Page 10 of A Song in the Dark

I have been floating in the clouds ever since we received your letter. And you wrote it in braille! That was very thoughtful of you.

My piano teacher told me that you arranged tickets for all of us to several of your concerts. My mother cried happy tears.

My mom is the best, though she is very sad right now.

We help each other, but ever since we had to move from our house in Berlin, she hasn’t been the same.

Mom said bad men were trying to hurt us.

So we have to hide in this new place. I think we are still in Germany, but I don’t know for sure. But my teacher knows where we are.

I try to be encouraging and positive, even though it is smelly. And we can’t play our records.

I miss my records. I used to listen to your records all the time. Music makes me happy and helps me when I try to do math. I don’t like math, but Mom says I have to learn it.

Thank you for making beautiful music.

Thank you for writing me, please write back.

Mary Beth

Tears ran down Chaisley’s cheeks. The paper shook in her hands.

Bad men were after Mary Beth and her mum?

Whatever for? She fished her handkerchief out of her skirt pocket.

Wiping her face, she sniffed back the rest of her tears.

She shuffled Mary Beth’s letter with the other page and started reading.

Dear Miss Frappier,

I don’t know if you will read this letter.

Mary Beth was so excited to write you. Thank you for giving my daughter the gift of a lifetime by writing her back.

I know she told you many times how much she loves your music.

It is lovely and inspirational. God has gifted you.

I am thankful that you share that gift with our world.

It is a world that is so dark right now.

Your letter encouraged me to lift my face out of the darkness I’ve been living in.

Mary Beth told me that she wrote you of what was done to me.

Apparently, I am less than human in the Nazi way of thinking, and so I shouldn’t be allowed to bring another life into this world.

I have heard horrible stories about others who have been taken away to special schools and hospitals, but I don’t know what is true anymore.

Chaisley had to stop reading for a moment and clear her thoughts. So what Dr. Grafton had said was true. Who else was having to endure such atrocities?

I don’t know if you are a God-fearing woman, but if you are, would you pray for us, Miss Frappier? We have had to escape our home and are currently in hiding. Germany has become a horrible place to live. Especially for the Jews and others like us.

Many friends of mine, who also have disabilities, have been arrested or taken from their homes. It has become a sin in Germany to be disabled. We are marked as unworthy. Of love. Of family. Even of life.

But that is not the truth. It does not matter if we are born blind or seeing, able to walk or in need of a wheelchair, hearing or deaf. I firmly believe we are all born for the glory of God. But there are those who see us as a scourge on the earth.

Please pray, Miss Frappier. That God would have mercy on us and get us to safety.

Thank you for the generous gift of tickets to your concerts. It will be the highlight of our year.

God bless you, Geraldine Klein

Chaisley pressed the letter against her heart. Sobs shook her frame.

If she lived in Germany—would they have done the same to her?

The thought sobered her. Did others know about these horrors being done to innocent people?

Why, God? The cry ripped from her heart toward the heavens. Hiccups rattled her diaphragm, and she tried to slow her breathing. Her fingers scanned over the text again. This time, questions assailed her.

How were they living in hiding?

Who was helping them?

She chewed on the corner of her lip. The date of the letter was almost two weeks ago. Had they moved from wherever they were since then?

Folding the letters back together, Chaisley slid them into the envelope and then put it in her pocket.

A new purpose behind this European tour was before her.

She would find Mary Beth and her mother and get them to safety. No matter what.

Amsterdam, Netherlands—Friday, March 18, 1938

Rick sat in his new employer’s office and stared out the window. He was supposed to start his cover assignment as a driver days ago but was sent home after the news of Germany taking over Austria reached them. This morning, he’d been called back in.

Prayerfully, he still had a job. He hadn’t heard from his contact in Amsterdam—who was supposed to relay news from headquarters—for two weeks, and each day more and more people sought refuge in Holland.

Most of them Jews.

How could the world be ignorant to what was happening? Newspapers and the radio kept them up-to-date. Or... was no one reporting the truth?

He raked a hand through his hair, fighting the frustration swelling in his stomach.

His work with SIS gave him an inside look at what was happening in Germany, Britain, and other parts of Europe.

Without this job, he would be like so many others.

Head down. Working to feed a family and keep a roof overhead. Struggling to live one day at a time.

It was difficult to see the hardships of others when survival was foremost in the mind. When fear ruled every decision made for the safety of loved ones. He understood that. He did.

He rested his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

It wasn’t just the Germans listening to Nazi propaganda.

His own government’s disposition of appeasement was suffering more and more disapproval from the British people.

Germany’s manipulation of British media was weakening, thanks to brave diplomatic correspondents.

But the Führer’s propaganda machine had done a fair amount of damage. They seemed to say something different to whatever group of people they were speaking to, placating the whims and longings of the crowds.

Especially the young men.

Rick stood and walked to a large window looking over an in dustrial part of Amsterdam. It was cloudy today, which matched his mood as memories from years ago swam to the surface.

Young men, looking sharp in their crisp Nazi uniforms, marching in unison in a parade for Hitler.

Bonfires of books, furniture, and other goods lighting the night sky in Berlin.

The glee and joy as the Nazi youth harassed Jewish citizens.

Then the Olympics happened, and all the while, behind the scenes, the man was planning to take over as a world power and do abominable things to people he deemed unworthy of life.

Some were willing to give Hitler the benefit of the doubt. He was making them strong again. He was helping the economy. They didn’t have to pay attention to what he was doing in Germany.

Then Hitler invaded Austria.

Anyone paying attention knew how desperately Hitler wanted his home country to return to the German motherland. Real Austrians were German speaking and of German blood. Rick had heard that too many times.

Gratitude welled in his soul that he’d gotten out of Germany before the Anschluss, when Hitler annexed the smaller country into his.

But when Rick heard that many of the Austrians had celebrated Hitler’s takeover of their country, he’d felt sick.

Heartbroken. Austria thought it was gaining freedom.

They must have had no idea what could be coming.

And if they did, shame on them.

Shame on them all for allowing hatred and discrimination to continue.

He swiped a hand down his face and glanced at the clock.

Thirty minutes had passed. Maybe he wouldn’t receive this new job today.

Even though it was his assignment. If not, he should track down his contact and see if he should get a different job.

Was the assignment gone? Had something changed? He stood and walked to the door—

It opened in a whoosh.

“Mr. Zimmerman, my apologies.” The thick Dutch accent matched the man’s thick belly. “I have exciting news for you, but it was tedious to confirm and then double-check on your credentials before I could offer you the job.”

“Oh?” This sounded promising. The higher-up the client he was assigned to drive around, the better the information he could obtain. Not that the man in front of him would know why he was really working here.

The man slid a folder across the desk as he took his seat. “It would mean a great deal of travel for you, but if you are amenable, the job will be generally easy and prestigious as well.”

Easy? Prestigious? Rick opened the folder and read the top page, his shoulders stiffening. He scanned the paper, rubbed his chin, then read it again. No. He wasn’t misreading things.

He wouldn’t be driving for a diplomat. Or even some mid-level government official somewhere. He laid the folder down and looked at the man. “You wish me to drive for a concert pianist ?” It was impossible to keep the derision out of his words.

The man grinned from ear to ear. “Haven’t you heard of Chaisley Frappier? The world’s most renowned concert pianist? She is said to be the very best of the best. She can play the most complicated of Liszt pieces with the panache and flair of Chopin.”

Irritation grated his chest, and he wanted to bolt out of the chair and march out of the office. He didn’t care if she could play Tchaikovsky with her toes. Why would he be assigned here? This was a job for an entry-level agent.

Okay. Deep breath. He was supposed to be a highly qualified man looking for work, not a disgruntled British spy upset that he’d been pulled out of the thick of things in Berlin. With his cover, he had no right to be turning down a job during these times.

He couldn’t let his pride get in the way of doing a job his contact had chosen for him. After all, he was out of Germany for a while, and that was a relief. He schooled his features, scooted forward on his chair, and grabbed the folder again. “She sounds fascinating.”