CHAPTER 30

LAKE HALLSTATT, AUSTRIA

NOVEMBER 1938

Annika hadn’t been through the doors of Hallstatt’s Evangelische Pfarrkirche since her mother died, but she crept into the gray stone church early this morning, her heart aching. The bells rang in the tower above her, resonating down to the floor and streaming through her veins like the brine that flowed through the pipeline above town to the salt factory below.

Every Sunday when Annika was a child, her mother had brought her over to this simple sanctuary settled along the lake. Her mother would sit with her Bible in her lap, and they’d worship together with the small congregation on wooden pews.

As a girl, she had felt peace inside these walls, like she felt in the woods. So different from the cold, stark chapel beside Schloss Schwansee. She could see, through the clear windows, the castle across the water, a place that looked tranquil from afar. But today, even though the flames were long gone, the ashes that had rained down over the forest were piled into blackened mounds. And a tendril of smoke still curled up through the trees.

She touched the gold and diamond star that hung around her neck, concealed under her sweater. Few things had survived the fire in her cottage, but Frau Dornbach’s necklace along with Annika’s metal box defied the flames. She would wear this star until she could return it to either Max or his mother.

The cottage was destroyed, but she and Hermann had been able to stop the fire in the castle before it traveled outside the salon. Hermann had gotten her father out as well, but it was too late to save his life. The fire had consumed Vati inside and out.

Whenever she tried to close her eyes, flames licked at the corners of her mind, the rawness of her father’s screams echoing in her memory. Vati hadn’t been good to her, especially in recent years, but he was still her father. She couldn’t say she missed him, but she missed what had once been. A family who had cared for one another. A job for her father on a beautiful estate. Friendships she had thought would last a lifetime.

Hermann had broken his arm trying to help Vati, but still he helped bury her father in the woods, in a plot marked only by a cross. The memory of her home lingered with the smell of the charred stone and wood. She’d never tell anyone, but she silently mourned the loss of her cottage more than her father.

Knotting her fingers together, Annika bowed her head to pray. Her eyes remained open so the flames wouldn’t lick the darkness.

How she had missed coming to this church each Sunday. The rhythm of the songs and the Bible reading and the curate who spoke with confidence about a God who loved people so much that He was willing to die for them.

She buried her head between her arms, draped over the bench in front of her. Hatred had driven her father to his death, and she feared that the hatred in her heart might kill all the good left inside her.

“Hello, Fräulein.”

Annika glanced up into the kind eyes of Pastor Dietz. He wore a long white robe, starkly clean compared to the state of her heart, and his balding head gleamed in the light of the wooden chandelier that hung as a crown of sorts over the sanctuary. He’d come to the cottage multiple times since her mother passed, but Vati never let him stay long and certainly didn’t allow Annika to return to church.

“I was going to visit you this evening,” he said. “It’s a tragedy. . . .”

She nodded slowly, not able to tell him that her own father was responsible for the fire. She couldn’t tell him, or anyone, what Vati had done. Those who still believed in Austria would run her out of town.

“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

She nodded. Until the Dornbachs returned, she planned to borrow the rooms in their home that the fire hadn’t destroyed.

The pastor glanced up at the wooden cross at the front of the sanctuary, the windows overlooking Lake Hallstatt on each side. “It is wise of you to seek solace.”

“It’s desperation that drives me, Herr Pastor.”

“The Scriptures will be of comfort to you.”

“I’d been reading Mother’s Bible, before I lost it in the fire, but I found no peace in it,” she said. “Only violence.”

“Ahh,” he said. “The Old Testament books reflect God’s justice when people chose to follow evil, but He overcame the violence and evil in our world when Jesus rose from the grave.”

“So many people were killed back then and today—”

“Don’t you see,” the man said gently. “Death is no longer a threat to those who believe in Him. The ultimate weapon of our enemy has been stolen away.”

His words washed over her like salt water, stinging at first before they began to heal. Death had always terrified her, but if God had overcome death, perhaps she didn’t have to be afraid.

“Jesus sacrificed Himself like a lamb to atone for all of our sins. His death conquered the fear of it for all who put their faith in Him.”

“I believe, Herr Pastor, but so many people are hurting. . . .”

“The Scriptures say, ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’” The pastor glanced out the window at the fuhr boat rowing by the church, its long nose curled up like an elephant’s trunk. “May I pray with you, Annika, that you will find peace in Him as you love those around you?”

When he prayed, a flood of peace surged through her. The fire—the evil—may have destroyed her home, her Bible, but she wouldn’t let it destroy her heart.

Late that night, Annika prayed again for peace as the castle walls creaked and groaned, the cold wind rattling the windows. What would Herr and Frau Dornbach do once they realized their caretaker was gone, their beautiful living space charred?

They’d stopped mailing their weekly check after Vati confronted Max, and now they’d probably think her father had gotten exactly what he deserved, especially after threatening them, but still they would grieve over the destruction of their home.

The stench of smoke had settled into the threads of carpets and curtains and the upholstery on every piece of furniture. Even the books in the library had absorbed the pungent memory of fire.

She’d tried to sleep first inside the familiar walls of Frau Dornbach’s dressing room, but the space was too tight, the fear too strong that someone might start another fire while she was locked away. The guest room wasn’t much better, but at least she could breathe here.

She didn’t know if the Dornbachs would approve of her sleeping in this room, under their fine bedcoverings, but she must sleep somewhere, and the barn and chapel were much too cold.

God, she’d read in her mother’s Bible, saw all things that were done in secret. He exposed the heart of the wicked. If God could see things done in secret, then His gaze must roam outside the tiny chapel on the Dornbachs’ property and the churches across the lake. He saw what her father had done, saw what she and Hermann were doing as well, their attempt to save what they could. He knew that she was trying to love those who needed it most.

A door slammed outside, and Annika’s heart plunged. Hermann always came by boat or motorbike, during the day now, so no one would suspect. He told the truth to anyone who asked—he was helping Annika now that her father had passed on.

She crept to the window. The Nazis, she feared, had returned for her father, not knowing he was dead. What would they do when they discovered he was gone?

Hitler had a group for young women—the League of German Girls. She didn’t want to join Hitler’s group, but how could she refuse if they insisted?

In the dim light of the stars, the body of the car came into focus, and she realized it was the Dornbachs’ black Mercedes. Her heart leapt when she saw Max step out into the courtyard. Finally, after all these months, he was home.

She prayed that he didn’t hate her for what she had done.

He opened the passenger door, and at first she thought he was helping his mother, but a much smaller woman emerged beside him, bent over as if she needed a cane.

She rushed outside, wanting to explain what had happened with the necklace, what had happened with the house.

“Annika,” Max said sadly when she joined his side, as if her name was a burden. “I’d like you to meet Luzi.”

Annika stared at the young woman before her who looked so frail, her cheeks gaunt, her dark hair a tangled mess. Luzia Weiss, the woman she’d cut out from the newspaper picture. The one she’d burned in the stove.

But the glamour was gone from this woman. She looked more like Frederica the cat, when she’d first arrived, than a debutante from Vienna.

“She’s been injured,” Max said.

“Should I prepare a bath?”

Max nodded. “I have salts for you to put in it. Will you help me clean her wound?”

“I’ll do my best, but I’ll have to use the bathroom in the castle. Our cottage has burnt down.”

Max glanced over at the trees, at the charred remains of the building, but he didn’t seem surprised. “Is Herr Knopf in town?”

She shook her head. “He died . . . in the fire.”

Luzi’s head rose slightly, her eyes dull. “My father is gone as well.”

Annika reached for Luzi’s other arm. “You will be safe here.”

“Thank you, Kätzchen,” Max said.

The jealousy in her heart roared, but he must know that she’d never intentionally harm him. Nor would she hurt Luzi.

The woman cringed when Annika helped lower her into the warm bath.

She didn’t ask what had slit Luzi’s leg. Soon they would have to be honest with one another, the three of them, but they would keep their secrets tonight.

Luzi wasn’t her friend, but Max was, and her love for him ran deep.

For Max, she would lay down her life.

In the hour before dawn, Max stood on the dock beside the boathouse, wondering what had happened to all of them. And what would happen to them now.

His arms and legs were weak, as if one of the military trucks had driven over him and then backed up for a second round. His body was spent, but his mind was as alert as it had ever been.

The Gestapo, he feared, wouldn’t stop looking for Luzi. After finding Ernst’s body in her apartment, they would surely continue their search.

No one knew where Max had taken Luzi, but Schloss Schwansee could only be a temporary resting place until she was able to travel again. His family owned a mountain hut up on Sarstein, but the trail was steep, treacherous, even for those physically able.

Luzi wouldn’t be able to climb with her injured leg, but perhaps in the weeks ahead he could help her up to the hut. Then in the summer, they could hike through the mountains into Switzerland and up to find his mother and Marta in Paris.

A boat puttered along the bank, and he turned to run again. Luzi could hide in the crevice in the library, the space his ancestors had built to stash money and people alike. Then he’d find another hiding place on the estate for himself. Unless the Gestapo brought dogs, they’d never find him hiding in the trees.

But before he stepped off the dock, a flashlight beam crossed over him, and he froze until he heard Hermann’s voice, calling his name.

Relieved, Max helped his friend dock inside the boathouse before Hermann climbed onto the platform, his right arm bound in a cast.

“Annika told me about the fire,” Max said as they walked toward the castle. “Thank you for helping her save the Schloss.”

“I was too late to save Herr Knopf,” Hermann said.

“I suspect Herr Knopf might have had something to do with the fire.”

Hermann nodded slowly. “He told the Gestapo in Salzburg that your family is Jewish.”

“My mother is Jewish,” Max replied, but in that moment, he decided to embrace this heritage of his ancestors. The men he’d stood with in the arena had tried to maintain their dignity, unlike the men who tormented them. “Which means I am Jewish as well.”

“You can’t stay here,” Hermann said as they walked toward the house. “Tempers in town are raging strong.”

Max thought of all he’d left behind: a city in shambles, a father who seemed to disown his flesh and blood. “I can’t go back to Vienna either.”

“There’s a group of men who have gone into the mountains. Some are Jewish and others are Aryan men who have refused to join the Wehrmacht.”

“I brought a woman with me,” Max said. “I must get her to safety before I leave.”

“Does anyone know she’s here?”

Max shook his head.

“Then she will be safe.”

“No one knows that I’m here either.”

“Someone saw your car in Obertraun last night. You need to drive away in today’s light so people will see you. They’ll never know about her.”

“I can’t leave Luzi.”

“You have to leave her to keep her safe.”

Max nodded to the towering mountain behind them. “There’s wood and some food and a Sterno oven in my family’s hut. I’ll hide up there for now.”

Together they concocted a plan. He would drive the Mercedes slowly through town so anyone curious would know he was leaving. Then he’d hide the car in the abandoned barn on Sarah’s property before hiking up the mountain on snowshoes after dark. It might take hours in his condition, but he would do it for Luzi’s sake.

When it was safe, he’d hike back down.

“I’ve been giving the treasure to Annika,” Hermann said, “but I don’t know where she is hiding it. If something happens . . .”

“I know where it’s hidden,” Max said.

“But what if something happens to both of you?”

“Nothing will happen to Annika.” The Gestapo would never suspect her, but many of the Jewish people nearby knew about Hermann’s involvement. One day the Nazis might arrest him or Hermann for taking these things, and while Hermann was loyal, Max feared he would buckle under an interrogation.

“If I knew—”

“Someone might kill you for it.” Max directed him up the steps. “Please come inside.”

Annika was drinking coffee in the library, and Luzi was on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her.

“Hermann, this is Luzi,” Max said.

Hermann’s eyes focused on his shoes. “Hello, Luzi.”

“I have to leave for a few days,” Max told her. “Annika and Hermann will care for you here, but I will return whenever I can to check on you.”

Annika handed him a cup of coffee. “Where will you go?”

“It’s not safe for me to tell either of you, but if you need me, Hermann can find me.”

“I will take care of her and your . . . other things.”

“Thank you, Annika.”

Max showed them the hiding place beside the fireplace, the panel built by his ancestors that opened with the push of a thumb. Then he kissed the cheeks of both women and was gone.