Page 31

The driver parked on the far side of the entrance, as planned, away from the nearest street lamp. A door opened facing the curb, and de Boer’s bulky figure emerged. He leaned back into the car, perhaps to say something to his driver, then shut the door and straightened up.

Mila could do nothing but hold her breath .

It was over almost before she knew it – one…

two…three seconds before de Boer’s foot stepped onto the curb.

She did not hear the report of the pistol, but she thought she saw the flash, and she watched as the big man lurched, swayed, and in the second it took her to blink, fell, as if in slow motion, face forward into the street.

EVI

Willem, the Beekhof’s boy, pedaled alongside Evi on the trek back to the river’s edge, the consensus being that if anyone were to be stopped so near to curfew, best that they were underage children.

Evi’s bicycle had been forgotten near the tavern, and the one she borrowed from Mevreow Beekhof required more strength to maneuver. She struggled to keep up, and it was just after curfew when she bade Willem goodnight, urged him to stay safe, and made her way into the barge.

Mam was waiting, her graying hair askew, her eyes wild with fright. “Where in God’s name, Evi? I was mad with worry! Where on earth have you been?”

Her heart and soul still under the elm tree with Jacob, Evi fought to find an answer. In the end, she thought it best to stay close to the truth. “I was out – learning to shoot.”

Mam stared. “Learning to shoot…a firearm?”

Evi reached into the bottom of her knapsack, laid the Colt on the kitchen table.

Mam could not have appeared more dumbstruck if she had laid a suckling pig at her feet.

Evi swallowed. “This was given to me by a friend. He has been teaching me to use it. I thought – in the event we need protection.”

“Protection? Lieve god , Evi, from what?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Evi found herself suddenly outraged. “Gestapo thugs behind you when you insist on navigating narrow canals to deliver supplies to a cave… ”

Mam fell into the nearest chair. “You are prepared to shoot them? The Germans?”

“Ja, if I need to.” She held her tongue about the German officers she had shot hours earlier for Jacob. “You can trust me, Mam. I know quite well how to handle this pistol and I will never use it unless I need to.”

She tried to interpret the look on her mother’s face. It was as though she were looking at a stranger.

“Mam,” she began.

“Put it away.”

Evi did not hesitate. She placed the Colt back in the bookbag, stashed the bag under her bed. It was at that moment that she could have sworn she heard a baby cry.

She walked back into the kitchen. Mam was on her feet. The sound came again, louder this time, distinctly the bleat of an infant.

Mam straightened. “I would have told you right off,” she said. “But I was out of my mind with fright, Evi, not knowing if you were alive or dead.”

Without another word, she moved to her sleeping quarters and emerged a moment later, cradling a bundle wrapped in a pale green blanket.

The baby whimpered.

Evi fell into a chair.

“I could not leave him in that cave in Limburg, Evi. The poor baby had no one. His mother took him there to hide from the Germans shortly after he was born …and then she died, Evi…some sort of fever. He cannot be more than two or three weeks old.”

Evi stared, unable to speak.

“They managed to keep him alive, the others in the cave…I do not know how without his mother’s milk. But look…” She peeled away the woolen blanket. The infant was painfully thin.

“And look here…” Mam unfastened the scrap of diaper. “Something is wrong with his thin little legs…or maybe with his little left hip… ”

The baby’s left leg seemed oddly splayed. When he kicked, it came up at an angle.

“Do you see?” Mam insisted. “Something is wrong. The child needs help. Evi. How could I leave him in that cave?”

What began as a whimper began to escalate, and soon became a shuddering cry.

Mam moved to the kitchen, where Evi saw, for the first time, three glass baby bottles lined up next to the sink and a tin of powdered formula.

“Where on earth – ?” she began.

“It was providence, Evi. These things were among the donated supplies I picked up and took with me to Limburg – and that was before we had any idea there might be a newborn in hiding…”

Mam turned to her. “Here, Evi. Hold him while I prepare a bottle.”

Startled, Evi settled the bundle on her lap, moved the green blanket aside and stared into a tiny face.

“His name is Jacob.”

Evi’s head swiveled. “What?”

“His name is Jacob Rood. It is the name his mother gave him. He is Jewish. Do you see? He is circumsised.”

Evi was not sure she knew what that meant, but it clearly meant something to her mother. She stared into the tiny face. Jacob …..?

“You can see why I could not leave him in that cave, Evi. He needs to see a doctor. But a doctor here, how can we be sure he would not be reported to the Germans?”

Evi was speechless.

“There is nothing for it but to get him across the border into Belgium, where he can safely get the medical care he needs. He has an aunt there, I was told in Limburg, his mother’s sister in Antwerp.”

“Mam – “

“I know the route to Middleburg, you know that, Evi. How many refugees have I transported? From there, if he survives, there will be other volunteers who can help to get him across the border.”

Mam bustled over with the bottle of warm milk. “Here. ”

She handed it to Evi, who held it for a moment as though it might sprout wings, then lowered it to the vicinity of the tiny mouth and gasped as the infant squirmed and wriggled and sucked until the rubber nipple was plugged firmly between his lips.

His little eyes were tightly closed, but it seemed to Evi that she could feel in her bones his utter bliss in that instant …the sheer will of this tiny being to survive.

Jacob, she whispered solely to herself….. Jacob…baby Jacob...Lieve god …

ZOE

Zoe placed twenty of the ration books that had been appropriated by Leela’s sister on top of Gerritt’s desk. He looked up, his drawn face questioning.

“They are perfectly legitimate, cousin – procured by someone in the rations office who took a great risk to keep us fed.”

Gerritt stared at them, riffled the pages, then rose slowly and placed them in a locked file cabinet.

“Our cooks are becoming quite skilled at making something from nothing,” he said. Whatever we can get with these will help. Danke .”

It seemed to Zoe there was more of a grey streak in Gerritt’s dark blonde hair. “You look troubled, Cousin.”

“I am…” Gerritt sat heavily in his chair.

“For one thing, it is getting increasingly difficult to maintain quiet in our sanctuary. People are people after all, Zoe, and after so many weeks in close quarters – no exercise to speak of, no way to vent – squabbles break out, the children especially, but even adult tempers flare…”

Zoe bit her lip. “I can imagine…”

“I do not think you can, cousin. Men, women and children, virtual strangers, sequestered together day after day. There is always – always something, a crying child, a missing toothbrush… ”

Gerritt leaned forward, his hands clenched on the desktop.

“I feel as though I am forced to be a summer camp instructor these days rather than a hospital administrator. I am aware every moment of every day that the slightest noise, the smallest altercation, may be all that stands between safety and discovery…”

“I know, Gerritt. I don’t know how you manage -”

“I don’t know either, Zoe.” He looked at her closely. “And there is more.”

He reached into a desk drawer. “I hesitate to show this to you, Zoe, because I think I can see where your feelings lie. But yesterday I received a missive from Gestapo headquarters. It is a list of co-called ‘enemies of the Reich,’ people of interest to the Germans… people who are to be reported immediately should they turn up at the hospital for treatment.”

He handed over the letter. “Would you care to read it?”

Zoe took the letter, unfolded it, began to read the alphabetized list of names. “I am afraid I do not know these people by name, Gerritt,” she said after a moment.

“Then I can tell you that seven of the names on this list are Jewish physicians who have been in hiding with us for months,” he said.

“Since before you came to me, in fact. Four others, who are with us now in our ‘renovating’ top floor, are among the Dutch families suspected by the Reich to be hiding Jewish children…”

He paused. “And look toward the bottom of the list, Zoe, among the names beginning with S…”

Zoe read, and the name leapt out. Schneider, Kurt … Lieve god …the storyteller.