Wildflowers of Terezin (19 page)

Did she even know about the citywide curfew? Steffen doubted it. At least she finally released his hand, apparently satisfied she had set her daughter up for one more shot at the pastor. Steffen, however, now puzzled over how he could avoid another vapid, awkward conversation with the twentyone-year-old Jytte. What would they talk about this time?

But Fru Vestergaard had one more thing to give him—a 50-kroner note pressed quietly into his hand, and with a wink.She leaned into his face, as if revealing a secret.

"It's for the poor Jews the bishop mentioned in his letter," she whispered. "Perhaps you can buy something for them."

Steffen tried not to look too shocked at her gift, but he thanked her and stuffed the bill through a slit in his robe and into a pocket before the rest of the congregation passed by.

"Don't forget," she called back. "Three o'clock."

SANKT STEFAN'S KIRKE, KØBENHAVN

SUNDAY MORNING, 3 OKTOBER 1943

We have to go into the despair and go beyond it,

by working and doing for somebody else,

by using it for something else.

—ELIE WIESEL

T
hree o'clock, right. That would give Steffen a couple of hours for a quick nap before he had to report for duty at the Vestergaard home. The question was, if he fell asleep that afternoon, would he ever be able to wake up again? He wasn't entirely sure as he stepped outside the church to Nørrebrogade, kneading his forehead. His temples pounded, and his eyelids felt like lead.

"Are you all right?"

He hadn't noticed anyone coming up behind him, least of all Hanne Abrahamsen on a bicycle. She stepped off her bike and laughed softly when he jerked around.

"I'm sorry." She looked rather nice in a hand-knit white sweater and a dark skirt, with her dark hair pulled back beneath a red scarf and her cheeks rosy in the fresh breeze. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Quite all right, but what brings you here? You missed the service. Er, that was a joke."

She smiled again in that easy way of hers. No offense taken.

"Ja, I suppose I did. Actually, I just wanted to find out about my—"

"Your mother. Of course. She's fine, as far as I know." He looked around to be sure no one on the street was close enough to overhear their conversation. "I saw her onboard the fishing boat myself. Everything went . . . as planned.Pretty much."

She looked at him sideways and nodded, and he was glad she didn't ask anymore about the "pretty much."

"I'm so relieved," she said. "And I'm very grateful for what you've done. You surprised me."

"What, you mean you didn't think I'd help? It was nothing, really." He pressed his lips tightly together, still wondering if anyone might notice them talking. A quick look back at the church only showed Margrethe, scurrying about with a small trash bucket, the way she sometimes did after a Sunday service. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Nothing?" Hanne shook her head and touched his arm, which he liked. "No, you're wrong about that. You opened up your church, and you rowed people to safety, my mother included. I'll always be grateful for that. You placed yourself in a lot of danger for the sake of people you'd never met before."

"The bishop said we should obey God rather than man."Now he followed a crack in the pavement with the toe of his black shoe. "It appears that's what we're doing, these days."

"I heard about that letter. But you've saved lives. You know that, don't you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it that way." He rubbed his chin, trying to decide if what she'd said about him was true."It just needed to be done, and I wasn't sure who else would do it. You know what I mean. You save lives at the hospital all the time."

"Not like this. Not while I'm risking my own."

"But you are risking your own life now, just by staying at the hospital. Just by riding your bicycle. You really shouldn't still be here, you know. You should have left with your mother."

Judging by the way she looked at him, it might have been better had he not reminded her. "The Germans don't know who I am or where I live," she protested, her voice softening to a whisper. "I'm safe for now."

"Until they track you down, perhaps, and then you're not safe at all. But what about all those other Jews hiding at the hospital? They're still here, are they not?"

"We're getting them out as fast as we can," she said. "The boats are moving, as you know. Right now the problem is money. It's expensive to move so many across to Sweden, and some of the fishermen are pretty nervous about it. We can't expect them to do it all for free."

"So what happens if you don't raise the funds quickly enough?"

"Then everything moves that much more slowly. There's more chance of being discovered. It endangers more lives."

She gripped the handlebars of her modest black bicycle.Down at her feet, the front tire had nearly gone flat, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Look here." He crouched down to inspect the bald tire, which had been patched several times already in the spots where the rubber had worn down entirely. "It appears you might be walking the rest of the way, wherever you're going."

She sighed, a hand on her hip. And she still hadn't explained what had brought her here. But an idea occurred to him as he remembered the bill from Fru Vestergaard.

"Do you..." He paused before going on. "Do you have a plan for raising the money you're going to need?"

"We're doing the best we can," she explained. "Several of the doctors have given a few kroner. We're asking around.But as I said, it's not coming in quickly enough."

"All right." He straightened up and fished the bill from his pocket before holding it out to her. "Here's a start. But I'm going to need your help for the rest."

"The rest?" She took the money and turned it over in her hands. "Where did this come from?"

"From Eva Vestergaard, just a few minutes ago. She must have been moved by the bishop's letter."

"And you think she'll give more?"

"Maybe. I wonder if you would come with me to Ernst and Eva Vestergaard's home in Charlottenlund this afternoon."

"Charlottenlund?" Her eyebrows lifted. "That's—"

"I know. The Vestergaards are quite well off. Herr Vestergaard, you'll hardly ever see him. He sits in his library and smokes his cigar. She drags him to church on Christmas and whenever else she can. But Fru Vestergaard—Eva—is a faithful attender. She means well."

"I see. And you want me to . . . ?"

"Well, they're having some of their friends over for what she calls an 'informal gathering,' at their place. I was speaking with Eva just before you came along, and she always invites me to these galas. Every time, she asks me to bring someone along, and I know she's just being polite, but this time perhaps I will. I mean, if you'd come along."

There. Steffen could feel his heart beating a little more quickly, now that he'd said it.

"In fact," he added, "you'll be doing me a great favor by coming along. Eva has this daughter she's always trying to pair me up with. I don't really—"

"Oh, now I understand," Hanne interrupted, but Steffen couldn't tell if she was serious or if she really understood."You just need some protection, is that it?"

"That's just part of it." He smiled. "But if you're up for it, we're also going to be doing some outrageous fundraising."

"Outrageous fundraising?" Hanne repeated the words, apparently considering, and her forehead wrinkled in concentration."What time did you say?"

Five minutes until three Hanne stood out in front of the address Steffen had given her, trying to look inconspicuous and wondering why she had agreed to something like this.She could not think of anywhere she would feel more out of place, especially as another well-dressed older couple passed her on their way up the stairs to Number 201. She'd very seldom passed through this neighborhood, much less entered into one of its most well-to-do flats. Perhaps King Christian might pay a visit as well?

Another couple made their way up from the street, carrying flowers and a bottle of wine, but Hanne looked away before they could stare and wonder. Did she really look as out of place as she felt? Would her tiny box of
chokolade,
saved from three years ago for a special occasion, measure up? Finally Steffen came hurrying down the sidewalk, consulting his watch as he stepped up to greet her.

"Sorry," he told her, forcing a smile. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Just got here. Well, not long, anyway." She held him back before they reached the stairwell that would lead up to the second floor. "But look, Steffen, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. Just going to a fancy party like this is one thing, but going in and asking people for money. . . . Really, I don't know."

"It's not what you think." He looked a lot more confident than she remembered seeing him. "I've spoken with Eva, again—Fru Vestergaard—and she not only likes the idea, but she's going to make her own announcement. She doesn't mind being bold. As I suspected, she's very keen on helping out."