Wildflowers of Terezin (26 page)

"Believe me, I'm not, all right? Now just don't worry about anything except getting out of here. I'll take care of your stuff, as much as I can. I'll listen to your records. But do you have somewhere to go?"

Hanne thought for a moment. The only option that crossed her mind now was the church basement, where she'd taken her mother. She nodded.

"I know a place."

"All right, then." Ann-Grete gave her a quick hug, squeezing Hanne breathless and then letting go just as abruptly."You'd better go there before they see us together. Get out of here!"

Hanne paused a moment longer than she probably should have, trying not to think of what she so suddenly had to leave behind. Her work and her friends. Her apartment. Her life. Even her new identity and all that had come with it. There had to be some mistake—but she knew there was not.

By that time they'd reached the edge of the campus. And though Hanne looked all around, she still couldn't see the man who'd followed her. Maybe she'd lost him.

"I just thought I'd have more time to prepare," she managed.

"I thought so, too. But there's no time to prepare, Hanne.I'm sorry. I'll see you when . . . when this is all over."

Without another word Ann-Grete turned and hurried back to face her own danger. Hanne thought of calling out, but no more words would come, and neither would tears.Only a shock that hit her so hard in the stomach that she could hardly breathe. That, and a brief but blinding wave of anger for the men who would do this.

Ann-Grete was right, though. Even without a suitcase— not even a toothbrush!—now Hanne could only hurry away to find whatever sanctuary she could.

If she still could.

SANKT STEFAN'S KIRKE, KØBENHAVN

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 10 OKTOBER 1943

Remember the signs of the Christian Church have been the Lion,

the Lamb, the Dove, and the Fish . . . but never the chameleon.

—KAJ MUNK

H
anne paused before knocking on the back entry to Sankt Stefan's Kirke, her hand in mid-air. Had it really come to this? She thought she detected the faint odor of cigar smoke in the air, though perhaps that came from the murky refuse cans lined up along the tall stone wall of the church.Unpleasant or not, the alley looked clear and she could not delay, so she knocked and waited.

No one came.

She knocked again, now wondering if it would be safe to walk around to the front, in plain sight of anyone passing along Nørrebrogade. Probably not. Though she had not noticed the man who had followed her to the hospital less than an hour ago, she could not now risk both her own safety and the safety of Pastor Steffen.

Perhaps she should try somewhere else to hide. But where? She hunched her shoulders against the drizzle, wishing she had an umbrella or at least a scarf to keep her hair from getting soaked. But it was far too late for that. She shivered, feeling colder than ever, and knocked on the door again.

"Come on!" she pleaded with the large wooden door, hitting it harder now with her closed fist. "Someone answer!"

Finally she heard a shuffling sound from somewhere inside, then a deadbolt unlatching and the creak of hinges. Finally!

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Hanne began, even before seeing who now peered out at her from the shadowy interior of the church. "But I have a very large favor to ask, and—oh!"

It had not occurred to her that anyone other than Steffen might answer the door on a Sunday afternoon. But she did recognize the silver-haired former pastor. He peered out at her with a curious expression, nodded once, and signaled for her to come in.

"Hurry, now," he said, stepping aside and then bolting the door shut after she stepped inside. "Did you see anyone out there?"

She wasn't sure who he might mean by "anyone." But she shook her head no.

"I don't think so. But actually I came to see Pastor Steffen.He's here, I hope?"

Now the older man guided her down the hall to the little safe room under the stairway. Perhaps he didn't realize she had been in the building before.

"He and his brother are out looking for you, as a matter of fact. But you're welcome to wait here for them, if you like. I'll get you a towel to dry yourself. Would you like some coffee?"

"Coffee?" She perked up at the word. "You really have coffee here?"

Perhaps this was a better hiding place than she thought.He chuckled softly, and she liked the sound.

"Oh, you know. I call it coffee, just to be charitable. Perhaps you're as good at pretending as I am. But chicory root and a few other things, once you get used to them, well . . ." He made a funny face. "Yes, it's still awful. But we drink it anyway, don't we?"

He left to retrieve his wartime coffee, but Hanne still had to know.

"Wait." She stopped him. "What did you mean, they're looking for me?"

Again he studied her with a bit of a sideways glance, as if sizing up whether she was to be trusted, or not.

"Steffen's brother, Henning, showed up just after the service this morning, terribly agitated. You have to understand that it takes something quite out of the ordinary to bring Henning to this place. He's not normally a churchgoing man."

Hanne nodded politely, not letting on that yes, she knew this about Steffen's brother. The older pastor looked as if he enjoyed telling his story.

"So Henning comes running up to the church, all red in the face, and I hear him say something about how the Gestapo knows everything, how they're going to her apartment, and how another refugee just showed up at his bookstore without warning. How the Gestapo knows everything is another question, you see. But before I can say anything else they're both running out the door. Off to find you, they said."

"I see. Well, I do appreciate you opening your door to me."

"Of course, of course. But it looks like you barely escaped, isn't that correct?"

"Pardon?" Hanne still wasn't sure how this man knew so much.

"You're not carrying a suitcase." He pointed at her empty hands. "So I assume you had to leave wherever you were in a terrible hurry. That can't be the best of circumstances.Nevertheless, God is taking good care of you. You're still well, and we'll have coffee together, just as if nothing evil was going on outside."

Hanne had to admit she had not looked at it from quite that perspective. But yes, she was still well, even without her luggage and her things.

"And we're very glad you're here," he added, as his expression turned serious and his voice lowered. "But let me just give you one word of caution."

"Of course." Hanne replied, unsure what to expect.

"I have to tell you there's a cleaning woman here in the building. Sometimes she comes in after the morning service, other times not until Monday. I can't go into too much detail, but it would be best if she did not see you, for the time being."

"I'll do my best to stay out of her way." Hanne nodded, fearing the worst about this woman. "But one other thing.Did you say Henning had another refugee in his store?"

"I think so, yes. Apparently told to go there by an Underground contact. But I can tell you Henning wasn't happy about it."

"No? Why not?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Pastor Viggo shrugged his shoulders."Perhaps you'll find out for yourself, before long."

For Hanne the next two hours of waiting seemed so much longer. She couldn't rest in the dreary little safe room under the stairs, and she couldn't think of anything except what might happen to Ann-Grete at Bispebjerg. Every sound or creak in the ancient building made her think German soldiers had finally caught up with her. What would happen to the pastors, then?

Finally she heard the alley entrance slam shut, then footsteps and familiar voices coming closer.

"I told you, we're taking you here because the shop is just a way station, all right?" Henning obviously made no attempt to disguise his irritation. "You're just lucky I happened to be there when you arrived. You should have called ahead. I'm not usually there on the weekend."

"I'm sure we'll find her," added Pastor Steffen. His voice sounded on edge, almost pleading. "We're pretty sure they haven't caught up to her yet. I spoke briefly with her friend at the hospital."

"And she couldn't tell you where Hanne had run to?"

Hanne froze at the sound of Aron's voice, though it seemed hoarse and raspy, hardly recognizable. So he was the one Pastor Viggo was talking about!

"All she could tell me was that Hanne said she had a place to go to." Steffen pulled at the hidden door as he spoke. "I can't imagine where that would be, except—"

"Except here?" Hanne finished his sentence as the door opened. And she enjoyed for a moment the warm glow in Steffen's eyes as he realized she was safe. She couldn't help but return the quick smile.

On the other hand, Henning and Aron wore looks of frozen astonishment.

"Hanne!" croaked Aron, stepping forward. He hardly looked like the same man she'd left in the synagogue, the morning of the announcement. His beard looked wild and unkempt, his bloodshot eyes framed with dark circles. Clearly the hiding had not been an easy time for him.

But still he stood staring, as if not quite believing he'd actually found her. He reached out his hands but quickly pulled them back again. Finally she broke the awkward silence.

"How did you get here, Aron?"

He shrugged. "Back of a delivery truck, all the way from Roskilde. Long ride. Long story."

"Well, I'm glad you're well."

And she did mean it. But just then Pastor Viggo came scurrying down the hallway.

"Oh, there you are! See?" His cheeks looked rosy and his smile genuine as he patted Steffen on the shoulder. "And you were so worried the Nazis might have caught up to her."