“We’re not trying to get rid of you,” Professor Huizenga had said when they’d made the decision to contact the Resistance. “But you need a better place to hide, a safer place. The Americans are still a long way from freeing Europe, and you can’t live this way much longer.” He didn’t say it, but the Gestapo raids and the possibility of being discovered were taking a toll on everyone, especially Eloise.

Miriam had just begun playing the theme from Mendelssohn’s violin concerto when she heard the attic door open and footsteps ascending the stairs. “I’m back,” Ans said. “Come downstairs and I’ll tell you and the Huizengas what I’ve learned.”

“Is it good news?” Avi asked as he lifted the sleeping baby.

Ans exhaled. “It’s hard news.”

They gathered in the Huizengas’ bedroom, a frilly, ethereal space that seemed to Miriam like something from a fairy tale. She had slept in a pretty bedroom like this in her grandmother’s house in Cologne. She wondered if Elisheva would ever be able to sleep peacefully in a room of her own. Avi laid the baby on the bed and sat beside her, patting her gently so she wouldn’t wake up. Miriam was too nervous to sit, ready to run at any moment to their attic hideaway.

Eloise sat in a chair by the window, the closed curtains ruffling gently in the warm breeze. She appeared calm today as she waited for Ans to tell them what she’d learned. Her moods seemed to swing wildly up and down, seldom settling in the middle, and she either raced around expending nervous energy and typing reports and editorials, or sat staring at nothing. Her husband and Ans knew how to keep her stable, but Miriam sometimes wondered if the war might drive all of them crazy.

“Tell us what you learned, Ans,” Professor Huizenga said. “We’re all hoping you have good news.” He’d just returned from work and stood beside his wife, his hand caressing her shoulder. He no longer worked at the university. Even after the Nazis reopened it, the faculty and students had chosen to let its doors be closed for good rather than sign the loyalty oaths the Nazis demanded. “It’s the first time Leiden University has closed since its founding in 1575,” he’d told them. The professor’s older brother, a banker, had offered Herman a job rather than allow the Nazis to send him to a work camp.

Ans seemed nervous as she prepared to explain what she’d learned. “The good news is that they’re willing to find a safer hiding place for you. The Resistance will provide false ID cards for you without the J. But I’m sorry to say that the three of you can’t stay together.”

Miriam’s lungs squeezed as if gripped by a giant fist.