Miriam didn’t release him. “But then Eloise told us something sad. She said she and her husband were never able to have children. I felt so sorry for her, Avi. She started crying in the restaurant.”

“Mrs. Huizenga has always seemed very fragile.” He smoothed a strand of Miriam’s dark hair from her face, a tender gesture that should have comforted her but sent a ripple of dread through her instead. Would she and Avi always be together?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Eloise told me that the new Reichskommissar for the Netherlands is passing laws. Do you know about this?”

“A little bit . . .”

“Why haven’t you told me?”

“Because so far the laws haven’t affected us. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You aren’t protecting me by shielding me from the truth, Avi. We promised to share everything with each other, the good things and the hard things.”

“I’m sorry.”

He tried to hold her close again, but she pulled away and looked at him. “Tell me about the laws.”

He exhaled with a weary sigh. “A few months ago, they passed a law saying that Jews can’t be hired for civil service positions. Jews who are already civil servants can’t be promoted. That includes staff positions at the university. University professors all over the country signed a letter of protest, but it didn’t do any good.”

“They passed the same law in Germany in the beginning, remember?”

He nodded, closing his eyes.

“Is there more?”

“A second law requires all civil servants to submit a letter in writing, stating whether they are Aryan or Jewish.”

“Abba has to do that?”

Avi looked down for a moment as if reluctant to reply. “Yes. But the Dutch Protestant churches issued a public protest, calling the law an outrage.”

“Did the protest do any good?”

“No.”

Miriam felt a boulder drop into the pit of her stomach. “Avi, this is how it started in Germany, remember? The persecution began gradually, a small step at a time until we ended up —”

“Miriam, don’t.”

He held her tightly, trying to soothe her as she struggled to breathe. She hadn’t suffered a panic attack in months —until today. “But we can see what’s coming. We’ve been through this before.”

“And yet we’re alive, Miriam. And we’re together. We escaped from them once before and we can do it again.”

Tears slipped down her face. “What kind of a world will our baby be born into?”

“Only God knows.”

Miriam was curled on the sofa in Avi’s arms, still tearful, when Abba arrived home.

“You’ve heard the news?” he asked when he saw them there. He had a newspaper in his hand. He looked grief-stricken.

“No, Abba. What’s wrong?”

“I told Miriam what’s been happening these past few weeks,” Avi said. “Is there more?”