Hiding Edith (4 page)

Edith was not surprised. She knew that her father was lucky to be released. The family would have to disappear quickly, before someone came for him again.

“Where will we go?” asked Therese. “Are there any safe places for Jews?” Country after country had fallen to the Nazis, not just
Belgium but Poland, Hungary, Denmark, Spain, and Italy. Where could they go?

“France,” said Papa.” I learned from some men in prison that the Red Cross here in Brussels is helping Jews cross the border into France.”

“The Nazis are already in Paris and the north, but in the south there is a free zone. It’s safe there … so we’ve been told.” Mutti lowered her eyes, trying to hide her uncertainty.

“We’ll be fine,” Papa said. “Haven’t we been fine until now, thanks to your clever mutti?”

Edith looked away. She did not feel very fine. Her parents offered only empty reassurances. And she was tired of running. Besides, if Belgium had become unsafe, wouldn’t it be the same in southern France?

“Come, everyone,” Papa said. “We need to pack, and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.” He leaned over to kiss Edith tenderly on both cheeks. He did the same with Therese and Gaston.

The last thing Mutti did that evening was remove the remaining valuables from beneath the couch mattress. They would once again be sewn into Edith’s jacket.

Later that night, Edith climbed into bed. Her mind was racing.
Maybe France will be safe. Maybe we can stop running. Maybe the war will be over soon.
She yawned and snuggled closer to Therese.
Maybe Therese will smile again.

“Hurry up, Edith,” Therese called impatiently. “Run! We’re going to be late for school.”

People have been telling me to hurry up my whole life,
thought Edith, pretending not to listen. She was sick of running, first from Vienna, then from Belgium. When they came here to southern France two years ago, Mutti had called it a “free zone.” But it wasn’t really free. President Petain thought he could get better treatment for his people by going along with Nazi policies and hounding the Jews. Jewish businesses and property had been handed over to the Nazis. Jews had lost their jobs and could no longer shop in many stores or be out on the streets after dark. Even so, the family had been safe here in the small town of Beaumont-de-Lomagne. But in late 1942 Hitler extended the occupation to southern France, and Jewish men began to be arrested.

Edith wondered for the millionth time about what had happened to her papa. All she knew was that he was gone. Soldiers had come pounding at their door late at night, just as they had in
Belgium. Mutti begged the soldiers not to take Papa; Therese and Edith trembled behind her, holding Gaston and sobbing. But the soldiers ignored Mutti’s pleas, and Papa could only give her one quick hug before being led from the house.

“This is the last of my jewelry,” Mutti had said, staring at the ring in her hand. Edith had long outgrown her jacket, but the family’s valuables were still hidden in it. “The prison camp is close by. I’m going to try to get Papa released.”

Edith sat by the door day after day, waiting for her father to come striding up the path, calling her name. But it never happened. Mutti returned each day, empty-handed and alone. Edith shook her head, trying to push that last sight of Papa from her mind.
I know Papa will come back,
she prayed.
I know we’ll be together.

“Edith, if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to leave you behind!” called Therese.

“You can’t!” Edith shouted back. “I’ll tell Mutti.”

“If I don’t get to school on time, I won’t be able to write the placement test to move up a grade. Please, Edith. I’ll make your bed for a week. Just hurry up.”

Sometimes Edith resented that Therese was such an excellent student. They had moved so often and missed so much work, yet Therese sailed through her classes, while Edith struggled so much that she didn’t care about arriving at school on time.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Therese? You’re smart. Maybe you should be a lawyer or an engineer. Or be a teacher and make school more fun for students like me.”

The two girls wound their way along the sloping hillside, through the narrow streets of Beaumont-de-Lomagne.

Therese brushed back her curly red hair. She had inherited it, and her fair, creamy skin, from Mutti; both made Edith envious. “What’s the use of thinking about the future,” Therese snapped. “We’re just lucky that we can still go to school.”

That was true. Edith knew that Jewish children elsewhere were not allowed an education. Still, Edith sighed. “You’re so gloomy, Therese. I always think about what I’m going to be when the war is over.”

“You must be joking, Edith. The war will never be over.”

“How can you say that?

“Because it’s true,” snapped Therese. “Because nothing good has happened to us, and nothing will.”

“I’m not listening to you,” said Edith. “The war will end and Papa will come back.”

“Stop it! Just stop babbling,” commanded Therese. “You know perfectly well that Jews who are arrested are being sent to concentration camps. Mutti told us.”

Edith turned away. She knew about the concentration camps, terrible places where prisoners could be tortured and killed.

“Face facts, Edith. That’s probably where Papa is right now,” Therese went on. “So just forget about the future. I’m tired of listening to your silly fantasies.”

The cold wind blew through Edith’s jacket and snatched the scarf from her head. How could Therese even think that Papa might
not come home! And Edith wasn’t a dreamer. She just couldn’t give up hope. But Therese had stomped off to join her friend, Ida, who was a bit ahead on the path. Therese and Ida were talking in low voices, even though no one was around. Edith moved closer to listen in on their secret.

“Have you heard?” Ida asked. “There have been more arrests of Jews.”

“But they’ve already taken all the men,” whispered Therese. “Do you think they could come for us as well?”

“I don’t know. But my mother isn’t taking any more chances.” Ida lowered her voice even further and Edith strained to hear. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving! Where to?” Edith shouted.

“Sh …” Ida and Therese scowled.

“Where are you going?” This time Edith whispered.

“My mother knows of a place. It’s in a town north of here, called Moissac. It’s a house run by the Jewish Scouts of France, and it’s supposed to be safe.”

“But if things are dangerous here, won’t they be just as dangerous there?” replied Therese.

Ida shook her head. “No. They’ve been taking in Jewish children for several years, and they know how to protect us.”

“Who is
they
?” asked Edith.

“Shatta Simon and her husband, Bouli. They run the place. Listen, Therese,” continued Ida, “your mother needs to go speak with Shatta and find out more. But take my word for it, we need to do something or else we’ll be in the next roundup.”

Jewish scouts from the Éclaireurs Israélites de France (Jewish Scouts of France) seated on a hillside. This is the organization that provided money for the house in Moissac.

Edith’s head was spinning. She didn’t want to run again. She wanted to stay in one place, and with her family. It was so crazy, having to run all the time just because they were Jewish.

Another cold blast of wind blew against Edith’s face, and she pulled her scarf back up over her head. Therese took Edith’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“We’re not going to have to leave again, are we, Therese?” asked Edith.

Therese took a deep breath. “Don’t think about it now, Edith,” she replied. “We’ll talk to Mutti after school.”

After dinner, Mutti announced her decision. To the girls’ surprise, she already knew about the house in Moissac.

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time and trying to find a way to tell you,” Mutti explained. “Perhaps it’s good that you have found out about this safe house on your own. Since the arrests I’ve known that we would have to leave here and find a safer place.”

Edith held her breath, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.

“Besides, there’s no money left,” Mutti continued, “and I have no way to care for all of us. Families in the next town have agreed to take Therese and me. You and Gaston will go to Moissac.”

“But I don’t want to go,” cried Edith. Surely Mutti was not really thinking about sending her away. “I won’t go, Mutti. Please tell me I can stay with you.” Edith looked around, desperate, but Therese wouldn’t meet her eyes. Gaston, listless and silent, sat idly drawing on a scrap of paper.

“I’ve tried to think of another way, Edith. But this is the best solution.” Mutti was firm.

“But if we all leave, how will Papa know where we are when he comes back? We have to stay here and wait for him.” Edith knew she was grasping at straws, but she was desperate to stay.

Mutti didn’t respond.

“But why can’t we just go somewhere else together?” Edith was not going to give up. “Or why can’t Therese go to Moissac?

Mutti stroked Edith’s cheek. The years of running had worn Mutti down. Her beautiful face was drawn and tired. The twinkle that had always lit up her eyes had faded. “I have tried to find a place for all of us, Edith. Believe me, I’ve tried. But who will take a mother with three young children? No one! If people are caught helping Jews, they’ll be arrested along with us. I’m lucky I found a house for Therese. She’s old enough to work and pay her way.”

“I can work, Mutti,” Edith cried. “I’m strong, and fast. I can do anything Therese can do.”

Mutti tried to hug her daughter, but Edith pushed her away.

“You don’t love me!” Edith shouted. “You love Therese more than me. That’s why she’s staying with you. That’s why you’re sending me away. Papa wouldn’t send me away.”

Edith sobbed and thrashed wildly at her mother. Mutti grabbed Edith’s arms and gradually gathered her in a warm hug. Edith’s weeping turned to soft whimpers and then to silence as Mutti rocked her.

“I’m doing this
because
I love you so much,” Mutti whispered as she stroked Edith’s hair. “I wish your papa were here, too. I wish everything was different. But believe me, I am trying to do what’s best for all of us. I’ll go with you and Gaston to the house in Moissac as soon as plans are in place.”

“Everyone here in Moissac knows we’re Jewish. The whole town keeps our secret safe!”

Edith couldn’t believe her ears. Even Gaston, sitting next to her, clutching his small bag of clothing, seemed to understand that something astonishing was being said.

“Please, Madame Simon,” said Mutti. “Explain to me again how it is that you protect the children.”

“Call me Shatta. Everyone does. We are a family here,” the director responded warmly. “We’ve been protecting Jewish children in this house since 1939, and in other houses like ours across France. Our children come from many different countries — France, Belgium, even Germany. They have all been separated from their parents. So you see, Edith, my dear. You are not alone.”

Edith was not sure she liked being called “dear” by this stranger, seated behind the large wooden desk. Shatta Simon was a young woman in her early thirties. She had dark wavy hair and dark
eyes. She was large and rather imposing; but she had a kind smile, so Edith was not afraid.

“Children have come to us when their parents were taken away — to prison or a concentration camp. In many cases, we don’t know what has happened to their parents. Or parents like you, Mrs. Schwalb, who fear arrest, have brought their children here to be safe.”

Edith turned away. It was bad enough that Papa had been taken away. She could not bear the thought that Mutti might also be arrested. Besides, Mutti was coming back for her. She had to.

“We receive money from the Jewish Scouts of France,” continued Shatta, “and we follow the philosophy of the scouting movement: be prepared, and help your neighbor.”

Edith didn’t know much about the Scouts. There were Scouts in Austria but they were even older than Therese. And she’d never heard of Jewish Scouts.

“In spite of what the Nazis are doing, the Jewish Scouts is a strong organization,” Shatta continued. “Without their help, we would not be able to manage. But perhaps more important, we have established good relations with the people of Moissac.” Shatta leaned forward and smiled at Edith. “The mayor is our friend. He protects us, as do the townspeople.”

Was this possible? Were the people of Moissac, even the mayor, risking their lives to help their Jewish neighbors? This was amazing — most people were too afraid to help Jews. Should Edith feel relieved, or worry that Shatta wasn’t telling the truth?

“You’ll have to trust me on this,” Shatta continued, as if reading Edith’s mind. But Edith didn’t know whom to trust: Mutti was sending her away, which felt like the biggest betrayal of all. And Shatta was a complete stranger, who had told the children’s secret to all the other strangers in this town. Could they be trusted? Would even the children of Moissac not tell? Nothing was making sense.