The Baby Experiment (5 page)

Sleep, little baby, safely sleep.

The birds are singing in the woods.

They sing and hop in the grass so green.

They'll bring the baby something good.

Like a wilted flower opening to the gentle rain, Rebecca began to respond. She made cooing and gurgling noises. She stared at Johanna as she listened to her whispered words. Her big eyes were like a bird's, alert and curious. Rebecca was growing prettier, too. Her hair was becoming softer and her skin was losing its pallor. Every day, Johanna looked forward to seeing Rebecca, to holding her in her arms and whispering to her.

Johanna knew she was breaking the rules but she no longer cared. No amount of money was worth seeing the babies die. Nothing was.

Johanna sighed, sat on a bench in the garden, and opened her Bible. She was reading the story of Moses — one of her favourites. Because of a prophecy, the pharaoh in Egypt had given the order that all Hebrew baby boys must be killed. Miriam hid behind some reeds and watched as her baby brother floated in his basket on the Nile River. An Egyptian princess found him and raised him as her son.

Johanna's heart started pounding. Although she had read this story many times before, today it was as if the words on the page spoke directly to her.
I could be like Miriam was to Moses. I could take Rebecca away from this horrible place.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like.
What if I ran away with her? I would have to find somewhere safe for us. And then I could adopt her — just like the Egyptian princess adopted Moses!

Johanna shivered in spite of the warmth in the garden.
I am not brave.
Can I save Rebecca and still help Mama?
She plucked a blade of grass and shredded it with her fingernail.

It was an impossible choice, but Johanna knew it was one she must make.
I will do it
.
No matter how dangerous the journey might be.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Where can I go? It must be far away. Mama must not get into trouble because of me.

Grandfather Samuel had told her of a city where Jews could become citizens. He had called it the “Dutch Jerusalem.” He had told her that Jews could worship in freedom there; that they had even been allowed to build a synagogue. Johanna clenched her fists. She would go to that city. She would go to Amsterdam.

Johanna hurried back inside the house, her head buzzing with all the things she must do to prepare for the journey.
Grandfather, I remember the stories you told me about how you ran away and made a new life in a new land. You had courage. Will I have courage, too?

Johanna's Plan

Daniel, the wagon driver, had come to the orphanage to make his regular deliveries of fruits and vegetables. “You want to do
what
?” he asked.

“Shhhh!” whispered Johanna. “I want to leave this place.” She knew she could trust Daniel, because he'd delivered money and letters to Mama.

“Why do you want to do such a foolish thing?” said Daniel. “You've got a good job here. A place to sleep. Regular meals. Steady pay.”

Johanna shook her head. “Daniel, the babies are dying. Six babies have died already.”

Daniel took off his cap and scratched his matted hair. “I know. Ain't I the one who delivers the coffins here?”

“Three more babies are very weak. I think they're going to die soon.” She swallowed hard and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “I want to run away and —”

“Run away? Why not just quit the job and leave?”

Johanna lowered her voice. “I want to take one of the babies with me.”

“You must be crazy!” Daniel shouted.

“Please be quiet!”

Daniel peered at Johanna. “Where to?”

Johanna looked over her shoulder. “First to Altona. It's safer there. Then I'll look for a ship to take me to Amsterdam.” She paused. “Will you help me?”

“Can't. Won't. I'd get in trouble for sure. They'd lock me up for aiding and abetting a kidnapper!” Daniel blew his nose onto the ground and wiped the snot with his sleeve.

Johanna handed Daniel her handkerchief. He took it as if he didn't know what to do with it. He crumpled it up and shoved it into his pocket.

“Please, Daniel.”

Daniel shook his head. “I won't do it. I feel sorry for the babies, but I ain't gonna take that kind of risk.” He grasped the reins and began to move away.

“Wait!” Johanna cried. “I'll pay you!”

Daniel stopped and stared at Johanna.

“I'll pay you for taking us — me and the baby.”

Daniel scratched his head. “Well, if you're talking business, that's something else. How much?”

“Twelve schillings?”

“Twenty-four.”

Johanna swallowed hard. “Eighteen. That's my final offer.”

“Well, I guess that'd be enough.”

“You'll take us, then?”

Daniel nodded. “Only as far as Altona. My horse is old and I got my regular customers.”

Johanna let out her breath. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding it. “Thank you.”

Daniel stretched out a dirty hand towards Johanna. “Let's see your money.”

Johanna shook her head. “I'll pay you nine schillings when you pick me up and nine when we reach Altona. Agreed?”

Daniel scratched his armpit. “You drive a hard bargain. All right then.” He shook his head and murmured, “I must be as crazy as she is.”

“When will you be back here again?” Johanna said.

“Let's see.” Daniel counted on his fingers. “Today's Thursday. It'll be Monday next.”

“Johanna! Where are you?” Cecile called from the doorway.

Johanna waved at her friend. “Coming!” She turned back to Daniel. “When you finish your deliveries on Monday, wait for me outside the gate behind the high hedge. I'll meet you after breakfast.”

“What if someone asks what I'm doing there?”

“Johanna!” Cecile was walking towards them. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Johanna moved closer to Daniel. She could smell his sour, unwashed body and the dirty wool of his clothing. “Say you were taking a nap, or reading a book, or feeding your horse. Whatever you want.”

“Right. But if you ain't here by seven o'clock, I'll be gone.”

“I'll be here.”

Daniel nodded, took up the reins, and guided the wagon down the gravel driveway. Johanna watched him leave and wished she were already on the way.

She hurried to join Cecile. She could feel her heart beating against her chest.
What am I doing? I'll get caught
.
I'll be convicted of kidnapping. Locked up in jail or thrown out of Hamburg. No help for Rebecca. No help for Mama.

“Why were you talking to the driver?” asked Cecile.

“I needed to ask him something.”

“What?”

“About … about Altona.”

“Altona? You could ask
me
about Altona!”

“All right,” said Johanna. “What's it like?”

“It's a small town,” Cecile said. “You can almost spit from Hamburg to Altona. After all, they're only about two and a half miles apart.”

“I know that. But what is Altona
like
?”

Cecile linked her arm into Johanna's. The two made their way to the kitchen for breakfast. “It's a lot like Hamburg. On the main street, there are shops and houses and people coming and going. There's ice in the winter and mud the rest of the time and stink all the time.”

While they were eating, Johanna tried to find out more about Altona. “If a person were in Altona,” Johanna asked, “how would he get to Amsterdam?”

Cecile answered between chews. “By wagon or coach, I suppose. Or, if you had money, you could travel by ship.”

“Is there any other way to get there?”

“Sure. You could fly like a bird!”

“Very funny! As if people can fly!”

“Why are you asking all those questions?” Monica demanded.

“I just wanted to know. One day, I'd like to go to Amsterdam,” Johanna said.

“What would
you
do there?” Monica said.

“I could sell my lace work,” Johanna said. “Or even become a governess.”

“You?” Monica snorted. “An upper-class family would never hire you.”

“I've heard that Amsterdam is a beautiful city,” Cecile said, putting a hand on Johanna's arm.

“There's only one problem,” Monica said.

“What?” said Johanna.

Monica sneered. “They let Jews become citizens.”

The next evening was Friday. Johanna sat alone in her room. She fingered Mama's lace kerchief. Since she had come to the orphanage, she hadn't dared light Sabbath candles. But tonight she felt lonely. She yearned for the glow of the candles.

She put two candles in candlesticks on the table, placed the kerchief on her head, lit the candles, and began to recite the blessing. “
Baruch atah adonei eloheynu
—”

Someone was knocking on the door. Johanna's heart skipped a beat. “Who is it?”

“It's me.”

“Cecile?”

“May I come in?”

“Just a minute!” Johanna shoved the kerchief under her pillow and opened the door.

“What took so long?” Cecile asked. She gazed at the candles flickering in the dimness. “Those candlesticks are beautiful. Where did you get them?”

“I … I borrowed them from … Frau Hartmann.”

“You did? Why?”

“I … I misplaced mine.”

“I see.” Cecile looked puzzled.

“Did you want something?”

Cecile looked about the room. She seemed to have forgotten why she'd come. “Oh, can I borrow a needle and thread?”

“Of course.” Johanna rummaged in the top drawer of her dresser. “Here,” she said, handing the notions to Cecile.

“Thank you. Have a good night.”

“You too.” Johanna's heart was pounding and her fingers trembled.
Has Cecile guessed my secret? Some non-Jews know about Sabbath candles. Will she tell Frau Taubman before I escape? I'll have to leave the orphanage. I won't be able to rescue Rebecca. And if I don't, she will surely die.

An Unexpected Companion

On Sunday, Johanna wore her shawl to the nursery. When no one was looking, she stuffed clothes and diapers into the shawl. Later that night, she stole bread and cheese from the kitchen, as well as a small jug of milk for Rebecca.

Her hands shook; her legs trembled. She had an uneasy feeling that she was being followed on the way back to her room. She kept looking behind her, imagining that someone was standing in the shadows, watching her.

Early Monday morning, Johanna put a few last items into her bag and fastened it tightly. She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, tied her hat on her head, and put on her shoes.

Johanna took one last look around her little room.
I came here with such hope. Now all I feel is sadness about the past and worry for the future.
She sighed, straightened her back, and closed the door softly behind her.

She walked down the steep narrow stairs and along a corridor. Weak sunlight sifted in through the windows. She heard the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen and smelled freshly baked bread and porridge simmering on the stove. She heard Frau Hartmann humming an old country tune.

For a moment, she wished she could join the other girls and forget her plan. One step into the kitchen, and she would be safe. One step away led to an unknown future. She felt paralyzed with uncertainty.

Then she remembered the babies who had died, their stiff grey corpses wrapped in coarse linen, carted away to unmarked graves. She shuddered and began to walk towards the nursery.

“Johanna,” someone whispered.

“Who is it?” Johanna asked, her heart pounding. She turned towards the voice. A dark shape was standing in the shadow of a doorway.

“It's me.”

“Who?”

“Me! Cecile.” She wore her cloak and hat, and clutched a bag in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” Johanna asked.

“I know what you're planning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You've been planning to run away for days now. I saw you,” Cecile said. “I saw you take some food from the kitchen. And you were asking about Altona —”

Johanna shook her head. “I have to go. We'll talk about it tomorrow.”

Cecile took a step towards Johanna. “Not likely. You'll be gone by tomorrow.”

“But —”

“You're running away.” Cecile took another step towards her and grabbed her arm. “And I want to go with you.”

Johanna shrugged off Cecile's hand. “So, I'm leaving,” she said. “That doesn't mean you can come with me.” More gently, she added, “Besides, we can't both leave at the same time!”

Cecile pursed her lips as she peered along the corridor. “I don't care. All I know is that I must leave this horrid place. And I must leave today!”

“Cecile, you don't understand,” said Johanna. She turned to face Cecile and put her hands on her friend's shoulders. “I'm not going alone. I'm taking one of my babies with me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I can't … I
won't
watch another baby die.”

“Do you know what will happen if they catch you? They'll throw you in jail! Or worse!” Cecile paused. “Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which
baby
? I'm not talking about apples!”

Johanna pushed past Cecile. Time was growing short. She was afraid Daniel would leave without her. “I have to go!”

“Please, Johanna!” Cecile cried after her. “Please let me come with you!” Johanna looked back at Cecile. “You're willing to give up this job?”

“I don't care,” Cecile said. “I haven't heard from my family for weeks. I'm afraid to go alone. I won't be in your way and … maybe I can help.”

What if I don't let her come?
Johanna thought.
Will she betray me?
“All right. You may come with me as far as Altona.”

“Great!” She grabbed Johanna by the arm. “Let's go!”

“Be quiet! They'll hear you.”

“Sorry.”

“Meet me outside, behind the hedge near the road,” said Johanna. “I'll go get Rebecca.”

“Wait,” Cecile said. “Give me your bag. You'll have to carry the baby.” She grinned. “See? I'm already a help!”

In the nursery, one girl was dozing in a chair; two others were playing a game of checkers, out of sight of the babies. The babies were sleeping, or lying listlessly in their beds.

Johanna tiptoed over to Rebecca's bed. Rebecca was deep in dreams, her tiny mouth twitching slightly. Johanna picked her up. She felt her warmth against her chest. Just then, one of the girls said, “Johanna, where are you taking that baby?”

Johanna froze in her tracks. She felt her heart racing and could scarcely speak. “Keller … Doctor Keller asked me to bring her to him.”

“Oh? I didn't know he was here.”

“He … came by hired carriage.” Rebecca was reaching towards Johanna's face and playing with her hair. “I must go. The doctor doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“All right, but —”

“Lise,” the other girl whispered, “It's your turn.” Lise shrugged and turned back to the game.

Johanna wrapped her cloak around Rebecca, hurried out of the room, and closed the door behind her. Her heart pounding, she whispered the words of a psalm she remembered from home:

The help of the innocent comes

from the Lord.

Their strength is He in time of need.

The Lord helps them and rescues them.

He rescues them from the wicked

and saves them,

Because they trust in Him.

The words carried her along the corridor, through the grand foyer, and out the front door.

What have I done?
Johanna thought.
How will I travel on the dangerous road to Amsterdam with a nine-month-old baby?
Her fear was almost more than she could bear. She stood frozen on the front step.

A man came hurrying up the path. When he reached Johanna, he stopped and said, “Why, it is Fraulein … Richter, is it not?”

“Yes,” mumbled Johanna, curtseying. “We met at my interview.”

“Quite right,” said Herr Vogel. He looked down at the squirming bundle in Johanna's arms. “Where, may I ask, are you going with that baby?”

“I … I'm taking her outside for some fresh air.”

“I see.” Herr Vogel paused. “Nowhere else?”

“No,” said Johanna, blushing. “Where else would I take her?”
Another lie
, she thought.
I am getting quite skillful at that particular sin.

Herr Vogel peered over Johanna's shoulder. “If I were taking care of these babies …” He pursed his lips. “… these
dying
babies who are subject to an experiment …”

“Yes?” said Johanna. “What would you do?”

Herr Vogel averted his eyes. “I might want to rescue one of the babies.”

“You would?” Johanna's heart skipped a beat.
Does Herr Vogel suspect what I am doing? Will he betray me?

“I am not saying I
would
.” Herr Vogel raised his eyebrows. “Only that I
might
want to.” He lowered his eyebrows. “But of course, the risks would be great; the punishment, severe. Still …”

“Still?”

“A human life.” Herr Vogel put his hand on Johanna's arm. “Worth the risk, I believe.” He looked straight at Johanna, as if he could read her mind. “And if I were to take that risk, I would leave as quickly as possible.” He sighed and took out his pocket watch. “I must go now. I have an appointment with a certain Frau Taubman.” As he turned to go, he said. “Fraulein Richter?”

“Yes?” Johanna's knees were shaking.

“Godspeed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Johanna looked down into Rebecca's trusting eyes. The baby smiled up at her.

“I'll do it,” whispered Johanna. “It is a matter of life and death. Your life, and mine, too, if it is to have any meaning.”

Johanna looked up and saw Cecile peeking out from behind the hedge. Johanna straightened her back and strode towards her waiting companion.

The sun was shining in a sky of watery blue. A brisk wind whipped her cloak about and tried to lift her long skirt. It dried the tears in her eyes — tears she hadn't been aware of.

“What happened?” said Cecile. “I thought you would never come!”

“I'll tell you later. Let's find Daniel.”

They heard Daniel before they saw him. Snores rumbled from his throat. His cap was pulled over his eyes and his whiskered chin was resting on his chest. The reins lay slack in his hands. An empty jug of beer lay next to him on the wagon seat.

“Wait here,” Johanna whispered. “I'll talk to Daniel.” She walked over to Daniel and shook his arm. “Wake up!” The snoring only grew louder. She shook his arm again. “Daniel, wake up!” But no matter how hard Johanna shook him, he wouldn't respond.

She gestured for Cecile to join her. “We have a little problem.”

Cecile's eyes opened wide. “What's the matter?”

“Our driver is … slightly inebriated.”

“You mean drunk?”

“Right.” Johanna frowned. “He must have been drinking all night long.”

“What do we do now?”

“You don't happen to know how to drive a wagon, do you?” said Johanna.

Cecile grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Wait. Don't tell me,” said Johanna, holding up her hand. “Your brother showed you how.”

Cecile shrugged. “He taught me almost everything I know.”

They'd gone only a short distance when Daniel woke up. “What's going on here?” he said. He snatched the reins from Cecile and pulled hard to stop the wagon. “Who are you? What're you doing driving my wagon?”

“Uh, Daniel,” said Johanna. “There's been a little … change of plans.”

“I asked you and you'd better answer quick. Who
is
she?” Daniel reached for the jug. “If you're trying to get me into trouble …”

“She's Cecile. My … my friend. She's coming, too.”

“And who says I'll take her?”

“Please, Daniel,” Johanna said.

Daniel looked sideways at the two girls. “What's in it for me? Ain't I taking enough risks already?” He brought the jug to his lips. “Agh! Empty!” He plunked the jug down on the floor under the seat.

Johanna looked hard at Cecile and said, “She'll pay you, too. Right, Cecile?”

“Of course I'll pay,” Cecile said. She looked at Johanna. “How much?”

“You should be asking
me
, not her!” Daniel said, pointing to his chest.

“Sorry. How much, sir?” Cecile said.

“That's more like it.” He paused. “Tell you what. I'll make you a deal. Only ten schillings for you.” He glanced at Johanna. “Less risk. Pay five now, five when we get to Altona.” Cecile counted the schillings into Daniel's hand. He turned towards Johanna. “Now you.”

Johanna put nine schillings into Daniel's hand. She smelled onions, garlic, and some other unidentifiable odour. He stuffed the coins in his pocket.

“Now let's get out of here,” Daniel said.