Of Windmills and War (17 page)

Wim
shook his hand heartily. “I am Wim Boorman. This is Anya Versteeg. We are from
Utrecht
. We
were taking these children to a safe house in
Leeuwarden
when
our train was stopped in the middle of nowhere.”

“The
train was full of German soldiers,” Anya continued. “We couldn’t risk being
questioned about the children, so we fled on foot.”

“You
made a wise choice. You must be exhausted,” the farmer said. “Come along. Let’s
get you something to eat and let you rest a while.”

Wim
pulled her against his side as they followed the kind stranger. “That would be
most kind. You are an answer to prayer.”

Joris
stopped and turned back to face them. Pointing to the two sleeping children, he
said, “No, I would say
you
are an answer to prayer to these little
ones . . . and to their parents as well.” He shook his head. “So
hard it would be to send your own children away.”

24

Anya
rolled over, suddenly startled by her surroundings. Then she remembered. The
kind farmer, also a member of the Dutch Resistance. His wife Roos, who readily
took charge of Liesbeth and Henri, giving Anya and Wim a chance to rest. The
soft glow of a lantern on the bedside table helped her get her bearings as she
sat up in bed.
It’s dark again. I wonder how long I have slept?

A few
moments later, she opened the bedroom door and walked down the hall. She
followed the sound of Wim’s voice, glad to know he was awake as well.

He turned
as she entered the kitchen. “Anya—at last, you are up,” he said coming to her.

Anya
tried to read something which flickered across his face, then decided she must
still be groggy. “It is already night again?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

Wim put
his arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Night then day then
night again. You’ve slept almost thirty-six hours. I was beginning to worry.”

“What?”
She twisted to look up at him. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Ja,
but you needed your rest and so we let you rest,” the farmer’s wife said.

Panic
cut through her. “The children—where are the children?”

Roos
crossed the kitchen, taking Anya’s hands into hers. “The children are fine.
They’ve been fed, they’ve played with our own grandchildren, and now they’re
once again in bed. Not to worry about the little ones.” She patted Anya’s hand.
“Now. What can I cook for you? You must be starving.”

Anya
looked at Wim again for assurance. “The kids are fine. Mrs. Hildebrand took
good care of them. I promise.”

“Please.
I insist. Call me Roos. Yes, those poor dears. They were so frightened when
they first woke up. It took a while but slowly they began to warm to us.
Especially when our grandchildren stopped by. It was good for them, I think.
Playmates, ja?”

“We
can’t thank you enough,” Wim answered, taking the words out of Anya’s mouth.

“Come.
Sit. I’ll warm you some dinner.”

Wim led
her to the kitchen table where he pulled out a chair.

“Thank
you. I am rather hungry.”

Wim sat
beside her, rubbing his hand along her forearm. “You’ll love it. Mrs.
Hildebrand—I mean Roos—made the most delicious
erwtensoep
. I confess I
had two bowls of it myself.”

Anya
loved her mother’s Dutch pea soup, so thick and flavored with leeks and carrots
and sausage.

Mother . . .
She
wondered how her mother and father were getting along.

“There
you go. Nice and hot. Don’t burn your tongue. Would you like
een sneetje
brood
?”

“Yes,
that would be wonderful.”

Roos
placed the warm bread on a small dish then spread butter on top. “Now. Eat up.”

Every
bite was better than the one before. Anya couldn’t remember ever being so
hungry. Only a farmer and his wife would offer such hearty food. At home, only
the bare necessities could be found in the stores. And even then, you had to be
there when the merchandise arrived or the shelves would be emptied. Everyone in
Holland
had
already learned to do without.

Mr.
Hildebrand entered the kitchen through a second door that looked to come from somewhere
beneath the house. “Good evening, Anya,” he said. “You are rested, I hope?”

She
smiled, embarrassed. “Yes, apparently I’m
well
rested.”

“Nothing
to be ashamed of, child. From what Wim tells me you have worked tirelessly for
some time now. I’m glad we could offer you a pillow on which to lay your head.”
He held up the coffee pot. “
Koffie
?”

“Yes,
thank you,” Anya said between bites.

He
filled a cup for her then refilled Wim’s mug. The farmer caught Wim’s eye and
made a gesture with his eyes.

Anya caught
the exchange between them. “What is it?”

Wim
shook his head. “It can wait. Go ahead, finish your dinner.”

She
took a big bite of the buttered bread and set down her spoon. “No. Tell me
now.”

“Anya,
please. You need to—”

“Don’t
tell me what I need to do, Wim,” she snapped. She looked back at the farmer,
who’d turned to leave. “What is it, Mr. Hildebrand? What hasn’t he told me?”

Joris
turned, his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be downstairs.” He disappeared down the
steps.

Anya
turned, grabbing Wim’s wrist as she searched his face. “Tell me.”

He took
a deep breath, blowing it out with gusto. “Joris has an elaborate secret phone
system. He’s in close contact with many in the Resistance. Not just here but
all over the country.” He paused, tracing his finger around the rim of his
coffee mug. “I asked him to contact our people in
Utrecht
.”

“And?”

He kept
his eyes locked on his mug. “And . . .” He reached for her hand
then looked into her eyes. “And it seems your parents were arrested, Anya.”

She
stared at him, positive she’d misheard him. “No, you must be mistaken.”

“I wish
I was.”

She
withdrew her hand from his. She couldn’t blink. She couldn’t even breathe.

He
tried to put his arm around her shoulder, but she batted it away. “No! Don’t
touch me. You’re mistaken. There’s no way my parents could have—” But in that
split second, she knew. The face of Colonel von Kilmer flashed in her mind. His
veiled threats. His accusations.

Before
they’d left home, several weeks had passed with no more visits from the
suspicious officer. They’d presumed they’d been lost in the paperwork; his
accusations nothing more than idle chatter meant to make them nervous. And yet,
as the thoughts peppered her mind now, she knew he’d come back to her home.

She
looked up at Wim. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Von Kilmer?”

He nodded,
pulling her into his arms. “Yes, Anya. He came back. Only this time he brought a
dozen soldiers with him and they literally tore the house apart.”

She
jerked her head up. “But we moved them—the Wolffs and Lieke and Inge—we took
them to your farm!”

“Yes,
we did. But in our haste, we neglected to go back and check the attic space where
they’d hidden. It never crossed my mind, and apparently it didn’t cross anyone
else’s. When the soldiers came and tore through your home, they ripped the
bookcase apart and discovered the hidden attic. They found a worn copy of a
Hebrew Bible under the floor board. Bernard must have hidden it there and
forgot it. Inside the cover of the Bible, it listed his name, his wife’s name,
and the names of their two children—all of them wanted by the Gestapo for not
showing up to be transported months ago.”

“How
could Bernard be so stupid?” she cried out.

“Anya,
it wasn’t his fault. It all happened so fast that night, remember? We rushed
them out during the ghetto uprising. It was all very sudden and none of us
thought to look for hidden things beneath floor boards. Only the Germans would think
to rip the wooden floors apart in the home of a Christian minister.”

“But . . .
where did they take them, my parents? My poor mother—”

 “Joris
is trying to find out.” He stroked her hair. “Some of our people in
Utrecht
saw
them loaded onto a cattle car filled with Jews.”

Anya
shook her head and covered her face with her hands. “No, no, no . . .
this is all a mistake.”

“The
last they heard, the train was headed for Westerbork. But Westerbork is only a
holding camp. By now they’ve most likely been sent to one of the concentration
camps, either here or perhaps in
Germany
.”

As the
words fell from Wim’s mouth, Anya couldn’t breathe. She collapsed into his arms,
the wails rattling her lungs sounding distant somehow.

Suddenly,
she felt herself lifted up in his arms and cradled against his chest. She
grabbed hold of his shirt, tightening her grip as she cried. He walked her to
the bedroom, then gently laid her down on the bed. As the sobs shook her body,
she curled onto her side, pulling her knees up tight. She felt him lie down
beside her, tucking himself against her back as his arm wrapped around her
waist.

Finally,
much later, she felt each breath catch in little hiccups as she tried to calm
down. As exhaustion slowly took over, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

And prayed
she would never wake up.

25

“I’m
going and you can’t stop me!”

Two
full days had passed since Anya learned about her parents’ arrest. For two days
she’d cried and thrown up and slept, only to do it all over again. On the third
day, she’d had enough. She’d made her way down the dark stairs to the room
below the house where she found Wim and Joris, huddled over a map.

“What
are you doing?” she had asked, startling them both. They had hemmed and hawed, giving
her vague responses until she stomped her foot and demanded they tell her what
was going on.

“Very
well,” Wim had answered, planting his hands deep in his pockets. “We’ve learned
there’s to be a massive raid on
Utrecht
and
the surrounding areas. Someone has tipped them off to our work there, moving
Jewish families to safety. One of our Resistance workers is planted inside the
Gestapo office there in
Utrecht
. He said they’re waiting for
reinforcements which could arrive at any time.”

“Your
family?”

“No
word. I’ve tried to reach them. I’ve contacted others to find out if they know
what’s happening, but so far nothing. Which is why I’m leaving shortly to go
home.”

“Then
I’m coming with you.”

“No,
Anya. It isn’t safe. You need to stay here until I can come back for you.”

“Wim, I
said I’m going and you can’t stop me.”

“Don’t
be ridiculous!”

“
I’m
the one who’s ridiculous? If it was my family, don’t you think I’d do whatever
I could to save them? But no, I didn’t have that chance, did I? Now it’s your
family, but don’t forget—my friend Lieke and little Inge are in your parents’
care. If I couldn’t save my parents, at least I can try to save my friend and
her sister.”

Wim
pulled at his hair. “You make me crazy! You are SO STUBBORN!”

“Ja,
they tend to do that,” Joris added casually. They both looked at him. He held
up his hands. “It’s true. Do yourself a favor, Wim, and let her go. You’ll save
a lot of time and frustration in the long run. They always get their way. It’s a
woman’s way.”

Anya
hugged the farmer. “Finally, someone understands. Thank you, Joris.” She
planted a loud kiss on his cheek. “Oh—wait a minute. What about Liesbeth and
Henri?”

“Actually,
I’ve already discussed that with Joris and Roos,” Wim said.

“What
do you mean?”

“What
he means,” Joris said, “is that Roos and I would like to keep the children here
with us. There’s no need to take them north. They’ve had enough to deal with;
they don’t need to be uprooted again. But even beyond that, we
want
to
keep them here. We love having little ones in the house. Besides, having them
here draws our own grandchildren like magnets. We get to see more of them as
well. So you see? It’s best for everyone.”

“Wim?
Is this all right with you?”

“Yes,
in fact I think it’s what’s best for Liesbeth and Henri. We will make the
necessary contacts with the Resistance headquarters so their parents will know
where they are when the time comes for them to go home. And we can always come
back to see them once things settle down.”

“You mean,
if
things settle down.”

“It
will,” Joris insisted. “You’ll see. One day we’ll be rid of these German idiots
and we’ll all return to our lives as we once knew them.”

“I hope
you’re right,” Wim said, then turned to point Anya up the stairs. “We must be
ready to go. They’re sending a truck to take us home as quickly as possible. He
should be here any moment.”

Over
the bumpy back roads heading home to
Utrecht
, Anya
and Wim’s driver filled them in on more of the war news. The man who introduced
himself as Nathan told them that Jews sequestered in the ghettos all across the
country were barely holding on, cut off completely from supplies of food and
other staples. The Germans didn’t seem to care of their plight knowing it was a
temporary situation until all of them could be transported to the death camps,
as they were now called.

“My
kids have learned to hate the sound of the train whistle. Always before, they
loved running to watch the trains go by. Now, we do not let them because the
cattle cars are filled with people.”

Anya closed
her eyes as she tried to push the image of her parents in such a cattle car to
the back of her mind. Wim entwined her fingers with his, his thoughts no doubt
the same as hers.

Nathan
continued. “They’re packed in those cars so tight they can’t even move.
Oftentimes they’ll hold up their little ones, just so their children can catch
a breath of air. I’ve never seen anything like it. The sadness in their
faces . . . it’s unspeakable. My wife and I have told our
children to stay away from the tracks. It’s too much for their young minds, you
know? Children their age shouldn’t have to see such things.” He paused, then
added, “Of course, when I think about all those little Jewish children and
what they face?” He shook his head.

Wim
squeezed her hand. “What do you hear of
Utrecht
?” he
asked, steering the subject a different direction.

“
Utrecht
.
You’ll see for yourself soon enough. The synagogues are all boarded up now, and
the Germans have painted obscene messages on most of the synagogue walls.
Horrible, vile things as you can’t even imagine. I just hope and pray God unleashes
His wrath on these vermin.

“Everyone
is on edge, weary from the constant bombing, rushing down into the bomb
shelters half the night. Between that and the shortage of food getting worse
every day, I don’t know how long we can continue our work. But we have no
choice. If we don’t, who will?”

They
continued the next couple kilometers in silence. As they drew close to the
outskirts of
Utrecht
, Wim gave the driver directions to his
farm. “But let us out a kilometer or so before we get there. We don’t want to
take any chances.”

A few
minutes later, their driver pulled over to the side of the road near a wooded
area backing up to the Boormans’ farm. Wim reached across Anya to shake his
hand. “Thanks for the lift.”

“You’re
welcome. And just so you know, I’ll be staying at a friend’s home here in
Utrecht
. If
you run into any trouble, contact the Resistance headquarters and they’ll get
word to me.”

Wim
said, stepping out of the vehicle. “Will do. Thank you, Nathan.”

“Thank
you.” Anya shook his hand then joined Wim on the side of the road.

“Take
care,” Nathan said, putting the truck in gear.

As the
old truck rattled off into the distance, Wim and Anya headed into the woods,
walking hand in hand. Anya wanted to be grateful for the sunlight streaming
through the branches, but being so close to home filled her with sadness. She
wanted nothing more than to turn and run to her house, throw open the door and
find her mother and father at the kitchen table having tea.

They
walked in silence, Wim helping her step over fallen branches and rocks here and
there. As they neared the farmhouse, Wim dropped her hand, motioning her behind
him.

“What’s
wrong?” she whispered.

“I’m
not sure.”

She
looked through the cluster of trees before them, then across a cultivated field,
trying to see what had stopped him in his tracks. “Wim, what is it?”

He held
his finger to his lips.

Following
his gaze, she looked out across the straight crop rows between them and the
house. Suddenly something moved in her line of sight. Wim’s hand clamped over
her mouth just as she gasped. She blinked, hoping against hope her eyes had somehow
deceived her. There, crawling down the dirt row moved Lieke’s baby sister Inge.

“Shhh,”
Wim whispered in her ear. “I’ll remove my hand but you must not make a sound.”
She nodded, her eyes stinging as she watched the toddler crawl slowly along the
dirt path, her movements wobbly and uneven. Wim gently pulled his hand away,
keeping his mouth over her ear. “We’ll get to her, I promise. But we must first
wait. Something’s very wrong here.”

Anya
couldn’t breathe. As they watched, Inge plopped back on her haunches. Her face
was filthy, covered and streaked with dirt. How long had she been out in the
field? Why was she out here alone? Lieke would never . . .

A
sickening feeling knotted her stomach. Wim’s mother would never let a child so
young out of her sight.

Oh God,
please no.

Inge
began to whimper, rubbing her eyes. The baby rubbed harder and harder, losing
her balance and tipping over. Her cry pierced the air.

“Wim,
we have to—”

He was
halfway to the child by the time she’d opened her mouth. He moved like a bolt
of lightning, grabbing the baby and dashing back into the woods.

“Quick—stick
your finger in her mouth!” he whispered urgently.

Just as
the child sucked in a breath to wail, Anya stuck two of her fingertips in her
mouth and held her close to her chest. “Inge, Inge, it’s Anya. I’m here,
sweetheart. I’m here.” The baby tried to open her eyes, but opened her mouth
again to cry instead. “Shhh, no, no, Inge, don’t cry,” she whispered, wiggling
her fingertips in the baby’s mouth. “Wim, try to clear her left eye. That’s the
one she’s rubbed.”

“How?
What should I do?”

“She’s
got plenty of tears. See if you can hold her eye open to clear whatever’s in
there.”

Wim
took out his handkerchief and tried to pry open the child’s eye. As gently as
he could, he touched the edge of his handkerchief to her eye, hoping to free the
specks of dirt that were lodged there. Inge jerked back, whimpering and
chomping down on Anya’s fingers.

Anya
winced. “Try it again. You almost got it.”

Wim
spit into the cloth, dampening it, then tried again. This time the handkerchief
pulled another cluster of dirt particles from the baby’s tearing eye. She
blinked repeatedly then looked back and forth between them, clearly frightened.

“Inge,
you’re all right. Shhh, little one. Don’t be afraid,” Anya whispered, rocking
her gently in her arms.

The
baby began to suck on Anya’s fingers and slowly, gradually relaxed in her arms.
Anya looked up at Wim. His eyes were fixed on the farmhouse in the distance. “What
do you think happened?”

He
turned to grip her shoulders. “You stay here. No matter what happens, you stay
here until I come back. Stay out of sight. And whatever you do, try to keep
Inge quiet.”

They
both looked down at the child, her eyelids drooping as she continued to suck on
Anya’s fingertips. She pushed the child’s dirty curls out of her flushed face.
“She must have been out here a long time.” Her chin began to tremble at the
implication.

He
pulled her against him. “I know.”

She
listened to his heart pounding against her ear. “Please be careful.”

He
tipped her chin with his finger, turning her face toward his. “I will. But if
anything should happen to me—”

“Stop.
Do not say it,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare say it.”

He
cupped her face in his hand then leaned over, touching his lips to hers. Anya
kissed him back, curling her other hand around his neck.
Oh, let this moment
never end,
she prayed. When he lifted his lips from hers, her eyes remained
closed for a moment longer.

“I’ve
wanted to do that for as long as I can remember,” he whispered, his breath warm
against her cheek.

She
opened her eyes. “And I’ve
wanted
you to do that for as long as I can
remember.”

He
touched his nose to hers. “I must go.” He kissed her once more then he was
gone.

She
watched him crouched over, dashing along the outer perimeter of the field,
working his way to the far side of the barn. Reaching it, he stood with his
back against it, stealing a quick look around the corner.