by Tricia Goyer
Amity looked to Madeline. She refused to look at Clark for fear of the worry she would also see in his eyes. “But don’t you understand what just happened tonight? All those women and children were able to get away. What will happen if I go? I cannot just abandon these refugees when there is still so much work to be done.”
“No! This is not your fight.” Madeline turned sideways and gripped Amity’s arms. “You have a choice. You can leave. You don’t know what the Germans will do to you. If you think you will be safe because you’re an American, you’re wrong. Do you think they will like it if you are helping their enemies out of the country?”
She turned to Clark. “Tell her…tell her I have to stay. You understand, don’t you?”
Instead of answering, he ran his hand through his hair, nearly causing it to stand on end. Amity had seen him this frazzled only a few times, and usually it was when he’d sat down to write and no ideas had come.
“I’m afraid time has run out.” He stood to his feet. “They are keeping the train station open all night. The lines are growing with the rumors of the Germans at our borders.” He sighed. “It’s time to make a decision. Are you going to come home, or are you going to stay?” His words were brusque, but there was compassion in his gaze. The situation was urgent, and there were no easy answers.
Madeline released her grip, and Amity rose. It wasn’t what she’d expected Clark to say. She hadn’t expected this from Madeline either. If anyone understood the needs of the refugees, it was Madeline.
Amity stood and paced back and forth in the small living room, wishing for space. Wishing for time. “I really should talk to Andrew. I’m not sure. If there was some way I could talk to him…This is all his work.”
Clark also stood, and she paused before him. “Why are you thinking that?” His voice softened. “Don’t you realize that this is your work?”
“But he’s the one who saw the need. He’s the one who started this.”
“And you’re the one who is doing it. Which also means it is up to you to decide when it’s time to go home.”
Madeline rose and moved to the stairs, slowly walking up them toward her room. Amity knew the older woman was turning this conversation over to Clark now, but the worry was clear on her face.
“The truth is, Amity, that I came here because I was worried about you. I came because I wanted you back with me. Back with Celia. I wanted you safe. Now that I’ve been here, I see all that you’re doing, and it’s wonderful work. But I also believe that you will not be safe when the Germans come. I agree with Madeline. As much as I approve of your work, I think it’s time for you to come home.” He sat down on the sofa and lowered his head and sighed. “I wish there was another way.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled her coat tighter around her. “I need to go for a walk. I need time to think.”
Clark stood and placed a hand on her arm. “Is it safe…for you to go walking alone?”
Amity offered a soft smile. She cocked her eyebrow. “It’s a mounting war out there, Clark. Nobody’s safe, are they?” She placed her hand on his. “But don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve been walking these streets alone for months. Nothing has happened yet.”
He squeezed her arm and then took a step back. “I’ll have to trust you on this.”
Amity pulled her scarf out of her pocket, wrapping it around her neck. She brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face and then stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk.
Out of habit, she moved her gaze to the place where she always did, to the distant hill and the castle that sat on it. In a strange way, living under the shadow of that castle all these months had given her a sense of peace. As long as the castle wasn’t under Nazi control, she was safe. But soon that would no longer be the case.
Amity walked on, hands in pockets, moving to the bridge. Before the global spotlight had been drawn to Czechoslovakia, what had this country meant to her? Nothing. It was a land of castles, marionettes, and Good King Wenceslas. To the major powers in the West, Czechoslovakia was not worth fighting for.
Amity’s feet moved swiftly over the cobblestones, and soon she was standing on the Charles Bridge. Even at this midnight hour there were others walking along with her, but it was almost as if they, too, were just part of the landscape. Everything around her was still a dull gray.
She’d heard that within a matter of months the aroma of fragrant blossoms of the linden trees would burst forth, filling the air with a sweet scent. But as she considered that, Amity knew she would never see them bloom. A man walked by, eyeing her, and Amity quickly looked away, instead peering into the river below.
Fear grew within her by the moment. She’d expected Madeline to tell her that everything would be fine. She’d expected a tender hug with a whisper that they’d be able to continue their work side by side despite the hardship. Instead, all she could think about was Mr. Stopford’s words: “We are recommending that anyone who doesn’t have to stay here leave. If your position isn’t vital…”
Out of all those who wanted to leave, she could. And as she walked back to the apartment, Amity knew what she’d tell Clark. She’d tell him she was going with him. Together they’d walk to the station to buy the tickets. Together they’d get on that train tomorrow and return to Celia, to home.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Wednesday, March 15, 1939
Amity turned over in bed, clicked on the radio, and tuned in to the BBC. “Today at six o’clock German troops crossed Czech borders and are proceeding to Prague by all routes,” the announcer said.
It had come. The day of German occupation, and she was still in the city. A twinge of fear touched Amity’s heart. She looked at the suitcase at the end of the bed—the one she’d packed in the early morning hours after returning from the train station. Fear had led her to that decision.
Yet that had been last night. Now, new hope had somehow found itself in her heart in the morning. New courage.
Amity turned off the radio and closed her eyes. Even though the feather duvet was light, the weight on her chest felt as if a two-thousand-pound elephant sat on it. The burden for those children had not released yet. No matter the fears that chased her like hounds, she was not free to go.
I can if I stay, maybe I can help more…
The rumble of trucks on the road outside told her what she’d heard on the radio was indeed reality. Amity climbed out of bed and slipped her feet into her slippers, wrapping her robe around her. She moved to the window. There, on the gray streets below, the first convoy of ice-covered jeeps and trucks rolled into town. They slithered like cold-blooded gray snakes around the curving, cobblestone streets toward the castle. The men on the open trucks wore wool coats and steel helmets. Soon the streets would be full of German soldiers. Would there be any fighting? Were the Czechs simply going to let them come in and take over? It seemed impossible.
The aroma of coffee drifted up the stairs to her room. That ordinary scent—and the sound of a child’s laughter filtering through the thin walls from their neighbor’s apartment—told her she wasn’t dreaming. It was no nightmare, although everything within Amity wanted it to be. She wanted to fall back asleep and wake up in a world where the Germans were still at arm’s length and she still had time to try to get more innocent people out of the country.
Movement on the streets caught her attention. People poured out from the surrounding apartment buildings. Men in overcoats and women with thick shawls wrapped around their shoulders stepped out to watch. Many had looks of disbelief on their faces. Other faces were contorted in anguish. Although she could not hear their muffled moans, she saw women crying into their hands. A few young men shook their fists at the Germans in anger, and she wondered how long their innocence would last. Whether they liked it or not, the Czech people would be drawn into this conflict. Amity couldn’t help but think of her father’s stories from the last war. How many of those young men would be dead before this confl
ict was through? And how long before the refugees she couldn’t help would be shipped off to Hitler’s camps?
Most of the people, though, stood tall, looking straight ahead in stony silence. The Czech people had pleaded for help from the Western world, and no one had responded. Instead, those who’d declared themselves to be allies had turned their backs and refused to lift a finger to help.
“Would you have been like Pope Leo I?” she remembered asking Celia. “Would you have been willing to stand up to the Hun invader?”
It was Celia’s answer that resonated with her now. “I suppose if I knew God was on my side I would dare stand up to a Hun invader.”
The Huns had come, but who would stand up for the innocent now? These questions weighed on Amity’s heart as she gathered fresh clothes and hurried to the bathroom.
She ran a bath, as hot as she could stand it, and stepped into it, sinking down. Steam from the hot water caused the stray strands of hair that she had not pinned up to curl around her cheeks. With weariness she closed her eyes, and for a moment she pretended she was back in London. She imagined Mrs. McGovern making breakfast and Clark at the table with his newspaper and coffee. She imagined Celia curled into one of the large chairs in her father’s library, lost in a book.
The steam pooled onto the walls and ran in rivulets down the walls. With Hitler’s entrance, blood would flow as freely. No Jew in Czechoslovakia would be safe now. Her eyebrows shot up and then folded into a frown. Was it indeed God’s will that she stay? Was God on her side? He had strengthened her when she felt weak. He had given her wisdom and favor. She’d seen numerous trainloads of children carried away to safety and put into loving homes. If God is with me, who can be against me?
I need to trust that. I have to trust that. There are people who still need me. I can’t run.
Amity drained the water, dried off, and dressed quickly. She repinned her hair and then glanced at her cheeks. Was that really her with the intensity in her gaze and her jaw set with determination?
With quick steps she moved toward the bed, unlatched the suitcase, and lifted it up, turning it over. Her countries, the United States and Great Britain, had done nothing to help these people, but she wouldn’t let her own fears keep her from her work. She was here. And Clark was right. She had already been doing it. She would stay until it was impossible to save another child or until she felt God releasing her to go. She would not run in fear, abandoning these people like everyone else had done.
Amity moved to the mirror and looked into her face with a mixture of exuberance and worry. “You have always felt inferior to your brother,” she whispered into the mirror, “but God has a unique role for you.” She straightened her shoulders and imagined that while she was still in London, sitting across the table from Celia and reading British fairy tales, God saw her there. God saw her now too. Had God seen the warrior within, one she couldn’t have imagined until now? That thought brought a smile to her face.
Amity looked to the traveling suit that she had laid out the night before. She had no intention of wearing it now. Instead, she slipped on a simple gray dress.
With soft steps she walked down the stairs. There was a single figure at the table. He looked up at her, and she paused at the last step. Clark didn’t seem surprised that she wasn’t wearing her traveling suit. Two train tickets sat on the table before him. He had gone out and purchased one for her the night before.
“You’re staying?” he asked, his words no more than a whisper.
“I have to. I can’t leave them. I have to do more.”
He turned away from her, brushed the tickets aside, and then stood.
“I had a feeling that with the dawn you would think differently. Do you want to go to Wenceslas Square with me? It’s history in the making.”
“History that could have been avoided if—”
Clark took quick steps toward her and placed a finger on her lips. “Your words won’t make a difference, but your actions can. I also hope you will be able to do more. Even though Celia will still be worried—I will be worried—I am proud of you.” Then, with a tender touch his hand moved to her cheek. He stroked it slightly before lifting her face to his. For the briefest moment Amity was certain Clark was going to kiss her. Then he removed his hand from her face and stepped back. Color rose on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I…we…this is not the time.”
Amity released the breath she’d been holding. “I…I understand.” Her brow furrowed. “Tensions…emotions are high.” She turned, swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing she could stop the butterflies that danced in her stomach. “It seems we all try to find a bit of comfort in times of pain.”
But even as she said those words, Amity wondered if she was happy or sad that he hadn’t kissed her. A tender love had been growing in the years they’d both been caring for his daughter, but it was a love that would still have to wait. Now is not the time.
Amity placed a hand on her stomach, took a deep breath, and then finally turned. “Yes, I think we should go to Wenceslas Square. You’re right. This is history, and we are part of it now.”
The streets of Prague had transformed overnight. Large snowflakes dropped from the sky. Steel-helmeted soldiers marched through the city, taking control of the baroque palaces. German university students paraded around in Nazi uniforms. Amity wanted to march up to them and shame them for joining the Germans, but she knew it would do no good. The truth was, not all Czechs were sad about their lost freedom. For some it was just what they wanted.
Local Germans also marched through the street, screaming, “Heil Hitler!” and waving paper swastikas. As they went along, they saw more men and women gathered into small groups, weeping.
Some young men threw snowballs at tanks and armored cars, as if that would do any good. Others wore Czech flags on their buttonholes.
They overheard people saying that German trains had arrived at the main station, and artillery pieces and tanks were unloaded. Nazi flags and banners were unfurled on the fronts of buildings all over the city.
The narrow streets were packed. It was as if every city building had emptied onto the streets. The heart and soul of the capital city poured out in the form of mourning people. People who’d been abandoned. People who attempted to be brave with their unity and with their song.
It took Clark and Amity more than an hour to walk to Wenceslas Square. Amity heard the raised voices blocks away, voices raised in unity, joining together in patriotic songs. Yet even as the defeated people sang, they were pushed back onto the sidewalks by the approaching German vehicles. Yesterday they were a free people. Today German battalions rolled into the streets. They spread through every narrow outlet of the ancient city, consuming all hope in their wake.
Clark and Amity approached Wenceslas Square and paused. Amity placed her hands over her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. Clark placed a protective arm around her shoulders, and she curled into his side. As the people’s voices rose with emotion and fervor, a trembling moved through her body. Clark wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her tight against him as a sign of protection as she guessed he had done with Celia when she was scared as a child. They stood a long time, mourning with these people, until Amity knew there was work to do. She wiped her eyes and pulled back from Clark’s embrace.
“I should go to the office—check on things. Madeline is going to be surprised to see me, isn’t she?”
“I imagine she will be. I need to get a telegram to Celia too, to let her know that I’ll be on a later train.” He sighed as his blue eyes pierced her. “I can stay another day, maybe two, but I need to get back.”
“A daughter and a deadline. Both need you.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s right.”
It was slow going as they moved through the crowds. The streets were dark, as if night had descended on the city hours before it should have.
Amity glanced around, feeling the gloom pull her down. “It seems as if even the sun is hiding its face today
.”
They walked to the office, and there were only a few families there. Only a few that had any hope.
They opened the office door, and she rushed in. A joyful gasp escaped Emil’s lips. “Look who has returned! Or rather who never left. Let me guess—did you decide you could not live without us?”
She allowed Emil to give her a quick hug. “Something like that.”
Madeline sat at the desk, reading over a file. She barely glanced up as Amity and Clark entered.
“Of course, I should ask…Madeline, you don’t mind me staying, do you?”
The older woman looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her nose was too from dabbing it with her handkerchief. She narrowed her eyes in anger, but Amity had a feeling it wasn’t her that Madeline was angry with.
“I do not understand why you’re staying. You are a fool to believe you will be safe here. But I suppose if a fool is still able to pay rent, I will not kick her out into the street.”
“Do you really think that with all that’s happening in this large city, the Germans will be concerned with me?”
Madeline pointed a shaking finger toward her. “You saying that proves you should not stay here. You simply have no concept of what the Germans are capable of.”
Amity felt Clark’s hand press into the small of her back. At least he believed in her.
“Yes, well, I suppose I will have to face what comes, but for now please tell me how I can help.”
Madeline lowered her head again, staring intently at the file in front of her. “There are some papers that Marek needs to pull from the files. I suppose you can help him with that for now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you not heard?” She cocked an eyebrow. “The Gestapo are sweeping the city for enemies of the Reich. They are depending on lists they had previously prepared. Spies have been in the city for months keeping tabs on their enemies—especially the Jewish refugees who have already fled the Nazis elsewhere.” She jutted out her chin. “Mr. Stopford called. He’s leaving today. I cannot handle the horror. Lines of people have been banging on the doors of foreign consulates, begging for visas. Some Jews have committed suicide on their steps.”
