A cold rain began to drizzle, and Miriam walked faster, hugging her bag to her chest. Inside were two warm sweaters and a pair of wool trousers, gifts from Mrs. Huizenga’s own wardrobe after she’d learned how few clothes Miriam and Abba had brought from Germany. “Winter is coming, Miriam. Take these,” she’d insisted. “Leiden can be frigid.” The professor’s wife had been helping her and Abba get settled, inviting Miriam to lunch every week so she could practice her Dutch.

Ans had become a good friend as well, ready to help Miriam with anything she needed. “I’ll take you shopping, if you’d like,” she’d offered. “It’ll be fun! I know where all the best shops are. And you can get some bargains on market day.” Mrs. Huizenga was friendly, but in a more distant way than Ans —perhaps because she didn’t speak German.

Miriam checked her mailbox before unlocking the door to her apartment building, hoping for a letter from Avi. The box was empty. Maybe the mailman hadn’t come yet. She climbed the steep, narrow stairs to her second-floor apartment, brushing icy raindrops from her coat, shaking them off her hat. This apartment was a place to live, but it wasn’t quite home yet. She and Abba lived here like two incomplete souls, missing the other halves of themselves, missing the people they loved.

Ans and Mrs. Huizenga had helped her and Abba rent this apartment, then had taken her shopping for the other essentials necessary to start a household. The front room had two comfortable chairs and a sofa, lacy curtains at the windows, and a radio they could listen to at night. The kitchen had a sink, two small gas burners and an oven, and a table that Abba used as a desk, writing endless letters, desperate to rescue their family in Cologne. Now that Germany was at war, their loved ones’ futures were more uncertain than they’d ever been. Abba had given Miriam the larger bedroom so she would have room to practice her violin. And they had a modern bathroom for Mother. If she ever made it out of Germany, she would find it comfortable here.

“We’ll be fine,” Abba had assured Miriam on the first night they’d lived here. “The Netherlands is at peace. Once our family is together again, everything will be fine, you’ll see.” But as they’d listened to the German news channel each night and heard the Führer’s manic rants, Miriam didn’t see how anything could ever be fine again.