In May of 1943, and in the kitchen of Herr Braun's home, Isaac was baptized as a Christian. Rachel stood by and watched, questions knotting themselves up in her heart. She wanted to believe... wanted the peace and the joy that she saw in her husband's eyes... but she was afraid.
Old habits... old beliefs... die hard.
When the baptism was over, Isaac went to Rachel, still dripping wet, and took both of her hands in his.
"I would hug you, but..." he laughed, seeming almost shy and awkward. Rachel pulled her hands away to throw her arms around him before he could say another word.
"Praying for you, my shefela..." he whispered. "I know your struggle... to believe. I pray that the Messiah will reveal Himself to you."
✡✡✡
In June of 1943, Nazi boots came thundering down the streets of Monschau. And the inhabitants thereof heard and trembled.
Unfinished scraps of a baby quilt fell from Rachel's hands. Isaac was on his feet, panic in his eyes as he clenched his teeth. Herr Braun stood before them, his face white.
Nazi fists were pounding on the door. Rachel looked to her husband, her eyes brimming over with fear.
"You must hide... quickly..." Herr Braun hissed in a terrified whisper. "Up to the attic, if you value your lives. Go, go, my friends!"
They didn't wait to hear the last of his words. Isaac grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled her along with him as they rushed to the stairs. She faltered, nearly falling, as she wrapped her arms around her swollen stomach. It was hard to run. Isaac picked her up and climbed the stairs rapidly and yet silently.
The little attic where they had lived for so many months no longer felt safe. Once a haven… a refuge from the mad world… it was now just the last tiny spot to which they could retreat… like cornered rats before the predators.
"Isaac…" Rachel's voice was strangled by fear. Isaac set her gently down on the mattress that lay on the floor and ran to bolt the attic door. For one moment, he leaned against the door. His breath was coming in short gasps and sweat trickled down his forehead. She held her arms out to him and he went to her, collapsing on the mattress beside her. They wrapped their arms around each other and... waited. From beneath came the sounds of splintering wood and angry shouts.
"They… they're going to find us, aren't they?" Rachel whispered, trying to be brave.
"No, my shefela, no," Isaac whispered, pressing kisses to her forehead. "Not while I'm living." He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, running his fingers lovingly over her face. His voice was reassuring, but his eyes were sad. Not wanting to see the sadness, she nestled close against his chest, closing her eyes as she listened to his whispered words of comfort.
"Don't worry, my shefela, my Rachel. I'll take care of you. You'll be safe… you and our baby. Safe and happy. I promise it… I vow it, God help me... in the name of Jesus, the Messiah..."
They could hear glass shattering, and the dull thuds of falling furniture. Muffled cries, panicked protests, angry shouted orders. Rachel shuddered in Isaac's arms. He pulled her closer, reaching to tuck the golden chain around her neck with its tiny Star of David inside her dress to hide it from view.
The footsteps were on the stairs now, coming closer and closer. The attic door shook heavily as a body fell against it, the doorknob rattling.
"Why is this door locked, old man?" snarled a deep voice. "What are you hiding?"
"Nothing… nothing!" came the weak cry.
"Well? Unlock it and prove it. Or we will break it down!"
"I… need to get my keys…"
A muttered curse and then the crash of a rifle butt against the heavy oaken door. Isaac rose swiftly, scooping Rachel up. For a moment he hesitated, scanning the little room frantically. At last he moved to the back corner, setting her on the ground behind a stack of trunks. Picking up a dusty canvas sheet, he draped it over her body. She lay huddled on the ground, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
"Hide with me," she whispered, realizing in growing horror what he meant to do. He crouched down in front of her, staring deep into her eyes.
"I love you, Rachel Cohen. I love both of you." His hand rested briefly on her stomach with a gentle caress. "Live for me."
No time for one last kiss... he covered her with the sheet, shoving the trunks to better conceal her. The door gave way, the attic room filled with Gestapo soldiers. Isaac faced them boldly, his chin lifted in defiance.
"Hiding nothing, eh?" A cold chuckle. Hate-filled eyes raked over the young man. "Are you the only one here?"
"Yes."
Rachel pressed her fist against her mouth to keep from screaming in protest. She could feel the baby kicking inside of her, reminding her why she must live.
"You're a dirty liar," the officer sneered. "Take him back to the truck, Holt, and the rest of you, search this attic."
"I said there's no one else." Isaac's voice was firm. Rachel could barely see him from where she lay hidden. The man called Holt seized him. His arms were twisted behind his back.
"We will see," the officer smiled cruelly. "Perhaps you are protecting someone. A woman, eh?"
A moment of silence...
Isaac's eyes darted from one man to the next. Without warning, he broke away from the man who held him, swinging at the officer. His fist connected with the man's jaw. The officer fell to the ground. Isaac snatched the pistol from the officer's holster and whirled to face the others. They drew their guns instantly.
Gunfire echoed through the room with a roar. Isaac clutched at his chest and stumbled backwards a few steps before falling lifelessly to the floor.
The officer was helped to his feet by his comrades. He rubbed his jaw and hatred flashed in his eyes. He kicked Isaac's body viciously, cursing him.
"No more time, Krause!" bellowed an impatient voice from below. "We have to get moving. Come on!"
"You heard him," the officer muttered. His jawbone was shattered. "Get out of here. Leave the Jew… let his body rot up here, for all I care. Can't keep Steiner waiting."
And the house was still.
Rachel bolted from her hiding place, throwing herself over Isaac's body in a flood of tears.
Nazi boots still thundered through the streets. And alone in an attic, a broken, shattered woman held her dead husband. She pressed kisses to his lifeless lips and let herself cry until her tears were gone.
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