Miriam and Avi’s baby girl was born on a sunny morning in early March, after Miriam had labored for eighteen hours. A Jewish doctor delivered the baby in their apartment, avoiding the hospital and official records. The moment the doctor placed baby Elisheva in Miriam’s arms, she felt more joy than she ever thought possible —and with it, more fear than she’d ever known. Elisheva was as delicate and perfect as a flower blossom, from her halo of fine, dark hair to her tiny, precious toes. Miriam stroked her soft cheek and kissed her perfect fingers, unable to take her eyes off her. Avi laughed and wept when he held her for the first time. But in his unguarded moments, Miriam caught him looking at their child with a mixture of love and dread and fear. “There is so much more at stake,” he whispered.

Abba had never stopped searching for a way to escape, and when the baby was three months old, a man from the Dutch Resistance came to their apartment after curfew one evening. Miriam had expected an underground freedom fighter to be fierce-looking, but he arrived wearing a business suit and tie and carrying a briefcase. Miriam had been saving every guilder she could spare to pay for their escape and had no coffee or tea to offer him.

“I don’t need anything, thank you,” he said, waving away her apologies. He sat down at their kitchen table and took a book from his bag, carefully removing a delicate map that had been rolled inside the spine. He spread it out on the table. “I can put you in contact with a network that has been very successful in smuggling people into Switzerland, Professor Jacobs, but it’s costly. The money is needed to purchase Dutch and Belgian identity cards that won’t identify you as Jewish. The next step will be to cross the Belgian border —”

“Belgium?” Abba said. “The Nazis occupy Belgium.”

“They do,” he replied. He placed his book on one side of the map to keep it from curling while he traced his finger along the route. “Once across the border, you will be given your Belgian identities and taken to a safe house in Brussels. There you will meet a passeur who knows the route from Belgium, through France, and into Switzerland, avoiding checkpoints and border controls. The passeur’s fees can be very expensive but are well worth the cost if you want to escape. So far they’ve proven very reliable. None of their passengers have been caught.”

“And are Jews accepted in Switzerland?” Avi asked. “I’ve heard that some have been turned away at the border.”

“And I’ve heard that some of the Swiss officials cooperate with the Nazis,” Abba said, “hiding Nazi money and other assets in Swiss banks.”