“It is a ghost world.”
Kája reached out for his hand. She took it in her own and gently kissed his fingers to her lips.
“I’m blessed that you’re here. Did you know that, Father? Though your prayers to keep me away were not answered, the prayers I said to find you were. God is with us. He is still in Prague and he still holds our time in his hands.”
He shook his head. “The devil is here now. He wears a swastika.”
“Then we will take Matka and we will escape.”
“No.” His voice faltered ever so slightly, trembling on the next words. “I’d hoped you would stay away, write your stories far from here.”
“And so I will,” she whispered, nodding. “Yes. We’ll do it together. You can come stay with me in London.”
He shook his head and looked down to the worn leather shoes on his feet. “Not this time, Kája. We are on a transport list.”
“What?” The words hit her like a splash of ice water to the face. “When?”
“We report in two days’ time.”
“Two days?”
Kája looked up at the wall.
The large grandfather clock that had always been there, ringing through the days with deep-chested chimes at the top of each hour, had been replaced by a hollow space. It was gone . . . time was gone, just like her father said. Even the old city clock seemed lifeless. There was nothing left to tick the precious moments by, nothing to gauge a future, or mark a past.
Kája lifted her chin and looked directly at her father.
“If you’re to report in two days’ time”—she grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed—“then we shall sneak out of Prague in one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
May I sit down?”
Sera tore her eyes from the backdrop of the charming public garden and turned to find her father-in-law standing on the paved path before her.
“Yes, Mr. Hanover,” she started, then backtracked. “I mean, Thomas. Of course.” She scooted over to the side, giving him room on the bench.
“Mrs. Clark said that you’d stepped out to the garden square,” he noted. “And where is Penelope?”
Sera bit her tongue to keep from laughing. If Penny heard that again she was sure to board the next plane and smack Paul in person, rather than just over e-mail. She hoped to find a way to correct him gently, before the slip-up drew her friend’s wrath.
“Penny’s out sightseeing, making the most of her visit, I’d say. She’s a bit of a history buff. Well, we both are. But I thought a walk in the garden might do me more good.”
He sat and looked over the lovely garden surroundings with her.
“I see it stopped raining.”
“A little while ago, yes. I came out when it had stopped.”
“The aftermath of a quick thunderstorm in the last days of summer. Makes it nice for a walk.”
It did that. Sera allowed her gaze to float around.
The garden was tucked away behind the row of houses, with thick brick walls, glistening ropes of ivy twisted in the spokes of wrought-iron gates, and lofty trees that greeted them with the dewy softness of a rainy summer evening. Dusk had fallen in hazy shades of blue and birds danced from branch to branch overhead as if painting trails across the sky.
“I can see how this garden would be a treasured place. I could see it from the window.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve visited here since I was a boy.”
“You have?”
“Yes. Right over there.” He pointed out a patch of green grass beneath a grove of trees where children played in the evening air while their parents looked on. “My father—William’s grandfather, that is—used to take walks with me and my sister. Just there, over the hill. There’s an old stone footbridge spanning a pond across the way.”
“There is?” Sera inclined her head, looking over the edge of the hill, wondering what other magic could be found there.
“And a beautiful old church, Holy Trinity Brompton, is on the other end of Onslow Square. You might enjoy it as well.”
“I’ll have to take a walk down there to see it.”
“It’s nice to find peace in such a bustling city. I forget this is here sometimes.” He smiled and turned to look at her. “But you seem to have found it on your very first day. That’s luck, I’d say.”
For how well Sera knew the looks on her husband’s face, it struck her to notice how much William’s smile favored his father’s. She tried to picture what William would look like at that age, with fine laugh lines etched into the recesses of his eyes and mouth, the indication that a thousand smiles had been a guest there on his face. She wondered what their future would bring. Would his temples be touched with gray? Would he, too, have reason to smile?
“Well, I’m a New Yorker. We’re used to exploring.”
“That’s right. William mentioned you are from New York. But you’ve moved to the West Coast?”
“Yes. Right after the wedding.” She felt the need to add something to the statement. After all, she was living in his former home, with his family all around. It almost felt as if she’d moved into his life. “It’s beautiful there, too, just a different kind.”
Thomas sighed, and without warning stated, “We’re not fooling anyone here.”
“I don’t understand.” Sera began looking up the path, nervous, wishing William would come walking up over the hill and save her from the awkwardness of the moment. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with a man she’d only just met, even if they were now joined as family.
She had anticipated how difficult the trip would be without William by her side. She wished her fingers were laced with his at the moment instead of knotting in her lap.
“I owe you an apology.”
Sera turned to him. “Whatever for?”
“We haven’t been properly introduced, Sera,” he said, inclining his head in what looked like genuine regret. “And that would have occurred had I been in attendance at your wedding. I apologize that I wasn’t there.”
“Thank you. But we understood. Or—at least Will does. I’m not sure I understand the inner workings of the family. I’m still new.” She offered a polite smile.
“Yes.” The sigh of frustration was unmistakable. “My son is quite a forgiving person when he makes his mind up to be.”
“He is with me,” she answered. “And I am with him. That’s why I’m here. I’m sure Paul gave you the reasons for my trip when he asked if we could come and stay with you. You must have known that they were about Will.”
“I can see that you love him.”
“I do.” She nodded. The acknowledgment felt like praise. “A great deal.”
He paused again, looking out over the twinkle of London’s lights through the trees.
“And the rest of the family? How are they getting on?”
“With all this? Not well, I’m afraid. But Macie and Eric are living close to his family in Seattle. They’re busy, like any young couple, I’d say, but they did manage to come down for the wedding. And Paul is still playing music, living in Boston.”
Thomas smiled, the laugh lines peeking out from the corner of his eye.
“And still in his leather jackets, I assume?”
Sera liked how each member of the family had their own character about them—Paul no exception. He was as undisciplined as anyone she’d ever met, but he seemed to like it that way. Playing music and touring in leather jackets—it fit his personality.
“Of course.” She nodded. “And badgering our Penny every chance he gets.”
“Yes,” Thomas agreed easily. “Paul has always been Paul, and that’s saying something.”
He paused for a moment, looking over the garden. She noticed that his profile was strong, like Will’s, and if she could judge anything in the stillness of this moment, the circumstances of his life had him feeling just as embattled.
“And Marian,” he breathed out, almost whispering his former wife’s name.
“How is she?”
“Fine, I think. Staying busy. Worried about her son, of course, but still kind as always. She keeps everyone together as much as possible, especially through all this.”
“Hmm.” He nodded. “Yes, Marian always did have a kind heart. And a forgiving one. It’s one of the things that I always found genuinely lovely about her. I never had it, that ability to see the good over the bad. William seems to have inherited that trait from me, I’m afraid. And I think that’s what he holds against me about what happened.”
Oh God . . . he thinks I know.
Whatever happened, he thinks Will told me.
Sera took a deep breath. She felt the guilt pulling at her for not correcting him. But if she was poised to find something to fill in the broken pieces of the past . . .
“I don’t think it’s in Will’s nature to hold something against anyone.”
“But he does. I could see the last time we were in the same room together. It was written all over his face. He won’t forgive, and he certainly won’t forget.” Thomas cleared his throat. The truth—whatever it was—was clearly not easy for him to confront. “That was more than three years ago. And the only reason you’re here now is because I refrain from going back to California.”
“And why is that?”
He turned to look at her, a curious look on his face. “Because I promised to leave and never come back.”
“Why?”
Thomas didn’t hide the addition of genuine surprise to his features and added, “He told me to.”
“Will told you to leave . . .” Sera turned away, the truth having stung. “And why would he have done that?”
He looked out over the green grass of the garden, his gaze transfixed on a point out in front of them. “Then he hasn’t told you.”
“No. He hasn’t. He keeps whatever happened very close. But, Thomas, I have to tell you that I’m here to clear Will’s name. I’ll do anything to keep him from going to prison. Even ask for answers you might not be prepared to give.” She looked up then, searching his face. “I know what happened between you two is a great source of pain and regret for my husband. And I’ve come all this way because I need to know if you can tell me anything that might change that.”
“You want to know if he’s really guilty.”
“No,” she answered with an emphatic shake of her head. “I already know he’s not guilty. I just need the evidence to prove it.”
“He guards his heart well.”
“And I’m here to ask you to help open it.”
When he hesitated and then quieted completely, Sera knew that he’d closed himself off from her. Whatever he’d come close to revealing had bobbed just beneath the surface, but was buried again before she could reach out for it.
Instinct told her he knew something more than he was ready to concede.
She took a sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and unfolded it before him.
“I wondered if you could tell me—have you seen this before?”
The tears that formed in Thomas’s eyes were unmistakable. He ran a fingertip over the image of the cross, as if it were the delicate gold charm itself in his hand. He nodded, closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds.
“Yes. It was a gift.”
“For K. E.?” Sera asked, holding her breath.
He refolded the paper and handed it to her, as if the sight of it pained him.
“Yes, it was for Katie Elizabeth. William must have told you he agreed to it.”
Sera’s heart sank.
With those words the first pangs of doubt pricked at her chest. William knew who K. E. was, and she wasn’t some distant relative. Whatever this transaction was, it mattered to Thomas. Will had been a part of it—and he’d kept it from her.
“Well.” Thomas slapped his hands to his legs and stood up. “It’s growing darker out here by the moment. I think my son would have words with me if I left his wife to fend for herself in a public garden, no matter how charming it is. May I walk you back?”
Sera stood alongside him and as he offered it, took his arm.
“Yes. Thank you.”
They walked along the path, following the soft glow of street-lamps all the way to the house. And with each step, she tried not to allow fresh tears to squeeze from the corner of her eyes. They walked in silence, Thomas not knowing that Sera carried his first grandchild and a breaking heart with them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
July 7, 1942
Prague
Kája awoke to the sound of china shattering.
It traveled up the stairs and through the heavy oak of the chamber door, jarring her.
She’d fallen asleep in her uniform, meaning only to close her eyes for a few moments on top of the coverlet, resting until she could plan what to do. But after she’d removed her stockings, hat, and jacket and draped them over a chair in the corner of the room, sleep had been quick to overtake her.
She bolted upright, her heart beating wildly, the rest of her body frozen. She listened. Fearing. Praying there were no SS officers threatening to drag them away to the train depot.
She heard no shouts or, heaven help them, gunfire.
It was when she heard her mother wailing that Kája jumped from the bed and darted down the hall to the stairs, and took them as quickly as she could. She crossed the entry, its marble floors searing her bare feet like sheets of ice. She hurried through the study to the kitchen where the house staff had always prepared the meals, following both the light and the sound of her mother’s cries.
The door was slightly ajar and she peered through to see her mother on the floor, slumped against the cupboard. She’d buried her face in her hands and was weeping mournfully. A tea cup lay broken at her feet.
Kája rushed into the kitchen and knelt down at her side.
“Matka,” she started, hoping her mother would recognize her. “It’s me, your little Kája.”
Izabel Makovský peered up at her daughter with a curious look upon her face.
“Kateřina?”
“Yes.” She smiled and blinked a few times, the dry air burning with the moistness that was gathering in her eyes. “It’s me. I’m here. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but Father made me promise not to wake you.”
Izabel shook her head. “Haven’t you school to attend today?” She made a tsk-tsk sound. “Headmaster will be cross again at your tardiness.”
“What?” Kája’s heart began racing. No, Lord. She began again, gently. “But, Matka, I haven’t any lessons today. I’ve been away. I’ve finished school and have been working in London all this time. Don’t you remember? You and Father sent us away at the depot.”
Izabel muttered, “Oh yes. That’s right. I’d forgotten . . .” and looked back with vacant eyes. She turned and surveyed the room, as if she expected to see the evidence of their old life strewn about the countertops.
Save for the popping of the fire on the hearth, the room was dark and empty.
There was no gleaming brass fireplace gate or galvanized tub loaded with wood; there was nothing to the room now. Though it had been pleasant once, Kája looked at it now with acute sorrow. She remembered sitting on a stool by the hearth on snowy mornings, eating baked apple koláče and listening as their nanny spun fairy tales for her and Hannah, animating stories of dashing princes who rode on white steeds. The cupboards had been full then, overflowing, the shelves laden with porcelain and crystal that kissed at the light like they’d been washed in diamonds.
The room now was lonely and mournfully bare.
There were no more serving platters and pitchers, no crystal or fine china to line the shelves. One of the cabinet doors hung open on its hinge, an ominous sign that someone had gutted its luxurious insides some time ago, and had done so quite forcefully. The windows were dusty, the long work island empty.
“Matka,” Kája began as gently as possible. She slid her hand into the pocket of her uniform skirt and retrieved the string of pearls her
mother had given her at the depot. She pressed them into her mother’s hand. “I brought them back for you. Remember? You said we would meet again. And so we have.”
Izabel touched them, grazing them with her fingertips at first. And then as if memories had come flooding back, she grasped them tight with such emotion that her bony hands shook.
“The pearls.”
Kája wiped at the tears that had formed under her mother’s eyes.
“Why don’t you let me help you? We’re going on a trip. We’ll need to pack your things today.”
“A trip?”
Kája set about picking up the broken pieces of porcelain from the floor while she talked.
“Just a short one. So we’ll need the lightest suitcase you have. And we’ll pack some of your more comfortable things. A traveling suit, perhaps?”
“No.” Izabel shook her head. “I shall need my best things. Your father has already ordered us to pack. Furs and dresses. Even our jewels—what little we have left that we can sell.” She ran her fingertips over the pearls. “These as well.”
Kája could have cried. Her mother was so feeble, nearly broken. She’d have no chance of survival in a work camp if all she brought to wear was a silk evening gown and fur to graze her gaunt shoulders.
She gathered the larger shards of porcelain and placed them on the edge of the wooden butler’s cupboard behind them. Adding a cheery tone to her voice, she offered, “Well now. We’ll just see if we can’t find you something practical for the trip, hmm? You can still bring the other things with you in your suitcase.”
“But they are watching us.” Izabel looked up into Kája’s face and whispered, “Outside the windows. Everywhere.”
The firelight danced across her face. She looked wild because of it, the lines deep around eyes that darted about, wide and afraid.
Kája knew they had to leave. Now.
“Where is Father?”
Izabel shook her head. “They came for him early again. The Nazis ordered him out this morning.”
Kája’s breath froze in her lungs. “Took him where?”
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