Wildflowers of Terezin (12 page)

"They know . . . they know that at the close of Rosh Hashanah our families would normally all be home. The situation is very serious. We must take action immediately.You must leave the synagogue now and contact all relatives, friends, and neighbors who are Jewish and tell them what I have told you. You must tell them to pass the word on to everyone they know who is Jewish. You must also speak to all your Christian friends, anyone you can think of, and tell them to warn the Jews. You must do this immediately, within the next few minutes, so that two or three hours from now everyone will know what is happening. By nightfall tonight we must all be in hiding."

"In hiding?" asked one of the men up front. "But where? And for how long?"

Several others added their agreement as the rabbi nodded.

"Arrangements are being made right now for evacuations to Sweden. I am informed by . . . by sympathetic sources in the government that the Swedes are prepared to take in as many as are willing to come. So my recommendation is to find a secure hiding place near the coast, among people you can trust. We will all pray for a safe passage, and that we will be able to return home soon."

Once again the men lobbed questions at one another, prompting the rabbi to raise his hands for silence. He straightened up his shoulders as if he'd found some measure of courage, and without warning began singing the words of the
Shehecheyanu
blessing.

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam . . .

Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe . . .

For a moment his voice wavered, as if he remembered how this blessing would otherwise have been part of a mealtime celebration, now abruptly cancelled. There would be no apples dipped in honey this year, no hearty
challah
bread or candle lightings. Still he gave them what he could.

. . . shehecheyanu v'kiyimanu v'higi'anu laz'man hazeh.
who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season.

By this time Hanne could not imagine a dry eye in the congregation as they all echoed a teary "amen." She searched her purse for a handkerchief as the rabbi stepped down from the platform. His knees seemed to buckle, but he had one last thing to tell them.

"Go now. Quickly.
Hurtigt.
Please do not delay."

Visibly shaken, he collected a prayer book and shawl from a seat on the front row and accepted a hand from a couple of the closest men, then made his way to the exit.

The rest of the congregation now sat in stunned silence, while the only sound Hanne could hear was soft weeping and sniffling all around—and not just from the women's section.On one side, Hanne's mother stared blankly at the far wall, obviously in shock. On the other, Fru Lewenstein had burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably. Hanne would have to move first, so she stood up between them.

"Come on, please, ladies," she told them, tugging gently at her mother's elbow. "You heard what the rabbi said. We need to go now."

By that time others around them had taken Rabbi Melchior's admonition to heart, as well, and were pressing toward the exits. The good news was that Fru Lewenstein's little husband had pushed up through the retreating crowd to collect his wife. When he found them he slipped a protective arm around her shoulder, mentioning something about taking a train to a relative's summer beach house in
Gilleleje,
up the coast, to hide there. But then they were gone.

"Actually, that sounded like a good idea," Hanne told her mother, who still said nothing. But by that time Aron had found them, and he waved over several heads for them to follow him to a side entry.

"I'm going to be staying with my cousin in
Roskilde,"
he told them, as soon as they'd joined him. "You will come, too.And your mother, of course."

Under normal circumstances her mother would surely have appreciated Aron's invitation. But even now she just followed the crowd with her wide eyes as they hurried toward the exits, flowing past on all sides. Hanne wasn't even sure if she heard what Aron was saying.

"Roskilde?" Hanne quizzed him. "No. That's too far away, and the wrong direction. You heard what Rabbi Melchior said about making arrangements for Swed—"

"Of course it's far away," Aron interrupted her, his dark eyes blazing. "That's the point. But listen, there's no time right now to discuss it. We're getting as far away as we can, as quickly as we can. I'm certainly not going to wait here in the city for the Germans to pick us up. As soon as you can pack your bags, we'll leave immediately."

"Wait.
We?"
Hanne tried desperately to think, to make sense amidst the noisy panic that swirled all around them."Aron, please. I just don't think that's a good idea. Listen, I have contacts at the hospital. I think they would help us.There are a lot of good people there."

"Absolutely not." Aron shook his head again, as if her ideas weren't worth discussing, and he, the final arbiter, had made an executive decision. "I just need to ask Tobias a few things, and then we'll go."

How could he say that? And how could he even think of going all the way to Roskilde, some thirty-five or forty kilometers to the west? Hanne could not say that she liked seeing this side of Aron, though she wasn't at all sure how to react.

But now, where to hide? How to hide? Who would help them? Hanne couldn't yet answer. In fact, nothing seemed clear, except one thing: Going to Roskilde would be a fatal mistake, no matter what Aron said. This she knew beyond a doubt. She looked to her mother who ran a hand along the rich walnut trim of a nearby exit door, as if seeing it for the first time. After what they had heard, perhaps it would be the last. Either way, her mother didn't seem to hear the exchange. And Hanne had a sinking feeling that their lives might depend on what she decided right here, right now.She pressed her lips together and held Aron's arm before he turned to go.

"We can't go with you, Aron." Her voice came out as a squeak, she thought, and he looked at her as if he hadn't heard.

"What are you saying?" His eyes clouded even more. "You can't be serious."

"We're going to the hospital. I know there's going to be help there. You should come, too."

He opened his mouth to say something, but the hurt look in his eyes told Hanne more than she wanted to know. How easy it was to hurt someone, without even trying.

"Aron!" Tobias Simonsen came up through the crowd, in a hurry like everyone else. "Are you coming?"

Now it was Aron's turn to choose, and he looked from his friend to Hanne, and back again. Finally, he turned back to Hanne.

"I won't leave the country without you, Hanne. Wait for me?"

"Aron, I can't—"

"Aron, honestly." Tobias wasn't about to wait any longer."We need to go."

So Aron turned to go, but not before squeezing Hanne's hand in his.

"Shana tovah,
Hanne," he told her, and the traditional holiday greeting could not have sounded more out of place. "I'll see you again."

"A good year to you, too," she replied, as someone in the back of the synagogue sounded the shofar. The echoing sound of the ram's horn always gave Hanne goose bumps, even more this time as she watched Aron disappear through the crowd.

But she knew where to go, now, and she knew what she had to do. She took her mother's cold hand and headed for the door.

"Let's hurry," she said, as they left the synagogue and headed back out to Krystalgade. They just had two days now to hide—and escape the only home Hanne had ever known.

BISPEBJERG HOSPITAL, KØBEBHAVN

WEDNESDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER 1943

To save one life is like saving the whole world.

—JEWISH PROVERB

O
nly a few hours after the announcement in the synagogue, Hanne found herself back at the hospital on her normal shift, feeling anything but. She studied the clipboard by a patient's bed, forcing her eyes to focus, seeing nothing but panic.

Settle down,
she told herself.
Everything's going to be all right.
People here at the hospital will help.

"The glass of water, nurse?" The woman in the bed looked up at her with weak puzzlement. "You said you'd bring it?"

Hanne breathed again, tried to bring her thoughts back as she replaced the clipboard into its holder at the foot of the bed.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry." She turned and nearly ran into Ann-Grete, one of the morning shift nurses, who must have just stepped into the room. Ann-Grete held her by the arm as they stepped out into the hallway.

"It's all arranged," Ann-Grete told her in a quiet voice as her eyes scanned the hallway first one way, then the next."You're taking my apartment, and I'm taking yours. We'll trade personal things but leave the furniture in place, so we don't attract too much attention."

"But Ann-Grete, this is more than an inconvenience to you. This is—"

"This is just what we do. If the Germans think they know where to find you, they'll find me instead."

"But then what would you tell them?"

"How about, 'Look at me! Do I look Jewish to you? Hanne doesn't live here anymore!' "

Hanne sighed. "Oh, but they'll know. They're very good at that. All they'll have to do is check the personnel records."

"Which are being modified right now. From what I understand, you quit your job without warning three weeks ago.And you left no forwarding address. Everyone will say the same thing, and they'll have no idea what's become of you.See? There's one more missing Jew."

"Ann-Grete, I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. It's only temporary, you know. I hear they're already getting fishing boats together to ferry people across to Sweden. Besides, I might not like your furniture.Say, you do have furniture in your place, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Hanne smiled for the first time since all the trouble had started. "Bought the sofa just last year at Juhl Hansen. A nice floral print. You'll like it just fine."

"Ah, she even has good taste in fine furniture stores. On second thought, maybe I'll just stay in your place for a while."

"Yes, and I can just go on being a ghost here in the hospital."

When they laughed Hanne forgot for just a moment that her identity at the hospital—everything that once had her name on it—was being erased to save her life. And when she checked her wristwatch her heart jumped.

"Oh, no! I told my mother I'd meet her at the front doors in ten minutes. Would you bring the woman in 43 her glass of water, please?"

Ann-Grete nodded as Hanne hurried off down the hall, her mind spinning. What more could she be doing? Perhaps
Mor
could stay with her for a few nights, here at the hospital—if it was safe. But she wasn't sure about that, or how it would look if someone came searching. Perhaps it would be better someplace else. She hurried down the stairs to the ground floor, not noticing that someone else was laboring up.

"Oh!" She stopped short. "Pardon me.
Undskyld.
I didn't mean to . . . Pastor?"

When he took off his hat he didn't look like the patient she had helped stitch up just the other day. This time he looked far more, well, not so disheveled. And very nice, really. He smiled when he recognized her.

"Nurse Hanne. Very good to see you again." He patted his side. "And thanks again for all your good work."

"I hadn't expected to see you back here so soon."

"Well, better to be walking in than carried in, right?"

"You're right about that." She laughed in spite of herself."I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Much better, thanks to you. Actually, though, I'm here on official business, visiting one of our older parishioners again.Teglgaard?"

"Ah, ja. Broken hip. She would be in room 24, if I recall.Um . . ." She nodded her head politely before taking another step and continuing down the stairs. "I hope you'll continue to feel better, as well."

He thanked her as she continued down the stairs, until a thought crossed her mind and she had to stop once more.

"Actually, Pastor," she called out, and her words echoed in the stairwell. Fortunately they were the only ones there, as far as Hanne could tell. And she blurted out the words before she changed her mind. "I wonder if I might ask you something else."

"Steffen," he answered, turning quickly. "Please call me Steffen."

"Er . . . okay. Steffen. But I was wondering." She looked up and down the stairwell again, just to be sure. No telling who might be listening. "When you were here previously, and your brother came to take you home, I couldn't help overhearing . . ."

Hanne paused, wondering what she was getting herself into. Well, but if she didn't ask, who would? He raised his eyebrows but did not interrupt, so she took a breath and went on—but this time in a guarded whisper.

"I couldn't help overhearing him talk about the Resistance.And I know it's not common knowledge, or public, but people here at the hospital know about the ambulance. He often parks it here, I think perhaps to make it look more legitimate.I hadn't known it was your brother, though."

"He surprises us both, eh?" He smiled at her, and she enjoyed the warmth of it. "But you probably know more about that ambulance than I do. He doesn't tell me a lot of those kinds of things, if you know what I mean. He tells me to stay in the church and preach my sermons, and then he gets upset with me for not doing more."

"More?"

He lowered his voice to match hers. "In the Resistance, I mean. But I'm sorry. You meant to ask me something?"

By this time Hanne was pretty sure Pastor Steffen—Steffen, that is—was telling her the truth about what he did or didn't know of the Resistance movement. How could those eyes lie to her, or to anyone? Maybe it was even better that he was not involved, yet. But she couldn't help asking him.

"I was going to ask you about putting up some friends—my mother included—perhaps at your church. I've never been inside, but I'm thinking perhaps there might be a basement, or some rooms that might be safe for them to stay in. For just a few days, that is, until we can find a way to get them to safety."

"Wait. Your mother? You want your mother to stay in our basement?"

When Steffen wrinkled his nose she couldn't help thinking of him like a cute little boy, puzzled at a school assignment he didn't quite understand. And she couldn't help smiling.

"I'm sorry. I didn't explain." Now she would tell him everything.What else could she do? It's what Rabbi Melchior had asked of them. "This morning at the synagogue Rabbi Melchior told us that the Nazis are finally coming for us. It's been decided."

"He knows this for certain?" Steffen's eyes widened in disbelief as she tried to reassure him.

"He would not have told us if it were not true. Everyone is going into hiding immediately, and we're letting as many Jewish people know as we can."

"But how would your rabbi know? I can't imagine the Germans would have advertised such a thing."

"Nonetheless it's true. They say it will happen on the night of the Rosh Hashanah celebration."

"Friday night.
I morgen aften."

"You knew that?"

"It's in my Bible too."

He shrugged, as if every Christian person in Danmark might be just as aware of the High Holy days. She knew better. But now he nodded slowly, as if he's just figured something out.

"I understand. So you're—"

"Jewish? Yes." She practically whispered the words. "But I'm okay for now."

She thought it over for a moment. She could go with her mother, or help to get her and the others to safety. Given her job, though, was there really any choice? Standing here in the hospital, her next step seemed a little clearer.

"I think I'm going to try to stay here for just a little longer," she explained. "With everything going on, there's so much to do here."

"You wouldn't leave with the others?"

"Actually, it's my mother I'm worried about, and several of our friends from the synagogue. I'm not sure any of them know where to go."

Steffen didn't appear to have any answers, either, though he did know how to listen well. He nodded as she went on.

"The only thing I've heard is that we're going to get fishing boats to take everyone across to Sweden, but it may be several days. In the meantime, they still need a place to hide."

She stood on the step beside Pastor Steffen, holding her breath as he rubbed his forehead in obvious thought. Finally he struggled to his feet as Hanne helped steady him. He straightened and looked directly at her.