“Mrs. Werner?” she called to the woman.
The plump lady came around the corner with a large pot in hand. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Do you still have the vegetable soup simmering?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She looked puzzled.
“I know it’s early, but we have some guests that need food. Could we perhaps get bowls of soup along with some bread? Let’s start with small pieces and a small bowl since I don’t know when they last ate. I’m sure we will still be down for luncheon if their stomachs can tolerate that.”
“Of course. I’ll bring it out straightaway.”
“Thank you.” Celestia left the kitchen and headed back to the dining room where the father was speaking to Grafton about the work camps. Not a pleasant subject. She walked up to the mother. “Some soup will be here in just a moment. Then we can get you settled and we can come back down for luncheon.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The woman’s gaunt face beamed a smile at her. “That sounds lovely.”
Celestia took her seat and caught the doctor’s gaze.
But it was the father who spoke, his voice cracking. “You need to know this. Hear me well. The work camps are death camps.”
His mouth twisted into a hard line for a moment before he spoke again. “The more power Hitler gains, the faster he will implement his plan and come after us all. It won’t take the Führer long to kill every single Jew left on the earth. That is his plan. Don’t fool yourself into thinking anything different. It doesn’t matter how far we run. He will hunt us down. There is no hope for us.”
Such weariness, such pain in his eyes. Celestia fought back the urge to weep as the man shook his head.
“No hope for anyone”—he caught and held Celestia’s gaze—“who defies this devil.”
chapter
Thirteen
Amsterdam, Netherlands—Monday, August 1, 1938
Chaisley walked through the foyer of her grandmother’s large manor house and into the dining room. The laughter and conversations around the table had turned into joyous times for most everyone at the manor.
A sweet blessing in the midst of such adversity.
Now, if only they could reach Klaus.
The father’s bitterness and despair had lessened a fraction seeing his family cared for, fed, and happy. But he always left the room when anyone dared to be positive in the midst of their circumstances. He just couldn’t see any hope.
So she, Mel, and her grandmother had started praying for the man three times a day. Just him. For several minutes, they would meet in private and pray for God to reach his heart, soften it, and show him that there was still life. Still joy.
Listening to all the voices now, Chaisley navigated her way to her seat at the table so she could be surrounded by the joyous chatter.
Grandmother insisted that every guest take great care to leavethe furniture where it was, to pick up after themselves, and to keep an eye out for anything dropped on the floor that could pose a hazard to any of the blind people inhabiting the house.
For the most part, it worked wonders. But whenever there were small children about, there was a chance for a stray toy or shoe here and there.
Caution was her new best friend as she roamed the house. More often than not now, she ended up carrying her foldable cane.
Grandmother kept her up-to-date on all the guests. They prayed for each one daily in the early morning hours before anyone else awoke.
As she left the dining room and made her way to the sunroom, her heart cinched. Grabbing onto the joy of these moments kept them going, yes. But the other conversations and the reality of what she’d experienced and heard made the time difficult. The sorrow and fear she heard in their guests’ voices were forever engraved on her heart.
There was no escaping or covering the horrors for even the children any longer. The truth was better for all of them to be prepared.
The rumblings that Hitler wanted Czechoslovakia couldn’t be ignored.
Every day she prayed for leaders around the world to stop the insanity.
