Chasing Shadows

by Lynn Austin

  “Yes, I’ll tell him,” Ans said.

  The baby stirred and woke up, gazing around with a worried look as if wondering where she was. Miriam snatched her up and held her close. Avi thanked Ans, and they went back up to the sweltering attic with its dusty rafters and dangling cobwebs to be alone. Elisheva squirmed, wanting to free herself from Miriam’s arms and crawl around. This was no place for her to grow up. “You and Elisheva are the only two people I have left,” Miriam sobbed. “How can I leave my baby? How can I leave you?”

  “I know; I know.” Avi held her as she wept. “But they’re right, Miriam. If we’re apart, there’s a better chance that one of us will survive. We can’t let Elisheva grow up in constant fear this way. She isn’t able to cry or run or play. She’ll have a better life, a safer life, with Ans’s family. And we’ll know where to find her when this war is finally over.”

  “I don’t think this war will ever be over. The Nazis are going to hunt us down until the day we die.”

  “But at least our daughter may live.”

  If she didn’t let Elisheva go, she might lose her forever. If there was any chance at all that her daughter would survive, Miriam had to take it. She asked Eloise for paper and a pen and sat down in the office to write two letters. She could hear Avi’s soft voice as he played with Elisheva in the hallway outside the room and her daughter’s delighted laughter as she took toddling steps, clinging to her papa’s hand.

  Tears spotted the paper as Miriam wrote first to Ans’s mother. When she finished, Miriam wrote a second letter to her daughter:

  Darling Elisheva,

  From the moment you were born, you’ve been our joy, our life. Saying goodbye and letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But there is no other way for your father and me to save you. The only chance you’ll have to be safe, to live, and to grow and become a woman someday is to release you into another mother’s loving arms. You’re much too young to understand these dark times and the painful choices we are forced to make. Many good, loving people are giving their lives to free the world from the evil that is causing our separation. People have risked their lives to save our family, and I pray that we can find a way to thank them.

  If we meet each other again, dear Elisheva, the day will be as joyous as the day you were born. If we don’t see each other again until the World to Come, please remember your father and me from the photographs in this album and know that we love you with our very life and with our every breath.

  May God be with you, my beloved child.

  Your loving mama

  Miriam tucked the two letters inside her photograph album, planning to send it and her grandmother’s silver candlesticks with Elisheva.

  “Do you think God has abandoned us, Avi?”

  “No, don’t ever think that. See how He has provided for us through the Huizengas and Ans and her parents? Never doubt His goodness. And don’t ever give up hope.”

  “I know I must be strong. And I will be.” But the pain in her heart at the thought of leaving Avi and Elisheva was so great that she feared she would die from it. She took out her violin again and played the Tchaikovsky theme for them, hoping they would remember her whenever they heard violin music.

  CHAPTER 31

  Ans walked to the bridge near the Beestenmarkt at the appointed time, trying to stroll casually along the canal without glancing around or acting nervous. If she ran into Erik, she would have to lie and tell him Havik was her cousin. It seemed odd to her now that after dating for nearly three years, Erik had never asked about her family. There was no one waiting on the bridge, so she took the crusts of stale bread from her bag and tossed pieces into the canal below. A rush of squawks and feathers greeted her as the ducks fought over each morsel.

  A few minutes passed before she saw Havik strolling from the direction of the train station with a bag over his shoulder as if out for a late-afternoon walk. Ans wished she could act as nonchalantly as he did and not let her nervousness show.

  He smiled and kissed her cheeks. “Greetings, cousin!” Then they stood side by side, tossing stale bread over the railing.

  “The child is now Elisabeth Jager from Noordwijk. Her mother died of consumption, and her father can’t take care of her on his own after the coastal evacuations. He works for the railroad and travels often. I’ll leave it to you to invent a connection to your family. Practice the story until it feels natural to tell it.”

  “I brought her parents’ ID cards in my bag.” They would exchange bags before they parted.

  “I suggest you travel to your family’s farm by train, as late in the day as possible so you’ll arrive near curfew, when it’s dark. Leave as soon as the curfew ends the next morning, from a different station, if possible. If you encounter anyone you know and they ask about the baby, can you lie convincingly?”

  “Yes.” She would do anything for Elisheva.

  “I wish you and the child well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ll need a week to forge new ID cards for your friends. We already have a few possible hiding places for them in mind. A physician, Dr. Elzinga, will come to your town house with instructions.”

  “You know where we live?”

  “Of course.” The knowledge sent a shiver through her. It would take only one mistake, one slip from someone in the Resistance to expose her, the Huizengas, and the Leopolds to great danger. And soon she would put her parents at risk too. Ans wanted to believe that this was the source of Erik’s concern for her, the reason why he’d begged her not to get involved. She refused to believe that the man she loved shared the Nazis’ beliefs.

  “The family I work for are willing to help others, as well. Two or three women could live there as servants or a live-in nurse. If the refugees are Dutch Jews, they could pose as relatives. Mrs. Huizenga is Belgian.”

  “Good. And are you willing to help as a courier?”

  “What would I need to do?”

  “People in hiding like your friends need to be fed, which means they need ration books. We acquire them by robbing post offices, but we need couriers to distribute them to the safe houses along with forged IDs. Are you willing?”

  She had promised Erik not to deliver underground newspapers, but ration cards and fake IDs were different. And even more dangerous. Still, Ans didn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course I’ll help.”

  “Do you have a bicycle?”

  “Yes.”

  “And courage?”

  “I think so.” Her heart hammered faster with each question.

  “You may also need to travel by train to Den Haag or Utrecht or Amsterdam or one of the many small villages where people are hidden. If you’re caught with a supply of false ID cards or ration books, you’ll be arrested and sent to prison.”

  Ans remembered the injustice that had led to this work. “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” “I understand,” Ans said. “I still want to help.”

  “Good. We’re grateful. The underground’s work is growing, and we need to expand our network. When the Nazis recalled all of the Dutch military officers a few months ago, many of them went into hiding as onderduikers. We need trustworthy people who can offer hiding places.”

  “My grandfather has been telling his congregation to resist the Nazis. He knows which of his parishioners you can trust. I can speak with him.”

  “It would be better if we do it. How can we contact him?”

  “I’ll write it down for you.”

  “No. Just tell me. Never put names and addresses in writing where they might fall into the wrong hands. Can you lie? Or, more importantly, will you lie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take the child to your farm as soon as you can think of a plausible excuse to travel there. Her papers are in this bag.”

  “Should I call and let them know?”

  “Never assume that a telephone is safe. I’ll be in touch again.”

  Ans
took Havik’s bag and went home to tell Miriam and Avi the news.

  CHAPTER 32

  Elisheva was finally asleep in Miriam’s arms. They’d given her a small dose of Eloise’s sedative before wrapping her in a blanket for the trip to the farm. “It’s time for me to go,” Ans said. She thought her heart would break as Miriam gave a little sob and pulled Elisheva close to her heart one last time.

  “I love you, my darling girl,” she said before kissing her goodbye. Avi took his daughter from Miriam’s arms and did the same, murmuring a prayer over her before laying the sleeping baby in her carriage for the walk to the train station. Tears streamed down his face.

  Ans needed to leave the house quickly to avoid causing the Leopolds further pain. Professor Huizenga helped Ans maneuver the carriage through the front door. He and Eloise would go with Ans to the train station and bring the carriage home again. If the Gestapo raided the town house while the three of them were away, Avi and Miriam would hide on the ledge outside the attic window. Avi had added a handle to the outside of the window frame so he could close it behind them without Ans’s help.

  The walk to the station took fifteen minutes. Eloise pushed the carriage, and the professor carried the suitcase with Elisheva’s clothes and a few of Ans’s things for her overnight stay on the farm. The suitcase also contained the photograph album Miriam had brought from Cologne. She had begged Ans to take it with her, saying, “Please keep this for Elisheva so she’ll remember us. Tell her these silver candlesticks once belonged to my grandmother.” If the Nazis saw the photographs, they would know in an instant that the owner was Jewish. Carrying it would be extremely dangerous. Yet Ans couldn’t refuse Miriam’s request.

  They arrived on the platform only minutes before the train was scheduled to leave in order to decrease the chances of running into Erik. Eloise lifted the baby from the carriage and handed her to Ans. She felt heavy in her arms, the weight of her responsibility heavier still.

  “Be careful,” Eloise whispered. “Be safe. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.” She kissed Ans goodbye as if they were mother and daughter, and the professor handed her the suitcase.

  Ans boarded quickly and took a seat. She felt enormous relief as the train steamed from the station without encountering any Nazi soldiers or Leiden police officers. It wasn’t a long trip, but she would have to change to a different rail line along the way.

  She made it safely to her first stop and waited on a bench in the station to transfer trains. Again, there were no Nazi soldiers in sight, and she boarded the second train without incident. She was almost home. But as the train pulled into an out-of-the-way station, Ans saw Nazi soldiers on the platform waiting to board. They entered one of the middle cars and moved in opposite directions, one going toward the front of the train, the other toward the rear, asking everyone for their identification card. Ans prayed that the train would depart quickly and that the soldiers would get off again. But when the whistle blew and the train lurched forward, the Nazis were still on board.

  Ans couldn’t act nervous. She needed to sound convincing. Her turn came and the soldier halted beside her seat. “ID card, bitte.” She took it from her purse, hoping he wouldn’t notice her trembling hand. He took an eternity to look it over, studying her face and comparing it to her photograph. Her heart froze when he pointed to the card, then to the baby.

  “You are not married,” he said in accented Dutch. “Who is child?”

  Ans swallowed a knot of fear. “Her mother died of consumption, and her father can’t take care of her. They were from Noordwijk, on the coast, and had to evacuate. I’m taking her to live with relatives.”

  He stared at her for so long she wondered if he’d understood her. Then he held out his hand again. “You show proof of this?”

  Ans dug into her bag for Elisheva’s birth certificate. Would he be able to tell that it was a forgery? Ans looked down at the baby’s beautiful face as the soldier studied the papers for another eternity, praying as she never had before. At last he gave back the papers and moved on to the next passenger. Ans battled tears of relief as she thanked God.

  The sun was low on the horizon when the train pulled into Ans’s village. Havik had said it wasn’t safe to telephone ahead, so she’d planned to walk to the manse and ask her grandfather to drive her to the farm. She climbed down from the train without waiting for a porter and hurried away from the station, struggling with the sleeping child and the awkward suitcase. Elisheva didn’t wake up. Ans crossed the street, walking quickly, her head lowered, hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone she knew. Her hope collapsed when she heard someone call her name.

  “Ans? Ans de Vries, is that you?”

  She wanted to keep going, pretending she hadn’t heard. But she recognized the voice. The Van Dams lived in the house she’d just passed. Corrie van Dam had been her best friend in school. It would seem suspicious if she didn’t say hello. She turned to Mrs. Van Dam, who was sweeping her front stoop in the fading twilight.

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Van Dam.”

  “I thought that was you! We haven’t seen you in ages! How are you, Ans? Corrie was just saying the other day how much she missed her best friend.”

  The bag and the baby were growing heavy. Ans set down the suitcase and shifted Elisheva to her other arm. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home. I work in Leiden now.”

  “Is this your baby? Your mother never told us you’d married.”

  “No, she isn’t mine,” Ans replied, trying her best to laugh. “Her mother died, and her father can’t take care of her. We’re hoping the fresh air on the farm will do her good.”

  “She’s a relative of yours?”

  Her heart thumped faster. She mustn’t get trapped in a web of lies. Everyone in the village knew Mama and Papa and their relatives. “The baby’s parents were friends of mine. I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk right now, Mrs. Van Dam. I need to get out to the farm before curfew.”

  “I’ll tell Corrie you’re home. I know she’d love to see you.”

  “Yes. It’s been ages.”

  Ans picked up the suitcase and hurried across the market square to the manse. As she neared the front door, she saw lights on behind the curtains and what looked like several people moving around inside. She set the suitcase down and shifted the baby to her shoulder. Opa had guests, and she needed to avoid meeting them. She was about to walk around to the back when the front door opened and one of the church elders stepped outside. He saw her before she had a chance to turn away.

  “Hello, Ans. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  Her composure nearly shattered. He was one of the most unbending men in the church and had let his disapproval of Ans and her wayward behavior be known in the past. “I just arrived on the evening train.” Her cheeks burned as if on fire. “I’m hoping Opa will drive me out to the farm before curfew.”

  “Is that your baby?”

  “No, her mother died, and her father isn’t able to care for her. He thought our farm would be a good place for her until he can.”

  The man had the grace to hold the door open for her and help with her suitcase. But three other elders stood just inside the door, preparing to leave. One of them, the village postmaster, was married to Mama’s cousin, Truus. They’d all overheard what Ans said and were certain to tell their wives the big news. The prodigal daughter had returned home and was sneaking around in the dark of night—with a baby. She should have given more thought to how her arrival would look.

  Ans moved into the parlor, where chairs had been gathered into a circle for the meeting. Opa looked surprised when he saw Ans, but he recovered quickly and came to her rescue, pretending not to be surprised at all.

  “You made it. Come in, my child. Can I hold the baby for you? How was your trip?”

  “Tiring,” she said, laying Elisheva in his arms. “But at least she slept.” He parted the blanket, smiling as he looked at the baby’s face.

  “I’ll say good night to you gen
tlemen,” Opa said, shooing them out the door. He was still cradling the baby. “It was a good meeting. We’ll talk again.” The moment he closed the door and turned to Ans, she burst into tears. He embraced her with his free arm and kissed the top of her head. “Come, let’s sit down for a moment.” He led her to the sofa and sat down beside her.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll need to be stronger if I’m going to do this work,” Ans said between sobs. “And I’m sorry for surprising you this way. I didn’t plan ahead for what I would do if you had company . . . and I ran into Mrs. Van Dam outside the train station and . . . and I wasn’t prepared.”

  “Is the child Jewish?” he asked.

  “How did you know?” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

  “Because I know you, my dear girl. What’s her name?”

  “It’s Elisabeth now. Her parents are my friends. The Nazis are rounding up all of the Jews in Amsterdam and Leiden and everywhere else and transporting them to resettlement camps.”

  “Yes, we’ve heard about it through the underground newspapers.”

  “My employers and I are helping to hide as many people as we can, but it’s difficult to hide babies as young as Elisabeth. I’m hoping Mama and Papa will take care of her for us.”

  “She’s beautiful,” he said, gazing down at her.

  “The thing is . . . I hated to put Mama and Papa in danger, yet I couldn’t stand by and do nothing to help.”

  “Don’t worry about your parents. The compassion you feel for this child—and your desire to do what’s right—are things you learned from them. They won’t hesitate to take her, in spite of the risks.”

  “But I’m putting Maaike and Wim in danger too.”

  “Every one of us is in danger as long as the Nazis remain in power. The only truly safe place to be is in God’s hands.”

  Ans began to feel calm again as she listened to Opa’s soothing voice. For the first time since leaving Leiden, her heart wasn’t flailing wildly as if trying to escape from her chest.