Free For Such a Time by Kate Breslin Page A

so much like Hadassah.”
    “But you’ll get . . . your chance to see her, won’t you?” Leo spoke up. “Yaakov said because you are Elder of the Judenrat , you are invited to a welcoming party for the new commandant at the end of the month, ja?”
    “ Invited , Yaakov?” Morty shot a withered look at his stocky friend. “As Elder, my only obligation is to organize the musicians for the party. A guard will escort them to the house. I doubt I’ll even be allowed outside the ghetto walls.”
    “Too bad. Joseph could smuggle you some of that delicious food they’ll be serving.” The Czech looked wistful. “He is a clever one, that boy. Sometimes too clever—like that dangerous game he plays with you sending secret messages back and forth.”
    Morty’s cheeks flushed. Even though Joseph had devised the plan, Morty found himself too starved for news from the outside to object. As for danger, well . . .
    One risked death by simply existing in this place.
    “Ech! What’s the use of talking to you?” Yaakov said in exasperation. “Stop thinking so much.” He smiled then, displaying a row of widely spaced teeth. “I’m sure your maideleh is safe. Probably tucked away in some warm, safe place with a full belly and a happier disposition than the three of us.”
    Like the woman in the brick house? Morty forced a smile. “You’re probably right.”
    He breathed the chill air, feeling it sear his lungs as he bent to dig out potatoes. His thoughts returned to Mannheim. The Nazis had appeared without warning. They herded his people into a part of town that formed a shtetl , a ghetto separating Jews from the rest of the Gentile community. Hadassah had gone to work in Heidelberg that morning. He hadn’t seen her again. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Years? He struggled to remember.
    “Hand me those potatoes, Morty. I’ll . . . carry them,” Leo called out.
    Morty stared at the ground. He’d unearthed ten of the little jewels. His numbed fingers managed to grasp them and toss them one by one into Leo’s aproned shirt. The rankness of the wrinkled, wet skins filled his nostrils, but he didn’t care. Any addition to their daily ration of watery gruel would be an improvement.
    Food had been scarce in the shtetl as well, and housing cramped—as many as fifteen people stuffed into a single room.
    A luxury compared to what he had now.
    He scrambled to his feet. “Let’s get these to Mrs. Brenner.” Snagging Leo’s pick, Morty led the way past the guardhouse toward the main gate of the fortress . . . and back into their world of hopeless existence. He turned and cast a last glance at the brick house. A heavy sigh rose in him. I do not doubt your message, God. But I do wonder when . . .
    He told himself to be patient. Many events in the vision had already taken place. Yaakov was right. Hadassah was alive. With her false identification papers, she must have escaped.
    A sudden calm settled over him. The prophecy would be fulfilled.
    She would be their salvation.

 6 
    Then on the thirteenth day of the first month the royal secretaries were summoned.
    Esther 3:12
    M ONDAY , F EBRUARY 21, 1944
    D eath lists.
    A chill swept through Stella as she scanned the papers in her hand. She’d been impatient after her week of mandated bed rest and arrived at the library that morning sharply at eight for her first day of work. Nervously anticipating her employer’s summons, she’d removed the gray cloth cover from the typewriter, then sorted through a mound of folders on top of the green filing cabinet beside her desk.
    Stella spied one folder marked FINAL SOLUTION , along with a terse note to re-file it. Peering inside, she found scores of pages with names, presumably those of prisoners inside Theresienstadt. Typed headers ran the length of each sheet:
    Name     Prisoner Identification     Arrival     Departure
    Arrival dates varied for each name, but the same departure dates continued for