The pounding of the German soldiers on her door matched the painful pulses in Cornelia’s head. She straightened her skirt. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called in Dutch, though fluent in German. Her small act of resistance.
She pulled the door toward her a few centimeters, giving her sister more time to prepare. Five Gestapo stood on her front step, their green canvas-topped truck idling in the street, waiting to haul them to prison. She forced her words to be calm and sure. “What is going on? What do you want? It’s the middle of the night.”
The men pushed the door open wide and marched inside, shoving her away. “I want every centimeter of this house combed. A thorough search. Don’t miss a thing. Schnell, schnell.”
One of the soldiers, a wiry man with a mustache like Hitler’s, spoke Dutch. “We are looking for an escaped prisoner. He has been shot and is very dangerous. Goes by the name Jan Aartsma. Have you seen him?”
Cornelia shook her head.
Wim had been lying about his identity.
The man left her to do his investigating while Cornelia stood by the door, a cold sweat drenching her. She hugged herself. Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord. She could manage nothing more.
One of the Nazis opened the yellow-painted door of the bedstee where Wim lay on his side, his back to the room. Anki, lying beside him, rubbed her eyes and sat up, pulling the blanket to her neck. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
The soldier who spoke Dutch took charge. “Out of bed, both of you.”
“We can’t. My husband had a wee bit too much to drink last night.” Anki put on a great acting show, even slurring her words. Cornelia prayed they wouldn’t realize that Wim and Anki didn’t reek of alcohol. “He’s out passed. No, no, that’s not right.” She giggled. “He’s passed out. Out passed.”
“You then, get up.”
“But, Herr Hitler, you don’t want to see me in my altogether.” She flopped back on the mattress, pulled the blanket over her head, and engaged in peals of laughter.
The Nazi was not amused. He jabbed Wim with the butt of his gun. Not a flinch. Unconsciousness had claimed him.
The clamor her blood made as it coursed through Cornelia’s ears almost drowned out their words. “Drunk. We aren’t going to get anything out of them.”
Another answered, “What about this other one? She must know something.”
The one Anki called Herr Hitler faced Cornelia. “What about you? Did you see the execution earlier?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the rest of the soldiers continuing with their search. Some of them went outside to investigate the yard.
Her examiner shifted his weight and leaned in farther. “Did you watch the execution?”
She faced him and stared straight into his blue-black eyes. “Nee, I was at my front room window and I saw you march the soldiers out, but when I knew what would happen, I turned away from the window and covered my ears.”
“One of the bodies is missing. What happened to it?”
Cornelia couldn’t keep the tremor from her words. “Missing? I would never touch a dead body.”
“Did you see someone come and take it?”
“I never looked out my window again the rest of the evening.”
Herr Hitler leaned toward her, his hot breath reeking of sauerkraut. He tapped his finger against her chest. “That man is alive and here. Where is he?”
Cornelia shrank back. “I don’t know. Perhaps a family member came and took his body. All I can tell you is that no man named Jan is here.”
“What about her?” He pointed to Anki, now quiet under the blanket. “Who is she? Did she see anything?”
“My sister. They got married a few weeks ago. They live with me because, well, they drink. A lot. I take care of them, try to keep them sober enough to work every day, you know.” The story slid off Cornelia’s tongue like a skater down the frozen canal.
The German stood back. “Identifications. I want to see everyone’s papers. Right now.”
What would they do? They hadn’t thought about that. Cornelia had hers and assumed Anki grabbed hers when she came. But what about Wim? The Gestapo must have confiscated his when they arrested him. And they couldn’t use Johan’s because of his age and lack of an ausweis, a special work permit. Their little play was about to have the curtains pulled shut.
If only she could think of some reason why Wim wouldn’t have an identification card. Had he lost it somewhere during his supposed drinking binge? Would the Gestapo believe her, or would they want to take him until they could verify the story?
Trying to give herself time to concoct a believable tale, Cornelia dug through her handbag as if the identification had sunk to the bottom, pushing aside her ration coupons, an empty tube of lipstick, and her identification. She stretched out her rummaging for as long as she dared before she produced the little booklet and handed it to Herr Hitler. He ummed and ahhed, then slapped it shut but didn’t hand it back.
“Your sister and brother-in-law. I have to see theirs too.”
She went to Anki and nudged her. “They need to see your papers. Both of yours.”
Anki’s head peeped from under the blanket. “Hmm? What?”
Cornelia had never seen a motion picture, but the actresses in them couldn’t be as good as her own sister. Even her medium-length, always-perfect auburn hair fell into her eyes.
“Both papers. Where are they?”
Anki handed them to her. “Now leave me alone.” She dove under the covers once more.
Cornelia dragged her feet as she made her way back to the officer. Her throat closed. In prison they tortured you and left you in a cramped, filthy cell to die. They starved you. If you made one wrong move or said one wrong word, they beat you. And if they thought you did something like hiding Juden—or escaped prisoners—they killed you without a second thought. Perhaps they would shoot her right in her own home.
To top it all off, she had gotten Anki involved.
Taking a deep breath, she fingered the paper book. Nee, two paper books. Anki had given her two sets of identification. She didn’t understand. Whom did the second card belong to?
Her fingers shook so much she had a difficult time holding them. With knots in her stomach, she handed them to her interrogator.
Please, Lord, please.
All of her thoughts fled from her brain. If they questioned her about either of the identifications, she didn’t know how she’d answer.
Please, Lord, please.
More hemming and hawing from the German. The soldiers who searched the backyard returned. Herr Hitler questioned them. “What did you find?”
“Nothing, sir. No sign of anything.”
Herr Hitler handed the paper books back to Cornelia. “Everything is in order. We didn’t find anyone, but you watch out. This man is very dangerous. We think he is alive and someone is hiding him. If you see him or hear anything about him, you must let us know at once. Do you understand?”
Cornelia nodded.
“We will hunt him down. We will make sure he is eliminated.” Goose bumps covered her arms at the man’s words. “We cannot allow him to continue his evil ways. This is very important.”
Again she nodded. She understood. From now on, she would be under surveillance. She would have to live under their attentive eyes, and Johan would have to be more careful than ever.
The soldiers left. As soon as the last boot crossed the threshold, she ran and bolted the door, leaning against it, her legs unable to hold her upright anymore. Only once before in her life had she been so terrified. That time things hadn’t turned out so well. And maybe they wouldn’t this time either. Two wanted men lay under her roof.
Once they had released Johan from his hiding place, the three siblings retired to the kitchen and sat at the table. Cornelia’s curiosity overtook her. How could it be that Anki had two identification papers? The top one belonged to her, then came her sister’s. The bottom booklet was her brother-in-law’s.
She shook her head. “You brought Piet’s card with you. Why?”
Johan leaned over Cornelia’s shoulder. “You really did grab it.”
“I don’t know why I did. Somewhere deep inside I had this inkling I might need it. I didn’t even think much about it. I just grabbed it from the nightstand as I left our bedroom. He is going to want an explanation from me if he finds out I took it, and he will need it when he goes to work in the morning. I have to get it back to him as soon as possible.”
Cornelia stared at her brother-in-law’s picture on his identification. He and the wounded man had similar sandy-blond hair. That’s where the resemblance ended. Wim sported angular features and a square, cleft chin. Piet’s face was long and thin. They had been smart to turn Wim toward the wall. If the Gestapo had gotten a good look at him, they would have figured out that the identification didn’t belong to the man in the bedstee. She and Anki and Wim would all be on their way to prison at this moment.
“You can slip out at first light. If Piet notices it missing, you will have to tell him some story or another. You always were the best of us at devising them.”
Johan laughed. “Ja, remember when Anki broke Mem’s vase? She blamed it on the cat and Mem believed her.”
“We have a bigger difficulty.” Cornelia rubbed her forehead. “What do we do when the Gestapo return? Wim can’t be passed out in bed all the time. They will grow suspicious.”
Anki traced an imaginary pattern on the table with her long finger. “Since the incident with the vase, I have matured. Don’t you remember, Mem uncovered my falsehood and, after a long talk about telling truth, punished me by making me sweep the floors every day for a month? I learned my lesson. I hate that I had to lie to save that man. Let’s pray God will keep them away.”
Would He? God hadn’t taken care of Hans. He hadn’t watched over her and kept her from becoming a bride and a widow on the same night. Cornelia didn’t know if she could trust Him.