The pain in Miriam’s chest began to ease. She remembered how her music had encouraged Avi when they’d been in this place together. Abba said that Mother’s music had drawn him closer to God.

The conductor helped Miriam to her feet. “Play for our fellow Jews, Miriam. Our lives may be ending soon, but let’s pour out the last of our strength in praise and music, not in tears.”

She was able to draw a deep breath as she walked onto the stage and sat down. The conductor raised his baton. Miriam began to play, imagining that Avi was sitting in the audience with Elisheva on his lap, finding hope in each note she played. She imagined Abba and Mrs. Spielman sitting beside him, along with Mother and her aunts and uncles and her cousin Saul. She imagined Lies, Julie, Betsie, and Alie sitting with Klara and Tina. And with Miss Hannie, Miss Willy and Rietje and Frits —all the residents of Meijers House, who’d been declared inferior. As the music soared, they could all escape the indignities of living in chicken coops and attics and prison barracks and reclaim their humanity. She played for them and for the sorrowful souls who would be forced to climb into the boxcars in a few days. You were created in God’s image, she told them with every note she played. And so was I.

On the following Tuesday morning, the head of Miriam’s barracks called for everyone’s attention. A wave of anxiety spread through the barracks. The matron cleared her throat. “There will be no deportations this week. Report to your work assignments immediately.”

Above the buzz of astonished murmurs, someone dared to ask, “Why? Why were they canceled?”

The faintest hint of a smile brightened the matron’s face. She was a prisoner like the rest of them. “There are rumors that all the railroad workers in the nation have gone on strike.”

CHAPTER 54

Lena endured another long month without her husband, without her father, trying to scale the great mountain of her grief, slipping back into the valley of death’s shadow continually. Sunday church services were no longer the same, the memory of the Nazis’ violence still fresh and raw on everyone’s hearts. But the congregation continued to meet, offering strength to one another. Lena picked up Wim’s and Maaike’s school lessons each Sunday, unwilling to allow Maaike to go into town alone to attend school, terrified to let Wim be seen. Lena could tell he was growing restless, tired of living in the shadows. She’d heard of other mothers who’d disguised their sons in women’s clothing, but Wim had laughed at the idea, then shook his head firmly when she suggested it. They both wondered how much longer they’d be forced to live this way.