained memory filled his thoughts. “Some of my family was able to get out. I am thankful for that.” He sighed. “But I have two brothers who were already taken to the camps. They were arrested as soon as the Germans swept into town.”
Emil nodded once slowly, emotion filling his gaze. “I hope my family members who left are safe. My youngest nephew is Jan, which is like your John. Honza is his nickname—I believe that is that right word.”
“Yes, ‘nickname’ is the right word. I’m impressed. Your English is very good.”
“I lived in Yorkshire a few years as a boy. My grandparents immigrated there, and my mother believed it was important for me to learn a second language—the world is changing so. My grandfather was a Communist leader, and my father after him. I was always more concerned with my studies than politics, but that did not keep my name off the wanted list, did it?”
“Wanted list?”
Emil sighed. “I should not worry you about such things, but that is why so many of us had to leave our homes in the Sudetenland. There has been a growing Nazi party in Czechoslovakia, especially over recent years. Many people have been horrified that part of our country was turned over to Nazi control so easily, but other people rejoice.”
“And they targeted you because…”
“Because they know who we are. They know who has been disagreeing with them, who was happy not to be under German control. These are our former schoolmates and neighbors. And as soon as the Germans stepped into the country, they were already turning over lists.”
So many lists…some for life, some for death.
Amity rubbed her brow and tried to imagine the people she’d known her whole life turning her in. It was bad enough that these refugees had to run from the Germans, who considered them enemies. But it was even worse that former neighbors pointed them out, making sure they were not overlooked in the scourge.
Emil’s face drained of color, but he still tried to force a smile.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“If you really want to know the truth, those who have come here from the Sudetenland are not safe yet. There are eyes everywhere.”
Butterflies danced in Amity’s stomach, not of joy, but of dread. A strange sensation came over her, and she knew what Emil said was true.
“You know, every time I am walking with Andrew, I have a curious feeling that we are being followed. And now that I think of it, even when I was standing on the Charles Bridge waiting for him, I felt as if I was being watched.”
“Of course you are being watched. All of us are. After all, we are trying to evacuate people who the Nazis are looking for. Prague itself is teeming with Nazi agents.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Amity sat hard in the wooden chair in a back room they were using as a makeshift office. She could dwell on what Emil was saying, but she knew it wouldn’t change a thing. “I suppose there is nothing I can do about them watching us. But I will say that I am thankful you are here. I am thankful you are translating for me, even when your own future is in question.”
Emil looked down at his shoes. They were fine leather, and she was sure he’d once kept them in pristine condition, but now they looked scuffed and worn.
He shrugged. “What else can I do? Just sit around and worry about my fate? If I can help people get out, then I will know that my own waiting is for a purpose. Also…” He winked. “If the Nazis are watching my every move, I’d like to give them something interesting to take notes about.�
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Unexpected laughter spilled from Amity’s lips. “That’s so very noble of you.” Amity touched his sleeve and then grew more serious. “I will pray for you. I will pray that you will be able to escape all this too.”
Emotion flashed across Emil’s face. Sadness? Regret? And maybe a hint of fear. Amity guessed there was much to be afraid of in times like these.
Emil moved toward the window, glancing at the line outside. “Thousands of children need our help. How many will we actually be able to get out?”
Amity noticed for the first time that Emil had an athletic sway to his walk. Had he played sports in school? He looked like someone who would be a team captain. Yet even he seemed to be weary from all that was happening. If someone like him struggled to stay strong, how would the weak ones survive for long?
“I will speak to the families and then translate their information,” Emil continued. “These people are desperate. They are willing to do anything to ensure their children are safe.” He turned to her, eyes fixed and brows furrowed. “But we must make them aware that we do this because we care, not because we wish to receive anything from our efforts.”
“No, of course not. I—I’ve only come to help.” She touched her collar and looked away. “How horrible to think one would try to make a profit of this.”
He turned back toward her. The worries of a moment before were gone, and now a soft smile filled his face. “Come, let us go find Madeline. She will be most helpful.”
“I have been waiting to meet her. She’s another volunteer, I suppose?”
“Yes. She has lived in Prague her whole life. When it comes to situations like these, not only what you know but who you know makes all the difference.”
THIRTEEN
Madeline was exactly what Amity expected—a middle-aged Czech woman with shoulder-length silver hair, a round, thoughtful face, and a no-nonsense style with a simple blue dress and black sweater. Next to her was a man who looked to be in his late thirties. Amity guessed he was Madeline’s assistant by the way he watched her every move and hung on her every word. His brown hair was gray at the temples, and he held a pile of folders—no doubt filled with files and photos—tight against his chest. He stepped to the side, leaning against the brick wall and watching everything that was happening, but Amity guessed he didn’t speak English. Madeline, though, stepped forward, eager to welcome Amity to their work.
Madeline took Amity’s hand and held it with a soft squeeze. “I am glad you come. Your brother is good man,” she said in broken English. “I am teacher. I saw so much needs, but who listens to me?” Madeline pointed to the man next to her. “This is Marek. He has been helping our cause too.”
Emil asked Madeline a few questions in Czech, and Amity could tell that the woman was eager to share all she knew.
“They start by collecting information about the families,” Emil said, explaining what he’d learned. “But the problem comes when she attempts to combine her efforts with the other service organizations. There are five in the city, wishing to provide help for their own. Jewish, Catholic, Communist, Austrian, and German.” Emil seemed agitated, as if he was ready to get to work and not just talk about it. “No one has found a way to resolve this. These organizations are battling with each other—each wanting their people to leave first. Yet it is costing the people time, and time is not something we have. I have no doubt that Hitler is already making plans to take over all of Czechoslovakia as we speak.”
“Well, of course, there is only one way. We must get them to work together,” Amity insisted.
“Easier said than done.” Madeline moved to the desk and pulled a stack of files from the top drawer, setting them on the desktop with a flourish.
“Surely we can think of something.”
“Yes.” Emil smiled. “Surely you will. That is why you have come. Andrew was telling me stories at breakfast. Is it true that as a child you used to give away all your clothes until you had to rob items from Andrew’s closet to dress yourself?”
Ami felt heat rising to her cheeks. “Andrew told you that? Well, truth be told, I always was more comfortable in slacks than skirts. Perhaps that was a good excuse to give my dresses away.”
Emil nodded, but she could tell from the expression on his face he didn’t buy it. “You say so? I think, perhaps Andrew has a little sister with a heart as big as his…maybe bigger.” Unexpectedly, Emil walked forward. Taking her hand in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze.
Amity nodded and offered a slight shrug. “I believe you also have a caring heart, Emil. You just don’t want the world to find out.”
Emil stepped to the door. “The world I am okay with knowing, but please, Amity, be easy with me, especially if I happen to shed a tear or two.”
The first woman entered with two young boys in tow. Between them, the boys carried one suitcase. Missing a handle, their small hands gripped the corners of the case. A large green number was painted on the outside. Though the suitcase was battered and rusty, the boys carried it between them with as much honor as the Jewish priests carrying the Ark of the Covenant.
The woman’s piercing gaze looked to Emil first and then settled on Amity. Amazingly, she spoke nearly perfect English. “I met Jewish refugee from Poland. He told me something. ‘Go! Go to America! Escape! Go to Israel! Go to Palestine!’ I told him it was impossible. My father was born here, my grandfather. I have never wanted to raise my sons anyplace else. Impossible.” The women opened her hands to Amity as if offering all she had. “But now, ma’am, I know no other way.”
Emil hurriedly spoke to the woman in Czech. The woman listened and then glanced to the boys, nodded, and wrote down something on a piece of paper and handed it to him.
The woman turned to Amity. “Ma’am, I—” she started.
Emil interrupted, “She has the needed funds to care for her boys for now. I told her that we will get word to her when it is time for the trip.”
The woman glanced at Emil. “The trip?” From the look on her face, she was wondering if he’d just used the wrong word. Then she realized what he was saying—or rather not saying in front of her children.
“Of course, there are no promises,” Amity said. “We need more information about this woman’s situation and her needs.”
“Yes, of course. I’m getting ahead of myself.” He motioned to the chair, indicating the woman should take a seat. Then, for the next thirty minutes she related a story that made the hair on the back of Amity’s neck stand on end. The woman’s husband was not only a Jew from Germany but also an intellectual. He’d sent his family away but was not able to save his own life. Prague was just one of their many stops on the run for their lives.
Before the woman and her children left, Amity rose and embraced the woman. She felt the woman’s shoulders sag under her touch as if she was no longer able to carry the weight of the world.
“Take your sons home, and we’ll come for them as soon as we find a way.”
As the woman prepared to walk away and the boys also stood, suitcase in hand, Amity wanted to add, Enjoy every moment you have. But she knew her words were not necessary.
The family was leaving when Madeline’s assistant entered the room. He turned to the woman, said something in Czech, and then led her away.
Amity watched and then turned to Emil for an explanation. “He told her his name is Marek, and he’s helping Madeline. Lunch is being served in the courtyard. Since Christmas is in a few days, they have brought milk for the children.”
She placed her fingertips to her lips. Who knew that milk would be such a luxury. Back in London, Mrs. McGovern served milk at every meal and cream with their tea. Here things were so different. Again Amity wished she could do more.
Emil must have sensed her troubled thoughts, for he took her hand in his. “It might be worrying you that Andrew is heading home soon—and that there is so much to do and so many needs—but I want you to know I will work with you as long as I can.”
“What abou
t your own travel documents? Do you have any hopes of receiving them soon?”
He offered a sad smile. “I have hope, but it’s as thin as a thread of a spider’s web. There are so many in my situation.” He shrugged. “Maybe if by some miracle…”
She placed her free hand on top of his and squeezed. “We should talk to Andrew then. We should make sure.”
Emil looked to her with troubled eyes and shook his head. “I do not wish to worry you on this matter. We already discussed it this morning, and Andrew has promised to do all that he can, but there is only so much one man can accomplish…or in your case, there is only so much one woman can.” He released a heavy sigh. “We have to remember this. There are nations who are in conflict. There are government offices with their own agendas. So much is out of our hands, Ami.”
She looked at him, startled, and he pulled his hand back and placed it on his chest. “What is it? You seemed shocked by something I said. Surely none of this is news to you.”
“Oh, it’s not that.” Her hands were still warm from his touch, and she placed them on her lap. “It’s just that you used my nickname, Ami. Only a few people call me that.”
Heat rose to his cheeks, and he glanced away. “I am sorry I treated you so familiar. I heard your brother use that name. I am sorry for the mistake.”
“Actually, no, it’s fine.” Her words rushed in. “I can tell we are going to be fast friends, Emil. You may call me Ami. In fact, I will be honored if you do.”
FOURTEEN
Konrád offered Emil a chunk of bread, and the man ate it hungrily. He looked away, eyes to the ground as he ate. Konrád waited until he was finished eating to ask him about the day.
“So, you’ve set yourself up in a volunteer position, have you?”
“Yes, just as requested. It was easy enough. The lines of immigrants are long, and they need help,” he blabbered on. “This is a long way from Olomouc. I was hardly interviewed and wasn’t asked for references, so eager were they for another set of hands for the work. They seemed to believe me when I said I was worried about my countrymen and wanted to help.”
