Wildflowers of Terezin (27 page)

Steffen looked at the floor, the light in his expression turning to embarrassment. Meanwhile, Aron stood awkwardly by the entry to the safe room, smelling as if he hadn't had a bath since the last time she'd seen him.

"Well, this reunion is all very nice." Henning had a way of getting to the point. "But we're making arrangements for you both to leave Danmark."

Hanne looked at him, and he must have recognized the pleading in her eyes. She thought desperately how she might argue her case, and of ways she might convince them that she should stay. But after what had happened this afternoon, nothing made sense any longer.

"There's absolutely no argument this time," Henning told her. "I learned just this morning the Gestapo knows who you are and they know what you look like. Someone must have tipped them off."

"Is it true?" she asked Steffen, but he could only nod glum agreement. "Who would do that?"

Henning didn't seem particularly moved.

"Someone at your hospital? I don't know. But you just can't stay here anymore. You must understand. In fact you can't stay anywhere in Danmark. We have a boat that will take the two of you to Sweden."

"That's right." Steffen forced a smile. "In fact, we've arranged to have you wait in a beach house just a few kilometers up the coast, close to Tårbæk. The fishing boat will pick you up just before midnight."

Hanne let the words sink in as she repeated the word.

"Midnight?" she wondered aloud.

"Yes," said Henning, nodding. "Tonight. And no rowboat adventures."

Tonight! Hanne caught her breath at the suddenness and sat down on one of the cots Steffen had set up in the safe room. Aron sat down next to her, but she wasn't sure she heard any of what he said. Instead she looked up at Steffen to see the saddest, most helpless expression. And finally her own tears let loose—for herself and for everything that had happened to her that day. For her country and her people.Even for Aron, who now slipped a tentative arm around her shoulder.

Steffen pressed his lips together and said nothing as he turned away. If she could have said anything to him, she would have. But she could not, and the lump in her throat only grew as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

DANISH COASTLINE, 26 KILOMETERS NORTH OF KØBENHAVN

SUNDAY NIGHT, 10 OKTOBER 1943

It is a kingly act to assist the fallen.

—MOTHER TERESA

W
hat's taking them so long?" Aron grumbled as he paced the bare wood floor in the tiny beach cottage. Hanne thought his voice carried much too far in the dark night.Surely the German guards who patrolled this beach would be able to hear them.

"I told you it's not time yet," came Henning's voice from where he crouched just under a picture window facing the sea. To his credit, he only whispered. "Not for at least another half hour, and then we make contact with the boat."

A glimmer of moonlight trickled inside when Henning peeked out through the shade, enough for Hanne to make out the dark forms of Aron pacing and Steffen sitting by the door, as if guarding against any intruders.

Hanne didn't move, just sat with arms wrapped around her knees in one of the tiny room's lumpy, mismatched chairs that smelled of a cottage locked tightly for far too long. She sneezed again as the dust tickled her nose.

"Hmmph." Aron apparently wasn't satisfied with the time, as if they could push ahead the hands of their watches and make it so. "I thought you said they'd be here by midnight."

"That's exactly what I said," replied Henning, not disguising his own impatience as he let the shade slip back into place. "It's only half-twelve. Eleven-thirty."

"You're certain your watch is correct?" asked Aron.

Henning only harrumphed in reply. It had been like this all evening, and Hanne's head buzzed with tension while the rest of her body rebelled with a fatigue that had hit her the moment she'd sat down, over two hours ago. Perhaps she would be able to rest when they got on the boat. But in the back of her mind she knew that would only be the start.

"There go the guards again," whispered Henning, peeking out at the beach. "Every twenty-six minutes, just like clockwork."

"I like predictable Nazis," said Steffen, but then his voice caught. "I mean, no, I don't like Nazis. I just like them more when they're predictable. Ak, you know what I mean."

Henning peeked out once more. In a shaft of moonlight Hanne saw Steffen gazing in her direction, and she felt her own heart beat more quickly. But of course that would only be from the tension of the moment and the thought of sneaking through the night past the watchful eye of the beach patrols, and nothing more. Aron moved to the door.

"I need to go out for a moment," he announced. In response Henning stepped over to block the door, as well.

"I told you to take care of that kind of thing before," he said.

"Listen, I can't help it. And I'll just be a moment, all right?" Aron wasn't taking no for an answer. "Those guards are headed down the beach, anyway. You said so yourself. No one is going to see a thing."

"We're still not sure of their pattern," replied Henning.

"You said they were clockwork."

"Fine." Finally Henning sighed and apparently gave way."But don't blame me if they catch you in the outhouse."

A moment later Aron had slipped outside.

"Anyone else want to announce the fact that we're smuggling a dozen more Jews out of Danmark tonight?" asked Henning in a sarcastic whisper. "Perhaps we could all go out on the beach and light a bonfire, sing some farewell songs, invite the guards to join in. Then we can take them around to each of the four beach cottages where people are hiding, and make introductions?"

No one answered. Hanne certainly didn't dare. But Henning slipped outside as well, mumbling something about having to check on the other cabins, and that Steffen should keep watching the door and out the window. After several moments of quiet, in which the only sounds were the waves lapping outside and Steffen's nervous foot shuffling, Hanne spoke up.

"Are they still out there?" she wondered aloud, instantly regretting the silly question.

"I saw Henning a moment ago," he replied, sounding more patient than she might have. "But I don't see your . . . I mean, Aron."

At last Hanne could not sit there any longer, waiting, so she unfolded her legs and quietly stood up.

I'll never see Steffen again,
she told herself.
What does it matter now?

"We were never engaged," she told him, and surprised herself for even opening her mouth.

"You mean to Aron? I—"

"My mother wanted us to be, and everyone in the synagogue assumed we would be. But we weren't."

"It's . . . none of my business."

"Maybe not. I just thought I should tell you. Aron is a good man. He deserves a good Jewish wife. I'm just not sure I'm that person."

This time he chuckled softly, and she couldn't help smiling along with him.

"What?" she asked. "I don't mean to get personal. I just—"

"No, no. I don't mind. Although maybe I should set up a confessional booth in my church. What do you think of that?"

"I don't know about confessions, Steffen. All I know is you've been very kind to me. Risked your life, even. I don't know how to thank you for what you've done, because I just didn't expect what happened."

"I'm just sorry I couldn't do more for you, and for all the others. And the little travel bag we put together for you, well, it's not much."

"Better than what I had, thank you."

She looked at her feet, avoiding his direct gaze. The waves continued to wash ashore, adding their soft, soothing background to the conversation. And in the dim moonlight she could see him turn to face her.

"I guess I didn't expect things to turn out like this, either."Now his voice wavered. "And we haven't known each other for a long time, but—"

"But it seems much longer, doesn't it?"

"It does." He laughed nervously. "And I like the way you finish my sentences. But look, we'll see each other—"

"Again, of course. As soon as all this is over."

"Meanwhile, I'm so sorry for the way things have turned out. I wish they could have been different."

He took another step closer.

"I wish they could have been different, too," she replied, and she felt his breath on her cheek as he reached out to hold her. She returned his embrace, felt his soft kiss brush by her lips and land on her cheek.

"Please be careful," he finally whispered. "And if there's a way to send letters, you know the address of the church. Or you could just address them to my apartment on Nørrebrogade.Perhaps that would be safer. Nørrebrogade 225."

"Nørrebrogade 225. I'll remember." She felt herself choking up as he pressed a small book into her hand.

"In case you need something to read. It's by a Christian pastor, not a rabbi, but even so. His poems make me think.Kaj Munk? Perhaps you'd like them as well."

"Thank you. I know of him." She accepted the little volume and slipped it into the top of the small overnight bag Steffen had given her.

"And I, I'll be praying for you. Maybe, when you get back . . ."

Then what? She waited for him to finish his thought, but he obviously could not. They would still live in different worlds. And right now, if she was honest with herself, she wasn't entirely sure she
would
get back. She wasn't even entirely sure she'd make it across the stretch of water separating them from Sweden.

But she might have thanked him once more, except that Henning pushed in through the door just then and they both stepped back from each other. Henning didn't act as if he noticed anything, just slipped in with Aron in tow.

"Five minutes," said Henning, all business. "Do you have the flashlight, Steffen?"

"Right here." Steffen replied, taking up his station by the door once more. "Is everyone else ready out there?"

"There isn't anybody else," he replied, his voice steady."Not as far as I can tell."

"What?" Steffen raised his voice. "I thought there were supposed to be at least ten others, waiting in the other cabins."

"We checked every one," replied Henning, and Aron added his nervous explanation.

"There must be some mix-up," Aron told them. "This isn't good. They didn't show."

Steffen groaned. "Does this mean—"

"Means nothing." Henning obviously wasn't giving up."We're still going ahead. The boat's still going to take these two."