A Daring Escape Read online

  Amity cleared her throat and cast a gaze at her young charge. “And what is the rest of that statement?”

  Celia offered a sly smile. “Amity says that every educated lady should understand the happenings of the world…and her place in it.”

  Celia cleared her throat again and tilted up her head. “And as for our place, we must be humble, thinking not more of ourselves than others. We must be kind, always willing to offer a helping hand. We must be cunning, understanding who is worthy of our trust. We also must be truth-bearers, knowing that the greatest truth we can fill our mind and heart with is the Word of God.”

  The room was silent for a moment. Even Bonnie held the silver tray in her hands instead of setting it down on the buffet, as if not wanting to disturb the moment.

  Amity felt Clark’s eyes on her, and she took a sip from her cup and then turned to him. She anticipated tenderness in his gaze, and she was not disappointed.

  “Did you pen that yourself, Amity? It’s quite brilliant.”

  “If you put it that way, it sounds like I’m a great writer or something.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, Clark, I have no intention of vying for your job. It’s just something I thought about the other morning when I was reading my Bible. The global news can be so pressing. I felt it was important to remind Celia that no matter what storms rage—whether the storms of the heavens or the thunder of men’s battles here on the earth—we women have an important place. The important part is not always protecting ourselves and our own interests, but also looking out for the welfare of others.”

  He reached out his right hand and placed it on her left one, which was resting on the table. “You’re an insightful woman, wise beyond your years.” He squeezed her hand and released it, but even after letting go she still felt the warmth from his hand.

  “I hope that is a compliment,” she teased, trying to pretend his touch hadn’t completely upended her inside. “Our neighbor, Mrs. Whitmore, is wise too, but I’d rather not find myself a cane.”

  “It is a compliment, I assure you. So many young people these days have minds filled with folly.” He frowned slightly and moved his salad around on his plate with his fork. “And you say God was speaking these things to your heart a few mornings ago?”

  “Yes.” Amity’s voice held a quiver. The tender tone warmed her chest. Yes, there was another sensation too. As they spoke, a deep peace settled over her. It should have been an unfamiliar peace due to the state of the world, but this peace came upon her often when she sat down with her Bible and considered God and all His goodness. It was almost as if He was warming her soul with a touch of His heavenly presence. Yet she’d never felt the holy touch in the middle of an ordinary conversation like this. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

  “Yes, over the last month or so as I’ve sat down with my Bible I’ve had this impression that God was asking something of me. It’s as if there are people out there who need to be cared for.” She sighed and broke off a piece of her bread, but the feeling of fullness within her made it hard to think of eating. “At first I thought it was simply the worries of the newspapers that were burdening my soul, but as I’ve read God’s Word I’ve been more drawn to stories of compassion.” She smiled and looked to Celia. “I’m not sure I’m making any sense, but as I’ve told Celia, we women mustn’t just focus on the world but also on our place in it. We can each help someone in some small way, can’t we?”

  No one spoke as they finished their salads. Amity hoped Clark didn’t notice she could hardly swallow a bite. Next they were served Lancashire hotpot, one of Clark’s favorites, but no one seemed much interested in dinner. They talked about other things—about the fresh snow and the upcoming Christmas programs around the city. And then when their food had turned quite cold, Clark put down his fork and pushed back his plate.

  “This is the last thing I expected myself to say tonight,” Clark said with a heavy sigh. “You see, Mrs. McGovern—who always knows every coming and going of the house—let it spill earlier that you were considering a Czechoslovakian holiday. Between that hour and now I’ve considered at least a dozen persuasive speeches that would talk you into forgetting that idea, but now I know to give even one of them would be to make my interests of greater concern than God’s.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure what your brother has in store for you with this Jewish welfare work, but Andrew has a good head on his shoulders. I am certain he wouldn’t ask his sister to come into a situation that is too dangerous. More than that, it seems God has been preparing your heart for a while.”

  A heavy burden lifted from Amity’s shoulders at those words—one she hadn’t known she’d been carrying. “Then it is all right if I head off on a holiday? Perhaps two weeks?”

  The smile on Clark’s face faded slightly, and tenderness flashed in his blue-eyed gaze. “On one condition—that before you dash off you sign a contract for another year’s work with my daughter, if not two years. Yes, we could handle two.”

  Amity clasped her hands together. There was no way to hide her delight. “I’d be honored, absolutely honored.” And at that moment there were no worries of what the next two years might bring. There was no thought of war. Even thoughts of Czechoslovakia were in the back of her mind. For now, Amity’s mind was settled on the fact that for the next two years she’d have these beautiful people in her life. And for this moment, that was enough.

  FIVE

  Jívová, Czechoslovakia

  Saturday, December 17, 1938

  Pavla Šimonová peered through the dingy window of the dilapidated shed and watched the older woman—their family’s former maid—hang her laundry. Mrs. Smidova had come up with the system to let Pavla know when it was safe to leave the shed and enter the Smidova family home. When she hung her laundry, Pavla was to watch. If the yellow handkerchief was the last thing to be hung, it was safe to go inside. It meant her husband had gone to the hospital for the day for work. It also meant their closest neighbors were at the market shopping.

  With quick movements Mrs. Smidova hung a dark-blue dress, a red apron, and finally the yellow handkerchief before she hurried inside. Even though the sun was out, the air was icy cold, and the idea of finding warmth caused Pavla’s heart to leap. She turned from the window and kneeled to the pallet set up on the floor. Both children slept, their cheeks bright from the cold air.

  She placed a hand on each of their shoulders, shook them slightly, and then pushed their hair back from their faces. “Hurry, children, it’s market day. We only have an hour.”

  Ondřej rose and rubbed his eyes. “Mami?”

  “Come. We get to go inside. We get to wash up.”

  “No. It’s too cold.” He snuggled down and tucked the thin blanket up around him again.

  Klára’s light-brown eyes fluttered open. “Will there be food, Maminka?”

  “Oh, I do have breakfast for us. Apples in a barrel, ja?” She pointed to the barrel behind them, the one they had been eating from for a few weeks.

  “I’m tired of apples,” Klára moaned. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  “We must not speak in such a way. There are so many others…” Pavla let her voice trail off. She refused to speak of them—her family, her friends. What had become of them? She feared the worst. What type of persecution would they face? Would they, too, be killed? Pavla worried they all would be eventually if Hitler’s storm troopers had their way.

  A hollow ache filled her heart, her gut, and her chest at the knowledge that her husband and in-laws had been killed. Why them? It made no sense, yet Mrs. Smidova had sworn it was true. Their bodies had been found by children playing in the forest a week after they’d gone missing. Yet as soon as she saw Abram and her in-laws being led away by that German soldier, she’d made the split-second decision to escape with her children. It had been her son, Ondřej, only eight years old, who had suggested they come to Mrs. Smidova’s house and reminded her of the way.

  Now, even though s
he tried to wake him, Ondřej still refused to budge. He flung his arm over his face, as if not wanting to be disturbed. Maybe his dreams had a bit of happiness in them in contrast to the loss and pain around him. Pavla hoped they did. All she had to offer her son was one minute more of sleep before she fully awakened him to the living hell their lives had become.

  With a wide yawn and slowly blinking eyes, Klára sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I do not wish to be unthankful, Mutti. So many others don’t have what we have, but I do not want to eat apples today. And I want my own room. My own bed.”

  “Oh, but we can’t go back, now can we? We are on a great adventure. You have always liked camping, ano?” She forced a smile. “Let us try to wake Ondřej, and we will see what’s waiting for us inside the house.”

  Klára’s eyes grew large and round, and they filled with tears. “What if there is nothing?” she moaned.

  Pavla pointed a finger in the air. “Oh yes, but what if there is something? Let’s hope for that.”

  A slow moan escaped Ondřej’s lips, and he winced as he sat up. Then he rubbed his neck. None of them had gotten used to sleeping on old blankets spread on the ground. They missed their beds, their mattresses, their feather pillows and quilts. What luxury they’d had before, and she hadn’t even realized it.

  “I am tired of camping too,” Ondřej pouted. “I want to go home. I want my birthday cake,” he mumbled.

  Pavla looked at her son in shock. From the moment her husband was taken away and she had escaped with her children, eight-year-old Ondřej had been the strong one. He had not complained. He’d directed the way to the Smidova house from the few times he’d visited with his grandmother. Even during their long days hidden in the shed, he’d told stories to his sister and played with her, entertaining her. He became their one bright light in the dark world. But was he crumbling too?

  Pavla grimaced at her sour attitude, but even more than that, sadness filled her that she’d missed the opportunity to bake him a birthday cake, something he’d looked forward to throughout the year. She had put off making his cake for his birthday on the seventh of November because she’d come down with a fever and had been in bed for two days. She’d planned on baking it the next day, but that never happened. The neighbors had come that night, telling them the Germans were breaking the windows of the Jewish businesses in town and looting them, even burning them to the ground.

  Later that evening a German solider had come to the door, demanding Abram and his parents come with him. If only she’d known when her husband left that night that it was the last glimpse she’d have of him.

  Even though nothing had prepared her for what they’d face on the run, Pavla was thankful she’d left when she did. During their last brief exchange, Mrs. Smidova had told her how everything had changed in Olomouc. The name of the main city square had been changed to Adolf-Hitler-Platz. And at the Marktplatz, in front of the Marienpestsäule—the plague tower—German soldiers diligently watched everyone who was coming and going.

  Pavla had grown up in the small village of Vysoké Mýto, but when she met Abram she had gladly moved to the larger city. Olomouc had many ethnic Germans, but that hadn’t bothered Abram. He was one of the friendliest people she knew, and he didn’t know a stranger. It was hard to believe he was gone. Why would anyone want to single him and his parents out and kill them?

  These were the things that kept her up at night and plagued her now. Abram had always cared for those in his community, and he had always cared for her. Pavla looked down at her wedding ring with a cluster of rubies. That ring was just one evidence of his love.

  He had bought her a few other nice pieces of jewelry, all of them left behind. The only thing Pavla wished she had grabbed was the first wedding ring he’d given her. They hadn’t had much money at first, and Abram had slipped a simple gold band on her hand the day they had married. On their first anniversary he’d given her the ruby ring, yet the first one always occupied a special place in her heart. She’d kept it in her jewelry box on top of her dresser. Oh, how she wished she would have thought of grabbing that ring. Actually, she wished she’d grabbed all of her jewelry. In desperate times, those jewels could have been used to buy food, shelter, safety. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? Those things had no doubt already been taken by others after her disappearance. She rubbed her eyes, refusing to cry. Then she slipped her ring around so the rubies were on the inside and only a thin band showed outwardly.

  Pulling herself from her sad thoughts, Pavla clapped her hands together. “We must hurry now, children. Let’s go inside. We don’t have much time.” She smiled again at Ondřej and Klára. “I imagine it’s warm. My guess is that there may be warm water for a bath.”

  With news of a possible bath, both children jumped to their feet.

  Once outside, the children walked cautiously by her side. They each grasped one of her hands as they hurried across the garden to the main house. Reaching the back door, she released Ondřej’s hand and reached for the knob. It was indeed unlocked.

  They stepped into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh bread caused Pavla’s senses to come alive. A small gasp escaped Klára’s lips, and the small girl’s fingers squeezed around her mother’s hand.

  Pavla was about to tell her daughter, “Ne, not for us,” but then her eyes moved to the kitchen table. Three places were set with small, white plates. Next to them sat three teacups. A teapot, still steaming, was on the table. And a small cup of milk, real milk, was next to it. On each plate was a slice of bread and a thin piece of cheese. Pavla’s free hand covered her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she never thought she’d find such joy in simple bread and cheese.

  Next to the stove, a tin tub had been filled up. Steam rose from the top of the water, and next to the tub was a new set of clothes for Ondřej and another set for Klára. Pavla could tell the clothes weren’t new, but that didn’t matter. Her children would finally be able to change out of the clothes that they’d thrown on in haste after leaving their home more than a month ago.

  She hadn’t known what they were to do or where they were to go until just a few nights ago, when Mrs. Smidova had snuck over to the shed and said she had important news.

  “There are rumors,” Mrs. Smidova had whispered, her breath floating before her in the cold night air. “I heard from my sister in Velká Ohrada. There is a rumor that Great Britain is prepared to allow several thousand Jewish children to enter the country.”

  “How can we know if this is true?”

  “I wrote back and asked the same thing. Surely if it were true I would have heard something. The papers have not published such news, and if they are on foreign broadcasts, well, who can understand all they are saying. I wish I had better English.”

  “Do I go to the British Consulate?”

  “No, my sister did that, trying to find information for a friend. They told her they did not know the correct procedures. They claim a private agency is in charge.”

  “Not the British Government?” Pavla had a hard time understanding that since the government controlled so much of their lives.

  Now, as she sat beside the tub, which was supplied with a piece of soap on a stool and some fresh towels, Pavla wasn’t sure whether to feed her children first or help them into the bath. But they made the decision for her. Klára hurried to the bread and tea while Ondřej moved to the tub.

  “I remember when we’d visit Uncle Rudi up in the cabin. He had a tub like this. Uncle Rudi even had a small boat that Táta had given him, and I used to play with it. Maybe next time…” Ondřej’s voice trailed off as he realized what he was saying. His face fell.

  “Táta?” Klára stopped eating at the mention of her father. “I want Táta.” Her lower lip quivered.

  Ondřej’s eyes grew wide, and he paused the unbuttoning of his shirt. With wide, sad eyes he looked to his mother. “I’m sorry, Mutti.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and resumed the unbuttoning for him. “You
never should be sorry for mentioning your father. He will always be part of us, and we will see him again, though not on this earth.”

  Ondřej nodded. Then he removed his clothes and stepped into the bath. He turned his back to her as he did, and Pavla knew he did so to hide his tears.

  Oh, my poor, sweet boy. He’s trying to be so strong, so brave. Abram would be proud of their son. There was no doubt about that.

  After she helped Ondřej wash his back and hair, Pavla moved to the table to eat the food that had been prepared for her. As she settled into the wooden chair, Klára pointed to an envelope on the table. Sure enough, it had her name on it. A gasp escaped from her lips as Pavla opened it. The envelope was filled with Czech koruna. Where had Mrs. Smidova come up with so much money? And why was she giving it to her?

  With shaking fingers, Pavla pulled the letter from the envelope and began to read.

  Dear Pavla,

  Months ago Abram approached me, asking for my help. As you know, I worked for his family for over twenty years until it became too difficult to make the commute from the village. I have known Abram since he was Ondřej’s age. He was like a son to me. It was with such great joy that he came to see me, and I could see in his face all the worries for his family. With Hitler’s declaration that he would unite all areas where ethnic Germans lived, Abram knew that the Sudetenland was in danger of Nazi occupation. No one guessed that France and England would back down so easily, but that is another story for another time.

  During our visit, I promised Abram that if you ever had to flee your apartment in Olomouc that I would give you shelter here. I told him that I’d gladly open my home and make a place in our spare room, but he was the one who made me promise not to tell anyone and instead to offer you the back shed. I realize his wisdom now that I’ve seen so many friends embracing Hitler’s views and ways. If I had done things my way it would have put all of you in danger. I am glad you have remained hidden.