Page 43

Finally, she thought she might have found one, a short, sturdy limb near a crotch in the midpoint of the trunk. Grunting, she steadied her right foot on the limb, then held her breath as she heaved herself up and prayed.

She found herself perched unsteadily on the limb, clinging by her fingernails to the rough tree bark, and struggling to balance the weight of the bag as she brought up her other leg.

Her muscles trembled and she breathed in short bursts, scrabbling for a steadier perch. Then, somehow, she was settled into the vee of the trunk, her bag firmly perched in front of her,

EVI

Jacob was the first out of the farmhouse when Evi trudged up the long driveway, bone weary and grateful to have gone the distance without running into a German check point.

“Evi! What in hell happened? ”

His face was white, his gaze focused on her arm in the sling under her coat. Evi thought if she had not been so weary, she might have leapt up into his arms.

“It is nothing, Jacob – a flesh wound, Zoe told me. She treated it. I will be fine.”

“A flesh wound! You took a shot?” Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He took the bag from her good shoulder and examined the makeshift sling.

From the top of the steps, the three Beekhofs watched.

“ Behagen , Jacob,” Evi said. “I am cold – and very tired.”

He drew her toward him, holding her gingerly at the waist. “I never should have let you go off alone. God, Evi, you could have been killed.”

He led her past the others and settled her on the sofa, covering her legs with a knitted blanket and kneeling on the floor at her feet.

Mevreow ran to put up the kettle, then hurried back into the sitting room. Willem sat on the floor next to Jacob, Meneer stirred a fire in the grate.

Evi looked at the four of them, waiting for her to speak, but all she wanted to do was sleep.

“I shot two German guards outside a barn in Enschede,” she managed, searching Jacob’s face. “I took a hit to the shoulder, but Zoe’s father is free. The wound is not serious. It will heal…”

“Good God,” Jacob muttered. “Are you sure, Evi? Let me have a look…”

He brought her forward, but Evi stopped him, her small hand firm on his larger one. “Please,” she said. “I need to sleep…”

“Will you have some tea, Evi?”

“Later,” she said, leaning back on the sofa.

“My bed,” Jacob murmured. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

She was too tired to protest when his arms reached under her, lifting her as if she were weightless .

The last thing she knew before she fell into sleep was the softness of a feather quilt falling over her, and the touch of Jacob’s fingers on her brow.

ZOE

Zoe awoke to find she had slept for nearly twelve hours. Once, she remembered, she had been rattled awake by the noise of strafing German Stukas. But she had sunk back into sleep the moment the noise receded, and now the sun shone high in the sky, a tentative promise of spring.

In her dreams, she had replayed Evi’s brazenness in Enschede, saw again her father’s figure fleeing into the night. She tossed about, praying for her parents, for their uneventful trek to safety.

But something else had peppered her sleep, and she was anxious to discuss it with Gerritt. Reluctantly, she threw aside the patchwork quilt and stood up to face the day.

Later, she would bicycle to the Beekhof farm to check on Evi’s condition. But first, she thought, drinking a cup of weak tea, she needed to go to Heemstede.

...

Gerritt looked up from his paperwork at the sound of her tap on his open door. “Zoe. I was worried…”

Briefly, she told him of her father’s capture by the Gestapo, of the trip she and Evi had made to Enschede and the price her brave young friend had paid to gain her father’s freedom.

“I told my parents to go to Tante Inge’s in Haaksbergen. I pray they will get there safely.”

Gerritt listened wide-eyed. “And I as well.” He leaned back and raked a hand through his greying hair. “Indeed, what will become of any of us if this war is not over soon. ”

He stood up and pulled out a chair. “Sit.”

Zoe did.

“This morning, on the BBC,” he told her, “I heard the Allies have crossed the Meuse into Roermond. It is a good sign, Zoe. They are getting close. But who knows when liberation will come?”

Zoe sighed. “We cannot afford to wait, Gerrit. We need to begin moving the strongest people to safety.”

She took a breath. “I have an idea. The morgue, cousin. The ambulance bay. Where do the bodies go?

Gerritt sat back. “To the mortuary, of course – one of several mortuaries, whichever will prepare them for burial…”

She inclined her head.

His eyebrows rose. “Ah, yes, I see…But even if we could transport these ‘bodies,’ would the mortuaries agree to keep them in hiding?”

Zoe lifted her shoulders. “I do not know. But it is worth asking the question. As many as they can hide, Gerritt, especially those we know are being hunted by the Germans.”

Gerritt sighed. “Doctor Aaron, perhaps…and Kurt Shneider…”

Zoe waited.

“Brilliant, Zoe. Let me contact one or two morticians…at least the ones I know to be patriots.”

...

It was quiet when she stepped off the elevator in the basement – almost unnaturally quiet. The autopsy room was closed, as was the door to the morgue. Zoe bypassed them, opened a narrow door and, in the light of a single overhead bulb, took the short flight of stairs to the sub-basement.

She knocked as expected, the designated signal. The door was opened a crack. Zoe recognized one of the hiding mothers, the wife of a Haarlem bricklayer.

“Zoe,” she said. “Come in. ”

The light inside came from an overhead bulb and a pair of a pair of two hastily commissioned lanterns. Her eyes scanned the room.

People sat on mattresses, napped in the quiet. Even the children seemed sapped of energy. Her heart broke at their suffering.

She nodded at those she had come to know, then made her way to the far end of the space, where Kurt, in the light of one of the lanterns, was reading to a handful of listeners.

He looked up as she neared, and she warmed at the smile in his eyes and the slightly crooked line of his jaw.

“I missed you,” he told her, kissing her on both cheeks when he sent the little ones for a bathroom break.

She dared to rest a hand on his face. “We had a slight – emergency, I’m afraid.”

He frowned.

“I am fine, Kurt. We handled it…And you? How are you managing?

“As well as can be. It is hardest on the children…”

“Oh, how they love your stories.”

He smiled in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “For as long as we are safe here… ya .”

MILA

The mid-day sun was more brilliant than Mila had seen it for months, creating shadows on the landscape as she peered through the dense boughs in front of her. But it carried little warmth to her perch in the crook of the sturdy pine.

Her vantage point gave her a fair view of de Boer’s house and grounds – good enough to follow the routine of de Boer’s police guards who, she noted, checked the rear of the house every thirty minutes.

But with the shades drawn, it was impossible to tell where de Boer himself might be resting – or whether the bastard was ambulatory or bedridden .

Shifting position, she reached into her bag and pulled out one of the apples. The first taste of it, sour and sweet, was a taste of heaven.. She wiped her chin with a corner of her sleeve and chewed.

She finished the apple, and tossed the core into her bag, watching as one of guards circled the grounds and returned. She looked at her watch. Twelve-fifteen. On time to the minute.

She ate a chunk of bread. In thirty minutes, the other guard made his circuit.

Her back hurt, and her legs began to numb. but there was little she could do to change position. Before the sentry made his next circuit, however, she felt a surge of excitement. A window shade was pulled up inside the house, likely to let in a bit of the afternoon sun.

Through her binoculars, she saw the receding figure of a buxom uniformed nurse – and behind her, a figure propped up on pillows in bed.

De Boer!

It was impossible to know for certain if she could pull off a kill shot from her distance. She estimated she was the best part of thirty meters away. She would have to be extra careful to control the recoil – and the curve of the trajectory.

But it was possible.

The street was quiet, a stray cat here and there, an occasional dog-walker.

She ate the second apple, eyes on her target, watching the scene through the bedroom window as though she were watching a movie. The nurse left the room again and Mila sat straighter.

Minutes later, the nurse reappeared with a tray, which she laid on a bedside table. The figure in the bed looked up and waved her away.

By the time a sentry passed by next, the afternoon sun was waning. It would not be long before the shade was pulled, and with it, the window of opportunity.

Mila sat tall, dug her thighs into the tree trunk. It’s a chance worth taking, she told herself .

Slowly, deliberately, she reached into her bag and wrapped her fingers around the Luger. She felt its familiar heft in her grip, eased her forefinger against the trigger. Sighting, calculating, she took aim at her target. One…two…squeeze !

As the shot rang out, she felt herself jerked backward, two strong arms wrapped around her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand reached up and clamped itself around her mouth.

EVI

“We saw tulips from the train window on our way back from Enschede,” Evi said, carefully drying a soup bowl. “Red and yellow tulips poking up from the soil.”

“It’s a wonder there are tulips left to bloom,” said Mevrouw , drying her hands on her apron. “How many bulbs have filled Dutch stomachs this winter?”

“Nevertheless, we saw them,” Evi winced as she reached to put the bowls on a shelf.

“Your shoulder hurts, ja ?”

Only a little. It is better now, without the sling.”

“We can bring a doctor here…”

Evi shook her head. “I can bicycle into the center if I need to.”

“I don’t know, Evi,” Mevrouw’s face was sober. “The Germans are on high alert. It is as though they know the war is all but lost to them.”

Jacob had told her much the same thing. He had heard it on the BBC, he said, listening late at night with Papa Beekhof, The Allies had dealt the Reich a devastating blow, taking several towns in and around Limburg. German soldiers had begun to defect.

“It’s the beginning,” Jacob told her, his face alight. “The Allies will be here soon.”

...

Jacob had been sitting at her bedside when she awoke after the harrowing night in Enschede. “Hi, Itty Bitty. How are you? ”

She had managed a smile. “As fine as anyone who has taken a bullet to the shoulder.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It was not meant to be funny. But I think I will be fine.”

She leaned on her good elbow to pull herself up. “You are a wonderful teacher, Jacob. Even in the dark, sighting from the ground after I was hit, I killed those two Nazi guards.”

She sat up, using her good hand as leverage. “You would have been truly proud.”

“I am proud.” His hand was warm on her face. “Good job, Itty-Bitty”

She willed him to come closer, but he took a step back. “Guess you don’t need me anymore.”

She had steeled herself, looked deep into his eyes. “I will always need you, Jacob…”

...

“If you think you are ready, Evi,” Mevrouw said now, “you may go back the barge. Willem can go along with you. You will want to bring back some clothing, ja ? And whatever else you will need.”

She was not eager to be back on the barge. Mam’s heart and soul were there. But of course there were things she wanted to have – Mam’s hand-knit blankets, and her box of photographs – and some of her sweaters and boots.

“If you think it is safe…” her voice trailed off.

“You can take the back roads.” Mevreow laid a hand on her good shoulder. “Willem will know how to go.”