“Don’t worry,” Else said quietly. “They aren’t there.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Fru Riber’s a stikker, informing on her fellow Danes.” Dorthe scowled at the closed door. “I’m looking for a new apartment first thing tomorrow.”
“Me too,” Annika said. “When the laws of man break the laws of human decency, you’re honor bound to break them.”
“I agree. Good night, ladies.” Hemming backed toward the stairway and gave Else a slight tip of his chin, asking her to follow him.
After the women returned to their room, Else tiptoed out to the landing.
Hemming leaned close, with his lips to her ear. “I speak German.”
“That’s right.” Else felt woozy at his nearness.
“At the door, the German reprimanded the Dane, reminding him the Gestapo had ordered the security policenotto break down doors or force their way into homes.”
Else pulled back to look him in the eye. “TheGestapoordered that?”
He put his finger to his lips, then leaned close. “When the traitor tore apart your room, the German reminded him they were ordered not to loot or cause damage.”
That didn’t sound like the Gestapo, and she gave Hemming a puzzled look.
He gazed up toward Fru Riber’s floor. “Regardless, they came. They came to arrest and deport.”
They had, and Else closed her eyes. “Lord, keep them safe.”
VEDBÆK
SATURDAY, OCTOBER2, 1943
Henrik yawned and scratched his beard as he climbed the stairs at Lyd-af-Lys after his nap.
Two boys ran down the upstairs hall, and sounds of conversation and crying babies filled the house.
In the hall, Else walked away from him with a toddler on her hip, those hips swaying as she bounced the child.
“What a pretty picture,” he said.
Else turned with a radiant smile. “Awake, I see.”
“Barely.” He met her halfway and restrained himself from greeting her with a kiss.
She scooted the tyke higher on her hip. “His mama needed a nap.”
“I can imagine.” Henrik ruffled the boy’s dark curls with his hand.
The little fellow stared at him and reached for Henrik’s beard.
He chuckled and backed out of danger.
“He’s the most precious child,” Else said. With her grandparents’ home full of refugees, Else was camping in the Berends’ room. Since Fru Riber expected Else to leave each weekend anyway, Else hadn’t needed to manufacture an excuse.
Else and Henrik needed to find new places to live, away from their traitorous landlady. But not until the crisis was over. They had more pressing matters.
“How could anyone want to send him away to—” Else’s voice broke, and she burrowed her face into the child’s curls.
“I don’t know.” Henrik’s voice came out rough. How indeedcould anyone send children to the horrors of a concentration camp? “He’s safe, Else.”
