CHAPTER 10   

Anja could not recall a time when she had been so exhausted—even in her months of unceasing work in the Sobibor death camp. Even while on the run with Josef and Lisbeth after their escape. Even the two times she had led evaders over the mountains to the relative safety of the Spanish border herself. She blamed it on the inability to shut out her worries for her grandparents—knowing there was nothing she could do for them but pray for their survival. And what of Peter? And Daniel? What about her certainty that Schwarz would stop at nothing to find her—and eventually murder her?

Shortly after dark that first night, Mikel had led them to the river where a man waited and helped Anja and Daniel into a small boat while he and Mikel pushed it off the shallow beach and Mikel jumped in and began to row away from the city. He stayed close to the shoreline in case they saw something and needed to hide or make a run for it. Low-hanging branches brushed their faces, and Daniel swatted them away, making a game of it. Anja was constantly amazed at the resilience of children in such times as they were living.

After two days and nights of stopping every time they saw someone on shore or another boat, they reached the town of Fontainebleau. There they abandoned the boat and took bicycles—specially marked to show they were for the use of the Resistance—from a rack near the train station and peddled to Orleans. Cycling was a slower way to travel, but it gave them the advantage of sometimes cutting across fallow fields or through forests to get to their next destination. There was far less snow in this part of the country than in Paris—only patches of it spotting the fields and roadsides. At dawn they finally arrived in Orleans, where the streets glistened with the rain that had fallen overnight, drenching them as they peddled through the countryside. They arrived wet and cold and hungry.

“Mama!” Daniel tugged at her sleeve and pointed. In the middle of the town’s central square stood a carousel—silent on this early morning but magnificent in all its gaudy glory.

“It is closed,” she told her son, thankful that she would not have to refuse him a ride. “In spring perhaps.” It was the kind of empty promise she had taken to offering him, knowing there was no likelihood they would return to Orleans in spring and ride the horses tossing their wooden heads defiantly as they posed in mid-prance. “Let’s see if we can find a bakery or café open,” she said, and saw how Mikel looked at her in alarm.

“We must keep moving,” he said.

“We also must eat,” she replied, reminding him by holding up the emptied rucksack that the meager rations they had packed when they left Paris were long gone. She steered Daniel across the square, deserted except for a lone street sweeper and a farmer delivering eggs. She followed the farmer’s delivery truck down an alley where the stink of rotting garbage nearly overwhelmed her. Mikel pulled her into a doorway when the farmer stopped. Daniel clung to her hand but watched the farmer and the owner of the café, who came out to greet him as they exchanged morning conversation.

When the farmer carried the eggs and other goods he had brought inside, Mikel grabbed her hand and ran for the truck. He helped Daniel aboard first and then her. From inside the shop, they could hear the two men laughing. “Hurry,” Mikel ordered. “Hide behind those crates.”

“But you—”

“The vehicle is old, and the farmer will have an excuse to go more slowly if I ride the bicycle and keep him engaged in conversation as we go. He seems like a talkative sort, and when you hear me ask how far it is to Limoges, that will be your signal that we are well out of town and that it is safe to jump and take cover on the roadside until he’s gone on his way.”

The plan worked perfectly. The driver was indeed a talker, and they rode for some time before she heard Mikel say, “How far to Limoges?” The driver actually pulled to the side of the road and took out a map as he launched into a long explanation of the various routes and shortcuts that would bypass checkpoints. Anja and Daniel hopped down from the truck and ran to hide behind a rock wall that ran along one side of the road.

After several minutes, she saw Mikel wave to the driver and head off down a side road. The truck wheezed its way on down the road and disappeared around a bend, and shortly after that Mikel came riding toward them. “Hop on,” he told Daniel and helped the boy onto the handlebars. Anja walked alongside as they made their way across the field. In the distance, they could see a freight train stalled on a siding. It was a common sight. No doubt the engineer was waiting for permission to continue on his route.

“Come on,” Mikel said and peddled as fast as he could given Daniel’s added weight and the fact that he was traveling across such uneven terrain. Anja ran after him. Leaving the bike, they sidled through a partially open freight car door and found themselves aboard a car filled with hay and cattle. As the train began moving, they could only hope that it was on its way to Limoges.

Anja shepherded Daniel past the large, warm animals to a corner of the car away from the door. She made them a bed of clean hay, and Daniel—his hunger partially satisfied by the raw potato they’d found in the back of the truck—curled into a fetal position and instantly fell asleep. Anja sat next to her son and pulled him closer so that his head rested on her lap. She dozed as well while Mikel took up a position close to the door so that he could keep watch. He seemed never to need sleep, but she knew that eventually he would have to rest.

As the train picked up speed, the swaying lulled her into a deeper sleep, and Mikel had to shake her awake. “We must go,” he said. Daniel was sitting near the doorway, drinking something from the tin cup they’d put in their rucksack.

“Milk, Mama. Try some. Mikel milked the cow.” He giggled.

Anja looked at the man who was usually so serious and stern in manner and saw that he was smiling at her son. “Finish it. I have something else for your mama and me.” He pulled out a goatskin and offered it to her. She smelled the wine before she tasted it. It smelled rich and earthy like the garden after a summer’s rain. She took a sip and savored the bittersweet taste of it sliding down her throat. “It’s good,” she said and took one more swallow before passing the goatskin back to him. “Where did you get it?”

“Our friend with the truck.” Mikel took a long swallow of the wine and then capped the container and strapped it across his chest. “Ready?” he asked Daniel.

Anja saw in her son’s eyes that Mikel had captivated him completely. Daniel would follow this man anywhere. “Ready,” he replied and tugged his cap lower on his forehead.

“The train will slow as it approaches the outskirts of the town,” Mikel said as he slid the door open just enough so that they could slip through.

Anja gasped. It had snowed while she was sleeping, and the passing landscape was gray and barren under overcast skies that promised more snow to come. She tied her wool scarf around Daniel’s neck and mouth. “I’ll go first,” she said. “Then Daniel.”

Mikel nodded as she positioned herself for the leap into what could be hard-packed frozen ground or a drift of snow. “Now,” he said, his hand at her waist giving her a gentle push.

She tumbled from the barely moving train and hit the ground hard. She looked all around for any of the crew that might be watching and saw no one, so she struggled to her feet and motioned for Daniel to come to her as she tried to keep pace with the moving train. “Now,” she mouthed and saw Mikel give Daniel a shove. He let out a shout as he tumbled to the ground. She ran to him, aware that Mikel had jumped as well and was checking to be sure they hadn’t been seen.

“Are you both all right?” he called as the last of the train cars passed and his voice echoed across the barren fields as everything went silent.

Daniel was whimpering and shivering, and Anja wrapped her arms around him as she knelt before him in the snow. “You’re all right, Daniel. It’s just snow, and you scraped your knuckles and face.”

“I’m cold. I want to go back to the orphanage.” He swiped his nose with the back of his hand. His glove was missing.

She looked around for it but saw nothing but snow and the brown scraggly branches of the shrubs that had scratched them in their fall. “Here,” she said and gave him her gloves.

“We need to find someplace we can stay the night,” Mikel told them as he scanned the snow-covered fields. He turned up the collar on his coat and hunched his shoulders. “Come on, boy. I’ll give you a ride.” He bent and indicated Daniel should climb onto his back.

“He’s too heavy for you—”

“We need to keep moving, Anja, and the boy will only slow us down.” He set off across the field. “This way,” he instructed. “I saw smoke over in that direction. It might be a farmhouse.”

It was definitely a farmhouse—one that had been taken over by Nazi soldiers. Mikel and Anja hid with Daniel in the woods behind the house for hours, shivering as they watched the men come and go and finally settle in for the night. Even with the windows and doors closed, they could hear loud music and the sound of the men laughing. By the lamplight pouring out from the windows, they could see the food on the table and the roaring fire in the fireplace. Apparently they had little concern about the need for blackout curtains.

“Let’s go,” Mikel whispered.

It was harder to follow him in the dark, and she was glad that he had continued to carry Daniel. They found their way to a narrow road and then an arched bridge over a frozen creek. Beyond that they saw the lights of another, smaller house. Mikel set Daniel down and signaled for them both to wait while he investigated. After what seemed a long time, he came back.

“It’s a brothel,” he told Anja.

“What’s that?” Daniel asked.

“It’s … a house where only women live.”

“Like the convent?” Daniel’s voice rose with anticipation. A convent meant safety and food and a cot for sleeping.

“No, not exactly.”

“Oh, the women don’t have to wear the nun clothes?”

Anja couldn’t help herself. She started to giggle, and once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“What’s funny?” Daniel asked.

“Nothing,” Mikel grumbled. “Your mother is just overtired.”

“Well, tired or not,” Anja managed, “that smoke tells me there’s a fire and, given their circumstances, probably food. Daniel, you stay here with Mikel. I am going to the house.”

She started across the yard. She was well aware of what this place was. Later this night the German soldiers they had observed not more than a mile down the road would come here to spend time with the women inside. Anja would not judge the women. They were doing what they thought necessary to survive. She reached the door and knocked.

Inside the low murmur of conversation and dishes clinking stopped. After a moment, someone came to the door. “Ja?” The woman spoke German.

Anja replied in French. “Please. My son and … husband and I have been walking for hours. Could we warm ourselves and perhaps have a cup of hot water?”

She saw a curtain at the window near the door move and the shadow of two women watching her. “We will be gone in an hour,” she continued. “Please. My son is so very cold and hungry.”

She heard the women conferring. One seemed opposed to opening the door while the others argued for the child. “We see no child,” the voice behind the door—now speaking in French—replied.

Anja motioned for Daniel and Mikel to come forward. She stepped back from the door so the women could see the three of them in the moonlight.

“Come ‘round to the back.”

As they made their way through drifts of snow to the rear of the house, Mikel took the lead. “Stay behind me,” he instructed. “It could be a trick.”

Anja knew he was right to be cautious, but instinct told her that these women were as much victims of this war as she and Daniel were. “They fear us as much as we fear them,” she replied. “Perhaps more if they are caught with us.”

The rear door of the house stood open, and a single candle burned on the kitchen table. They walked inside, and the door slammed behind them. Turning at the sound, Anja saw that two women stood in the shadows behind a third woman who held a gun.

She leveled the weapon at Daniel, and one of the other women hissed, “Who are you?”