by Lynn Austin
“When do you think it’ll be safe for me to return to Leiden?” she asked Leeuw. “It’s been two months.”
He shook his head, brushing his thick hair from his eyes. “It’s still too soon. You must be patient.”
“What about letters? You said you would let me know when I could write to Eloise or my parents or my boyfriend.”
He continued shaking his head, giving his answer.
“Even if I mailed it from a different town?” she asked. “With no return address?”
“My dear, if they’re looking for you and your letter is intercepted, you’ll put your loved ones in terrible danger.”
August arrived, and with it came hot days of hoeing weeds and sticky nights in her box bed in the kitchen. It felt good to cool off in the canal at the end of a long day, but the farmwork didn’t satisfy Ans’s need to fight back.
She noticed an increase in Nazi activity nearby and was often awakened at night by the rumble of trucks and heavy vehicles on the back roads. When she walked into town on errands, she saw soldiers everywhere. Something was going on.
She was bringing the milk cans up from the barn after milking one morning when a powerful blast made her dive to the ground and cover her head, nearly spilling the milk. It was followed by a deafening roar as something streaked overhead, soaring high into the sky. The others heard it too and came running outside to look up.
“What kind of weapon was that?” Ans wondered aloud.
Leeuw answered her question when he came a few days later. Ans stood inside the barn with the others to hear about it. “Hitler has a new secret weapon called a V-1 rocket,” Leeuw told them. “It doesn’t require an airplane to deliver the explosives and can be launched from the ground at any target, any time of day or night. The Allies can’t stop these rockets or shoot them down like other enemy aircraft. They have to find out where the launch sites are and target them.”
“They launched a rocket nearby,” Ans told him. “We heard it the other morning. It sounded very close, east of here.”
“That matches the other evidence we have. These rockets will cause a lot of death and destruction before this war is over.”
“I want to help,” Ans said. “I used to gather military information and sketch maps for the Allies. I know the codes and what to look for. If you let me go back to Leiden—”
He held up his hand, stopping her. He led her away from the others to the laundry tubs she’d abandoned when Leeuw had arrived. “Ans, I need to tell you something,” he said when they finally halted. Her heart thudded as she steeled herself for bad news. She wasn’t expecting what he told her. “Herman Huizenga and his brother Aalt have been arrested.”
“What? . . . That can’t be! . . . Please, that must be a mistake! Did they find out he was hiding people?”
“No, something worse. The bank where the Huizenga brothers worked has been funneling money to the underground. They’ve been underreporting the Jewish assets that the Nazis confiscate and using the money to help Jews in hiding.”
Ans admired the professor more than ever, yet she was terrified for him. “What will happen to them?”
“We don’t know. They and everyone who worked at the bank are in the prison camp in Amersfoort.”
“Was his wife also arrested?”
“No.”
“She isn’t well. She shouldn’t be alone. Are the cook and housekeeper still there?”
“Yes, their cover story is holding up for now. But it isn’t safe for anyone else to hide there—or for you to go back. The house might be watched.”
Ans groaned, remembering how Erik had been assigned to watch the Leopolds’ apartment after they’d gone into hiding. Was he watching the town house? Would he arrest Ans if he saw her there or would he help her again? She closed her eyes and offered a silent, urgent prayer for Herman and Eloise, knowing how distraught they both must be. Eloise’s greatest fear was losing the people she loved, and Herman was the only family she had left. Eloise wasn’t strong enough to face a loss this great. And Herman must be more concerned for Eloise’s well-being than for his own. Ans longed to go to her, yet she understood why it was impossible. Knowing her friends were suffering made her furious.
“Let me go back to work, Leeuw, please! Give me a new territory, someplace where no one knows me.”
“It might be too soon, especially after Herman Huizenga’s arrest. We don’t know if they’re still searching for you.”
“I have a new identity and forged papers. I can deliver ration cards like I did before and forged IDs and newspapers. I can help you find out where they’re launching the rockets and fill in the information on military maps.”
“You’ll have to walk or ride a bike. Trains are too risky. Too much scrutiny.”
“Whatever you need me to do. Please!”
“This wouldn’t be because they’re overworking you here, would it?” he asked, smiling as he gestured to the pile of dirty overalls beside the laundry tubs.
“This farm can still be my home base. I’ll still work hard for the Dykstras when I’m here.”
Leeuw twisted a lock of his thick hair, looking Ans over as if wondering how old she was and how strong. “I’ll let you know the next time I come.”
Leeuw returned a few days later with an assignment—delivering ration books and newspapers. A vigorous bicycle ride from the farm took her to Bodegraven and Woerden or the outskirts of Utrecht. She walked for miles and miles to farms and villages where Jews and onderduikers were hiding, and returned to the farm exhausted each night, her feet aching, wondering if this long, endless war would ever be over.
CHAPTER 45
Lena was washing the supper dishes when Pieter pulled her aside. She’d seen him talking to Wolf in the barn earlier and wondered what was going on. “Wim needs to be told everything,” Pieter whispered. “Tonight. He’s old enough now. You’re going to need his help while I’m gone.”
“Where are you going?”
He tilted his head toward Maaike, who was drying the dishes. “We’ll talk later.”
Lena returned to the kitchen after tucking Bep and Maaike into bed, and she knew from the pained expression on Pieter’s face that she wasn’t going to like what he said. Sixteen-year-old Wim sat at the table with him, his fair hair glowing in the light of the kerosene lamp. Their son was so tall and growing taller every day, his profile so like his grandfather’s with his strong, proud nose and chin. “Shall I make mint tea?” she asked.
“Not for me. Sit down, Lena.” She sat. Pieter’s ominous words while I’m gone had been eating a hole in her stomach ever since he’d spoken them earlier.
“Wim, a group of us have been working with the Resistance to fight the Nazis,” Pieter began. “Now that the Allies are trying to free the Netherlands, I need to help them.”
“Can I go with you?” Wim seemed so eager that Lena had to resist the urge to grab his arm to hold him back. He would hate being treated like a child.
“Not this time,” Pieter said. Not ever! Lena wanted to shout. “I need you to take over my work here. Your mother and I have been hiding onderduikers in the barn and the windmill—”
“I know,” Wim said. “I’ve seen them sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep. But I would never tell anyone.”
“Good. I know we can trust you, Son. There’s also a Jewish couple hiding here in the house. Your mother will introduce you to them after I leave in a few minutes.”
His words took another bite out of Lena’s stomach. How long had he known he was leaving? Why hadn’t he told her sooner?
Lena knew why.
“Can you tell us what you’ll be doing?” Lena asked. “And when you’ll be back?” Pieter hesitated for such a long moment that Lena reached for his hand. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but it’s easier for me if I know.”
He nodded and drew a deep breath. “The Allies and Nazis are fighting southwest of here, in Noord-Brabant and Gelderland. The Resistance has learned that a Nazi ammunition
train is headed there. If we can derail it, Allied planes will blow it up.”
Wim made a sound like an exploding bomb. He was grinning, his admiration for his father reflected on his face.
“There will be other jobs after that. I don’t know the details yet, but I won’t be able to come back or to contact you for a while.”
Lena looked away, determined not to cry. “We’ll keep everything going, won’t we, Wim?”
“Help your mother with the farm and with all of the people in hiding. Keep your sisters safe. They’re all depending on us. You’ll need to be brave and strong, Wim. And if the Nazis come, I want you to hide with the shadow people. I’ll show you all the places.”
There would be reprisals after the train derailment. The Nazis had killed a fourteen-year-old boy with one of their firing squads when they couldn’t find enough men. She rose when Pieter and Wim did, even though she wasn’t going anywhere, and watched them go into the barn. She was standing in the same place when Pieter returned to say goodbye.
“It’s no shame to be afraid, Wim,” Pieter was saying. “I’m afraid too. But you aren’t alone. God will give you the strength you need.” Lena knew his words were meant for her, too.
They knelt beside the table so Pieter could pray. They recited the Twenty-third Psalm together when he finished. “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me . . .” Then Pieter kissed them both and left. The house seemed unnaturally quiet.
“I’ll show you where Max and Ina are hiding,” Lena said. “Max has important work to do. And they’ll both be hungry.”
With Pieter gone, Lena was reluctant to let her children out of her sight. She needed to run an errand in the village the next day, but it was too dangerous for Wim to be seen, and she was afraid to leave Maaike and Bep behind. In the end, she loaded the girls onto her broken-down bicycle for the trip. She stopped at the manse to see her father before returning home. He sat Maaike and Bep down at his kitchen table and gave them bread with hagelslag on top. “I’ve been saving these chocolate sprinkles just for you,” he told them. “Enjoy your little treat while your mama and I talk.”
Lena told him about the ammunition train and begged him to pray for them. He hugged her tightly.
“Of course, Lena. We carry such heavy burdens through these endless days.”
“Pray for all of us, Papa. The Nazis are going to retaliate after this train is destroyed, and they’re becoming more and more vicious. We heard that the Nazis burned five homes to the ground in one village after the local train station was sabotaged. The families had only thirty minutes to get out.”
“They tried to win the Dutch people over to their side in the beginning,” Papa said, “but they’ve learned that they can’t, and it infuriates them.”
“Is this war ever going to end? I hate what it’s doing to us, what we’re turning into.”
“We have to believe that God will triumph in all this suffering. One day the kingdoms of this world will become Christ’s Kingdom, and His Kingdom is forever.”
Lena heard the distant rumble of approaching aircraft—an entire formation from the sound of it. She would need to wait until it passed before venturing out with her daughters again. Shadows flickered on the floor as the planes flew in front of the sun. Her father noticed them too.
“Every time you see planes flying overhead, let them remind you that we can find refuge in the shadow of His wings.”
“I don’t understand why God allows this, Papa.”
“Keep your eyes on the Cross and the Resurrection. When we remember how much Christ sacrificed for us, we’ll know we can trust Him with anything.”
They had just finished praying together when there was a tremendous explosion somewhere far in the distance, probably dozens of miles away. Lena felt the hair on her arms and neck rise. The Nazis would make them pay. “I need to go home,” she said.
Papa walked her to the door. “You know you can always come to me, Lena, and I’ll pray with you. But I may not always be here, and you must—”
“Don’t say that! With Pieter gone, I need you! I can’t face this alone.”
“It may not be up to me. I’m telling you what I tell all of my parishioners. You need to turn to God, not me.” It was what Pieter had told her and Wim before he left.
Lena walked up to the windmill that night after the girls were in bed to ask the shadow people if the hidden radio had reported any news of the battles being fought on Dutch soil. “I don’t think it’s going well for the Allies,” one of them told her. “There was a coded message for the Resistance to help with the retreat.”
“No . . .” They had drawn such hope from the Allies’ presence. How could any of them bear to lose that hope again?
The next day, Lena cycled into town with Maaike and Bep for the Sunday morning worship service. It was still too risky for Wim to be seen. She found consolation in the hymns, comfort in the prayers, and renewed strength from her friends and neighbors who were suffering with her. No one spoke of their fear of an enemy reprisal, but they all knew it was on everyone’s mind.
“This war has caused us to face impossible decisions,” Papa said in his sermon. “How do we decide which choice to make? Should we tell a lie to protect a Jewish child, for instance? Is it okay to steal from our enemy to feed someone in need?” He paused and gazed out at the congregation. Lena had never noticed how thin he’d become. “Jesus said the most important commandments are to love the Lord your God and love your neighbor. And so, whenever we face a dilemma, we can ask, What is the best way to show our love for God and for our neighbor?”
He paused again and Lena heard the unmistakable sound of Nazi motorcycles approaching. Papa ignored them and continued to preach until they halted outside. The church grew very still. The church door banged open and the congregation turned. Three Nazi soldiers walked inside. The spokesman’s Dutch was poor, but everyone understood. They had been dreading this moment since yesterday’s explosion.
“A train was destroyed. One man from each town must pay.”
Silence.
“Take me.” Lena’s father stepped from behind the pulpit. “I’ll go.” He slipped the stole from around his neck as he walked toward the soldiers.
No! Lena tried to cry out but terror clogged her throat. Pastors and priests were exempt from Nazi reprisals. They couldn’t take her father!
He reached Lena’s pew and handed her his stole. His gaze met hers for a moment as he told her without words that he wasn’t afraid. And that he loved her.
No . . . no . . . no! Why didn’t someone stop him?
He unfastened his clerical robe as he walked and shrugged it off, laying it over a pew near the door. He seemed so calm. So at peace. Lena pulled Maaike and Bep close, crushing them to herself to shield them.
Dear God, no . . . Please don’t let them do this! Please!
They shoved Papa through the door, leaving it open. She heard others weeping. Where was the miracle that would save her father? Angels with flaming swords. Allies dropping by parachute to destroy the Nazis. God had saved Pieter from the firing squad at the last minute.
Oh, God, please, please don’t let—
A single gunshot rang out. It reverberated through the building, making Lena’s skin crawl. The stench of gunpowder drifted in with it. No one moved or breathed as they sat frozen in shock. The motorcycles started up and drove away.
One of the elders leaped up and rushed outside. Another followed, then another. The first man returned a minute later, gripping the backs of the pews as he stumbled forward as if to keep from falling over. He looked at the waiting congregation—at Lena—and shook his head.
Papa was dead.
CHAPTER 46
By the end of the summer, Ans had done so much walking that her shoes wore out. She had no money for a new pair. She showed Mrs. Dykstra the holes that she’d tried to cover with layers of newspaper. “But now the soles are tearing away from the uppers,” Ans said
. “Do you know where I can get a new pair?”
“New shoes in wartime? Keep dreaming, Bernandina! But I’ll ask at church and see what I can find for you.” She came home with a pair of well-worn work boots. They were a little large for Ans but better than the shoes that had fallen apart.
Her travels also allowed Ans to map the Nazis’ movements and report on the area where the rockets were being launched. “It’s very important to get an estimate of the number of troops and tanks in this region,” Leeuw had said. “The Allies are in Belgium, and we’re expecting something big in the Netherlands very soon.” His words brought Ans hope, renewing her resolve.
The autumn day still held the warmth of summer when Ans rode her bicycle to the towns of Woerden and then Bodegraven to deliver ration cards. She noticed an unusual amount of Nazi activity with troop vehicles and tanks heading toward the southeast. At her last stop in Bodegraven, she asked to use the bathroom and marked down all of the military information in coded symbols on her map, afraid she wouldn’t remember them by the time she’d cycled back to the farm. Ans folded the map into a small square and tucked it under the front of her bra. Late in the day, she climbed onto her bicycle to head home.
She was somewhere between Bodegraven and Woerden, riding back roads because of the Nazi activity, when two Nazi soldiers approached, one on a bicycle, the other striding alongside. Her heart ticked faster. There was no chance that they hadn’t seen her. Her legs were already weary but she pedaled faster, gazing straight ahead, hoping to race past them. But the one on the bicycle halted and waved his arms at her.
“Hey, hey! Stop!” he said in German. “Where are you going in such a hurry, pretty Fräulein?” The other one stepped into her path. Ans had no choice. She braked to a stop but pretended she didn’t understand them.
“Here’s your chance,” the one with the bicycle said to the other soldier. “You can get a bike for yourself.”
