For Such a Time (39 page)

 47 

The king said to Queen Esther . . . “Now what is your petition? It will be given you. . . .”

Esther 9:12

T
he white-capped peaks of the Nizke Tatry loomed so close that Hadassah imagined she could touch them. The train plodded along the northern rim of mountains, the sun shedding its watery morning rays against a world grown hushed beneath a blanket of white.

Crouched in the snug space ahead of the tender and out of the wind, she burrowed deeper into her blanket and enjoyed the solitude. Joseph slept soundly inside the engine compartment. Though she was pleased by his quick recovery, Hadassah still felt pity for those crammed inside the cattle cars.

At least they were breathing fresh air now. Aric had kept watch during the night, then ordered a halt at dawn before they entered the mountains. As he scoured the train for any remaining soldiers, Morty and Yaakov released the bars on each car so the doors could be opened wide.

A few decided to leave when the train stopped. Aric had warned against it; they were still in occupied German territory. But the people could not be dissuaded, and Hadassah had
watched them as they disappeared into the mists of the forest. She prayed they would find safe haven before the harsh cold—or the Nazis—killed them.

Snow-laden branches hugged the outer edges of the track, while beyond lay an endless stretch of white hills, stark but for intermittent clusters of spruce and pine. She gazed at the cold open space, harsh enough to burn the eyes. And free . . .

Liberation. Because of Aric, it was within their grasp. Yet the gesture did not come without a price. His life was also in danger.

“Keep scowling like that and you’ll freeze your lower lip.”

Hadassah turned to her beloved. Aric swung down from the open door of the engine car to sit beside her. “Shall I warm it for you?” He kissed her before she could answer.

No longer in uniform, he appeared more like one of the prisoners. It didn’t ease her concern. “I was remembering how Captain Hermann nearly killed you. I don’t think I was ever so afraid.”

“I was an idiot, letting his words make me so crazed.”

“I told you, he lied.”

His finger grazed the bruise at her cheek. “He still hurt you.” The words seemed torn from his chest. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t protect you. I can never forgive myself for that.”

“I fought back, Aric. These bruises are proof. I consider them worthwhile, knowing my other choice. In time they’ll heal.”

When he looked as if to object, she pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s over. He’s dead.”

Aric took her hand and lightly kissed her palm. “Most fortunate for him. I was an only child. I never learned how to share.”

Hadassah smiled. “Neither did I.” Her amusement faded as she said, “I was also thinking about Lvov. When the train arrives, we’ll be safe. But you . . .” She paused to look out at the continual rush of white hills. “If the Russians discover you’re a German soldier, they’ll kill you, won’t they?”

“Here. You’ll catch cold.” He ignored her question and instead fished a knitted cap from inside his jacket.

“Answer me.”

He sighed. “Before we even reach that city, we must first cross the Polish border into the Ukraine. I’d imagine by now that General Feldman, the Reichsführer, and Adolf Eichmann realize our train never made it to Auschwitz. They’ll have started an investigation. After they study all possible routes, they’ll notify each border authority to watch for us.

“So before you start fretting over my life, beloved, worry about your own . . . and everyone else’s.” He tugged the cap over her short curls. “Now, do you suppose there’s room under that blanket for one more?”

Hadassah pulled back the covers, and Aric slipped beneath the warmth. He felt for her hand. “What’s this?” he asked, retrieving the Bible from her lap.

“I’m beginning to think it’s my faith,” she said, surprised at the wonder in her voice. “Each time I believe it’s gone, it returns to me.”

He gave her a puzzled smile before he opened the Bible to the bookmarked page. Recognition flashed across his face as he removed the snapshot. “Where did you get this?”

“It was hidden inside your mother’s music box. I . . . kept it to remind me of you. I was going to give it back . . .” Her voice trailed off, seeing his expression soften. “She was a woman much loved, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. And so are you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. He slipped the photograph back inside the book. “Keep it safe for me.” He grinned. “Now you hold my past . . . and my future.”

Before he closed the Bible, he glanced at the open page. “Romans, chapter five. Do you know it well?”

When Hadassah shook her head, he said, “Before she died, my mother often read to me from this passage. ‘We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.’”

Closing the Bible, Aric locked eyes with her. “‘And hope does
not disappoint,’” he finished, then gave her back the book. “I think she tried to prepare me for what was to come. And I did have hope, at least for a time. But then my father . . . and the war . . .” He shook his head.

Hadassah understood his pain. Last night, as they sat in this same place, each had unburdened a bit of the past to the other. “I don’t pretend to know God’s ways,” she admitted. “For a long time I was angry with Him. I felt He’d abandoned me—all Jews—when He allowed our destruction by the Nazis.

“But then I began to see little miracles happen—in the care you showed Joseph, Helen, and Sergeant Grossman, and when you improved the food for my people in the ghetto. I started to wonder if there must be a purpose for my being in that house.” She smiled. “That’s when I fell in love with the man who lived there.”

He smiled back. “And I was lost . . . until Dachau. I believe now that God wanted me to find you.”

Hadassah pressed a hand to his cheek. “He did. There is a story about us, Aric.”

“Another fairy tale?” he asked wryly.

“More like Jewish tradition,” she said. “On the sixth day, God created the first man and woman as conjoined twins. Husband and wife began as one—before He separated the two, forming Eve from Adam’s side. We Jews believe that at birth, each body contains a portion of one soul, and upon marriage the two parts unite again as one. Our
Talmud
teaches that forty days before a male child is conceived, a voice from heaven announces whose daughter he will marry. Our word for this heavenly match is
bashert
. It means ‘destiny.’” She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “You, beloved, are mine.”

Clearly stunned, Aric pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Hadassah could sense how much her declaration had moved him. When they parted, unexpected tears filled her eyes. “I can’t lose you again. Even in the face of my belief, I fear what’s to come.”

“We have to trust, my love.” Aric held her close. “In the past, we both gave up on God. Now we must stay the course. We need to have faith in His purpose even if we don’t understand, and despite what may occur. Did you think, weeks ago, that this moment would be possible?”

When she smiled and shook her head, he winked at her and said, “There you have it. The only other option is to jump off this moving train.”

He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a single pearl. Hadassah recognized the lustrous gem—part of the necklace he’d once given her. “While you keep the photograph, I have this to remind me of you,” he said softly. “You are
my
destiny, Hadassah, and my shelter against the world.” He pocketed the pearl and smiled. “We’ll trade when we reach Lvov.”

 48 

The king’s edict granted the Jews . . . the right to assemble and protect themselves. . . .

Esther 8:11

A
re we ready?” Aric asked.

Every man in the engine room nodded. The train had begun the final leg of its journey across the ridge of the Carpathian Mountains. Soon it would descend into the Polish town of Krosno, where Przemysl, and the Polish/Ukrainian border, lay only a few miles beyond.

Yaakov checked the safety on his submachine gun. “The last time we stopped, I walked back to each car, Herr Kommandant. Every man, woman, and child is armed and waiting. They have guns, rocks, sticks, and those who don’t”—he eyed Aric soberly—“have their teeth, fists, and God’s will to live.”

Aric nodded, then turned to the taller of the two Pavliks. “How quickly can you stop this train?”

Karel glanced at his brother, who was stoking the firebox with coal. “Depends on how fast we are going. Even at this slow rate—thirty kilometers up into the mountains—we would need a kilometer of track to stop safely.”

“The Wehrmacht have no doubt set up some sort of block
ade at the border,” Aric said. “Before we left Theresienstadt, I received reports of heavy air bombing in this area over the past two months. There’s every chance the tracks have been blown out. We may have to stop, or at least slow down enough that you can brake at the last possible moment.”

He surveyed the men around the compartment. “This also makes us vulnerable to attack,” he warned. “Best case is that the tracks are good and we can simply charge past any negligible blockade the Germans might have planned. Worst case is that our train will be forced to stop, and we’ll have to fight for our lives. Those who manage by some miracle to survive can then march toward Lvov, staying close to the forest until they reach Russian territory.”

Aric turned to the Pavlik brothers. “I advise you to stay on the train. If we fail, you can tell them I held you at gunpoint. If we beat them, you’re welcome to join us.”

They both nodded. Aric walked to the engine room door. Outside, Hadassah and the boy huddled out of sight in the cramped space of the tender.

God willing, she would be his wife, and the boy he would raise as his own. Would he make a good father? Aric forced a deep breath and refused to succumb to his greatest fear, that he wouldn’t live long enough to find out.

“Old man.” He turned to Morty, his voice low, urgent. “If I don’t make it . . .”

“Yaakov and I will make certain she and the boy escape.” Morty’s eyes held compassion, along with a soldier’s understanding. Aric felt grateful he didn’t have to speak the words. He wished now that he and Hadassah had been able to marry before . . .

“You’re probably wishing you were off on your honeymoon right about now,” Yaakov said, reading his thoughts. “Never fear, Herr Kommandant. I predict that in a few days, you’ll be rid of us old men and off to some romantic place with your
beautiful bride. Call me a fool if it isn’t so.” He gave Aric an emphatic nod.

“I’d call you a fool in any case, Yaakov,” Morty interjected. “But for their sake, at least, we can hope you’re smarter than you look.”

A dead pause fell over the room. Then all three Czechs burst into laughter.