A Sparrow in Terezin

by Kristy Cambron

  The mood that clung to the air irritated her already knotted stomach. She hoped the food Liam had purchased for her wouldn’t turn it further.

  Kája proceeded to the ladies’ room and changed quickly.

  She folded her suit and placed it in the brown paper bag, packing the waxed paper pie on top of it. There’d be no eating now, despite her growling stomach. Butterflies occupied the space where hunger had been. Maybe they would settle and she could eat something on the train.

  The whistle sounded, giving warning that the steam engine would soon be flying over the tracks. Moving quickly, Kája stepped from one of the wooden stalls with hat in hand. Though she’d hadn’t intended to do so, she came to a halt before the mirror.

  The sight of her was a shock.

  The uniform was stark and cold. It echoed the seriousness of what she was about to do. And though she hadn’t noticed it before that very moment, the reflection she saw looked every bit as severe. A hint of gray painted half-moons on the skin beneath her eyes. Her hair was still pulled back in a taut chignon, but gentle wisps had freed themselves and now hung soft along her temple. They looked unkempt and wild, and framed a face so solemn that she wondered just who was staring back at her.

  Lord, she prayed, allowing the uniform hat and bag to drop to the floor at her feet. Liam’s here now and I’m grateful. So grateful. But what happens next?

  Tears burned her eyes then and she wiped at the coolness of them trickling down her cheeks.

  I don’t think I can do this alone . . . Kája ran her hand over her hair until it brushed over the rise of the thick chignon at her nape. She felt the cold metal of a hairpin and pulled it free. She found another and another, pulling each free until the fiery softness of her hair tumbled about her shoulders. She managed to breathe softly, almost automatically, and looked back at the frightened stranger before her.

  Kája shuddered, feeling the full weight of what she was about to do.

  She tilted her face, exposing light to the scar at her left temple. She’d tried to cover it with powder but the surface of it still glistened slightly. She brushed the raise of skin with her fingertips. And she ran her hand down the span of the uniform coat that covered her left arm. She could feel scars burning her skin there, too, reminding her that bombs were real. The threat she was walking into was real. Death was real. And the fact that she was walking toward it alone—the truth of it echoed in her mind.

  I don’t have the strength to do this, she prayed, feeling terrified and oh so altered from who she’d been before the war.

  She hung her head, feeling only weakness left in her.

  Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

  Kája was reminded of the promise in the book of Joshua. It was a comfort. And truth. And letting her fear be replaced by a strength she’d never known. She spoke aloud, praying that God could find her in a little bathroom in Norwich, when she was scared and alone and at her weakest point, when he could have showed himself to anyone in the world.

  The words flooded her heart and slipped out, whispered so softly, falling from her tear-stained lips:

  “Just please don’t leave me. No matter what happens—just don’t leave me.”

  She placed her hands on either side of the porcelain sink, using it for stability as she cried through the prayer.

  The creak of the restroom door signaled the presence of patrons who had just stepped through the portal. Kája wiped at her eyes and quickly gathered her things.

  She marched out to the platform again, toward the car she’d share with Liam. The train whistle blew a second warning and she quickened her pace, weaving through the current of fast-moving crowds.

  It wasn’t until she came to the car and saw Liam through the window, sitting with his attention affixed to her, that Kája finally exhaled. She fused her hand to the rail, climbed up the steps, and met him in the train compartment’s doorway.

  Liam didn’t say anything right away. Kája knew her eyes were red from crying and her hair was unkempt, tumbling about her shoulders in a torrential wave. She told herself that he’d badger her, just as he’d promised to do. He’d find the harshness of her appearance an abhorrence, given the fact that he’d been to war and fought bravely while she was crumbling before she’d even come close to it. Surely he’d see the fear, the evidence of shed tears, and would insist they turn around immediately.

  Liam would see her weakness and pounce upon it.

  Kája prepared herself as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to comment on her disheveled appearance. But Liam stood and looked over the wildness of her hair, slowly surveying the emotion that was splayed across her face and without an ounce of condemnation, asked in a rough whisper, “Are you all right?”

  Kája nodded and hugged the paper bag to her chest.

  “Yes,” she answered truthfully, and allowed him to latch the door behind them. “I am now.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  South Kensington

  London

  Their car came to a stop in front of a classic Georgian townhome in Onslow Square.

  The white brick, all four stories of it, was pristine and popped against the blue of the sky. The double front doors were a sleek black and stood positioned in the center of large topiaries and an elegantly arched window flanking each side. A second-story balcony overlooked a charming garden across the way and a grove of shade trees blanketed the street with overhead shade.

  Penny stepped out of the car and waved a hand for her to follow.

  Sera inhaled a calming breath and stepped out, noting that even the air was perfumed with the scent of late summertime flowers. It was picturesque. Refined. Nearly perfect, she had to admit; this was the best London had to offer a weary traveler. So the fact that she felt positively sick to her stomach about going in made her wish she was anywhere else but standing in the lovely street.

  A low whistle escaped Penny’s lips. Her eyes traced the lines leading up four floors of the home’s grandeur. Sera stood shoulder to shoulder with her, battling for a brave smile.

  “Well—this is it. Our temporary home sweet home,” she whispered.

  “You seem disappointed.” Penny nudged her in the side, no doubt hoping to lighten the moment. “I don’t think it’s any less grand than the big pile of Hanover bricks in California. You should be used to this by now, right?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this.” Sera hooked an arm through her elbow. “I think that’s what makes me most nervous about it. Will should be here with us. It just doesn’t feel right without him.”

  “He’d be here if he could. You know that.” Penny winked at her when the driver began pulling their bags from the trunk. “In any case, it was kind of your father-in-law to send a car to the airport. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been treated like such a lady.”

  “I hope it’s a good sign that we can expect a welcome,” Sera replied, following the driver as he carried their bags to the front door.

  Sera took a deep breath and touched a finger to the bell on the brick wall. It chimed loudly. They heard footsteps echo through the inside.

  “Remind me to praise Paul later,” Penny whispered as the footsteps neared. “I asked him to call ahead and he’s managed to get something right for a change. Looks like your dear brother-in-law may be turning over a new leaf in favor of becoming a responsible guy.”

  The door opened and they were greeted by a silver-haired woman with sparkling lilac eyes smiling at them.

  “Welcome, ladies. I am Mrs. Clark, Mr. Hanover’s manager. And which of you would be our William’s Sera?”

  Sera raised her hand and found that she had a mere second to catch her breath before the woman bundled her up in a warm embrace. Sera returned the hug with a genuine smile and, her former agitation temporarily at bay, introduced Penny.

  “Please come in,” Mrs. Clark chimed,
and led them into the entry. “I’ll inform Mr. Hanover that you’re here.”

  Sera nodded and looked around. The interior of the home was just as grand as the outside.

  A spiral staircase took up an impressive span of the far wall, snaking its way up to a second-story landing of espresso oak with brushed wrought-iron spindles and a gleaming, polished rail. The entryway ceiling was two stories in height, the walls a crisp, classic white to offset the dramatic black-and-white check of the floor. A sitting room adjoined overlooking the street. Its walls were a warm robin’s egg blue, with furnishings in white and shades of slate gray. The bright pop of orange flowers created a blazing focal point from a vase on the coffee table in the center of the trellis rug.

  Sera peeked through to the hall ahead of them and saw another oversized sitting room, teeming with windows and the natural light of outdoor gardens beyond. She saw the edge of a granite counter and white stools, and guessed a modern kitchen flanked the far side of the house.

  “Oh yes.” Penny leaned in to whisper close to her ear. “I could get used to this.”

  “Shh,” Sera tossed back, then straightened when Mrs. Clark appeared around the corner again and smiled in their direction.

  “He’s in the office just now. But please do come in,” she said, leading them into an adjoining sitting room. “He’ll be right with you.”

  He stood behind a set of glass doors, a tall man with dark, smoke-tinged hair and a trimmed mustache. He had a headset on his ear and a file folder in his hand. Sera had seen him in photographs, of course. But that’s not how she recognized him now. It was almost as if they’d met before; he possessed the same set to his jaw as her husband. He even stood the same, with his shoulders back and his eyes fixed on a point off in the distance, focused completely on the task at hand. Even through the glass door of the office, Sera could see that he was in the middle of something business related.

  He looked up at the sound of Sera’s shoes clipping the floor.

  Upon connecting eyes with them, he froze.

  They stood there for what felt like the longest of moments, until he slowly closed the file folder and dropped it down on the top of an oversized cherry desk. He said something inaudible into the phone, then clicked a button on it and discarded the headset atop the folder.

  “You’re Sera,” he said as he opened the glass door. “I’ve seen the wedding photos. You are just as lovely in person as I’d expected you to be.” He brightened with a smile.

  Sera swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment bearing down on her.

  She wanted so badly to make a good first impression on her new father-in-law. Trouble was, she had no idea how to balance it with the view she’d expected of him. William’s apprehension had created visions in her mind of who the elder Hanover would be. Cold, uncaring. Disinterested in his family. Maybe breathing fire? Those were her expectations, but to have them dashed with a single smile—she’d not been prepared for that.

  Sera took the outstretched hands he offered and returned what she hoped would be a sweet, neutral smile as he drew her into a light embrace. He stood back almost immediately and acknowledged Penny, who was standing just steps behind, surveying the scene.

  “And you would be Miss Penelope Norton?”

  Penny audibly choked a bit, but covered quickly and answered, “Penny. Yes, umm—Penny is fine,” shaking his hand. “Thank you for the welcome.”

  “Yes, Mr. Hanover, thank you for having us. I know it was probably a surprise to hear that we wanted to come and see you. I’m just sorry Will couldn’t be here . . . ,” Sera offered, completely unsure of what to say next. It was awkward to be the guest of a stranger when the connection you’re supposed to have is so much deeper.

  “Well, my doors are always open to family and their friends,” he said, and tipped his head in return. If she could judge his character in that instant, Sera would have to admit that this man had her perplexed. He seemed perfectly normal. Charming, even? The combination was the last thing she’d expected. “Please don’t bother with ‘Mr. Hanover.’ You may call me Thomas if you’d like,” he said, and slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “My middle name. I’m afraid I’m like your husband in that I prefer to be known by something other than my father’s name.”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded, feeling more awkward now that he’d mentioned William.

  “Well, I expect you’d like to get settled in. The guest quarters are at the top of the stairs, second door. There is a bath adjoining your bedrooms and you should find everything in it. If not, Mrs. Clark pretty much runs things around here. Please do ask if you need anything.”

  When Sera reached down to pick up her suitcases, Thomas added, “No, you’re guests. I’ll have them carried up. And I’ll see that you’re brought a tray of tea. We can visit later if you’d like, when you’ve had time to freshen up.”

  Sera stole a quick look over at Penny. She didn’t seem to have noticed the same inconsistency that Sera had. In fact, she was two steps toward the stairs and it looked like she wasn’t inclined to slow up a bit.

  “Thank you, Thomas.” Sera hurried to catch up and nodded, adding, “That’s very kind.”

  Sera trailed behind Penny as she took the stairs with fervor.

  “That twerp. I swear I’ll kill him.” Penny dragged out the words on a harsh whisper, her tone dumbfounded as her sneakers stomped up the stairs. “Paul did that on purpose.”

  “Did what?”

  “No one’s called me Penelope since my grandmother at my high school graduation. He knows I hate it. The only reason he’d call ahead to his father and give him my full name is to get right under my skin.”

  “They why did you share that kind of information? You know Paul. He’s going to use anything you give him.” Sera laughed through trying to answer her friend.

  She opened the door to the guest quarters and stepped into a simple but spacious sitting room.

  It was fresh and clean, a welcome respite after a long plane ride and weight-bearing introduction to the family’s London home. Eggshell white walls and a lofty ceiling soared overhead, with an intricately carved medallion holding a twinkling chandelier in the center of the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows at the back washed the room in a bevy of afternoon sunlight.

  Penny dropped her bags on the hardwood floor and fell into one of the butter-yellow claw-foot wingback chairs by the fireplace. She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and began clicking away.

  Sera sighed.

  Leave it to her brother-in-law to shift the mood from a few thousand miles away.

  She dropped into the chair across from Penny and stretched her legs out in front of her. Her hand rested on her belly, almost automatically. She patted gentle fingers against it, looking at their surroundings.

  It was about what she’d expected; the oversized rooms boasted luxury through and through. The flat was gorgeous, as was the welcome. And so, with her mind running faster than Penny’s angry typing fingers, Sera set out to make the connection between the Thomas Hanover her husband had presented and the genteel Londoner who’d shown nothing but kindness downstairs.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  July 3, 1942

  Amsterdam

  Even in the midst of war, the Dutch city gave the appearance of possessing a certain measure of peace.

  This Kája hadn’t expected.

  Everywhere else they’d traveled had been cloaked in a layer of darkness. Tired shells of buildings stood in ruins and solemn faces passed by everywhere, belonging to townsfolk who merely pressed on rather than thrived. The sight of a weary landscape had been their constant companion north of London, through the countryside up to Norwich. They’d been delayed there more than two days, waiting for a shipment of Red Cross trucks bearing food parcels they were to escort to the coast. It finally arrived, more than a week late. With rations in tow, they’d landed passage on a boat that had taken them into the heart of Nazi-occupied Amsterdam.

  Kája had ex
pected this, too, to be a dark welcome.

  It was surprising to find that the train platform was brightened by summer sun and that many faces were not cemented in frowns. In fact, the Nazi-occupied city was not all grim. The city looked clean, almost as if it were lightly touched by war, save for the Nazi flags adorning buildings and the barbed wire and wood fencing that separated areas restricted for any Jews who might have been left in the city.

  Liam led her through the crowds of people, keeping a keen eye on their surroundings. The pragmatic side of him had taken over and he repeated the instructions he’d given her on the boat to Amsterdam, running through them with a focused, businesslike formality.

  Kája faced him on the platform, trying to listen. But instead, she had to focus on steadying her sensibilities to think of boarding the next train on her own.

  “You will accompany the civilian food parcels by train into Rotterdam. There a Mrs. Margot Sørensen will be waiting.”

  “Yes. I understand. She’s my contact with the Red Cross.”

  Kája looked around as they spoke, distracted by the dark presence of German soldiers marching about the platform. They guarded throngs of people with suitcases and wrapped blanket bundles in their arms, standing around in lines that didn’t appear to be moving. They all bore the yellow Star of David sewn on the front of their clothes.

  Kája knew in her heart that she witnessed a transport of some kind.

  “Don’t look at that,” Liam cautioned, drawing her attention back to him. “Look at me.”

  She exhaled low and nodded, connecting with his eyes once again.

  “Yes, of course. Mrs. Sørensen.”

  “Good. She’s Danish. And no-nonsense. All I can say is that she can be trusted implicitly. Listen to her. Do what she says without question.”