Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Amsterdam, Netherlands
The sounds of bloodcurdling screams and dogs barking like caged animals drill into my ears.
The smell of fear and blood drenches the heavy summer air.
Overwhelming devastation wraps around me, stealing my balance and thoughts—direction.
One hand pressed to my pounding heart, the other cradling my swollen stomach, I force myself away from the sweating brick wall and turn toward the street.
My grocery tote dangles at my side, thudding against me like a sack of rocks. Was it Noah? Am I sure it was Noah?
I lift a heavy foot closer to the corner just as a German truck rumbles close by, tires crunching against cobblestone until it slams to a halt. Boots trample onto the road, and I go stiff.
If I run, I’ll be leaving him here.
My lungs collapse.
I can’t breathe.
They’re taking him…they’re taking him away.
Celina, go now! The words echo inside my head, but my feet won’t move.
“I can’t leave you. I can’t,” I gasp into my hand, muffling a sob that tears through me. Hot tears streak down my cheeks.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
No…stop…oh, God, please, stop shooting.
“Check the side roads!” a soldier shouts. “All Jews, come forward. Line up!”
My stomach burns, acid rising into my throat. I spin, eyes locked on the alley’s end where Noah lies crumpled. I pull myself away from the corner, fighting against the magnetic force that holds me to Noah.
Doing what’s wrong.
Leaving him behind.
My husband. My best friend. Father of our unborn baby.
The only man I’ve ever loved.
It’s not supposed to be this way. It can’t be this way. I won’t let it. He can’t be gone.
But each blink paints his body face down, bloody, and breathless.
I keep moving, dragging my knuckles along the coarse wall of the building until I reach the opposite end.
I peer around the corner. The road is too narrow for vehicles. Too narrow for most people to pass someone on a bicycle without stepping too close to the ledge of the canal.
My legs shake so violently, I fear my knees might give way. Every shallow breath is a fight. I should be running, trying to escape. But this is wrong. How could I just leave him to die? What kind of wife abandons her husband to these tyrants?
A piercing whistle breaks through the chaos, even on the narrow street until there’s one final, hollow pop.
By the time I reach the back door of Christoph’s building, my throat is drier than sand, every breath is like a razor slicing through my insides. My vision blurs, sweat and tears sting my eyes, and my arms dangle uselessly by my sides.
I pound my shaking fists against the door, needing someone to let me inside, but all I can think right now is that it’s locked shut forever.
A man hurries down the stairs, yanking open the door with a questioning grimace. “Who—”
“Chr—Christoph Ha-Hagen,” I rasp, each syllable sounding like a dying animal.
He studies me with suspicion before stepping aside. I stagger in, each step up the narrow flights of stairs, a jab of agony. At the top, I fall against Christoph’s door, slapping my palm until the wood smears with sweat beneath my fingers. “Chri—st—oph—” I cough out his name.
The door swings open, and I collapse forward. Christoph’s arms catching me before I go down. “What—what is it?” Panic strangles the sound in his voice.
I choke on air, tainted air around me. “Noah…” I force his name out between sobs. “He—he was shot I saw his shoes…they—” My throat tightens. “They shot him.”
Christoph’s grip tightens, his face paling as he tips my chin up. The tote bag of food falls to the crook of my elbow then to the floor. Tears fill his eyes. He knows. Whatever my face looks like…it must say it all.
“They—saw. He told me—go the other way—and then the shots.” My words fumble into a plea for him to understand me.
“Breathe, Celina. Take a breath. Come on,” Christoph says, shaking me until my teeth chatter.
“I saw him. I—he was dead.”
Christoph pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me as we both sob so hard we fall to the floor.
The tears don’t stop. My chest heaves violently, breaths lobbing through me, leaving me dizzy and weak.
I give in to the weakness and let my head fall to the floor.
The cool floor, it helps against my hot cheek.
I don’t want to fall asleep and wake up here. I want to fall asleep and wake up in my bed, next to Noah.
I gulp in a breath when my body leaves the ground.
My eyes dart open, finding Christoph carrying me across his flat then lowering me onto a wool blanket draped over his sofa.
He presses a cold compress to my head and when I look at his face, all I see is pain.
The sort of pain that never goes away. That stays inside us like a knife that can never be pulled out.
The whites of his eyes are blood red, his cheeks maroon and splotchy, blurring over his pale complexion.
“This is my fault.” His voice is as hoarse as mine.
“Don’t do that.” The words are nothing but mere squeaks of vowels.
“I was starting to feel better. I should have insisted I get you groceries.”
“He wouldn’t have let you.”
“I know,” Christoph says. “All he does is argue with me. And he’s always right. I just won’t say it out loud.” Christoph shoves his fingers through his blonde hair. “But he wasn’t right this time. He wasn’t. I should have gone.”
“Be—before he—he,” I say, trying to swallow back the pain, but it’s useless, “he—uh—pushed me down the—” I clench my eyes shut, forgetting simple words. Forgetting how to speak entirely. A moan escapes my mouth before more words. “The—the alleyway. He—he told me to go to you.”
Christoph leans forward, elbows pressed into his knees, head in his hands. “I need to go find him,” he says. “If you saw them—if he’s lying somewhere—his body will be there.”
I shake my head. “A truck blocked the street a moment later, screeching to a stop in front of—they couldn’t have known he was Jewish. They shot him anyway. You can’t go.”
“Why would they kill him?” Christoph asks. I don’t think his question is for me but it’s the only question left to ask the world who seemed to stop listening to innocent people years ago.
“They don’t need a reason. They’re above the law, and no one can stop them.”
“I’m going to find information. Somehow. I’ll find out who was killed.” Christoph stands up and begins to pace in front of his coffee table, his hand pressing against his gut. “One min—” He rushes to his washroom and slams the door before purging.
Christoph steps out of the washroom, his head hanging, hands interlocked behind his neck. “He had his new papers on him, didn’t he?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Did anyone follow you out of the store?”
“No. There was a line of people wrapped around the building and two clerks.” What if one of them did follow us? We would have noticed. Noah of all people would have noticed.
“You are connected through your papers, and registry.”
“But not as a Jewish couple.”
“Someone knew. Someone saw you. Someone wanted the money for turning in a Jew,” Christoph says, certainty hanging off each word. “Which means you aren’t safe, and I need to fix that.”
I haven’t felt safe in years, but now I’m sure I’ll never be safe again. My hand lowers to my belly, a habit I’ve grown. Noah says it’s instinctual protection. I think it’s a way to remind myself I still have our baby. Our.
Our fatherless child.
Heat fires through my face and my head throbs as more tears trickle.
“Celina…why—why are you holding…your stomach?” Christoph asks, breath catching in his throat.
I peer down as if I could see our unborn baby through my flesh. “I kept telling Noah it was too soon to say anything. I was scared something would happen. Then it felt easier to keep it private for the time being. And something happened anyway.”
Christoph stops and stares through me, his bottom lip hanging. Despair blackening his soul to match mine.
“All right.” His breaths become ragged. “All right. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Christoph returns to the sofa and folds to his knees in front of me, taking my hands. “You’re not going to like this, but I need you to listen.”
I shake my head, already saying no to whatever he might insist upon because I know it won’t be what I want. Christoph and I have never agreed on much other than our love for Noah. “Please don’t tell me you’re sending me to some—”
“Convent,” he says. “Yes. It’s the only place I can keep you safe. And I promised Noah that I would take care of you if anything were to happen to him.”
It’s as if he knew. He always knew what was coming. But I still don’t know how.
“No. No. I’m a Jewish woman, Christoph. I realize my papers say otherwise now, but I don’t belong in a convent.”
He shakes my hands on my lap. “Look at me,” he says, his nostrils flaring. “The Nazis don’t like the attention of the church. They stay away unless they have a reason not to.”
“No, Christoph. No, you don’t understand. I can’t—”
“You don’t need to tell them you’re with child. You can hide it. You’re tiny. It won’t be obvious for a while. Long enough for the Germans to get out of our city.” Noah would say this isn’t a reliable plan. They could be here forever for all we know.
“And if they do find out?” I ask, anger growing over the thick grief.
“They’re nuns. They will take care of you.”
“I know nothing about Catholicism. Nothing. They’ll know right away that I’m not Catholic.”
“Judaism and Catholicism aren’t much different, and you share the same Bible. I have faith you can play the part if it means keeping you and your baby safe for as long as possible.”
“I should have stayed with him,” I utter.
“He would never want you to give up your life. He only cared about your well-being, and your baby too. I don’t need to hear that from him to know.”
The sound of a whistle strikes my ear. Please, let me only be hearing that torturous sound in my mind. Christoph stands and moves to the window, then closes his drapes.
“You’re not safe here. There’s no other choice.
I will stay in contact with you through letters, and I will keep you up to date on everything I find out about what happened today.
And as soon as it’s safe for you to be back here, I will come for you.
You won’t be alone, but I do need to keep you safe, and this is the only way. ”
“I don’t know anything about living in a convent, Christoph. It won’t work,” I say sternly.
“I—I will teach you everything I know tonight. I know enough. It will be enough. You must trust me. Please.”
“I want Noah back,” I say, salty tears seeping into my mouth. “I want my husband. I want the life I chose. The one that made me who I am, and who I’m going to be.” I curl my arms around my belly.
“What you’re going to be—is a mother. One who fiercely protects her child from the enemies living on our doorsteps. And it starts now. Noah would agree with me on this. You know I’m right. You know this is what we need to do.”
What if he needs me? What if I left him to die, alone? He would have never done that to me, no matter what was in his way.
I close my eyes and nod. Once.
And again, the life I was born into falls farther out of reach.