Chapter Eight
The moon was a mere sliver in the sky, ensuring that they would be shrouded in darkness. Mr. Jones parked the car at the end of the road behind some trees. He was much better at stealth than she could ever attempt to be. She should be thankful for his assistance; however, she still didn’t understand why he’d agreed to help. What was his angle? Did he hope to gain something from her? If so, what? She hoped she hadn’t made a grave error in judgment. He seemed like a good man, but sometimes appearances could be deceiving.
They walked through the trees, using them to cover their movements. Mr. Jones held up his arm, his hand in a fist. Anya stopped and waited for him to explain. “Someone is out there,” he said in a low tone.
“What do we do?” she asked. Her hand shook a little and her stomach had turned into a knot of anxiety. She hadn’t thought this through, clearly. What if they were discovered? What explanation could they possibly have for lurking in the woods outside of the Allendorf estate?
“We wait until they pass,” he answered. “Then we move forward. I don’t believe they’re here for the kids. They may have been hired by the Allendorfs to patrol their grounds. Don’t move until I tell you.”
Anya remained completely still. She didn’t want to die, and if she could help the children and continue to breathe after the night was over, she’d do whatever he deemed necessary to achieve that goal. Several moments passed by that felt as if they were hours. Later, if asked, she’d probably say she lost years off her life. It certainly aged her significantly in a short time. This was nothing like she’d ever experienced, or would. Anya wasn’t nearly as brave as she’d thought. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to the embassy. Deep inside she knew she had to go through with it though. If she gave in to her cowardice, she’d never forgive herself.
Mr. Jones held up his hand and waved it, motioning her forward. “They’re gone. We don’t have a lot of time.” He turned his head and met her gaze in the darkness. She wished she could make out his expression, but the lack of light made it impossible. “Stay close.”
She nodded, unable to speak. Her throat had gone dry and a lump had taken permanent residence there. Anya tried to swallow, but it wouldn’t dislodge itself. No matter. She didn’t need to use her voice anyway. Mr. Jones had taken charge, and she’d gladly follow his lead.
They began moving again. When they reached the edge of the woods, he stopped again and held up his arm in the same fashion. That must have been a signal he’d learned and expected her to understand. She hadn’t. His stillness made her stop, not the gesture he gave her. Anya understood now though. She’d pay close attention to his actions and file them away for the future if she should need them. Not that she planned on doing anything like this again, but one could never be too prepared for what might happen.
“We will go to the back entrance,” he told her. “They will come to the front first. We have a better chance of escape this way.”
“All right,” she agreed. It made sense, and he seemed to have more experience. It would be better to heed his advice. “Lead the way.”
He didn’t say anything to her. Instead, he turned away and started toward the rear of the house. Anya followed close behind. She was glad she’d decided to wear trousers. Doing this in a dress would have been awful. They reached the back, and he stopped again. “Stay here.” They were by an outbuilding used for storage. “Do not come out unless you hear me say it is all right to do so.”
“But…”
“Do not argue with me on this. I’ve humored you through this entire ordeal. I’ll not put you in any more danger if I can help it.” He stood completely still and waited. “Tell me you agree, or we will go back to the embassy now.”
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll wait, but I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her heart fluttered from the affectionate gesture. She liked that he seemed to like her, might even love her; however, she couldn’t ignore the fact he didn’t really know her. He thought she was Anastasia Wegner. Even if she wanted to stay in this time, she couldn’t have an honest relationship with him—could she? She didn’t believe it, so she wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything more than friendship for him. “As long as you are alive, that is all that matters right now.”
If she told him the truth, it might ruin everything. He might never look at her the same whether he believed her or not. That kind of truth isn’t something so easy to accept. She had thought she could tell him the truth, to take a risk, but the more she considered it the more she realized it would be a mistake. It was better she didn’t say anything at all. Sometimes saying nothing was best, and sometimes the truth wasn’t worth telling. There was no relationship to be had with Arthur.
With those words, he turned on his heels and headed to the house. She peeked around the outbuilding and kept her focus on his movements. Her heart thudded heavily, and the beats echoed through her ears. He’d be all right. There was no reason to worry. At least she prayed it would all turn out as it should.
He reached the door, lifted his hand, and knocked on it she assumed. No one came to answer it, so he repeated the action. After several seconds, the door opened. A small woman with short hair stood on the other side. Mr. Jones waved his hands and Anya presumed he was telling her what the issue was. The older woman lifted her hand to her chest and her mouth fell open, then she shooed him inside with a wave of her hand. The door quickly closed behind them.
Anya was alone in the darkness. All she could do was stay behind the outbuilding and hope it all went well. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to Mr. Jones, the children, or the Allendorfs. She sank to the ground and leaned her head against the building.
She was a mess, and she had created one with her actions. Anya closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe. A breath in, one out, and after several times repeating that action, she calmed. Mr. Jones would succeed. She refused to believe anything else.
* * *
Anya didn’t knowhow much more waiting she could take. It seemed as if she had been sitting alone for days. The sky had started to lighten a little, and that was not a good sign. Where were they? Edward Wegner had been surprisingly informed about the situation. That was how they had learned about the children. Two to be exact: a boy and a girl, both under ten years old. Edward had stated the girl was seven and the boy was eight, siblings parted from their parents who were already in concentration camps. Separated of course. The camps were not nice places that kept morale up by keeping families together.
She peeked around the side and stared at the door, willing it to open. Why had they not come out yet? Should she go knock on the door? Would Mr. Jones be angry with her if she did? He’d told her to remain there until he returned…but what if he never did? What should she do then? She could go back to the car and return to the embassy, but it might already be too late to do that. Ida would be rising soon and then would come to her bedchamber to wake her for the day. Once she realized Anya was gone, she’d raise the alarm. Anya had no choice. She had to wait and see this through, no matter the eventual outcome.
The door cracked open, and the old woman stood there. She glanced around the back yard then widened the space to step outside. She turned toward the entrance and motioned for someone to come out. Mr. Jones stepped out with the two children, both dark-haired and scrawny and had nothing but the clothes on their backs. How could anyone believe those two waifs were dangerous? They didn’t mean anyone harm. None of the Jews had. She’d change the entire Holocaust if she could. The tragedies that would follow Hitler’s reign would be remembered forever. No one would forget what he’d done in the name of his crusade to rid the world of the Jewish population. The genocide that would be known around the world for years and years…
Mr. Jones led the children over to the outbuilding. When they reached her, he held out his hand to help her to her feet. “We need to run. They’ll be here to search the house soon.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She rushed behind him and the children; they went into the woods. The fast pace they kept made it difficult to avoid tree branches. Several swung back and hit her face, leaving stinging pain in their wake. She ignored them and kept moving. She could endure some minor pain if it meant these children would remain safe.
When they reached the car, her heart beat in a rapid staccato. She might not survive after all if she couldn’t calm down. Mr. Jones went to the trunk and opened it. “I know it won’t be comfortable,” he told the children. “Remember what we discussed?”
“Stay under the blanket and remain silent,” the boy said. “We understand.” The little girl trembled, and her brother wound his arm around her to comfort her. “Don’t worry, Johanna. I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know you’ll try, Oskar,” she said softly. Her lips shaking as she spoke. “But even you can’t promise that.”
