Held nodded, put on his hat, and walked quickly toward the main door.
Out on the street, the morning chill had returned to herald the evening. Pulling his hat down farther on his head, he moved mutely through the streets on a well-worn route toward home. After picking up his evening groceries, he turned into Staalstraat, where a commotion of angry, volatile voices confronted him. A young couple were having an altercation with a German officer. People everywhere stopped, watching from a safe distance. Helpless despair hung in the air as thick as the blanket of cold around them. Held noted people’s faces—the shock and the horror, but also the fear, as if any of them could be next.
The soldier was yelling something about identiteitsdocumenten and the young woman started to cry, pleading she was on the way to the doctor and just forgot to pick them up. Held turned and kept moving, keeping his head down, deliberately looking in the opposite direction as the woman started to scream. He assured himself this would all be over soon. It had to be. He picked up his pace as he turned into his street. Still able to hear the echoes of the Jewish woman screaming, he tightened his scarf around his ears to block it out.
He pulled out a key as he reached the stone steps that led to the simple brown door of his three-story house. Behind him, the sound of two soldiers marching encouraged him to unbolt the lock and step inside without hesitation.
Putting down his satchel and small cloth shopping bag, he turned on the light. It illuminated a life that was neat and functional but devoid of warmth. A young gray cat raced up the hall to meet him, meowing incessantly. Held came to life. “Hello, Kat, I brought you a little something from the market. How was your day? Mine was interesting.”
Following Held up the hallway and into the kitchen, Kat watched intently as he put out scraps of fish in a bowl and then made himself a cup of tea.
He looked at the clock on his kitchen wall. “It is almost time,” he informed Kat. “I wonder what it is going to be tonight.”
Above the sink in his kitchen, he unlatched the heavy shutters and opened the windows wide. Methodically, he began his nightly ritual. First, he carefully arranged a chair to face toward the window, then he sat, added a plain woolen blanket to his knee and, with tea in hand, waited expectantly.
The cat jumped up into his lap. The last weak rays of evening light illuminated the darkness and streamed across his face. All at once, the awaited event began. Delightful piano music from next door danced through the window.
He educated Kat as he stroked his lean body. “Ah, Chopin, one of the nocturnes.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Chapter 2
Michael gazed down at Elke; her eyes were closed and her soft brown lashes still. Her long, chestnut hair, ends damp with perspiration, lay heavy upon her chest, masking her bare breasts. He leaned down and kissed her lips. As he pulled away, dragging the sheets to just under her chin, she moaned.
“No more, Michael, I’m tired.”
Moving his hands below the sheets, he started to stroke the length of her body with just the tips of his fingers.
“Stop.” Her eyes flashed, confrontational. “Don’t you know there is a war on? We should conserve our energy.”
Michael lifted himself gently on top of her, enjoying the feel and weight of their naked bodies pressed together as he whispered into her hair, “That is exactly why we should be making love. Who knows how long we have left.”
Playfully, she pushed him off her and returned the sheet close to her chest. She sat up and ran her hand through her messy hair. “Do you want some coffee?”
Michael sighed, rolled onto his back, and nodded. “If that’s the best you can offer.”
Giggling, she jumped up, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it around herself toga-style, leaving him naked on the bed.
As she moved toward the front of her houseboat, she looked back at him stretched out the length of the bed, as he pretended not to care he was naked and sheet-less.
“I am just going to lie here until you are overcome by my incredible body and beg me to make love to you again,” he informed her.
She shook her head before moving to the kitchen to make coffee and, standing waiting for the kettle to boil, looked over at her latest painting—an unfinished vase of sunflowers she’d been working on—with a self-critical eye. Michael noticed her shiver, her body reacting to a night that had descended into bitter cold again. When he heard the kettle boiling, he stood and dressed himself in her orange robe that he had found on the back of the bedroom door. He grabbed the book of poetry, the one Professor Held had given him, from the nightstand and joined her in the small galley kitchen.
Elke smiled at his ensemble, but her look changed to concern as she noted what he was carrying. “You should be careful. You know you’re not supposed to have books.”
Michael puffed out his cheeks as he flicked through the pages. “Let them try and take it from me. They can take away my freedom, but they can’t suppress my thoughts or mind. I refuse to give them either of those.”
Worry crept into her tone. “What will you do now though? These new laws are saying you can’t go out after 9 p.m., read books, study…’
Michael shut the book thoughtfully. “I haven’t given it much consideration, but maybe I’ll stay here, write poetry, and cook food for you all day. Imagine the sheer luxury of hiding away writing poems day after day.”
“No, seriously. Have you thought of leaving? I’m not sure how difficult it would be, but maybe you need to try.”
“And go where? I am Jewish. And even though I haven’t practiced my faith since my grandmother’s death, still that’s how our new German guests see me. There is no place for me right now. Besides, I would never leave my beloved Amsterdam, nor you.”
She smiled and interlocked her fingers with his. “This is the first time I have really heard you talk about your faith. Does it worry you that I am not Jewish?”
He looked at her with surprise. “I barely feel Jewish myself. Yes, it is my race. And yes, when I was young I went to the synagogue. And I suppose I liked the way the Rabbi recited the Torah, but I stopped believing in God, when He took all of my family from me.” He found it hard to keep the pain from his voice as he continued. “As you know, my father was in the Great War, so it wasn’t exactly a shock when he died because of his injuries, but when my mother was struck down with tuberculosis a year later and I had to watch her fight for her every breath, and my grandmother died just weeks after, I knew I could never believe in a just and kind God again. Even less so as this war goes on, and my people are persecuted.”
His voice petered out, with the emotion it still aroused in him, as once again he felt the isolation and loneliness that he’d experienced when he’d lost all of his family before the start of the war.
“You will always have me,” Elke whispered. “And if our relationship progressed to something more…’—she blushed slightly—“permanent, then I would be willing to convert if you wanted me to.”
“More permanent,” he repeated with a tone of mock surprise, as he reached forward to take her in his arms. “That sounds rather lovely. Though I would be surprised if there is a Rabbi left to marry us. I think they’ve all already gone into hiding.” He leaned forward and brushed her chilled lips with a kiss. “Don’t worry so much. This thing has to end soon, and in the meantime, we will continue to fight hate with love.”