“Yes, you too.” She chose one of their favorite stories, one she knew by heart after all these months. The flickering candlelight added to the drama. Miriam had just finished when a vehicle pulled up out front. She put her finger to her lips, saying, “Shh . . . ,” and hoped Frits would obey. Doors slammed and she heard men’s voices outside. The front door opened and heavy boots tromped across the wooden floor.

“They’re in there,” someone said. “We’ll need three stretchers.” Miriam held her breath during all the commotion that followed, waiting to see if the Nazis would search the house afterwards. At last, the front door closed for the final time. The vehicle drove away. All was quiet.

“What good boys you are,” Miss Willy said when she peeked into the bedroom. “Say good night to Rietje and Christina, now. They need to go to bed too.”

As Miriam passed her in the doorway, Miss Willy whispered, “Thank you.”

“Cornelia is going to need her medicine,” Miriam whispered back.

“I know. Hannie is with her. Good night.”

“Good night.”

The evening’s events left Miriam shaken and drained of strength. The sisters were such kind, compassionate women, caring with dignity and love for the broken souls whom others had rejected. To have their home invaded by the Nazis, even for an hour, seemed an outrage. Yet the sisters had treated the Nazis with kindness as well. Miriam shuddered at the memory of how close her enemies had been to her. The fear that made her stomach ache was going to keep her awake all night.

CHAPTER 44

The hen squawked and tried to peck Ans’s hand as she pushed it off the nest to check for eggs. “Ha! I’m faster than you are,” she told the disgruntled hen. “I’ve had years of practice.” She ducked out of the coop and carried the basket of eggs into the farmhouse to wash them.

Ans was Bernandina Kamp now, according to her forged ID card, and worked as a maid on a farm much like her parents’. She’d longed to escape from farm life and it now had become her refuge. Jo and Hans Dykstra were in their thirties and, with six children to care for, were grateful for Ans’s help washing diapers and dishes, tending chickens, and preparing meals while Jo nursed a colicky baby. Ans guessed that two of the children were Jewish, but she knew better than to ask questions.

The family hid other people besides Ans. Onderduikers came and went, and four Jewish boys in their teens helped with the farmwork, then hid in the outbuildings or the thick woods behind the farm whenever the Nazis came. The boys enjoyed telling stories of their close calls. “One time we were shoveling out the cow stalls when the Nazis came and Johan dove into the manure pile to hide. We wouldn’t let him near us for days!”