A Daring Escape

by Tricia Goyer

  Amity couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. She rushed to him, falling into his arms, and then pulled back. “I will say goodbye now, Clark, because I’m not sure I can handle it in the morning.”

  “Yes, of course. At least I leave knowing one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I know I have, indeed, fallen in love.”

  “I love you too, Clark.” The words were unfamiliar on her tongue. She’d never spoken them to anyone besides her parents and brother.

  She embraced him again, allowing him to pull her close.

  She listened to the beating of his heart, and he placed gentle kisses on the top of her head.

  Finally, she pulled back. “Thank you, Clark. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for urging me to come here. I needed to remember that there are things—people—worth fighting for.”

  Pavla lay beside her children and stared at the broken window, realizing her heart had been shattered into pieces. Her children slept, and she decided not to wake them. Only sleep kept their hunger at bay. Only sleep kept her fears at bay too. Yet sleep had evaded her most of the night.

  And not long after dawn she’d heard the voices of fellow refugees talking in the halls. After the last transport, there weren’t many of them left—only her and her children and a few other women and children who had been too ill to travel.

  The news wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. The Nazis had come, and they would not waste any time bringing their new protectorate into line with the laws and policies of the Third Reich. A black shroud had descended upon Prague, and soon it would reach its fingers of death into every village and hamlet.

  Slowly, quietly, as to not wake the children, Pavla sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. She placed her chin on her knees. Her lips pressed into a line, thin with emotion, and she blinked dangerously fast, attempting to hold everything inside. She couldn’t cry and wake the children.

  She was just about to lay back down and attempt sleep again when a soft whimpering met her ears. She stood and walked to the door of their room, which had once been a small classroom. Then she left the room and moved down the hall.

  The whimpering came from the door next to her, and Pavla knocked softly. She heard shuffling inside. The door opened, and a small boy sat there. He looked to be no more than three years old. Pavla knelt before him.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Ne. I am thirsty.”

  Pavla looked into the room. The curtains were shut tight, and it was too dark to see anything. “Does your mother know?”

  He wrapped his arms around her neck. “She no wake up.”

  A sinking feeling came over her. Pavla pulled the boy into an embrace and stood. “Come. We have water in my room. Then I will check on your mother, ano?”

  The boy yawned and then nodded. His eyes fluttered closed. She took him into their room and poured water into a tin cup. He drank it thirstily.

  “What is your name?” Pavla asked, taking the cup from his hands.

  “Michal.”

  “Well, Michal. You stay here, and I will go check on your mother.” She squatted down and patted the place on the bed next to Klára. He ran over, curled up, and soon his eyes fluttered closed again.

  Seeing that he was taken care of, Pavla took a deep breath and headed back. She stepped inside the door, sucked in a deep breath, and moved to the curtains, opening them wide. Golden light flooded the room. Pavla’s eyes moved from the pair of child’s shoes, to the small suitcase, to the bed. And that’s when she saw the boy’s mother. The woman was so thin, so frail, that she looked not more than a twelve-year-old child herself in form, even though her face revealed she was Pavla’s age.

  Her cheek rested on the pillow, and her dark hair partially covered her face. She had fine crafted features, reminding Pavla of an angel statue. Pavla watched closely, looking to see if the woman’s chest rose or fell. She saw the slightest movement.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she muttered.

  The woman’s eyes fluttered open. Pavla took a step back. “I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you. Your little boy—he was crying.”

  She lifted her head and looked around. “Michal?”

  Pavla pointed to the doorway.

  “He is in my room. He was thirsty, so I gave him water.” She smiled. “I’m Pavla, by the way.”

  “And I am Maružka Tesařová.” The woman’s head lowered. The softest cry escaped her lips. “I am so sorry. I was in so much pain. I took the last of my medicine from the doctor. I had been saving it for months.”

  Pavla sucked in a breath and waited for the rest.

  The woman offered the slightest smile. “I have been saving it to allow me rest without pain, not to die, yet that will come soon enough too.”

  The woman sat up, and Pavla could see that took effort. Maruška rubbed her eyes. “I am sorry Michal woke you.”

  Pavla wanted to tell the woman it was no problem. She wanted to go to her room, lift the sleeping boy, and bring him back to his mother, but something stirred within. Compassion for this woman overwhelmed her. Instead of simply returning the boy, Pavla moved toward the bed. Maruška patted the place beside her, and Pavla sat.

  “What do you mean that death will come soon enough?”

  Tears filled the woman’s eyes. She covered her face with her hands and slightly shook her head.

  Pavla wrapped an arm around the woman. Maruška’s shoulder blades sharply protruded.

  In a moment, the tears stopped. Maruška lowered her hands and attempted a smile.

  “I was diagnosed with cancer of the pancreas a year ago. My mother died of the same condition when she was my age. I had hoped the cancer wouldn’t find me.” She gave a harsh laugh. “Or I was hoping that if it did find me, my husband would be there for my son. But the Germans took my husband. It was then I knew our only hope was to get on a train to England. I was put onto the list with women and children, but when the train left, I wasn’t allowed on it. My health…I am worried my health will make it so my son can’t go to England. What will happen to him then?”

  “Have you talked to the volunteer working on the transports?”

  She nodded. “Since my son already has his travel documents, they said they can put him on the next transport—the one with the children.”

  “Well, that is good then…”

  “If the transport happens, now that the Germans have arrived.” The woman laid down on her side again. “And if I make it that long. If not, who will care for my son until then?” The woman’s eyes fluttered closed as if holding them open was just too much work, and soon she’d again fallen back into her drugged sleep.

  “I will,” Pavla dared to whisper. “I will.”

  THIRTY

  Prague, Czechoslovakia

  Wednesday, March 22, 1939

  A week had passed since Czechoslovakia had come under German control, and the only thing noticeable at first was an increase of military weapons and men around the town. That and the addition of a small boy to Pavla’s room and to her heart. Dark-haired Michal reminded Pavla of Ondřej when he was younger. Thinking of that, she smiled softly to herself. She and Abram had been talking about having another child just a year ago, but then the world turned upside down and they decided they could not bring another child into the madness. Could either of them have imagined all that would happen? Thankfully no. Even with the looming threat, though, they had enjoyed their life together. Enjoyed being a family. Enjoyed being in love.

  Pavla lay on the sagging mattress and pushed the curtain to the side to look out at the city that had become home. The yellow morning light bounced off the red tiled roofs and streamed through the window. For the first time in months, she’d woken with a smile. The dream had come as a gift. She was back in the forest again, running through the leaves and rolling down the hills, gathering speed, laughter escaping her lips. She had spent her childhood playing in the Bohemian woods with friends, and her favorite days were sunny o
nes like today.

  She’d also met Abram on a day such as this—a day when bright sun had come after days filled with gray clouds. She had traveled to Olomouc for her cousin’s wedding. Her parents had urged her to attend the wedding even though she didn’t know her cousin very well. She’d seen Abram then, so handsome and friendly. And then just a few weeks later there was his family at the synagogue.

  With his tall, thin frame, dark hair, and easy smile, Pavla had been attracted to him immediately. They used to go for walks in the sunny woods on days like today.

  All these thoughts were on her mind when a soft knock on the door to their room caused her to jump. She threw her coat over her dressing gown and hurried to the door. Emil stood there.

  “We received news. There will be another transport next week.”

  Pavla gasped. “So soon?”

  “Yes, and your children will be on it.”

  “They will?” She clung to the door tighter. “How did this happen?”

  “When I explained your situation to Amity, she called her brother. Andrew called the family who had sponsored those other two children whose mother had taken them off the transport list. He explained the situation, and they agreed to take Ondřej and Klára in their place.”

  She glanced back at her children, and sudden panic overtook her. She had been with them since they were born. There had been only a few times when she and Abram had left them in the care of his parents. Maybe this was a mistake after all.

  Pavla felt his touch on her arm, and she jumped. “I am so sorry about all this. About your husband, and now your children…”

  She turned back to him and nodded. She pictured them leaving on the train, and blinking back tears, she knew it would be the most loving thing she’d ever done for her children. More than reading bedtime stories or bandaging knees, her true test of a mother’s love had come down to this.

  God, please help me go through with it.

  Pavla was determined to take the next step forward, no matter how hard it was. She wanted to tell Emil she appreciated his kindness, but she knew in truth that it was her wedding ring that had moved them to the top of the list. She also knew if she tried to speak now, tears would overcome her words.

  Instead, she simply smiled and brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear. Tears rimmed Emil’s eyes too, and then she thought of Marek’s prideful face. Maybe Marek had kept the ring. But she would not mention the ring at all. She didn’t want to do anything to risk her children having a spot. “Thank you. I suppose I need to talk to my children today…to prepare them.”

  “I know it won’t be easy.” He looked at his watch. “I need to get going. There are other families I need to inform.”

  “I won’t be the only one with an aching heart that day, will I?”

  “No,” Emil whispered. He cleared his throat. “And as for the details.” He straightened his back, as if remembering he was there in an official capacity. “Each child is allowed one suitcase. Only clothes.”

  “Only clothes, but—”

  “Only clothes. No photos or toys,” Emil interrupted. His voice was stern, but there was also a tenderness there.

  She was about to tell him that there was no need to worry about that, since her children had neither. “And food?” she asked.

  “We will make lunches to send.” He turned to walk away, and she reached out her hand and touched his arm. “Sir…”

  Emil paused and turned. “Yes?”

  “The photos that you took of my children…”

  “Yes?”

  “Is there any way I can get a copy of those?” She felt pressure on her chest and placed a hand on her heart. “I had to leave so quickly from my home, you see. I do not have any photos. Is there any way…”

  He nodded. “Yes, of course. I did not think of that, but I understand. I will see what I can do.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” Pavla dared to call after him.

  “Yes?”

  “What about Michal? Will he be on the transport too?”

  Emil scratched his head. “I am not sure who you are talking about.”

  “There is a mother and son in the room next door. They were supposed to be on the last transport—the one with mothers and children. She is ill, and they were left behind, but the boy has all his paperwork done…at least that is what his mother said.”

  Emil pointed to the door, and she nodded. “Yes, that one.”

  “For some reason I have not heard about this. I will talk to her.” He tucked his hands into his pants pockets, lowered his head, and moved to the next door, knocking. Pavla heard Maruška’s voice, and she was thankful the woman was up and around today. Pavla just hoped she wasn’t in too much pain.

  Pavla shut the door behind her and returned to the creaky bed and sat, waiting for her children to wake. She watched them sleep, forcing herself to remember this moment, remember their gentle breathing and the soft rise and fall of their chests. How many times had she watched them sleep like this? Many times, but it suddenly wasn’t enough.

  Klára woke first, her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at her mother and smiled. “I dreamed we were eating birthday cake.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a wonderful dream. Did it taste delicious?”

  She nodded her head and then pouted. “We don’t have any birthday cake, do we?”

  “No, not today. But as soon as Ondřej wakes up, I have exciting news.”

  Klára tried to be patient, waiting for her brother to wake, but her singing and running back and forth across the room made it impossible for him to stay asleep.

  After he was awake, they made a picnic on the floor, eating the bread and cheese she had purchased the previous evening. Her funds were running short, but she had enough to last until the children left. After that, she didn’t need to worry. That her children had enough was what was most important.

  “We are going to move again, but this time we can’t all go together. I will go to a different place, but you two get to ride on a train. It’s going to be a long journey.”

  “How far? Can we bring our suitcases?” Klára asked.

  “Ja, filled with all your things.”

  Ondřej scowled. “Just our things? What about your things? Why can’t you go too?”

  Pavla forced a smile. “My things. They are staying with me for now. I will not be joining you on the train to England. I have to stay back to clear up a few matters of business.”

  Ondřej crossed his arms over his chest. “Then we will wait for you.”

  “Ne.” Pavla’s voice was stern, startling her children. “You do not know how hard it has been to get these documents. You will travel next week.” Then her voice softened. “It is what your father would want. He wanted the best for you—to protect you—and this is the only way I know how.” Tears came then, brushing against her lashes. She told herself not to cry in front of her children, but it did little good. She would cry, and they would see her tears. That’s just how things had to be.

  Klára’s eyes were large and filled with questions. “But you will come to find us?” Her voice quivered.

  “There are people who will tell me where you are. In fact, they’ve already told me you will be in a nice, safe place with a family. You will sleep in a real bed again and be able to attend school.”

  At the mention of school, Klára’s face brightened. She’d only been able to go to school for a few months, and she’d cried and cried when Abram told her she couldn’t return. How could Pavla have explained to her young daughter that Jews were no longer welcome? Klára saw herself like any other child. Her light hair made her look more Aryan than Jew, but that did not matter to the Germans. They knew each Jew. They sought them out. They longed to destroy them, just as others through the centuries had tried to destroy God’s chosen people.

  “So we will go on a train? A real train…” Ondřej fixed his eyes on hers. “To England?”

  “Yes.” Pavla nodded, trying to be brave. “You have always wan
ted to ride a train. You will go with Klára. I will need you to do that for me.”

  He didn’t answer, and she guessed he knew more than he let on. He knew about his father and about Hitler. He no doubt knew she would most likely not be coming for them.

  Klára wrinkled her nose. “Where is England?”

  “Oh, it’s a faraway place—a big island.”

  Klára scratched her head. “The train goes over the water?”

  “After the train you will go on a ship too. It will be a wonderful trip.” Pavla clapped her hands together and attempted to sound convincing. “Very nice people will meet you. You will stay for a time and…and I imagine you will make so many new friends.” She stroked Klára’s hair back from her face.

  “When will you come, Maminka?”

  Pavla sighed. She furrowed her brow and feigned anger. It was easier to do that than allow herself to be overcome by the emotion that built inside. “You know, I am not certain. And that is a cruel trick, is it not? Just pray that Mutti will get a ticket. Ja, just pray.” Pavla shook her head then and swallowed down the emotion.

  She reached out to touch little Klára on the top of the head and did the same with Ondřej. God, who will love these little ones now?

  Ondřej pulled away but didn’t respond. She knew he would obey her and go. She just hoped that someday he would understand. These children were all that remained of her shattered life, and it gave her a small bit of peace that they would live on. She and Abram would live on in them.

  A rattling of the broken glass captured their attention, and they all looked to the window. Outside the building, on the street beyond, a German tank rolled by. It was emblazoned with the emblem of Hitler’s Reich.

  “Children, sit on the floor now. Get out of the sight of the window.”

  Pavla wasn’t sure if they could be seen from the outside—or if the Germans even knew anyone was in there—but she didn’t want to take a chance.

  After the sound dissipated and she knew the tank was out of sight, she allowed her children to rise. Pavla closed the curtain, blocking the view, and they all dressed for the day. They would stay inside as much as possible. It was always a risk to leave now that the Germans had arrived. She had only one duty now as their mother—to get them to the train station safely.