Amsterdam—Tuesday, April 19, 1938
Celestia was certain that the last letter she’d received from Chaisley had been opened before it was delivered here. The edges had the appearance of being steamed.
Since it came from Austria, and since the Anschluss where Nazi Germany took control of the country, she was convinced they were checking people’s mail. She couldn’t prove it, but what other explanation could there be?
Tensions among the network ran high. Much higher the last week.
The question was, could anyone read the original braille code they were using to communicate?
Was Chaisley able to come up with a new code? Perhaps she’ddiscovered an even more obscure form of braille they could use. Celestia couldn’t remember how many there were—but hopefully they’d have something soon.
She sat at her desk with her braille slate, ready to compose a letter to her granddaughter, but the words would not come. How could she let her granddaughter know it was time for a new way to communicate and not arouse suspicion? Her fingers brushed the slate, the bumps now so familiar to her touch, but her mind would not settle. If Chaisley had finished whatever she was working on, how could they all learn it if they weren’t together in the same place? She’d have to send a telegram to Grafton.
Since he was always on the move, he could go to Chaisley and then bring word to her.
As she stared out the window at the beautiful gardens beginning to bloom, a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.
Chaisley used to love to go into the gardens with her back in England. Back when she could see and her childlike excitement over every color and shape of flower excited her.
Now that same excitement was evident in every note Chaisley composed. Every concert. Grafton had been right, and Celestia was not too proud to admit it.
Her granddaughter had needed the freedom to be a child again. To laugh and play and live her life. What would Chaisley’s life have become had Celestia fully given over to her fear? She shivered. It didn’t bear thinking about.
God carried them all through the tragedy of loss and made it something beautiful. Each of them, not just Chaisley, but Grafton, Melanie... even she had been given fresh purpose.
And now He was doing it again. But this time on a bigger scale.
It seemed every newspaper in the world now wanted to talk about the world’s greatest pianist, who was blind. Some were probably wanting something positive to talk about rather than the depressing facts of the economy or the slow recovery of thewar-torn continent of Europe. Others, no doubt, wanted to stir up controversy. One even mentioned that it had been a lie for her to perform all these years and not let her audiences know.
Why would people care? Wouldn’t they be even more mesmerized by her skill and talent now that they knew? Celestia shook her head. What a sad world they lived in.
She glanced back down at the paper, slate, and punch tool. Writing in braille was tedious. Everything had to be punched precisely and written from right to left so that the raised dots would be in the correct order when the paper was flipped over for the recipient to read it. Whatever code Chaisley concocted was surely even more intricate.
So the practice was good for her.
Hitler was on the move. Celestia’s gut told her he wouldn’t be satisfied with just Austria. And since so many in Austria had celebrated the annexation, his confidence was probably bolstered even higher.
Thousands of Jewish refugees had made it into Holland and all of the Netherlands since 1933 and Hitler coming to power. It was no secret he wanted Poland, Czechoslovakia, the Netherlands, and Belgium. That was just to start. Which meant all the Jews and other refugees who weren’t of the Nazis’ master race and had fled Germany would now also be at risk.
It was already difficult to find countries that could take more refugees. Visas were hard to come by unless you knew someone in the government and it still wasn’t easy. While the Netherlands had allowed many in, they also encouraged the refugees to go to a country much farther away.
People knew. They could feel it. Those against the Jews were spreading hatred and it was growing.
Now that six hidden rooms capable of housing ten people apiece were built in here at the manor, she had been gathering supplies, a little at a time.
It was time to let Chaisley know. Everything. In case something happened to her, or if the war didn’t come until after she had leftthis earth for her heavenly home. Someone would need to be here, someone who knew how to help. The access to the rooms must be kept secret. Even her most trusted staff didn’t know how to get into them. Celestia was the only one who knew how to find and open the hidden doors. That information had to be safeguarded.
Chaisley could handle it. She’d seen the determination in her granddaughter’s features.
Time was short.
Knock! Knock!
The door to her sitting room was locked so Celestia rose from her chair and went to answer it.
The look on her butler’s face was pure agony. “Mrs. Frappier, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but there’s a family from Berlin at the gate requesting assistance. They said Dr. Grafton sent them.”
She exited her room and locked the door. “Take me to them, Bastiaan. Have they told you anything?”
