by Tricia Goyer
Desperate times lead to desperate measures. Amity released a sigh.
“Please, from now on let’s think of the children first,” she finally said. It was all she could say. She just hoped Emil was right—that they would make it across the border without a problem. Then, hopefully, they could move past this little incident and not think of it again.
TWENTY-SIX
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Friday, February 24, 1939
They had purchased a few things at the store for dinner and were walking back to the school where they were staying when Pavla noticed a man approaching, his eyes fixed on them. From the way he looked at Pavla, it was as if he knew her. He was a short man with a thin frame. She gripped her children’s hands and urged them to walk faster, but then she paused and eyed the man, realizing she did recognize him after all.
He offered a quick smile as he neared, and Pavla remembered where she knew him from. He was Marek, the man who’d let her into the back room at the refugee office. The one who’d urged Emil to add her children to the transport list. If it hadn’t been for him, her children would not be on the list now. And because he’d urged Emil to consider them, they also had a place to stay.
The old school wasn’t comfortable. They slept on thin, donated mattresses on the floor. The windows were cracked and broken in some places, but at least they were out of the cold. At least they were safe. Emil also knew how to find them when the time came from their transport. Pavla hoped it would be soon.
Marek’s cheeks were flushed, as if he’d been walking quickly and had just recently slowed. His eyes were gray-blue, like the color of the sky after a storm. There was something about the man that reminded her of her father. Maybe it was the knitted sweater and the thick scarf knotted neatly around his neck. Her father used to wear a sweater and scarf like that. Even on the coldest of days he’d rarely put on a coat. She clutched her grocery bag tighter to her as he neared.
“Pavla. There you are. I had been watching from my window.” He pointed up to a nearby apartment building. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. There must have been long lines at the store. It’s nearly dark. You shouldn’t be out this late. Not with the children.”
Her brow furrowed. He’d been watching her? Watching them? Something felt odd about that, and strange chills moved through her body.
“There is enough light yet. We are not worried. It is not far to where we live.”
“Yes, the school is a good place. Hopefully there will be more families coming soon. It must be quiet being there are all by yourselves.” He glanced down at Klára and smiled.
Klára looked away, whimpered, and curled to her mother’s size. Ondřej squared his shoulders, as if attempting to make himself taller. Pavla patted his arm, hoping to calm him. The last thing she needed was for him to lash out.
“We have no problems where we are staying, but thank you for your concern. There is a Czech policeman who comes by several times a night,” she lied. “He makes sure everything is locked up tight. He always checks to make sure we are well.”
Marek nodded and ran his hand down his neck. “Good. That is good.” He flashed a smile. “There are so many people taking care of you, aren’t there? People who make sure your children have a place on the train. I am certain you wish you could reward each of them—”
“My children do not have a place on next train yet,” she interrupted. “Or at least not that I’ve heard.”
“Ne. Not yet. But they will. Emil says it is so, and we must trust that. He made a way for your children, didn’t he? It wasn’t something he had to do, but you were so convincing.”
The man looked to her hand, and then she understood. Even though only the slightest band of gold could be seen, she had made a promise to them. She had offered payment, and it had been accepted. Why had she dared to allow herself to hope it wouldn’t be? From the moment of the Munich compromise, when the Sudetenland was handed over to Germany, she had no rights. Her children had no rights. She clenched her fist and felt the rubies—Abram’s rubies—press into her hand one last time.
Not allowing emotion to overtake her, Pavla lifted her left hand, extending it toward him. With a knowing smile, he pretended to shake her hand and ever so nimbly slid the ring off her finger. She had lost so much weight, it slipped off easily.
With one quick motion, he dropped the ring into his pocket and then brushed back dull hair from his face. His smile was even more broad than before. Pavla clenched her teeth and pressed her lips into a thin line. It took every ounce of control she had not to slap him. Not to tell the man he should be ashamed of himself for robbing her of such a special memento, but to do so would risk her children losing their place.
“It was nice catching up with you. Have a safe walk home. And be sure to thank that police officer for taking such good care of you.” The man winked. “And to think in other parts of this country that would not be the case.”
Voices rose from down the street, and a group of young men rounded the corner, walking in their direction. They wore the uniforms of German officers, but as they approached she could tell they were only young men playing dress-up. Still, she didn’t want to know how those young men would treat them once they realized they were Jews.
From the corner of her eyes, Pavla noticed Ondřej lift his face to her. He frowned. She placed her hand back on his shoulder and gave him a firm squeeze, urging him not to speak.
She smiled at Marek one last time and started to walk, urging her children forward. “It was nice meeting up with you. I look forward to hearing from Emil soon. We must excuse ourselves—my children need dinner.”
Pavla didn’t wait for the man to respond. She lowered her head and quickened her steps. Thankfully, her children did the same. Hurrying to the end of the block, they crossed the street to put distance between them and the group of boys, but it did no good. The boys noticed them and started shouting racial slurs. Pavla walked even faster, wishing her children didn’t have to see such things, hear such things, and praying yet again that a transport would come. They needed to leave as soon as possible. She was doing her best, but with each passing day it was getting more impossible to protect them.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Monday, March 13, 1939
It seemed impossible that spring would ever come. Winds blew from the northeast, and the gray sky seemed to mourn with the city. Amity’s feet crunched on the snow as she walked from Madeline’s apartment to the small office. The world around her seemed dark, depressing, so she looked to the gilded cupolas, baroque towers, slate roofs, and sacred spires to remind her of what beauty remained in this world.
It had only been eighteen days since the last transport, but after talking with Andrew, she knew they could waste no time arranging for the next one. Rumors were circulating that Hitler was preparing to move beyond the Sudetenland. They had to move as quickly as possible.
She hung up her coat and settled down at the desk, glancing over at Madeline, who sat in the next desk over. “How are things going?”
Madeline sighed. “Too many refugees, too few travel documents, and only weeks away before the jackboots will be marching on the streets of Prague.”
“Oh, don’t remind me. That’s all I hear about. Every café and bar is filled with whispered reports of the German invasion.”
Madeline wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Oh really. So you’ve been hanging out at all the bars listening to the news, have you?”
Amity chuckled. “Oh, Madeline. You know what I mean.”
She’d walked to the office by herself that morning. Clark had already extended his time there, and just last night he’d let her know that he would be heading home in a few days’ time. He had to check on Celia. He also had a novel to finish writing. The deadline neared, and for the first time in years Clark had hope that he actually could make it this time. He’d gone to the train station to buy his ticket, and knowing that she’d be
alone again left an ache in her heart.
Since the first day of Clark’s arrival, Amity had not gone out of her way to express her love. Neither had Clark. Instead, they had settled into a gentle routine of showing care and affection for each other in small ways. It was as if they both knew that this season of their lives was a waiting season. A time of waiting for the paperwork for more transports. A time of waiting for Hitler to make his move. A time of waiting until things got too dangerous for her to stay. And then, after she returned home, it would be a time of waiting for life to settle down enough for them to put time and attention into what they both knew their relationship would require. Waiting was never easy, but waiting to allow herself to fall in love was one of the hardest things she’d yet to do.
Amity settled into her desk and pulled out her to-do list, reminding herself of the tasks that needed to be tackled today. Just then, the door opened, and Marek rush in. He hurried straight to Amity.
Marek pointed his thumb behind him. “A messenger has just arrived, Amity. They are asking you to come and see them over at the British legation.”
Hearing those words, her stomach fell. She turned to Madeline. “What do you think it means?”
“It means all those rumors that everyone has been hearing are true.”
Amity rose and reached a hand to her friend. “Madeline, would you come with me?”
“Do you think I should? There is so much to do around here. I’m waiting to hear about some of the travel documents.”
Marek stepped forward. “I can stay. I can wait by the door and answer the phone.”
“All right then.” Madeline rose and moved to the hook for her coat. Her steps were quick. Her shoulders were pulled back as if she were already steeling herself up for the hard news they were about to receive. “Truth be told, I am glad you asked me to join you. I am tired of these rumors. They’re putting all types of knots in my stomach. I supposed we will both discover the truth now.”
Less than an hour later, they were sitting in the office of Mr. Stopford with the British legation. He appeared calm with a hand in his jacket pocket as he stepped aside and invited them into his office, but the click, click, click of his fingernail fiddling with a matchbox cover gave away his nervousness.
He motioned for them to sit, but stood silently, staring up at the ornate wall feature. Finally, he turned to them, defeat clear on his face. “I have to warn you, ladies, that we’ve gotten reports of Hitler assembling his troops, preparing to head this way.”
“Already?” Amity placed a hand on her stomach, urging her breakfast to stay put.
Madeline gasped. “So the rumors are true.”
“That they are, unfortunately.”
“Will you be leaving?” Madeline dared to ask him.
He pulled his hand from his pocket and used both hands to ease himself into his winged back chair. “I will be, although some of my colleges are staying.”
Madeline turned slightly toward Amity. “And should she leave?”
“We are recommending that anyone who doesn’t have to stay here leave. If your position isn’t vital—”
“But mine is vital.” Amity straightened in the chair. “We have so many transports to get out—the kindertransports. Do you think we’ll be able to?”
He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. If it’s anything like the Sudetenland, the Germans set up quickly, but still, they allowed people to get out. Let’s hope that will be the case here too.”
“Yes,” Amity gasped, “but where can these people go now? How many can leave who haven’t already tried?”
“That’s what I’ve come to tell you. Do what you can to get refugees out by any means necessary. I had already cabled London to tell them the situation is desperate.”
“I have been helping with another transport,” Madeline said. “My friend Dorothy has been organizing it—she’s with another organization, but I am sure you have met her. It’s a group of mothers and children for this transport—families whose husbands have gone ahead. They have been told to stand by, but we’re just waiting on travel documents from London.”
“Go ahead and gather the travelers. Do you have trains prepared?”
Madeline ignored Amity and stared straight ahead, focusing on Mr. Stopford.
“Yes, the trains are ready. The families are ready. It’s just the last of the paperwork.”
“I will make a call. Waiting for those travel documents is no longer an option. Go ahead and send telegrams to all the camps. Tell the families to be at Wilson Station by tomorrow evening. I don’t know how we will make this work, but tell all the women that a train will be standing by with all the travel documents.” Mr. Stopford pounded his fist on the glossy top of the wooden desk. “We cannot allow Hitler to claim any more victims.”
Amity looked to Madeline. Is that why Madeline had come—to get an audience with Mr. Stopford to discuss this other transport?
Amity blew out a quick breath of frustration. While she was thankful for that transport—for all those who would be able to get out—she worried about her master list with the children. Hadn’t she been the one Mr. Stopford had sent for?
“Sir?” Amity scooted forward so she sat on the edge of the seat. “Do you know just how close they are…when the Germans will be here? Do we have time to organize another kindertransport too? I have…we have…” She glanced at Madeline. “We have all the paperwork in place for a children’s transport too. All these children have sponsors, sir. We are simply waiting for their travel documents to come through. Although I admit they were submitted later than those others…”
Mr. Stopford rubbed his brow and sighed. He walked to the window and stared down at the street below, as if expecting German tanks to roll down the avenues at any moment. And she guessed that as part of the British legation, these transports were just a small part of his worries. Still, Amity wasn’t going to back down.
“I cannot tell you what day the Germans will arrive. I have heard they already occupy the towns on the Polish border. I will ask London about your travel documents too and send you word. But for now let’s concentrate on these women and children. We have to get them out.” He returned to his chair and sat with a heaviness that told Amity that the weight he carried overwhelmed him.
Mr. Stopford turned to Madeline again. “How many did you say there were?”
“Five hundred, sir.”
“Five hundred!” He shot to his feet. “And you think you can gather everyone? Can you get them to the station by six tomorrow night?”
“I will do my best.”
“I will help.” Amity placed a hand on Madeline’s shoulder. Even though this wasn’t officially her transport, these lives mattered. Five hundred of them, to be exact. “We’ll go to the office and get the names from Dorothy. I’ll run to one telegraph office and you to the other. Then Dorothy can work on getting the trains and all the supplies ready in the next thirty hours.”
Relief flooded Madeline’s face. “Thank you, Amity.” She smiled. “And I know when the time comes, Dorothy will help you.”
Amity stood. There was no time to wait. She glanced at her watch. “It’s still morning yet, but let’s get as many women as close to Wilson station as we can.”
“I agree.”
Amity walked to the door. “Why don’t we take them to the school we’ve acquired? There is plenty of room.”
The next day and a half passed by quickly. It was a time of making contacts, arranging transport to Prague for women and children, taking some families to the school, and finding hotel rooms by Wilson Station for the rest of the women and children. Yet they did it, and by six o’clock, five hundred refugees sat in the train as it waited at the station. Outside the train, Amity, Madeline, and Madeline’s friend Dorothy waited for any sign of Mr. Stopford.
“He said he’d have all the paperwork here, correct?” Dorothy asked. She was younger than Madeline, with brown curly hair that fell to her shoulders. She wore a traveling suit,
as if she, too, were going on the journey today, and looked every part the schoolmarm as she directed the women and children with efficiency. “Do you think he traveled to London himself? Maybe he took a flight to get him there and back.”
“No, I don’t think he went to London,” Madeline sighed. “I’m just not sure whether we were supposed to wait here with the train or go there. Maybe one of us should go to his office.”
The words were barely out of Madeline’s mouth when a black automobile pulled up. A man stepped out and walked toward them with brisk steps. “Mr. Stopford sent me. All the clearance came though from London.” He turned to Dorothy. “We just need you come to our office so we can check your lists.”
“Yes, of course.”
Amity and Madeline promised to wait with the train. Two hours later Dorothy was back. There was only one last hurdle. All the passengers had to be checked.
Amity crossed her arms and nibbled her lower lip as she waited inside the train station with Madeline. Would it be all right? Emil hadn’t tried to smuggle anyone else through, had he?
Finally, at eleven o’clock, Dorothy exited the train with all the passport control officers following her. Minutes later the train pulled away, and Amity sighed another breath of relief. The train had made it out. Another five hundred souls saved. Yet what would happen from here? Would the Germans really allow them to continue the transports as Mr. Stopford had believed?
They arrived at home by midnight, and Clark was waiting. Worry filled his face.
Madeline closed the door behind her, locking it. Then she moved to the sofa and motioned for Amity to sit beside her. Weariness weighed Amity down as she moved to the sofa and sat. Clark scooted an armchair closer to them and did the same.
Madeline shook her head. She patted her coat pockets, as if looking for a cigarette. When she didn’t find one, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Amity, you are not safe here. I appreciate all you have done, but it is time for you to go. You, too, must flee this city.”
