by Liz Tolsma
Horst stepped forward. “I didn’t want you to find out.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Why did she care so much? She’d let him into her heart, allowed herself to believe that he understood her so well. Of course, he would want nothing to do with a Jew. He had participated in Kristallnacht, after all. Her throat burned.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Patricie leaned against the cart, the swayback horse hitched to it and chomping at the bit. “It was a peck on the cheek, nothing more. Just to wish him well.”
“Wish him well? Why?” And why would he take off without saying good-bye to her? The early morning chill seeped into her bones.
“I’d rather not tell you.”
“I don’t understand all this secrecy. Why can’t you share with me what you’re doing?”
“I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’m off to get a surprise for you. Or I hope to get a surprise for you. If all goes well.”
Anna resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “Now you have me more confused than ever. Please, start from the beginning.”
“I don’t have much time. Just trust me. And trust that Slečna Kadlecová gave me nothing more than a friendly kiss on the cheek.” He came to her and touched her upper arms. “You’re the woman who has enchanted me. You’re the one sending me on this crazy errand.”
He wore rough clothes, the pants held up with a rope. “At least I know why you grew the beard. Whatever you have planned, you’ve put a great deal of thought into it. But is it enough to fool anyone?”
“It will have to be.”
“Just tell me. How will I stand the worry when I don’t even know where you’re going? I can’t pray if I don’t know.”
“You’ll worry more if I tell you.”
“He’s going to Terezín.”
Anna gasped at Patricie’s words.
Horst hissed at her. “Why did you say anything?”
“Since this is about her, she deserves to know.”
Anna stepped from Horst’s grasp. “Enough. You’re going to Terezín? Tell me the reason you are doing such a foolish thing.”
“I’m going to see your brother.”
“What will that accomplish?”
“I have a plan to help him escape.”
The gooseflesh spread to her entire body. Her brother? Oh, to see David again, to have one piece of her family restored to her. But at what cost? Horst’s life? “Ne. I forbid it. You can’t go there. That place stole my parents, my sisters, and my brother. I can’t have it swallowing you too. No matter how good your disguise, someone is bound to recognize you.”
“Patricie helped me put the plan together. It’s a solid plot. She knows what she’s doing.”
“But no scheme is foolproof.” How could she choose one person she loved over the other? Then another thought assaulted her. “You’re doing this to get back into my good graces.”
He shook his head. “Ne. I thought of this plan months ago. Before we ever came here.”
“But you’re putting it into motion now. Don’t think bringing my brother to me will change anything.” Her midsection heated. “Don’t try something so foolish to undo what you did in the past.”
Patricie hugged herself. “Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Hauptmann Engel should have no problem getting in and out.”
“It’s the unforeseen circumstances that frighten me. I wish you would have consulted me before you put this crazy idea into motion. Then I could have stopped it before it got this far.” Before she had that moment of hope, that one second of believing she just might get her brother back.
“Ne, you couldn’t have.” Horst tried to pull her close, but she stepped away from him. “Our flight to the country put it on hold, but it’s time now to implement it. I have to hurry to make it to Terezín and home in one day. Earlier this week, Karel sent an official-looking notice to the head of the work details requesting that David be excused today. If I don’t make good time, I’ll miss my window of opportunity to sneak him out of there.”
Like a swimmer about to plunge under the water, Anna took a deep breath. “I’m going with you.”
“Nein.”
She flinched at that harsh word.
“Hush.” Patricie shook her head. “Do you want everyone to hear you?”
Horst switched back to Czech. “Ne. That, I forbid. My going involves a degree of risk. But the risk is multiplied far too much for you to go. Stay here. Pray for me. But don’t come.”
“My mind is made up.” She only needed to convince her quivering insides this was a good idea. “I’m riding with you. This is my brother we’re talking about, and you’re doing it for me. If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s too dangerous for you.”
“I don’t have papers for you.” Patricie’s voice was firm. “My group is working on forging some, but it hasn’t happened yet. You can’t go out.”
“Does Hauptmann Engel have any identification?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Anna, be reasonable. I’ve put more than one person in that horrible
place. It’s time for me to get one out. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you. If I fail, it’s only my life. If you’re with me when I fail, it’s both our lives. Losing you is too great a price to pay.”
The fight slipped from her body. She melded into his embrace. “I don’t want you to do this. Not for me.”
“One life saved is better than none.”
“And nothing I say can persuade you otherwise?”
He kissed her forehead and each of her cheeks. “My little beruško. I can’t tell you what you mean to me. I would go to the moon for you if I had to. You miss your family more than you let on, but I see it in your eyes, in your face, every day.”
“And if I lose you, too?”
“Pray nothing happens.” Horst mounted the wagon’s seat and picked up the reins. Without a backward glance, he clucked to the old nag and pulled from the farmyard, his slouchy hat drawn low over his eyes.
She stood beside Patricie as Horst disappeared out of sight. When the horizon swallowed the little cart, she fled to the outhouse so no one would see her tears.
With winter losing its bitter grip, a renewed vigor infused David. His cough lessened. His weakness decreased. Perhaps the old Jewish doctor in the camp was wrong. He had no equipment to diagnose tuberculosis, no X-ray machine. How could he know?
The order not to report to his work detail today bothered him. What did it mean? A transport that points east? They’d stopped awhile ago, with the advance of the Soviet Army. Were they resuming? He huddled under his thin blanket as a storm built in the west. As of yet, no summons arrived. No indication his name was on the list, if there even was one.
He paced the room, no bigger than the bedroom in the home where he grew up. That room had housed no one but him. This one, though at one time bursting at the seams, now contained only a handful. The numbers fluctuated over the years, depending on who the Nazis sent east. And who died. And who failed in their escape attempts, like his roommates.
For a while, he’d waited for that German soldier who’d come from time to time to arrive and whisk him away. Take him home. But months had passed since Hauptmann Engel pressed that piece of paper into his hand.
Nothing.
Nothing but an empty promise.
Well, no use dwelling on it. Fantasies were for children. Not for grown men living in a world gone crazy.
Ah, if only he could figure out what this strange order meant.
The bulging citadel of Theresienstadt loomed in front of Horst. A large arch led through the thick brick wall into the camp. A bitter taste stung his tongue. Though the sun peeked through the breaks in the heavy clouds, darkness reigned in the town’s environs. Mud-splattered walls enclosed the gloom and filth.
He drove the cart to the gate where two uniformed Gestapo soldiers stopped him. “Papers, please.”
He fumbled in the worn knapsack the farmer’s wife had give
n him, in a way to play the part, in a way because his fingers quivered so much he couldn’t grasp the identification booklet. After a long few seconds, he pulled it out and presented it to them.
The man squinted and studied them. “This is hard to make out.”
“My apologies. They got wet in the rainstorm on the way here.”
“Dry them or get yourself some new ones.”
“Very good. I will.”
The officer paused a moment. Horst’s heart skipped a beat. After returning the identification, the man motioned for Horst to pass.
He released a shaky breath. One obstacle down, who knew how many more to go.
The town had changed very little since his last visit several months before. The occupants’ clothes hung on them more. They moved at a slower pace. The rotten stench of death, like decaying leaves, hung ever more in the air.
How did they survive the long, cold months? And now the rains. If he could only fit all of them in his small cart and bring each of them to freedom and safety.
No use dwelling on what could not be. Horst steered the horse down the town’s narrow streets to the men’s quarters in the Magdeburg barracks. He reined the nag to a stop in front of David’s living space, such as it was.
David may not even be alive. He had no confirmation of it one way or the other. Patricie hadn’t been able to find out. But to bring a smile to Anna’s face, it was all worth it. No matter what happened. He did this for her.
He slipped into the dark building and climbed the narrow, creaky stairs to the uppermost floor. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the crick that had developed in it from hunching in the wagon the past several hours.
Should he knock? Just go in? He turned the knob and entered the room. He covered his mouth to keep from gagging on the stench. A single bulb lit the cold, dingy space.
And there stood David, his back to Horst, peering out the window. His hair had grown, but he stood straighter, taller.
Horst warmed at seeing Anna’s brother alive and in what appeared to be rather good health. “Excuse me.”
David spun around, his mouth wide open. “Who are you? What is this all about?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t knock. Don’t you recognize me?”
“Ne.”
Well, that was the entire point of the disguise. “I’m Hauptmann Engel, the soldier who hid your sister and grandmother.”
David turned his back and resumed gazing out the window. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m truly him. I don’t have time to explain.”
“I told you, I don’t know the man you speak about.”
“One of Anna’s favorite movies is Andula Vyhrála, she almost drowned in the Vltava River when she was eight, and she wears perfume that smells like lilies of the valley. Do you believe me now?”
David relaxed his shoulders but didn’t face Horst. “Why the getup?”
“You understood my note?”
“That was months ago.”
“Our circumstances changed.”
That got David’s attention. “Are Anna and Babička well?”
“They’re fine. And anxious to see you. Are you ready to go? Is your violin with you?”
“They aren’t going to let me march right through the gate.”
“I have a cart downstairs. There’s a false bottom covered with hay. No time for other questions. We have to leave now.”
“How do I know you’re not taking me somewhere else?”
“You have to trust me. You have no other choice. And where would I take you? Get your instrument, and let’s go.”
David grabbed his violin from beside his thin mattress. He joined Horst near the door and gave a slow nod. Horst peered through the entry and made sure no one else hung about the corridor. Then he slunk down the stairs. Again, at the bottom of the steps, he paused and opened the front door. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out every other sound.
No one milled about the streets. Good. He motioned David forward and to the cart. Horst held his breath as David crawled under the hay and into the small, hidden compartment. Even though he was as thin as a sheet of paper, he was tall. He curled up and just fit so Horst could close the top.
He fixed the straw and hopped on front.
Thank You, Lord. The operation was going smoother than he dared to hope it would. All he had to do was get out the gates, and he might be able to enjoy the ride.
He maneuvered around a corner and spotted a group of soldiers making their way down the main street. It would be better to turn back until the road cleared, but that would only draw more attention. He allowed the horse to plod on.
He approached the group, focusing on the reins in his hands.
“Hey, you, farmer boy.”
Oh, no, it couldn’t be. Dear God, no.
“I’m talking to you, farmer.”
Stefan.
“Anna, you’re pacing again.” Babička sat at the kitchen table helping Maria peel a few boiled eggs they planned to pickle. “Come, sit down and make yourself useful.”
“I’m not sure I can be still.”
“What makes you so restless? The last time you were like this, Horst moved in downstairs.”
“I know. I know. But my feet refuse to be quiet.”
“It’s not your body that won’t settle down. It’s your spirit.” Babička had a habit of always piercing to the heart of the matter. “What is it, child?” She pushed the ceramic bowl to the side and motioned for Anna to join her at the table.
The farmer’s wife, her hands and face worn by many years of hard labor, scraped her chair back. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“There’s no need. It’s nothing personal or private. But it may involve all of us sooner rather than later.”
Maria pushed her chair in and resumed her egg peeling. “Why?”
“Horst has gone to Terezín to try to rescue David.”
A bevy of emotions played across Babička’s wrinkled face. First, her eyes widened. Then, all her features softened and sank. “My grandson. My heart aches for him. But this is not a good idea.”
“That’s what I tried to tell Horst, but he refused to listen. That man has a head harder than a rock. And if he’s captured, we all might be in danger.” Anna stared out the window. The storm had passed, and the sun worked to break through the clouds. “The roads are sure to be muddy. Will he even be able to drive that cart all the way home without getting stuck?”
Babička joined Anna at the window. “That’s not what has you distracted.”
A bubble burst in Anna’s chest. “It’s all too much.” The words eked from her throat.
“I know, child, I know. When someone you love is separated from you, your heart aches.”
“I don’t understand any of this. Why did God take Máma and Táta and my sisters from me? Even if I live to be an old woman, that pain will never leave. I’ll never see them again. Never hear their words of advice, feel their touch on my shoulder, or see the warmth in their faces. Never. That’s a very long time.”
“And now Horst went away.”
“What if I lose him, too?” Tears fell, unbidden.
“This happens because you feel for him.”
“Of course I do.” Anna wiped her eyes and drew a deep breath. “But there’s something you don’t know.” She turned to Maria. “That neither of you know.”
“And this makes a difference in your feelings for him?” Maria tapped an egg on the table.
“Yes. Ne. I don’t know. It’s all mixed up inside me.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then drew in a giant breath. “He terrorized his Jewish neighbor on Kristallnacht.”
“And?” Babička turned Anna so she gazed at her grandmother.
“That’s enough, ne? Enough to break my trust and erase the minute chance we had at a relationship.”
“You know, Anna, he’s not an evil monster. He’s a human being trying to s
urvive. Like any of us. And caught in circumstances beyond his control.”
“No one forced him to break his neighbor’s window. Or beat the man.”
“You don’t know what kind of pressure he faced from his peers. And we all make mistakes in our youth.”
“Mistakes, yes. Harming others, ne. Why doesn’t this upset you?”
Maria wiped her hands on her apron. “It’s a shocking revelation. But you have to look at the sum of his actions, not one small part. If he continued down that path, he wouldn’t have rescued you. He would have carried your bags to the exhibition hall for you and would have put you on the train himself.”
Anna nodded, but crossed her arms.
Babička patted her hand. “True, true. He’s had ample opportunity to hurt us, but he has been nothing but kind. And now, he’s risking his life to bring your brother to you. To break him out of the prison camp. What does that tell you?”
Anna stiffened. “If he truly were a good man, he never would have done what he did. He’s trying to rectify a wrong he committed.”
“Do you believe that?” Babička rubbed her arm, and Anna relaxed.
Did she? What did she believe about Horst anymore? “I’m . . . I’m not sure. Nothing is as it should be these days.”
Babička leaned over. “What is in your heart? Look there. Don’t let your head do all the thinking.”
“In my heart?” What did her heart say to her about Horst? She trembled to even venture into this territory. How could she, a Jew, feel these things for a Nazi?
But yet, he wasn’t a Nazi in the truest sense of the word. He didn’t hate her, didn’t want to exterminate her race. He was kind, compassionate. Like that day in the flat in Prague, before Hauptsturmführer Jaeger came, when he’d spoken to her and calmed her.
In the midst of their flight, he’d made sure Babička was comfortable. He’d put himself in danger to bring food to David. And now, he’d gone to rescue her brother.
He was a haven in a hurricane.
When he wasn’t near, a chill pervaded her. Like she was without an arm or a leg.
