Patrick took one last look down.
It was a mistake. The Gestapo officer looked right at him.
For a second, Patrick froze. Then he ran down the stairs behind Bernard.
“You find Beth,” Bernard said. “I’ll lead the officers away.”
“What if you get caught?” Patrick asked.
But Bernard was already gone.
Patrick was alone.
The Watch Shop
Beth ducked into an alley. What was that noise? she wondered. Was it a gun? She ran faster, holding Miriam tightly.
Miriam was crying.
“Shh. It’s okay!” Beth said to comfort her. But it was not okay. She was running for her life.
She glanced over her shoulder. No one was following. Yet.
She stopped in the darkest part of the alley. Miriam was heavy. Beth had to rest.
The noises behind her continued. She hoped Patrick could escape from the German soldier in all the chaos.
But she couldn’t wait for him. She had to save Miriam.
After a few minutes, the shouting stopped. I have to go back, Beth thought. I have to bring Miriam to the safe house.
Beth retraced her steps. Then she carefully looked out into the street. No one was there.
Beth read the numbers on the buildings as she went along . . . 27 . . . 25 . . .
She wanted to move quickly. But it was hard to read the numbers in the dark.
She passed more addresses . . . 23 . . . 21 . . . 19! She stopped in front of the building. It was on a corner. The sign on the front said, “Ten Boom: Watches.” She turned the doorknob.
“You there!” a voice shouted. “Halt!”
Beth groaned. One more step, and she would have been safe.
A Dutch policeman came around the corner. He had a circle of white hair around his balding head.
The policeman studied Beth. “Do you have anyone with you?” he asked.
“Just a baby,” she said.
“A girl with a baby was just being questioned by the Gestapo,” the policeman said.
“I haven’t done anything,” Beth said.
Just then, the door opened and an older woman gazed out at them. Her gray hair was in a bun. Her collar was turned up around her neck.
“What is happening here?” the woman asked. “Why all the noise?”
“This girl was being questioned by the Gestapo when there was an explosion,” the policeman said.
“Did she cause it?” the woman asked.
The policeman frowned. “Well, no . . .”
“Then surely the Haarlem police have better things to do than bother children. Go find your bomb-maker,” she said.
Miriam cried louder.
“Can’t someone make her be quiet?” the policeman asked.
“Here,” the woman said. She took the baby from Beth. The woman rocked Miriam until she stopped crying.
The policeman turned to Beth. “Why are you out after dark?” he asked.
Beth’s eye went to the sign for the watch shop. That’s it! she thought.
“I need this watch fixed,” she suddenly said. She took the watch from her wrist and held it up. “I thought I could get here before the curfew. But I didn’t watch the time.”
The policeman frowned. “A joke?” he asked. “You’re telling me jokes when I’m about to take you to the station?”
“Don’t be silly,” the woman said to the policeman. “The watch is broken. It must be repaired. Come inside.”
Beth stepped through the door.
The front room was full of watches and clocks of all shapes and sizes. All were set to the exact same time. The ticking sounded like a forest full of crickets.
The policeman followed them. “This is very suspicious,” he said.
“Our work doesn’t stop because the Germans decide to make war,” the woman said. But she was looking at Baby Miriam, not Beth’s watch.
The door burst open. Patrick dashed inside. “Beth, I . . .” He froze when he saw the policeman.
Beth thought her heart might stop.
The policeman frowned. “Ah! Another one out after curfew. Are you the boy who caused the explosion?” he asked.
“No,” Patrick said honestly. “I didn’t.”
“I’m afraid I’ll still have to take you in for questioning,” the policeman said. “Come with me.”
The woman stepped forward. “Before you go, I have some pastries in the kitchen. Sugar is a rare treat these days. If you—”
“Sugar . . . ?” he asked. He shook his head. “Don’t distract me,” the policeman said. He grabbed Patrick’s arm.
Then Patrick said, “I’m glad we’re going. It will give me a chance to say hello to my friend Hans Kristoffson.”
The policeman stopped. “You know Hans?”
Patrick nodded.
“We saw him this afternoon,” Beth said.
“Well,” the policeman said. He looked toward the door. Then he looked back at the children.
Slowly, he let go of their arms. “Very well, then,” he said. “Any friend of Hans is a friend of mine.”
He turned to leave. Then he stopped and smiled at the woman. “But a pastry would be nice,” he said.
The woman handed the baby to Beth. She disappeared through a door. A moment later she returned with a cloth wrapped around the pastries.
The policeman nodded. “Good,” he said. “But be warned. The Gestapo agents are watching everyone. They do not take kindly to strangers. Or those who break curfew.”
He lifted a corner of the cloth and broke off a piece of pastry. He popped it into his mouth and hummed.
“You like them?” the woman asked.
The policeman nodded. Then he looked at the children and said, “Conduct your business, and be on your way. Quickly!”
The Hiding Place
The police officer tipped his hat to the woman. Then he walked out the door.
Patrick began to pace. “We have to get out of here.”
“No, you don’t,” the woman said.
“We don’t?” Beth asked.
“We have a place here where you can hide,” the woman said.
The woman led the cousins to the back of the house. She began to climb a crooked, spiral staircase.
“My name is Corrie, by the way,” she said.
“Hello, I’m Patrick,” Patrick said.
“Nice to meet you,” Beth said. “I’m Beth.”
They climbed up to the top floor. Corrie opened the door to a bedroom.
Patrick frowned. It looked like a regular room. What are we going to do? he wondered. Hide under the bed?
Corrie went to a bookcase along the back wall. She stooped down and slid back a panel.
“Wow,” Patrick said. “You can hardly see it!”
“Go inside,” Corrie said to the cousins.
The room was dark except for the light coming in from the doorway.
Patrick’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He saw five people sitting on a cot. There was barely any room for anything else.
The people stared at him. There were three older men and two women. One woman was young and wore a dark dress.
No one spoke. They all look so scared, Patrick thought.
Corrie poked her head in behind the cousins and said, “Dora, I believe this bundle is yours.” She passed the baby to the woman in the dark dress.
Dora’s mouth opened wide. She lifted the blanket an inch. Then she kissed the baby on her cheek over and over and stroked her hair.
Patrick smiled. He looked at Beth. She was smiling too. Mission accomplished, he thought.
Patrick heard banging downstairs.
“They’re here looking for the children,” Corrie said. “Stay here and be silent.” She slid the panel shut. The room was now almost completely dark. Only a little moonlight came through a vent in the wall.
Patrick had never felt so nervous. The others stayed perfectly still where they sat.
The voices
from downstairs became louder. Then Patrick heard footsteps up the creaky wooden staircase.
Stopping. Then moving on. Then stopping.
Soon, Patrick heard two sets of footsteps in the bedroom just outside the hiding place.
The baby stirred. Everyone in the secret room turned to look at Miriam. Dora rocked her gently.
Patrick felt his stomach twist in knots. We brought Miriam here, he thought. Is she going to give us away now?
Patrick heard the men talking. But the words were too soft to hear clearly. He held his breath.
Then came the tapping.
The Germans seemed to tap on every surface. Distant and then closer. And then they tapped the brick wall of the secret room.
Miriam cooed.
The tapping stopped.
The Jews looked at one another nervously.
Dora placed the tip of her pinkie inside Miriam’s mouth. The baby sucked on it quietly.
Moments passed.
No one breathed.
Patrick heard low voices. Then he heard footsteps moving away. A door banged shut.
Patrick sighed. He heard some of the others do the same. Still, no one talked.
Patrick sat down against the wall. He closed his eyes. He felt so tired. But he knew he shouldn’t fall asleep.
The next thing he knew, he was being nudged. He opened his eyes. Beth smiled at him.
Corrie had poked her head back into the secret room. “It’s safe,” she said.
Dora held Miriam close and began to cry. She looked directly at Patrick and Beth. “Thank you,” she said. She looked as if she wanted to say more. But her tears kept her from speaking.
Corrie said, “We must feed everyone a nice dinner.”
That sounded good to Beth. She was very hungry.
They sat in the dining room with Corrie, her father Casper, and the Jewish guests.
Beth found herself glancing toward the door.
“Don’t worry,” Corrie said. “We know what to do if the police come back.”
Corrie said that the door was locked. No one could see the dining room from the front window. They also had an alarm system built into the house.
“I don’t know how you live like this,” Beth said.
“We have many tense moments,” Corrie said.
“Then why do you do it?” Beth asked. “You’re risking your lives to save strangers.”
Corrie’s father, Casper, said, “You will remember that Jesus Himself said that, as we help others, we are helping Him. So, in this household, God’s people are always welcome.”
Beth sipped a spoonful of soup. Then she said, “But aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”
Corrie’s father reached for an old Bible. It had a brass cover. He opened the book and turned the well-worn pages.
Beth could see that markings had been scribbled all over the pages.
Corrie’s father read a verse aloud. “You are my hiding place and my shield; I hope in Your word.”
Corrie nodded. “God doesn’t always protect us from danger,” she said. “But He’s always with us when we face danger. And that’s enough.”
Patrick lifted his head as if he was listening to something.
Oh no, Beth thought. What if that noise is from the police?
Then she heard it, too. A low hum.
The Imagination Station was nearby. Beth and Patrick went to the window.
“Is something wrong?” Corrie asked.
There was a small patch of yard behind the house. The Imagination Station stood there.
Beth looked at Patrick and said, “It’s time for us to go.”
Corrie and Casper seemed worried about the cousins.
“Don’t worry,” Beth said. “We’re safe.”
At the back door, Casper extended his hand. Patrick shook it.
“What about my watch?” Beth asked.
Casper smiled. “It’s an honor to fix it for you. No charge. It will be ready when you come back,” he said.
Beth smiled at Patrick. Patrick knew they would never come back. But there was no way to explain that right now.
Patrick and Beth stepped through the back door and turned one final time to wave to Corrie and Casper.
Patrick wondered about the Vos family, the pilot, and Bernard. He hoped Bernard never had to wear the dress again. He didn’t look very good in it.
They climbed into the Imagination Station.
Beth pushed the red button.
Whit’s End
“I remember that name,” Beth said. She sipped a milkshake back at Whit’s End. “Corrie ten Boom.”
“She was a very famous speaker and author,” Whit said. “She wrote a book called The Hiding Place. It was about her family hiding Jews during World War Two. They saved hundreds of people’s lives.”
“What happened to her?” Patrick asked.
“In 1944, she and some of her family members were arrested,” Whit said. “Her father died days afterward. Corrie and her sister were sent to a concentration camp.”
“Oh no!” Beth said.
“Only Corrie lived through the war,” Whit said. “Corrie’s sister, Betsie, died at the camp.”
“That’s awful!” Patrick said.
Whit nodded. “Millions of Jews died in that war,” he said. “It was a bad time. But it was also a time when good people became heroes. Many ordinary people risked their lives to follow Jesus’ command to love others.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. “It felt good to be able to help people. But it was scary.”
“We may not be risking our lives for our faith right now,” Whit said, “but God has useful things for all of us to do.”
Beth and Patrick left the shop. Patrick said, “We can’t babysit. But maybe we can do something else.”
“There’s a rummage sale at the church today,” Beth said. “It’s to help missionaries who live in Africa.”
“I’ll ask my parents if I can go,” Patrick said. “What time is it?”
Beth looked at her digital watch. “Hmm. It’s not working,” she said.
Patrick reached for the watch. He looked at the blank screen. “I’ll fix it.”
“Really?” Beth asked.
Patrick said, “No charge.”
The cousins laughed together and walked toward home.
Questions about Escape to the Hiding Place
Q: Did the Dutch people support the Nazis?
A: Most Dutch citizens did not. In 1944, the Nazis cut off the food supply because the Dutch people wouldn’t help them. Twenty-two thousand Dutch people died of hunger.
Q: How did Corrie’s house get the special room for hiding Jews?
A: A man from the Resistance built it for the Ten Booms. He even made the covering of the new brick wall look old and stained so it would be hidden.
For more info on Corrie ten Boom and World War Two, visit TheImaginationStation.com.
Secret Word Puzzle
Morse code is a series of dots and dashes that stand for letters. During World War Two, Resistance workers used Morse code to send messages over the radio. Crack the code to find a message.
A • —
B — • • •
C — • — •
D — • •
E •
F • • — •
G — — •
H • • • •
I • •
J • — — —
K — • —
L • — • •
M — —
N — •
O — — —
P • — — •
Q — — • —
R • — •
S • • •
T —
U • • —
V • • • —
W • — —
X — • • —
Y — • — —
Z — — • •
• — — •
• — • •
• —
— •
•
___
___
___
___
• • •
• • • •
— — —
—
___
___
___
• —
— •
— • •
___
___
• — — •
• •
• — • •
— — —
—
___
___
___
___
— —
• •
• • •
• • •
• •
— •
— — •
___
___
___
___
___
___
Now take the letters in the boxes and write them here. They spell the reference to the Bible verse that Casper ten Boom read to Patrick and Beth. The word in the boxes is the secret word!
119:114
Go to TheImaginationStation.com. Find the cover of this book. Click on “Secret Word.” Type in the correct answer, and you’ll receive a prize
Author Marianne Hering is the former editor of Focus on the Family Clubhouse® magazine. She has written more than a dozen children’s books. She likes to read out loud in bed to her fluffy gray-and-white cat, Koshka.
Illustrator David Hohn draws and paints covers and pictures for books, posters, and projects of all kinds. He works from his studio in Portland, Oregon.
Author Marshal Younger has written over 100 Adventures in Odyssey® radio dramas and the children’s book series Kidsboro. He lives in Tennessee with his wife and four children. He has been a Cleveland Indians fan for 34 long years.
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