A Daring Escape

by Tricia Goyer

  “Yes, that is a wise choice. We wouldn’t want anything to go to waste, miss,” Mrs. McGovern stated, exiting with some of the dirty plates in her hands.

  Clark smiled to himself, wondering what other notions Celia would come up with. She had begun limiting her indulgences as of late, stating that every man, woman, and child in London would be asked to start rationing soon. His daughter realized, just as he did, that war was looming. And he knew that Celia was unable to stand by without taking action—like her mother—and that she would find a way to do more. He just hoped she wouldn’t get the notion to start rationing some of his indulgences, like coffee or cream for his afternoon tea.

  Celia returned to her seat, sitting down hard, as if all the worries were too much to walk around with. “I don’t understand how Neville Chamberlain can be so weak. Hitler isn’t bound to stop anytime soon, and Amity…” She folded her hands on her lap and lowered her gaze. “It’s a dangerous place she’s gone to. There will be many people in need. She’ll never return.”

  Clark folded his newspaper, deciding he didn’t want to read another word. His worries were as heavy on his heart as Celia’s were on hers, but he didn’t let them show. “Even Amity has her limits. She won’t be able to rescue everyone. Although I’m with you—I bet she’ll try until she gets kicked out.”

  “I would feel better if she just came home.”

  “Things are different, aren’t they, when someone we love is impacted? And I believe that’s why the British Parliament has done what it’s done,” Clark tried to explain. “They gave Hitler what he wants, knowing it may bring harm to others in a distant land, yet also hoping it will protect those close, who they love.”

  “Do you believe it will work? Do you believe annexing the Sudetenland will keep Hitler appeased even for a year’s time?”

  “I shouldn’t be discussing such things with a teenage girl.”

  “Humph. I know the answer then.”

  Clark was just about to excuse himself from breakfast, and this conversation, when Mrs. McGovern returned with an envelope in hand.

  Clark waved her back the direction she’d come. “Go ahead and leave the mail in my office, Mrs. McGovern. I will be there shortly.”

  “Oh, yes, sir. I have already placed all your mail on the desk, sir. But this letter is for Miss Celia—from Miss Amity, sir.”

  Clark straightened in his seat, and before he could respond, Celia jumped to her feet.

  “Oh, a letter for me! Dad, did you hear that?” She snatched the letter from Mrs. McGovern and quickly ripped open the envelope. Out of it fell a letter and two small photos. They were photos of children.

  Celia picked up the photos of the children first. “Who are these?” She held them closer so Clark could get a better look. One photo was of two young boys. They looked to be about two and three years old. Both had dark, short hair and chubby cheeks. They wore thick sweaters, and a star—labeling them as Jews—was sewn onto each. Neither boy smiled, and the older boy wrapped a protective arm around his younger brother. Seeing them, Celia placed a hand over her mouth in shock. And then she turned to her father. “Are these some of the children Amity is helping? Look at them. They are so young, yet so handsome too.”

  She looked to the next photo. It was of a young girl about five years old with large brown eyes. Bangs framed her face, and someone had curled her dark hair in ringlets that fell to her shoulders. She wore a white dress, and if it wasn’t for the plain, gray metal desk behind her, Clark would have guessed she was dressing for a party.

  With shaking hands, Celia opened the letter and began to read aloud to Clark.

  27 January 1939

  Dear Celia,

  I know I’ve written your father a few times, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to write a note to you. There is so much I’ve been wanting to tell you—so much that I have been certain my heart would burst if I even tried. Well, here I go. For once your tutor is at a loss how to explain everything well!

  First, you may be wondering about the two photos. These are some of the children I am trying to help. The good news is that we were able to secure places for a transport of twenty children to be taken to Sweden. The bad news is that there are hundreds more waiting, wanting to escape.

  The two boys in the photo are Jakub and Josef. They are brothers, and their father and mother were both killed in Austria. Their aunt was able to bring them to the refugee center, and she is hoping someone in England will sponsor them. They are sweet boys. Josef cuddled on my lap for an hour while I helped to fill out their paperwork. These were not on the first transport of children, but we hope to get them on the next one.

  The little girl’s name is Ruth. Her mother thought that putting on her best dress and curling her hair might help a family choose to sponsor her. Andrew is trying to find sponsors for these children, but it is challenging. Many Londoners have given to support the Sudetenland refugees already. Some do not have the fifty pounds for the sponsorship. Foster families also must be willing to cover the child’s expenses up until the age of eighteen. It’s a lot to ask.

  But I also know there are most likely a lot more families who would be willing to help if they just knew of the need. And that’s why I am writing, Celia. I’d like to ask for your help. I already called Andrew, and he said he’ll take all the help he can get. He’s in London with hundreds of files with photos of children just like these who need sponsorships. Andrew said he would be willing to bring you some of the files. Would you be willing—with your father’s help—to talk to people and find more sponsors? Maybe with your father’s connections you can talk to someone at the newspaper. Surely there is a way to help…

  Celia’s voice trailed off, and Clark knew emotion choked his daughter’s throat, making it hard to go on. Tears stung his own eyes as he looked at the sweet faces of the children. Someone’s little ones.

  When Celia finally lifted her eye to meet Clark’s gaze, tears filled them. “Oh, Dad, do you think I can help? Amity goes on to include more information about the requirements for the families. Do you like the idea of me helping to find sponsors? Surely that is something I can do.”

  She placed the photos of the children right in front of him. “Look at them…just look at them. We know a lot of people. Maybe we can find help. Once we get the files, can you help me?”

  Clark considered the novel he was supposed to be writing. He knew he didn’t have time to add this to his life, but how could he not help, especially when Amity sent photos?

  “Yes. Of course. We’ll see what we can do. I like Amity’s idea of talking to someone from the newspaper. Think of what you’d like to tell them. Write something up, and have Andrew check it when he comes. Then I can pass it on.”

  “Me?” Her voice raised an octave. “You want me to write something?”

  “Yes, I do. Amity wrote to you and asked for help, didn’t she?” He chuckled. “It looks like she’s given you an assignment from afar. Once a tutor always a tutor.”

  Celia’s smiled at the realization, and then her face sobered. “Yes, but this is not like any other assignment. It’s not just about a grade, is it? These are lives at stake.”

  Clark rose. “Yes, and that’s why I also have more work to do to help her. There are a few ways that I’ve been thinking I could help. I’ve been putting it off, making excuses, but I think Amity’s point has been made. We don’t have any more time for excuses, do we? These children are depending on us to put aside our comfort. What will happen to the little ones if we don’t?”

  TWENTY

  Prague, Czechoslovakia

  Friday, February 10, 1939

  Cries of weary children seeped through the thin walls of the office, and Amity was glad Emil insisted she take a break from the interviews for the day. The many people and their stories weighed on her, burdened her.

  Like a tightrope walker who had forgotten how to position one foot in front of the other, Amity stared at the scarred wooden desk before her. Then she
rose and turned from the desk, looking out the window into the vista of buildings and flats in the distance. The door behind her opened and closed. Too weary to turn, she waited for the visitor to speak.

  “Come, you need some time to get out. There is a large city out there, filled with streets and squares, and some quarters older than the bloodline of the queen herself.” The voice was a familiar one, but strange in this place. A warm voice. Kind. An English voice.

  Amity turned with a start, and she placed a hand over her heart as she saw Clark Cartwright standing there.

  “What are you doing here? I don’t understand. How is Celia? Did she come?”

  “I’ve come on business. Andrew helped me track you down.” He clicked his tongue. “You do look weary, Amity, but as wonderful as ever.”

  Fresh tears rose to her eyes at seeing him. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d been missing him until this moment. Then, once she saw his smile broaden at the sight of her, she was surprised she’d been able to leave him at all. “You came on business?” She pulled in a deep, shaking breath and felt her body quiver. She hoped he didn’t notice.

  “Your holiday is turning out to be longer than expected.” Clark crossed his arms and leaned against the wall closest to her desk. “Celia misses you. She was worried. She insisted I come to check on you. That’s my business here, checking on our tutor. I have to say, Celia’s also been busy this past week. You’ve given her quite a task, but I’ll admit it’s one she’s well suited for.”

  Clark’s white shirt was open at his neck, and he seemed more relaxed both in manner and dress than when they were back in London. Though his smile was wide, Amity noticed weariness on his face, and for the first time she spotted a bit of gray at his temples. His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “The truth? I had to see how you’re coming along. It’s a brave fight you’ve taken on, Amity. A noble cause.” His voice possessed a conviction Amity hadn’t heard before.

  Amity wanted to go to him and be pulled into an embrace. She wanted him to hold her close enough that she could take a whiff of Mrs. McGovern’s laundry soap and breathe in the aroma of his familiar shaving lotion. She wanted to feel the warmth of him and his strong arms around her. Heat rose to her cheeks thinking of that.

  She had worked for Clark for two years, and although she’d always found him to be attractive, Amity had never felt her heart pound so heavily in his presence. He looked like safety and strength—two things she longed for right now. She again held herself back from running into his arms. Clark, too, took a step as if wanting to move toward her, and then he paused.

  “Is your daughter the only one who missed me?” They were the only words she could think of.

  Clark tucked his hands into the pockets of the thick traveling jacket he still wore. Then he moved to the chair across the desk from her and sat. “No, Mrs. McGovern asks of you too.” A grin spread across his face. “And I have to admit—”

  The squeaky hinge of a door opening behind Clark interrupted his words. Like a puppy eager to find his master, Emil entered with quickened steps. He strode past Clark as if he weren’t even there and moved straight to Amity.

  “Amity, it is working! I just received a call from Andrew. We can start making plans for our first transport. We have enough sponsors now. I have a list of the children who will be included.”

  Amity’s already pounding heart jumped and danced in her chest. She stood to her feet. Her hands clapped together, and she let out a little squeal. “Is that really so? We have enough sponsors for a transport?”

  Without hesitation, Emil swept Amity into an embrace, lifting her off the ground. His arms were strong around her, but even within his embrace Amity longed for the arms of another. With another whoop of excitement, Emil lowered her to the ground.

  She giggled, stepped from Emil’s embraced, and snagged the list from his hand, turning to Clark. “This is what we’ve waited for. Our first transport! Just think, all these children will soon be safe.”

  Clark smiled, but she could see he felt unnerved by Emil’s presence. And although her mind spun with details it would take for their first transport, Amity’s heart fell as the joy disappeared from Clark’s gaze.

  She pressed the list to her chest. “Emil, can you please look up all the contact information for these refugee families? Tell them we will be working on a transport date, but have them start packing and preparing. Oh, I can’t imagine what joyful yet painful news that will be.”

  Emil nodded. He looked at Clark from the corner of his eye as if he were a fly that needed to be swatted. “I will have to deliver some of the news in person. And I will send the information to the other agencies too. Would you like to come with me and help? I think you, of all people, should be there to share this news. It has been because of your hard work.”

  Amity looked from the list to Clark again. Of course she could ask him to come. Of course she would love to be there when the families were told of the news, but more than that she wanted to sit across from Clark and catch up. There would be plenty of work to do tomorrow and the day after that.

  Amity looked up into Emil’s face. “Any other day I would have loved to join you, but please ask Marek to help today.” She pointed to the back room where Marek was sorting files. “I have a dear friend who has just arrived in town. I thought he might like some lunch.”

  Amity swept her hand to Clark. Emil paused, turned in his direction, and really looked at him. Emil’s eyes widened as if seeing the man in the traveling suit for the first time.

  “I am sorry. I have not used any manners.” Emil extended his hand. “I am Emil.”

  Clark stood and shook Emil’s hand. “And I am Clark. Clark Cartwright. I have come to Prague to check on a dear friend of mine.” He gave an uneasy chuckle. “And I can tell from the look of things she’s become a dear friend to you too.”

  Emil smiled and puffed out his chest. “Yes, I would say that. She is a good friend indeed. She’s a friend to many. We wouldn’t be where we were, concerning Jewish refugees, without her.”

  Amity didn’t like the way the two men looked at each other. It was almost as if they were two cocks, sizing up their competition. Frustration caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Enough was enough. She wanted to really talk to Clark, to catch up, and she wasn’t going to allow Emil to ruin their reunion.

  Amity moved to retrieve her coat from the hook on the wall and then warmed herself by the wood-burning stove. “Please let me know how everything goes, Emil. I am certain the mothers will give a sigh of relief to know their children will soon be sent to safety. You shouldn’t delay, though. There are many agencies to contact and people to visit.”

  Emil’s smile faded, and if Amity wasn’t mistaken, there was even a hint of jealousy in her Czech friend’s gaze. “Yes, of course. I do understand.” He offered a quick bow. “I will get Marek, and we will do all we can to start informing the families. I will let them know that if they have any questions, you will be available soon. Available tomorrow, yes?”

  “Yes, tomorrow. That will work.” She slid on her coat, started to button it, and then paused. “But, Emil, I am thrilled that all our hard work has paid off. It hasn’t been easy getting here, has it?”

  “That is the truth.” Emil forced a smile. “But when we receive word that the children are safe in London, it will be worth it all.” Then with one last sideways glance at Clark, he moved into the back room where Marek was working.

  Oh, I hope Emil doesn’t carry on like this too long. With a sigh, she wrapped her scarf around her head and then put on her gloves, preparing for the bitterly cold air outside. If she and Clark had been back in London, Godfry could have driven them anywhere in the city. But since they were here, and she knew where she wanted to take Clark, Amity hoped he was prepared for a good walk.

  Thankful that they would now have time to catch up, Amity approached Clark and placed a hand on his arm. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet. I know of a wonderful place we c
an get lunch. Oh, I still can’t believe you’re here, and I have to know how Celia’s doing. I was excited to hear from Andrew that they’d already made a connection and that she was helping immensely.”

  “She has a fire under her, that is for certain. But truth be told, the more she worked on finding sponsors, the more I knew I couldn’t stay there. I had to come here and do my part. Celia gave me her blessing to come.” Clark opened the door. “She wants me to help you on this end…and to find her a baby brother.”

  “A baby brother?” Laugher spilled from Amity’s lips. “Is she serious?”

  Clark nodded. “She is, but I am not…not yet, anyway. I told her that every boy and girl needs a mother. And until our home has one of those we’ll just do our best—”

  Clark’s words were interrupted as Emil strode through the office. Clark jumped back to let Emil pass. Without a word or a look in their direction, Emil exited, slamming the office door as he exited.

  Amity’s head whipped around, surprised. Her mouth dropped open. “I wonder what that is about?”

  Clark chuckled. “My guess is Emil fears competition.”

  “Competition? Whatever do you mean?” she asked, even though Amity could guess.

  “Competition for your heart, Amity. Because truth be told, I’ve come to roll up my sleeves and do something about that too.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Amity took Clark to Old Town Square for lunch, and even the walk was delightful due to unexpected sunshine. In her favorite café, she requested a window table with a view of the astronomical clock. She smiled as she sat, and Amity was sure that her feet hadn’t touched the ground the whole ten blocks it had taken them to get there. She and Clark had walked side by side with her arm linked in his. Had Clark really said he’d come all this way not only to help but also to try to win her heart? Her heartbeat quickened into a fast flutter to think of him leaving his home, his work, his daughter, and everything else in London to come to her—to be with her.