Eloise frowned as if the question had made her angry, then closed her eyes. “How did you know I was thinking of them today?”

“I didn’t. I-I —”

“My parents were good Catholics. They believed in God and in prayer. I used to think, A lot of good it did them! They lost everything, including their lives. But I’m starting to see that they didn’t lose their lives —they gave them away. You’ve been doing the same thing, Ans. And I want to do it too.”

“I’m not brave, Eloise. I couldn’t carry documents that could get me killed if God didn’t give me the strength I need.”

“I pray for you every time you go out.”

Ans stared at Eloise in astonishment. “You do? I thought . . .”

“That I didn’t believe in prayer?”

Ans nodded, remembering Eloise’s cynical comments about prayer during the Nazi invasion. “Let’s just say I’ve come to believe that prayer can’t hurt,” she said with a smile. “After all, I have you and Miriam and Avi and their baby to pray for, don’t I?”

Tears filled Ans’s eyes as she drew Eloise into her arms.

CHAPTER 38

JUNE 1943

Miriam sat at the Ver Beeks’ kitchen table, listening as Mr. Ver Beek read from the Psalms as he did every night after dinner. She remembered Avi reading this same psalm to her in their attic hiding place. “. . . hide me in the shadow of your wings from the wicked who are out to destroy me, from my mortal enemies who surround me. . . .” If she closed her eyes, Miriam could almost hear Avi’s deep voice and feel Elisheva nestled in her arms. She wanted to remember and hold them close in her heart for just a brief moment, yet she wanted Mr. Ver Beek to stop. It hurt too much to remember. She feared the pain would kill her when she opened her eyes again and her loved ones were no longer there. After nearly a year, the pain was as fresh as it had been the first day.

The knock on the back door startled everyone. Miriam’s instincts screamed, Run! Hide! But she couldn’t move. Mrs. Ver Beek sprang to her feet, her hand clutching her heart. She was always anxious when someone came to the door, but the look of horror on her face seemed more intense than usual. Miriam followed her gaze to the kitchen door and saw why. She and Mrs. Ver Beek had washed the kitchen curtains earlier that day, and they hadn’t dried in time to rehang them. Miriam had been so careful to stay away from the windows when she’d first arrived, but in the months since then, they had all become careless. Now a white-haired woman stood outside, peering in at them through the bare window glass. She gave a little wave.

“She already saw us,” Mr. Ver Beek said. “Answer the door.”