“Home. I want to go home.” Lena wanted to get as far away from the village and the horror of what had just happened as quickly as she could. She needed to see her children and make sure they were safe and hold them tightly. The sight of Pieter kneeling with other men, a Nazi revolver pointed at him, played over and over in her mind like a broken movie reel. She didn’t think she would ever erase the image for as long as she lived.

They reached the edge of the village, still holding each other up, and started down the road to their farm. Lena suddenly remembered their wooden boat. “This isn’t the way we came, Pieter. What about our boat?”

“I’ll go back for it later.”

“No! I won’t let you! I’ll go back —”

“Lena —”

“You need to stay hidden, from now on, where the Nazis can never find you again!”

“I’m not going to hide.”

“Pieter, you have to!”

“We must keep fighting back —now more than ever before.”

“I can’t go through another ordeal like that. They’re inhuman! I thought you were going to die!”

His arm tightened around her waist. “I know. I did too. But you know what, Lena? I felt at peace as I knelt there. I thought of that Scripture that says, ‘For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.’ I understood it.”

“No . . . I can’t lose you!” Lena’s tears brimmed and rolled down her face.

“It isn’t up to us if we live or die. We’re in God’s hands. The Nazis can’t harm a hair of our heads unless it’s His will.”

Lena knew he was right. They’d been in the Father’s hands since the day they were born. But they’d never been as aware of that truth as they were now, after the horror of this day. “I’m so scared,” she said. “For all of us.”

“I know. God knows we both are.”

CHAPTER 40

DECEMBER 1943

It began with a bad cold. All of the women hiding in the tiny chicken coop developed coughs and runny noses that winter, including Miriam. Months had passed since she’d arrived at the Mulders’ farm, and as the nights grew colder, Mr. Mulder gave them a small kerosene stove to heat the space. The women used it sparingly, aware that kerosene was difficult to find. Mrs. Mulder brought more blankets and gave them each a pair of mittens and warm woolen socks that the women in her church had knit. But nothing could dispel the constant chill. As the cold, wet winter dragged on endlessly, Miriam couldn’t shake her nagging cough. She wondered if she would ever be warm again.