Free Wildflowers of Terezin by Robert Elmer Page A

without ducking his head in shame. He accepted Hedtoft's strong handshake, and he could already sense the Danish politician's mind moving ahead.
    "I'll pass the word along immediately," said Hedtoft, still pumping his hand. "Henriques will want to know; he's the head of their community. And Dr. Marcus Melchior, the acting chief rabbi at the Krystalgade Synagogue."
    "Whatever is appropriate. I leave it up to you."
    Duckwitz nodded as his mind drifted to schnitzel und spätzle.
    "I can't tell you how much we appreciate what you've done."
    Hedtoft understood what the information might cost.
    "I'd best be going," Duckwitz answered, finally turning away."My wife is holding dinner for me."
    "Yes, of course." As they parted ways Hedtoft flashed one of the warm smiles that helped make him one of the most popular Danish leaders in the city. "But if anyone asks . . ."
    He paused as Duckwitz looked back over his shoulder.
    "I will have absolutely no recollection of this conversation."
     

10
    KRYSTALGADE SYNAGOGUE, KØBENHAVN
    WEDNESDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER 1943
     
    There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice,
    but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.
—ELIE WIESEL
     
     
    S o you're feeling a little guilty, are you?"
    Hanne's mother held on to her arm as they walked down Krystalgade toward the synagogue for the Wednesday morning service. But what kind of a question was that?
    "Mor! I'm not coming to the service because I'm feeling guilty. I'm coming to the service because I have today off, and because you asked me."
    "Anything else? What about the start of Rosh Hashanah tonight?"
    "Well, sure. And I want to be here with you."
    "Of course you do." Mrs. Abrahamsen clutched a small black leather purse in her left hand. "You haven't been to Sabbath services in two months, and now on the Day of Judgment, when the destiny of all mankind is recorded on the Maker's Book of Life, now you come."
    "Mor, you are far too dramatic." Hanne tried to keep it light as she smiled. "And it's only been a few weeks."
    "You think blowing the shofar is too dramatic? You think the New Year's meal is too dramatic? I think you could use a little more drama in your life, maybe. A child or two, perhaps."
     

     
    There. Hanne knew her mother would be slipping it in, sooner or later. And she tried not to roll her eyes.
    "Please don't start with the children thing again."
    "Why not? A mother has a right to express her opinion, does she not?"
    "Not if it makes you sound like . . ." Hanne searched for words.
    "Watch your tongue."
    "I am, believe me. But you should hear yourself. The typical Jewish mother, pressuring her daughter to have children.Sometimes it's just too much for me to believe."
    "I say the same thing. Sometimes it's just too much for me to believe."
    "All right, fine." Hanne waved her free hand for emphasis as they neared the synagogue, less than a block away. "How about this: How about if I go out and get pregnant next month. Tell me if you want a boy or a girl. I'll have both.Then will you be satisfied?"
    Hanne's mother stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at her taller daughter, and waved a warning finger.
    "I don't like the way you joke," she told her.
    But Hanne couldn't help smiling back.
    "I'm sorry, Mor. It's just that you're always bringing it up, and I don't know what else to say."
    They started walking again.
    "Don't say anything, just do. You know that Aron would marry you in a minute."
    Hanne sighed and pressed her lips together. Her mother was right about that much. Problem was . . . she didn't know what the problem was. Or if there was one. Who would be a better match than the son of her deceased father's best friend? And in a moment her mother would begin reminding her all over again why she should marry Aron Overgaard, and as soon as possible.
     

     
    "He has money, you know, and plenty of it. So he needs a little fattening up? That's not hard to do. What's the problem? I thought you