by Tricia Goyer
Still, Amity’s heart ached for all the other children and mothers left behind. She had helped to get out hundreds, but thousands still waited on the list. O Lord, be with them now.
Madeline would continue their work as long as she was able, until either the Germans stopped the kindertransports or war was declared with England. Amity’s only hope was that Madeline would be able to get more transports out before either happened.
Pavla said something in Czech that Amity didn’t understand, and Klára stepped forward and gave Amity a tight hug.
“Tank you,” the small voice whispered into her ear English. “Tank you so mush.”
Tears came to Amity’s eyes as she heard those words. Emil had taught them to Klára, she had no doubt. Those words sank deep and bounced around every inch of Amity’s heart.
She placed a soft kiss on Klára’s cheek, feeling the echo of every child on every transport, in those words. But instead of holding on to it, Amity offered the words up to God as a prayer.
“Thank You for choosing me for this work,” she whispered. Then she watched as the wind carried away her words on its wings. Carrying them up to the One who mourned with her over all the lost children.
Finally, she looked to Emil. What could she say to him to sum up all she felt inside? “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she stated simply.
“Nor I without you.” He extended his hand, and she placed hers inside it. It was warm, comforting. “I promise you one thing, Amity.” He wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “I will live a life worthy of your rescue.” He looked to Pavla and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The love you gave all of us will live on.”
THIRTY-NINE
London, England
Thursday, April 13, 1939
Amity clasped her hands in front of her as she stood on the platform and searched the crowds for the one person she was looking for. As he walked toward her in the yellow glow of the streetlamp, Clark Cartwright didn’t slow his pace. If he hadn’t been trying to act the part of a perfect gentleman, Amity was sure that Clark would have run toward her. Yet he was an English gentleman, and even that made her smile.
He raked back his hair as he approached her. He was wearing a suit jacket and blue shirt that Celia always told him brought out the blue of his eyes.
He wrapped his arms around Amity, cupping his hand at the back of her neck and pulling her to him. She placed her cheek against his chest and smiled, remembering again how much she adored the aroma of Clark’s shaving lotion and Mrs. McGovern’s laundry soap.
Clark cleared his throat. “I can breathe now. I haven’t been able to for the past few days. I did not know if you would make it, especially after I heard your crazy idea for helping one of the refugees.”
Her eyes widened. “But how did you know?”
“Andrew told me.” Clark sighed. “He’s had many people watching out for you—more than you know.”
Amity’s eyes fluttered closed. “Her name is Pavla. She is a mother of two children. She was in danger. I had to help her.” She bit her lower lip. Had Andrew known about Emil too? She guessed not. But that would be another conversation for another day.
“Of course you had to help, Amity. And that’s why I love you so, and I can’t wait to marry you.”
She sucked in a breath and held it, and she then pulled back and looked into Clark’s face. “Can you repeat that? I believe the noise of the train might have distorted my hearing. I thought you said—”
“That I love you,” he interrupted. “And that I can’t wait to marry you.” He winked. “If you would have me, that is.”
She pulled back slightly so she could look into his eyes. “Yes, Clark, a hundred times yes.”
Then he grinned. “And we will have to go together to pick out an engagement ring. The house has been a little busy, as you will soon see.”
He stepped back even more, taking both of her hands. “But before we head to the auto, there are a few things I need to tell you. I didn’t realize how much you had become a part of my life and heart until you were gone. And seeing your work in Prague…well, I’ve never been more proud of another person. And you’re here now. And I promised myself that if you made it back I would tell you how much I love you every day of your life.” He prattled on with a joy she hadn’t seen before bubbling up inside. “You are my friend. You are my hero. You are my muse—”
Amity help up her hand. “Wait. Did you say muse? Tell me, did you finish the novel?”
“Yes, since arriving back from Prague, the rest of it has just poured out. And…” He touched her nose with his finger. “You’re going to like this. The main character’s name is Jane.”
“Jane? A plain name, but I like it.” She chuckled. “So, is the hero really a female this time?”
“Yes, and she is strangely similar to you, but with blonde hair and a fiery temper. Someone determined to work with the resistance to smuggle children out of Germany.”
Amity blew out a breath. “Oh, Germany, good. I was afraid it would sound too much like me.” Then, thinking back over all that had happened in the past five months and realizing that she was finally back, safe on British soil once again, her legs felt like jelly, and she found herself leaning on Clark for support.
“There is so much to tell you, so many stories. I’m not sure where to start, but we must pray. My hope is that Madeline will be able to continue the work and that they will be able to get out more transports. I also have to tell Celia how much good she has done helping to get sponsors. I’d love to find some of the children and see them again.” She paused and looked around, realizing for the first time who was missing. “Where’s Celia?”
“She is in the car with the little one. Michal fell asleep…”
“Michal?”
“Yes, the small toddler. You told us to find a special home for him, and Celia could not think of a more special home than ours.”
Tears came to her eyes then. “His mother, she passed away…”
Clark’s own eyes filled with tears. “Oh. I am so very sorry to hear that. How tragic.”
“All she had wanted was to make sure he was safe,” Amity whispered, dropping her chin guiltily. “I just wish I could have done more for her.”
With the edge of a finger Clark tipped her chin up. “You did all you could. You did what you could. You saved her child, and I’m sure that’s the one thing she wanted most.”
“Yes, it was.”
“And by loving him as a mother, you will be giving a gift to her every day.”
Mother? Amity didn’t know if she’d ever heard such a beautiful word…well, other than wife. The thought of Michal running around the halls and up and down the stairs of their London home brought a smile to her face. “Wait, Clark. Does this mean you will adopt the boy?”
“Yes, that is what it means. Celia will be thrilled to have a younger brother.”
The generosity of this man overwhelmed her. “I love you, Clark,” she told him calmly but passionately. “I am not sure I know what I did to deserve a man such as you.”
“Love is not something you have to earn. It’s given. You’ve had my love even before you left for Czechoslovakia. I want you to know that.”
She was thankful he said that. It was good to know that she was loved for who she was, not just for what she had done. Amity stepped back from him, realizing for the first time how their exchange must have looked to all those watching. But at this moment it didn’t seem as if Clark cared too much about appearances.
“Hurry.” She tugged on his arm. “I can’t wait to see your daughter…” She laughed. “And your son!”
For the first time Amity noticed that Godfry, Clark’s driver, was standing to the side and had already gathered the bags. “Are these all you brought with you, miss? Did I miss anything?”
“That is all, Godfrey, thank you.” She laughed. “I’m not sure I’m going to know how to act, being taken care of so well.”
Clark took her hand and led her to the
car. Celia was watching for them, and after spotting Amity, her face lit up. It looked as if she was fumbling for the knob, and then the door opened and she jumped out, a sleeping Michal curled up on the seat.
“Oh, Amity, you’re home. You look so beautiful. A little thin, but so beautiful all the same. Don’t worry. It’ll only take Mrs. McGovern a few days to fatten you up.” Celia’s voice was loud and excited, and Michal stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked to Celia first and smiled. Then he glanced over at Amity. With an extra wiggle, he released a small squeal and stretched out his arms to her.
“Oh, sweet boy, look at you.” She took him into her arms and squeezed. He smelled of shampoo and warm milk. And Amity imagined he already had the whole staff wrapped around his little finger.
He put his chubby arms around her neck and held on, and then he snuggled his head under her chin and let out a sigh. Her throat felt hot and thick, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Pressing her lips together, she blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes.
“Oh, this child was so loved. You should have seen how well he was loved. We have a big task to live up to, but we will do it. Oh yes, we will do it.”
EPILOGUE
Ústín, Czech Republic
September 20, 1993
Charles exited the deep well and blinked back the light that burned his eyes. He reached over to the edge of the well and gently set the velvet sack on the ground. He set down the stone with his grandfather’s initials right next to it.
His father, Andrew, looked at it, and his features softened. “I remember that bag. It’s my father’s tallit bag.”
“A tallit?” Charles scratched his head. “Isn’t that a prayer shawl?”
“Yes, it’s worn over outer clothes during the Shacharit—the morning prayer. And also during all prayers on Yom Kippur. My father received his as a wedding gift from his parents, although my grandfather was more religious.”
“That didn’t matter to the Nazis, though, did it?”
“No, to Hitler it was Jewish blood that he despised. But we have had this conversation before, have we not?”
His father eyed the bag but didn’t take a step toward it.
Charles climbed onto the ground on the side of the well and undid his harness. He knelt on the ground next to the items, and for a moment it was as if he knelt on sacred ground.
O Lord, thank You for protecting my father, aunt, and grandmother. Thank You for the heritage of faith You have passed down to me. He thought of his grandfather, a man he didn’t know, yet whom he felt close to in this moment.
“Even though he strayed from some of the Jewish traditions, grandfather was a man of faith, wasn’t he?”
“Faith,” his father whispered. Breathless wonder haloed the word. “Yes, he was a man of faith, to prepare me for what might happen. To provide for my mother. To plant this treasure here.” His father knelt, but instead of touching the bag, his fingers traced the carved initials in the rock. His chin lowered to his chest. His shoulders quivered. His face grew red, and Charles knew his dad was trying to hold in his emotion.
Charles placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Dad, you don’t have to hold it in.” Tears came to his eyes and rolled down his face. Soon his shoulders quivered too, and he cried for the grandfather he never knew. He cried for his father, who shouldn’t have had to face such horrors as a young boy.
“I have never told this to anyone,” his father finally said, his voice croaking out with pent-up emotion, “but I wasn’t surprised when that German came to the door. My mother thought I was, but I was just pretending. The truth was, I had been afraid that whole day.”
Charles sat and leaned his back against the wooden fence. A fence his father said had been there since he was a boy. How had that fence stood when so much around it was lost or destroyed? It made no sense.
“What do you mean you were afraid all day? How could you have known what was to happen?”
His father swiped a hand down his face. “Oh, I didn’t know that my father, grandmother, and grandfather would die that day. But I did know what was going to happen with the businesses on Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass.
“Most people at first believed the riots happened on their own, but now history tells us that they were planned. On the morning of November 10, Joseph Goebbels sent an urgent secret telegram to the Sicherheitspolizei, the Security Police, containing instructions about the riots. Police were instructed to seize Jewish archives and to arrest Jewish males to transfer to labor camps. And I knew this…” His voice quivered now.
Instead of turning to his father, Charles lifted his face to the sky, and the white clouds that floated in front of the sun cast a gray shadow. He suddenly was cold all over, and a shiver ran down his spine. His father didn’t answer, so he asked the question again. “What do you mean you knew?”
“One of my childhood friends and neighbors, Filip Knápek, had a father in the Security Police. He told me they were going to let the German people loot the Jewish homes and businesses, and he also told me if I told a soul, his father would come to my house and send me to a camp that night.”
Charles reached over and grabbed his father’s hand, guessing where this story was going.
“After my mother put us to bed, I stayed awake, listening to my parents and grandparents talking. When I heard a knock at the door, I snuck out of bed and saw the German take my father and grandparents away. Then I heard Mother frantically packing. I urged her to leave immediately, telling her we didn’t have time. It was good that we left when we did. I have no doubt the German would have come back for my mother. Of course, my mother knew nothing about this treasure, and no one thought to ask me.
“I knew where to run to. My father had prepared me. He was a man of faith. He had faith that we would survive, even knowing the evil that the Nazis were determined to do. And he had faith in me—even as a young boy.”
“Speaking of your sister,” Charles said, “We promised to call Aunt Klára when we found that treasure. I think I spotted a pay phone down by the pub down the street.”
His father wiped the tears from his face, finally turning to him. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think we should see what’s inside the bag before we make the call?”
“Does it really matter, Dad?”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He sighed. “I wish your grandmother had known there truly was a treasure.”
“I don’t think it mattered to her much either. She got out of the country with what she treasured most.”
“With most of what mattered—she never did get used to living without my father. She died the day before his birthday, and she said his name with her parting tears. The doctor said he thought she still had a few more weeks, but she surprised us all, didn’t she? I don’t think she wanted to live through another birthday without him.”
Charles had heard that story many times before, but it was different this time. He was sitting in the yard that his family once again owned. The past and the present intersected in this moment.
Charles smiled, thinking of bringing his own wife and two sons here. And someday, when they got older, he would tell them the story of this day and how their story tied into a greater one.
“We will call Klára tomorrow,” his dad said finally. “And for now let us keep this moment for ourselves.”
With a tender touch his father opened the top of the bag. He held his breath as he slipped his hand inside. He smiled as he pulled out a small menorah. “This was always in the center of our dining room table. I don’t remember it not being there, but my father must have hidden it a few weeks before.”
“Is it valuable?” Charles dared to ask.
“It’s plated in gold, if that’s you were wondering, but probably not worth as much as you might think.”
“It was a treasure to him then?” Charlie commented.
His father handed it over to him. It was heavier than he expected.
“The seven-branch menorah that was used in the ancient temple of Jerusalem was gold and lit with olive oil.” His voice drifted off. “I remember my mother telling me stories about the temple. Like all Jewish families at the time, we talked about immigrating to Palestine. It was so hard to think of leaving everything behind. My father was especially worried about leaving his parents.” He sighed. “It is so easy to look back now and know what could have been done differently. By the time my father figured out what was about to happen, it was too late to get anyone out. He did the best he could.”
“There is more in the bag.” Charles pointed. “What else do you think is in there?”
His father tipped over the bag and a dozen gold coins fell out. They both gasped and picked them up, turning them over in their hand. “Look at this.” Charles placed four coins in his hand. He studied the dates, unsure if he saw them right. All of them were dated 1897 or 1898.
“A treasure indeed.”
This was the gift of a father for his family. He wasn’t a rich man, but he’d gathered together what he could. Charles could see from his father’s face that finding this meant more to him that if he’d found a load of riches.
“Is that all?” Charles picked up the bag and held it in his hands. He plunged his hand into the bag, and his eyes widened as he felt something small and metal on the bottom. He pulled it out and held it on the palm of his hand.
“My…my mother’s wedding ring,” his grandfather said, sounding shocked.
“What do you mean? Your mother used her ruby wedding ring to get you and your sister on the list.”
“Yes, that was the ring I always remembered. I would play with it when she read to me. It was a band of rubies. But when they were first married as poor university students, he’d gotten her a simple band. This is it.”
His father held his hand out. Charles placed the ring in it.
“Did you see what was inside?” his father asked. “There is writing in it. Can you read it?”
