Hiding Edith (3 page)

“There is no time to lose,” said Papa, after he recounted
the incident to Edith’s mother. “I say we pack now and leave. This instant.”

“But how can we leave everything behind?” Mutti cried. “Our home, your business — it’s impossible!”

“It’s necessary,” Papa urged. “Jewish families have been taken out of their homes. And who knows what has become of them.” Papa moved closer to his wife. “We could have been arrested today, Magdalena. Edith and I are here only because Ernst recognized me. What good is my business if I’m in prison? What good is our house if we’re not together as a family? We need to get out of here.”

Edith stood in the hallway next to her sister, Therese, listening to their parents talking. “Are we really leaving here, Therese?” whispered Edith.

Therese placed her arm protectively around Edith’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Edith,” she replied, trying to sound confident. “Everything will be fine.” Even though she was three years older than Edith, Therese looked very small and unsure.

Mutti appeared from the living room. “Come, girls,” she said. “You heard your father. We have an adventure ahead of us. There is a lot to do and very little time.”

Within two hours, Mutti had gathered clothing and food into small bags. Large suitcases would draw attention on the street. Edith and Therese helped, collecting their skirts, blouses, and sweaters for Mutti to pack. They moved quickly, barely speaking. Lunch was all but forgotten. The hunger pangs in Edith’s stomach had disappeared, replaced with uncertainty and sadness.

Finally, they were ready. “Choose one thing from your room to take with you, Edith,” Mutti said.

One thing,
thought Edith, as she looked around her room for the last time.
One thing out of all my beautiful toys, books, and dresses.
She finally settled on a small doll she had had since she was born, a gift from her favorite uncle, David. The doll’s name was Sophie. Her clothes were old and worn in places, and over the years, she had lost most of her hair; but she was still Edith’s most special treasure.

The beautiful spring day had turned ugly, and Edith’s heart felt cold and empty. She clutched Sophie tightly as the family walked away from their home, not knowing when or if they would ever return.

Edith and her family

The pounding on the door startled Edith out of her deep sleep. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and snuggled closer to Therese on the pullout couch they shared. Maybe the banging was just part of her dream. But seconds later, the pounding returned.

“Open the door,” an angry voice barked.

This was no dream. Papa was at the door in a moment, clutching his housecoat around his pajamas and running a nervous hand through his tousled hair.

Mutti stood close behind him. “Don’t answer,” she whispered. But Papa took a deep breath and opened the door.

Three Belgian policemen in uniform entered the tiny apartment. Two carried guns. The third moved within inches of Papa. “Chaim Schwalb?” he demanded.

“Yes,” replied Papa calmly. Even in the face of this obvious danger, Papa would not show fear.

Edith sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, only to see Papa standing nose to nose with the police officer. “What is it you want, sir?” Papa was asking politely.

Edith’s parents, Magdalena and Chaim Schwalb

“You’re under arrest,” the policeman barked. “We’re taking all male Jews in for questioning.” He spat the word
Jews
as if it was poison. “Five minutes to dress.”

Papa nodded. It was almost as if he had been expecting this. He guided Mutti into the one small bedroom at the back of the apartment. Edith and Therese quickly followed and closed the door behind them.

“Don’t worry,” Papa said. “I’m sure this is nothing. I’ll be back home soon.” But he grabbed several sweaters, pulling them on one over the other as if he expected to be away for some time and wanted to make sure he could keep warm.

“We should have left,” whispered Mutti. “When Hitler invaded Belgium, we should have known it would only be a matter of time before the soldiers came looking for Jews. It’s just like Austria.”

Edith squeezed her hands against her ears. She did not want to hear this. She did not want to feel so afraid again. The last time she had felt this fear was when her family had fled Vienna. It had taken more than a week for them to reach the Belgian border, a frantic journey of cars, trucks, and never-ending walks, mostly at night. They traveled mainly through the forest, venturing out onto roads to catch a ride with a passing farmer only when Papa knew it was safe. He always kept watch. Were they being followed? Did anyone suspect they were a Jewish family?

How did Papa know where to go and whom to trust?
Edith never asked but watched silently as Papa would hand money to strange men, who then pointed in a vague direction. He would nod and the family would move on, Edith’s jacket clunking against her hip with each step. Before leaving Vienna, Mutti had sewn a small bag into the jacket lining. She had put all their money in it, adding her pearl necklace, ruby ring, ivory brooch, and a few silver spoons. “We’ll need money to live on, so take care of the jacket, Edith,” Mutti had warned.

Mostly the family slept in deserted farm buildings during the day, emerging only after dark to continue their journey. But one day, Papa had not been able to find anywhere safe to sleep. The sun was already climbing in the sky: they had no choice but to ask for shelter. Edith and the others peered out from the woods as Papa knocked on the door of a small cottage, removed his hat, and spoke with the farmer. Then he motioned to Mutti. Wordlessly she reached inside Edith’s jacket lining and gently pulled out the pearl necklace. Papa handed the necklace to the farmer, who motioned to the barn, then closed the door of the cottage. Carrying the family’s valuables was a huge responsibility, which made Edith both proud and terrified.

As frightened as Edith felt during their journey, she had trusted Papa to keep the family safe. And he had. Until now. But as she watched her father gather a few belongings for prison, she felt a new, overwhelming fear. Edith glanced over at Therese, who was holding Gaston, her baby brother, born shortly after her family arrived in Brussels. Even he seemed to understand the gravity of their situation — his eyes were two round moons, his tiny hands clenched in tight fists.

“Hurry up, Jew!” The soldier called out. Mutti ran into the kitchen, grabbed some bread and salami, and pushed it into Papa’s hands. “Take this. You must keep your strength up,” she said. “I’ll get you out, I promise.” The soldiers laughed and pushed Papa out the door in front of them.

In the apartment, no one moved. Edith struggled to breathe. What was happening? Brussels was teeming with Jewish families like Edith’s. It was supposed to be safe here. Life was supposed to be normal. And it had been. Edith and Therese had gone to school. Papa had found a job taking photographs of families for special occasions. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough to buy food and cover the rent on their small apartment. Mutti, Papa, and Gaston slept in the tiny bedroom. Edith shared the pullout couch in the front room with Therese. They had all slept soundly — until the Nazis invaded Belgium, too. Then no Jews slept peacefully, and even Edith knew her family was once again in danger.

Mutti was running around the apartment, dressing and gathering more articles of clothing for Papa. Finally she reached under the couch mattress and pulled out a small bundle of money. When they moved into the apartment, the little bag of valuables had been taken out of the lining of Edith’s jacket. “Now you don’t need to carry it, Edith.” Papa had said with a chuckle. “Now you can sleep on it!”

Mutti shoved the money into her purse. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“What are you are going to do?” asked Therese.

Mutti shook her head. “I don’t know, but money talks. I’ll buy Papa’s freedom.” Her face had a determined expression. She kissed the children on the tops of their heads. The touch of her fingers lingered on Edith’s cheeks. “Stay together, and stay inside,” she said. “Therese, you’re in charge.” Then Mutti opened the door and left the apartment.

Edith, her parents, Therese, and Gaston in Belgium, 1940

“What’s going to happen, Therese?” Edith asked.

“Everything will be fine. Mutti is very clever. She will be able to do something.” Therese was eleven, almost grown up, so she should know, thought Edith. But Therese had become so quiet in the past two years, so serious and withdrawn, that Edith was not sure that Mutti was going to be able to help Papa.

Edith planted herself by the door, listening for familiar steps on the staircase. “Come, Edith,” pleaded Therese. “I’ll make tea and
we can read together.” But Edith shook her head. When she finally heard the sound of the front door opening, Edith threw open the door and rushed into the hallway. It was Mutti — but she was alone.

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” Mutti announced. “We’ll talk no more about it.”

Edith tossed and turned for hours that night. When she finally drifted into sleep, she dreamed that her family was walking through the forest again. “Hurry up, Edith,” Papa called through the dark night.

Those walks had felt endless, trudging through the forest and trying to keep up. Edith’s jacket had bumped and banged against her legs in rhythm with her footsteps. “Papa, I’m so tired. My legs are aching,” she had whimpered. Finally, when she felt she couldn’t go another step, Papa had lifted her high onto his shoulders. She had clasped her hands under her father’s chin and rested her cheek on his head.

Suddenly her dream changed. She was still in the forest, but now Nazi soldiers were closing in on the family. “Run, Edith!” Papa’s voice was harsh and urgent. Her small legs throbbed, and her lungs felt as if they would explode. Papa dropped back between the family and the soldiers, pushing his family ahead in front of him. Edith turned to look back, but her father was nowhere in sight.
Papa! Papa!

Edith sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat clung to her forehead, and her heart was pounding. Had she screamed out? She couldn’t have — there was Therese, still sleeping. Yet the dream had felt so
real! Papa had disappeared, and Edith had been alone. She took a deep breath. The dream was only a dream. Papa would come back. They must just wait. She had to believe that.

The family rose early in the morning, dressed, and ate a silent breakfast. Then Mutti left the apartment; Therese was to look after Edith and Gaston. Edith read with her sister and played quietly with Gaston, always anxiously watching the door, praying that when Mutti came home, Papa would be with her.

On the third day, Edith’s prayers were answered.

“Papa!” Edith screamed, throwing herself into her father’s arms. He reached down to hug the children. He was pale and tired.

“What happened to you, Papa?” demanded Edith. “Did the soldiers hurt you? Mutti, how did you get Papa out?” Her father just shook his head.

All Mutti would say was “I told you money talks. It’s a good thing you kept ours safe, Edith.”

Edith beamed, but her excitement did not last long. Papa gratefully accepted the tea that Therese handed him, and then announced, “We must leave Belgium. We’ll go tomorrow.”