Free The Heart Of A Gypsy by Roberta Kagan Page B

insight.”
    “Again, Ion, I thank you with my whole heart.”

C hapter 12
    Late the following evening Ion waited with Christian for the group that was to arrive momentarily.  Christian’s fingers twitched as he held his cigarette.  They stood at the edge of camp, both of their eyes darting about in the darkness nervously, keen and aware of every sound. An owl hooted. The stars twinkled. And the leaves of the trees rustled in the breeze.
    “What did you do before the Nazi’s came into power?” Ion asked
    “Me? I was a student,” Christian replied “My father is a physician.  He regards education very highly. In the other life, the life before the war, I would have also found education to be of the utmost importance, but now…”
    “Yes, now,” Ion sighed, “Now things are very different.”

C hapter 13
    They heard them before they saw them. Although the group of escapees tried to approach in silence, Ion and Christian had trained their ears to every sound. A bush crunched, followed by soft footsteps as the group entered through a small pathway in the forest.
    There were five men a woman. They all seemed to be of middle age. The woman held the hand of a ten-year-old girl who whimpered softly. Christian saw that the child’s shoes were worn, and blood from her feet soaked through the holes in the leather.  Only one of the men carried a suitcase, a black cardboard valise.  He walked up to Ion and gave him the agreed-upon password. Then he handed Ion an envelope filled with money. 
    “It’s all there. I promise you,” the man said, his hands trembling.
    “Very well, then let’s get started,” Ion answered.
    The man nodded as the rest of group looked around nervously.
    “Come,” Ion smiled, “Follow me to camp. You’ll have some food and coffee before we begin our journey. It is important that you eat. We have no idea when you will see food again.”
    They walked silently behind Ion and Christian. And as they did, Christian could not take his mind from the vision of the child’s bleeding feet. He wanted to see if someone in camp had an extra pair of shoes. It would help the little girl make the trek, which would be a difficult hike even with good shoes. If Christian could find some suitable footwear for the child, he would replace them himself as soon as he returned from the mission, even if he must take a risk by going into town to buy them.
    Several of the women were awake. A small, smoldering fire had been carefully placed so as not to be seen by outsiders. A pot hung suspended over the fire, heating strong black coffee. The women gave the group slices of cured meat and raw vegetables. Each of the travelers received a thermos of water for the trip.
    While Christian leaned against a tree, sipping the potent bla ck brew, Ion left. He returned moments later, carrying a Nazi uniform.
    “Put this on. You will certainly look the part with your coloring. That will mean you should have no trouble delivering these people to the Swiss border.”
    Christian nodded, taking the uniform from Ion.
    “We have a stolen Nazi truck for you to use. You are to say that you are delivering them for a special work assignment in a factory in Germany. If anyone asks, it is top secret. The only time you should encounter any questions is at the border. Avoid the patrols, if you can. If not, take this gun, and if you must, shoot to kill.”
    Shmul walked over, carrying the forged papers for each of the refugees. He watched as Christian put the uniform on over his clothes. “It is your choice, Christian. If you are not comfortable, do not feel that you must do this.”
    “But I must,” Christian answered. Then he turned and saw Nadya had awakened. She was sitting cross-legged under a tree.  He smiled at her and felt as if his heart would melt like ice on summer day. She returned his smile, but he saw the worry in her glistening eyes.
    “You are sure?” Shmul asked again.
    “I’ll do it. Someone has to. These people