BRITTA HAS BEEN raised to a sitting position. She is off supplemental oxygen and there is better color in her complexion. She is alert and happy to see Emma and Catherine. She is better now than she has been for the past two weeks, although her ability to articulate words has not improved very much, nor has her mobility.
Emma looks at her food tray. “You didn’t finish your breakfast, Bubbe. Do you need me to feed it to you?”
Britta sticks out her tongue. Emma laughs. It is good to see her grandmother in better spirits. The nurse has informed them that Britta will be transferred to a regular room later in the day.
ONCE SETTLED, CATHERINE opens Britta’s notebook and continues:
Britta’s Notebook
Lying in St. Vincent’s Hospital was a test of our patience. One day rolled into the next and we waited for word from the Elsinore Sewing Club. Nevertheless, the staff of the little hospital could not have been more charitable nor more warmhearted, expecting nothing in return. My father, who had managed to bring a supply of money with him, made a generous donation to the hospital.
Sister Elizabeth told us that the harbormaster, a man named Simon Svedsted, has a condition that “affects his eyesight.” He says he does not see well in the predawn hours when the Elsinore Sewing Club is most active. According to Simon, fishermen are transporting Jewish families to Sweden in the dark of night up and down the coast. Simon is not the only Danish harbormaster who looks the other way. Still, the voyage is a risky venture. The Øresund is full of Nazi patrol boats.
On our third day, we heard four bells: a “Gestapo alert.” Everyone knew what to do. The hospital staff moved through the ward whispering, “The wolves are here. Cover up.” Masks covered our mouths, and we pulled the sheets high onto our faces. Two Gestapo agents walked slowly and menacingly through the ward, stopping now and then to stare at a patient, as if they could tell a person’s religion from the medical chart or a partial view of their face. From the ward, they proceeded into the lunchroom where we were lying. One of the men stopped in front of my bed. He said to Sister Elizabeth, “It seems like your patient population has grown, madam nurse. As I recall, this used to be a room for lunches. Now there are so many sick patients. How do you account for that?”
“Influenza,” she answered. “Or it might be tuberculosis, the symptoms are similar. If I were you, I’d cover my face.” She pointed at Grethe. “This one especially is very sick.” Hearing that, Grethe started coughing, a racking cough that she had perfected on days she didn’t want to go to school. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mother shivering in the bed next to me. She was probably shivering from fright, but it appeared that she was feverish. The man put his hand over his nose and mouth and quickly backed up. His wrinkled forehead conveyed an expression of utter disgust. “What about this baby?” he said, moving over to Isabel’s crib. “Who does it belong to?”
Sister Elizabeth shrugged. “We don’t know. She was dropped here three days ago. She had spots all over. We think she has a bad case of German measles. Have you had them? If not, I wouldn’t pick her up. The disease can make you impotent.”
He took a quick step to the side, tugged at his partner’s sleeve and said, “Wilhelm, let’s go. There’s nothing here.” Then to Sister Elizabeth, he said, “We’re leaving for now, but if we find out you are hiding Jews, you will be arrested along with them, and you will suffer their fate, and this facility will be shuttered.”
“Of course,” Sister Elizabeth answered calmly. “I would expect nothing less. I’m not a fool.”
Two days later, Tommy returned to the hospital. He walked in and asked the nurse at the front desk for permission to see Grethe. He was told that there was no Grethe in the hospital and it was too late for visiting anyway. He was being turned away, when Sister Elizabeth saw him. ‘I know who he means,’ she said, and she brought him back into our room. Grethe was overjoyed to see him, but the mood was short lived. Tommy came alone.
“Why?” Grethe cried. “Why didn’t you bring Lukas?”
Tommy shook his head. “He’s not up to it yet. I’ll bring him up here when he’s feeling a little better. He’s still suffering from the interrogation. The Gestapo were pretty rough on him. He’ll be okay, but right now he can’t travel.”
“Tommy, tell me the truth. What’s really wrong with my husband?”
“That is the truth. You know, that bastard Hendricksen flipped on you. He knew that Lukas lived with a Jewish Parliament member and his family and he told the Gestapo. That’s why Ole brought them into the bookstore. They came to get Lukas. I have no doubt Hendricksen is a paid informer. During the questioning, the Nazis kept asking Lukas where you and your father went, but he wouldn’t tell them. They kept hitting him. In his stomach. In his head. Lukas has real bad headaches now, and he’s spitting up a little blood. He needs to rest. He’ll be okay, but he can’t travel yet.”
Grethe was reaching the limit of her tolerance. Her nerves were shot. “Tommy, you don’t understand, we’re waiting to go to Sweden. We could be on a boat any minute now. Lukas won’t know how to find us. He’s hurt and I have to be with him. Please go get him and bring him to us.”
Tommy shook his head. “Grethe, it’s you that doesn’t understand. He’s in no shape to travel. He can’t even sit up in his chair. It’s going to take time. When he’s better, he’ll book passage to Sweden. He’s not a Jew, he can go anytime. He said he’ll find you.”
While they were talking, Sister Elizabeth came in. “Tommy, how many people can you fit in your truck?”
Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know; you mean if we squeezed them in?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Can you fit ten in at a time, if they’re all standing up or squished together?”
“Maybe. It’d be pretty uncomfortable.”
“The Sewing Club says there are two fishing boats waiting for us in Elsinore Harbor. It’s nine miles away. Can you make two quick trips?”
Tommy smiled. “Right now? Sure.”
“Wait,’ Grethe said, “he has to go get Lukas. We have to wait for him. We can’t leave without Lukas.”
“There’s no time, Grethe,” Sister Elizabeth said. “We have heard that the Gestapo is coming back here. They are suspicious of our increased population. Right now, we have an opportunity to clear out twenty people.”
“Then I can’t go,” Grethe said. “My place is with my husband.”
Tommy shook his head. “That’s a bad idea. You have a chance to escape deportation; you need to take it.”
Sister Elizabeth brought out the first ten patients. They had changed back into their street clothes and were stepping up into the truck. Grethe kept arguing with Tommy and my father. She was begging Tommy to go back. She didn’t want to leave her husband, especially when he was badly injured and needed her care. But her pleas were falling on deaf ears, and she knew it. Twenty people stood a chance of escaping the concentration camps, but they had to move right then and there. There was no time to get Lukas.
The first group pulled away, and half an hour later, Tommy was back at the hospital. He reported turning the passengers over to a captain on one of the fishing boats. He saw them getting on board. Now Sister Elizabeth brought out five patients. One of them was a little girl, no more than five years old. She handed her to me. “Take her with you,” she said, “she has no one. Hold her hand.” I took the hand of the very frightened little girl and told her that everything was going to be okay. I would take care of her. We all climbed into Tommy’s truck; my mother, Grethe with Isabel in her arms, and me with my hand around the wrist of a scared little girl who told me her name was Celia.
The level of fear felt by all of us was manifest on the ride to the harbor. Some were shaking, some were weeping, and some were gripping their companions so hard that their knuckles were white. We knew the Gestapo was in the area headed to the clinic, and at any moment we could be pulled over and taken away. There were no guarantees that the Elsinore Sewing Club would have a boat waiting for us in the harbor, or that the Germans weren’t also waiting at the harbor. Fifteen minutes later, Tommy pulled into the harbor lot. A large yellow fishing boat named the Lily Francis was waiting at the pier, engine running. The gangplank was down, and the group quickly lined up to board. My family was the last in line.
The passengers were being guided onto the deck and then down into a lower holding area where the fishermen normally kept their catch. The hold was covered with a large gray tarp. Standing at the dock, Grethe was crying hysterically. Every fiber of her being was ripped in two directions at once.
“I can’t leave my husband,” she said over and over. “Tommy, please take me back with you.”
Tommy immediately held up his hands. “You don’t want to do that, and Lukas wouldn’t want you to do that either. The city is crawling with Gestapo. They know Lukas is home, they put him there, and they’ll keep checking to see if any of the Morgensterns return to him. If you show up, they’ll arrest you. It’s a death sentence, Grethe.”
The ship’s captain was waving his arm. It was time for us to board. My father helped my mother onto the boat. Grethe and I were next, but Grethe froze. She took a deep breath while she made her decision. She kissed Isabel on the forehead. “God, forgive me,” she said, and she handed the baby to me. “Goodbye, my precious love. I have to go to your father. God willing, I’ll see you again very soon.” She looked at me with plaintive eyes and said, “Britta, once again I need you. I can’t take Isabel with me tonight. Tommy might be right about the Gestapo, and I can’t risk it for my baby. Take care of her until I see you again.” She jumped out of line and ran straight for Tommy’s truck. My father took Celia’s hand. As the boat pulled out, I saw Grethe standing next to Tommy, waving goodbye.
The captain pulled in the lines and we cast off, sailing into the night. The sea was black, the sky was black and there was a black hole in the hearts of my family. We knew the risk Grethe took, and that ultimately it was her decision. We prayed for her safety and that she would join us in Sweden at some time in the future. We wouldn’t allow ourselves to consider the possibility that we’d never see Grethe again. I looked at little Isabel in my arms and I wondered what the future held for her. Whatever was down the road, she was now my responsibility.
We were gliding along in total silence. Everyone’s nerves were on edge. I was giving Isabel her bottle when I felt the boat slow down. All of a sudden, there were flashing red lights and crisscrossed beams of bright white searchlights lighting up our boat like it was carnival time at the Tivoli. A siren sounded. A loudspeaker ordered us to heave to. Some of the women cried. I felt fright in the pit of my stomach. We were told to come up to the deck. So much for hiding. We climbed up and saw a patrol boat with armed soldiers all dressed in black. Our captain called us all together. “Your journey with me ends here,” he said. “Everyone must now line up and get ready to transfer to the other boat.” All our escape plans led us to this, I thought.
A plank with rope handrails was leveled between our boat and the patrol boat and we did what we were told. As we stepped onto the deck of the patrol boat, the captain said, “You have entered Swedish waters. You are now the guests of the Royal Swedish Navy, and we will escort you the rest of the way. Let me be the first to say, welcome to Sweden.”