by Tricia Goyer
They both chose the lunch special, thick goulash and dark rye bread, but for the first time Amity couldn’t finish her meal. Her stomach was a ball of nerves.
Equally confusing was Emil’s reaction to Clark’s appearance. Why had he been so upset? Was it because after all their hard work, she had not gone with him to tell the families of the upcoming transports? Yes, she imagined that could be enough to fluster him. After all, he’d been volunteering his efforts for months—they both had. They’d both given so much in working toward a transport together.
But then again, could it be something more, as Clark suggested? She thought about all the quick hugs Emil had given her. She considered how easily he shared his joys and concerns. Did Emil think of her as more than a friend—had that possibility been on his mind? If she were honest, she believed that he did.
Yet as much as she enjoyed spending time with Emil—and appreciated all his help—it was Clark’s voice that had caused her heart to dance. Sitting across from her now, it was his presence that made everything feel right with the world, even though she knew it wasn’t. Knowing that he’d be here tomorrow caused a knot of excitement to grow in her stomach, and an ache of expectation quivered inside her.
As they ate their simple lunch, Clark filled her in on all that had been happening at home.
“Celia has been making appointments to sit down with everyone we know. Godfry has been driving her, and Mrs. McGovern has assigned Bonnie to be her chaperone.” He chuckled. “Bonnie thinks she’s pinched herself and gone to heaven. She told me she feels guilty since all she has to do is visit with fine folks at fancy homes and enjoy afternoon tea. She almost didn’t let me pay her because she hasn’t been cleaning or serving.”
Amity laughed, picturing that conversation perfectly. “Oh, I can imagine. And what does Mrs. McGovern have to say about that?”
“Well, she told Bonnie not to get too comfortable on that high horse, lest she fall all the way back to chambermaid.”
Amity gasped. “Mrs. McGovern wouldn’t!”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed in such a way. It was as if a few hours in Clark’s presence had eased two months of worries she had been carrying around her heart.
After they discussed more about what had been happening around the house, Amity turned her attention back to her work in Prague.
“Clark, I was wondering…when you return to London, could you help me with something? Andrew says they have started up a new department called the Movement, which will help the transports happen faster. Do you think you could stop in to meet the people in that department, share your experiences here, and urge them to issue permits more quickly? You do have a sort of fame in London that might help our cause. Then there are the travel arrangements that must be made on that side—”
“Ami, please…you are talking so fast.” He shook his head. “I beg you to slow down and allow me to take notes. I will try to do my best for you—of course I will—but I hope you don’t think so highly of me that I fall off my high horse.”
“I know there is a lot to take in, and I wouldn’t bother you so if there weren’t such urgent cases.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll do what I can when I go back. But…”
A quick glance to the side and hint of a smile, he gripped her hand firmer, clueing her in to the weight of the words to come. “But I will return only when I know I’ve won the lady. Not a minute before.” He chuckled low. “Well, unless Hitler kicks us both out.”
The sensation of his grip, mixed with the intensity of his words, caused tingles to move from her hand up her arm. She couldn’t help but smile, and heat rose to her cheeks. She waved her free hand in front of her face, hoping she hadn’t already turned three different shades of pink.
“Well, I will say that puts me in a dilemma, now doesn’t it, Mr. Cartwright? Should I really tell you how your presence is impacting me—give you a hint of the pounding of my heart?” She tapped her chin with her pointer finger, as if trying to make a decision. “Or should I act as if it has no effect on me whatsoever so you’ll try harder and stay longer?”
He smiled. “You’re clever, aren’t you? But just so you know, I already told Celia I’m staying for the month. So, my dear Miss Mitchell, don’t feel as if declaring your love to me will send me away on the next train.”
“Ah.” Amity’s heart leaped at his words. He was staying. Clark was really staying. Tears rimmed her lower lashes, but she quickly wiped them away. Then, taking a deep breath, Amity offered him a coy smile, tilting her head to the side. “That’s good to know. I am glad you’re staying.” She sighed. “Relieved, really. As I tell all those who work with me at the office, we need to be caring but honest. People need to know where they stand so they know how to plan.” She stirred her teaspoon in her tea cup. Her heart ached thinking of all those poor souls, the joy of the moment faded slightly. “Of course, for those who come to us, we are their plan, England their last hope.”
Sadness filled Clark’s face, and he released her hand. Amity hadn’t meant to darken their mood with her words, but she did.
“Will they return?” He looked out of the café window toward the sidewalk. A mother with blonde hair and a light complexion walked by, pushing a pram. A mother and child who were safe and had no worries about Hitler attempting to snuff out her child for the sake of racial purity. “When we get them to England, will these children ever come back here? Will they ever get to know their country?”
Amity looked out at the cobblestone roads, the medieval towers, the clock. There was so much here she’d grown to love. So much she’d miss when she left. So much these children might never learn about their home country once they were sent abroad. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Maybe I should sponsor a child or two? Like Celia said, she does want a baby brother.”
Weary laughter spill from Amity’s lips. “Well, sir, you must gather personal references covering your character and your financial stability,” she said in an official tone.
“I am an author, remember? There is nothing stable about my income, and as for my character…it depends on who you ask.”
Amity smiled, wishing she could spend time like this with Clark every day. She missed talking with him. “Surely you have enough friends who know you not quite well enough who can write a reference letter.”
He winked. “An acquaintance? Now that makes more sense. I’ll see what I can do.”
Amity put her spoon on the saucer. She folded her fingers together, placing them on her lap. Even though they’d been playful about why he’d come, she had to know the truth. “Clark?”
“Yes?”
“One more thing.”
“What is it, Amity?” He pushed his bowl to the side and leaned his elbows on the table, his full attention on her.
“We’ve known each other for two years. I have grown to care for you, and sometimes I’ve hoped you felt the same. But why now? After all this time, why did you decide to come here now—to travel to Prague—and tell me how you feel?”
“There are two reasons, really,” he said without hesitation. “First, with you gone, I’ve realized how much I really love having you there.”
“And second?”
“Well, it’s the way you ended the letter you wrote to me. For so long I worried that our age difference would be a problem. I hoped you could overlook it, but then I felt like a fool for expecting you to. Twelve years…” He let out a low whistle. Clark paused. His eyes reflected tenderness and respect. “Then you signed your letter ‘All my love, Amity.’ I dared to believe that was true and those weren’t just words. Having just the smallest bit of faith that you truly cared for me brought me here.”
Amity nodded. She placed a hand on her heart. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me, and…I signed it that way because…well, yes, I do care. And I’ve never been too concerned about your age.” She til
ted her head slightly. “I even like that touch of gray I see.”
His laughter filled the room. “Well, I suppose that’s good to know.”
“But…” She let her words trail off. Then finally she got the nerve to speak what she knew she had to say. “But while I’m here—while we’re here—we need to focus on the children. I’m so thankful we had this time together, but things are going to get busy with this transport—and hopefully more transports will follow soon.” Then her thoughts flipped from the relaxed lunch to the list of things scrolling through her mind that she had to do. “We should get back. I need to make a call to a Prague travel agency that I’ve been working with. Special trains will be needed for the transport. I just hope we will have enough money to cover everything, although if Andrew says we will, then I have to trust that everything will be taken care of.”
Clark nodded and listened, allowing her to process what was to come in the upcoming week. As she continued to talk, he paid the waiter for their meal and helped her with her coat. As he led her back the way they’d come, Amity paused her talking long enough to send up a quick prayer of thankfulness for his presence.
The Nazis may rattle the gates of the city. The needs around her may be mounting, rather than lessening. But suddenly, with Clark by her side, Amity knew she would do her best to get more children to England. Some say that courage is something one carries within, but on this day—with the unexpected sunshine warming her shoulders—courage was someone who walked by her side.
TWENTY-TWO
Madeline was waiting when Clark and Amity returned to the office, and she insisted that Clark not stay in a hotel but in the third room of her apartment.
“I will be out tonight meeting friends, but there are some things for dinner on the kitchen counter. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” He glanced over at Amity. “Celia will be thankful that I’m keeping an eye on you. She’s been so worried.” He stepped to the door. “Should we get a taxi?”
“A taxi?” She chuckled. “And not take the beautiful stroll? You won’t want to miss this.” Then she led him onto the chilly sidewalk. Those leaving work walked with purpose to their apartments. A mix of automobiles and wagons clogged the street. Amity swept her hand toward the medieval city, which seemed to sparkle with a million diamonds from the lights of buildings and monuments. The view never ceased to take her breath away.
Amity was eager to show Clark the apartment she’d been living in for just over a week. “I thought I was making a big sacrifice when Madeline offered me an extra room in her flat. The Hotel Evropa was beautiful, but truth be told, I’d rather stay at Madeline’s any day.”
They strolled together, taking in the sights through Old Town Square and through the narrow, winding lanes that led to the Vltava River. Tall buildings rose on either side of the road, ancient buildings of stone and brick. Antique doors, vine-covered walls, and narrow balconies reminded them that in some parts of the world, the past was still very much a part of the present.
The narrow lane opened up to a busy street where autos, buses, and the occasional wagon passed. A traffic officer waved them across, and they moved toward the medieval tower that led to the Charles Bridge. Clark slowed his steps as they walked onto the stone bridge. Statues of saints rose up as dark gray shadows and seemed to hover in the thick fog hovering over the water. The warm sun had slipped away hours ago and was now replaced by a misty rain as faint as dust.
Walking along the sidewalk, Amity paused ten yards onto the bridge so Clark could fully appreciate the views of the medieval Malá Strana district with its red tile roofs, the castle on the hill, and the spire of the Saint Vitus Cathedral just behind the castle roof.
“So,” she said with a whispered breath. “There are many beautiful places in London, but nothing like this, is there? What do you think?”
He pulled a small notebook and pencil from his coat pocket and began to take notes. After a moment he glanced up and looked at her, as if remembering she was there. “Oh, what do I think? I think this would make the perfect spot for a murder.”
Laughter spilled from Amity’s lips, and she looked around at the other pedestrians passing by. “Good thing they most likely don’t understand English. Otherwise someone might be calling the police.”
He nodded, again lost in his thoughts, and moved to the edge of the bridge. The only thing stopping them from falling into the water below was a waist-high stone barrier. Clark leaned over, looking down at the dark, murky waters below.
“I imagine if someone weighed down a body and tossed it over the edge, it would never be seen again.”
“Clark!” She playfully slugged this arm. “I’m horrified by your talk.” She glanced at the water, following his gaze, and then to his bright face. “But I’m also excited because it seems as if your writing muse has been tickled. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after reading your novels.”
“You’ve read my novels?”
“Every one. At least three times.”
“And you still agreed to live in my house, knowing how my mind works?”
She shrugged. “Well, the more sinister the villain, the more exciting when the mystery is solved, isn’t that right?”
They continued on, and Clark kept his notebook out, taking notes as he walked. She could tell his mind was spinning, no doubt considering plot ideas. She’d never seen him like this, and she found this new side of Clark thrilling.
They crossed the bridge, passed over Kampa Island, walked up a few long city blocks, and then turned to the left, moving away from the business district to an area with nice apartments, established in one of the oldest parts of the city. Grassy parks with tall trees and a scattering of benches separated the buildings, giving the area a peaceful atmosphere. She imagined it must be a beautiful place to go for an evening stroll in the spring or summer. Would she still be around to discover if that was true?
Clark let out a low whistle as he looked around. “Madeline lives in this area?”
“Yes, I was surprised too. She told me this part of town was built in the sixteenth century. I can imagine the fair ladies and nobles walking the streets, can’t you?”
“And knights jousting on the castle grounds. Wasn’t Prague the imperial seat of the Holy Roman Empire then?”
“Very good, Mr. Cartwright. You get a high mark for your history.”
They walked until they came upon a large baroque house that appeared to have been split into apartments. It was painted in soft green and cream in a highly ornate style. Heavy, dark wood made up the thick doors and framed the windows. Intricate cream and gold designs also framed the windows. They walked up five stone steps to the front door, and Amity pulled a heavy key from her pocket and opened the door to a front entrance hall. A spiral staircase led upward, and to the right an arched doorway led to a sitting and dining area and kitchen beyond.
“It’s not a large place, but I love the beamed ceilings and the leading in the windows. I find it so comfortable here.” Amity led him through the kitchen to the small room behind it. “Madeline and I have rooms upstairs. That’s where the bathroom is too, with a tub. I assume this is the room she intended for you. It appears to have been a room for a cook or a maid, but at least it has a window.”
There was a simple twin bed in the room and a stand with two drawers. “It looks fine. My suitcase is being held at the Hotel Evropa. I had made reservations for the night. Is it far?”
Laughter spilled from Amity’s lips. “We should have stopped by first and brought the suitcase with us. It’s on the other side of the city. We’d better call for a taxi after all.” She moved to the kitchen and noticed the fresh bread on the counter and a few potatoes and onions next to it. “Ah, I have found Madeline’s dinner plans.”
Clark smiled when he followed her gaze and sighed. “Things are simpler around here, aren’t they?”
“Yes, and I have to say I’ve enjoyed doing life without all the fuss—at least for a whi
le. Give me a few minutes to fry up these potatoes and onions, and then we’ll be off for your suitcase.”
She made a simple meal, and they found a taxi to take them to the hotel and back. Night had completely fallen by the time they returned home. Madeline still hadn’t come back yet, so they set the suitcase inside the doorway and then settled onto the cold steps outside, taking in a view of the twinkling lights of the city and the stars.
They sat side by side with their legs stretched out in front of them. The soft wind tossed her hair about her face, and Amity brushed it back.
Looking around, Clark took out his notebook and wrote a few notes.
“More ideas for your novel?” she whispered.
“Yes, and it’s about time. This will be my first book set outside of London, and I believe this trip so far has been just the inspiration I needed.”
“Good. Just as long as the heroine has auburn hair.”
He glanced over at her and winked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“And a unique name. Something no one will forget.”
“Like Amity?”
“Yes, that’s unique, but you can’t use it in your fiction, or all your readers would know she was based on me. I’ve yet to meet anyone else with the same name.” Amity thought for a moment. “Hmm…maybe Anja?”
He nodded. “I think I like that very much.” He made another note. “You know, when I first met your brother, I asked him about your name. He told me I’d have to ask you about it. He said something about being sworn to secrecy.”
She raised her hand vertically, palm out, as if making a pledge. “Yes, I made him solemnly swear, because the story was embarrassing to me when I was a little girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, after I was born, my mother decided to name me Jane, after her mother. Just to be a jokester, my father called me Calamity Jane after the American frontierswoman and scout. Andrew was only four years old at the time, and he didn’t pronounce his words very well. For the first few days he tried to call me Calamity Jane, but he ended up just calling me Amity, which means friendship. My mother liked that, and when it came time to be discharged from the hospital a week later, she put my name down as Amity Jane on the birth certificate.”
