Wildflowers of Terezin by Robert Elmer

letter back.
    "Perhaps you should," Steffen answered, stooping to straighten up a blanket that did not need straightening. "It would be nice to see you more than once a year."
    Yes, and it would certainly prove to be cold and hard in this cramped space beneath the staircase. He would not like to consider sleeping there, himself. But he could think of no better place for anyone to hide, if that is what they had to do.
    "Did I make it last Christmas?" wondered Henning.
    Steffen didn't answer this time. He and his brother had more than enough to argue about, already, without getting into his brother's indifference about faith, and church, and other things Steffen held most dearly. They'd covered that ground before. Now Henning looked as if he was about to say something when someone knocked on the storage room door.They both stiffened and looked at each other.
     

     
    "I thought no one else was supposed to know about the room down here," whispered Henning.
    "Ja," replied Steffen, "no one but—"
    "Steffen?" A rusty hinge squealed as Pastor Viggo pulled open the small door and poked his head inside. "Ah, there you are. I thought I heard familiar voices down here. Wasn't sure what was going on."
    "Didn't realize we were making so much noise," said Henning, bumping his head on the slanted ceiling as he straightened out. "Ow!"
    "Henning. Good to see you again. Although I can't recall the last time I've seen you in this building. Perhaps when I confirmed you?"
    Henning laughed at the joke. He'd certainly been here since he was twelve, once or twice. Hadn't he?
    "Henning was just helping me, er, straighten things out."Steffen wasn't sure they needed to go into too many details, and now he wished they'd kept their voices down. Because now Pastor Viggo looked curiously at the blankets and hand towels they'd set up next to a couple of wash basins and a pitcher of water.
    "I see. Well. Sort of like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, is it? Only in this case, I don't imagine you'll be ringing the bells."
    He looked expectantly from Steffen to Henning, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Perhaps he thought this was amusing.But what else could they say, now? Henning looked at his brother and shrugged.
    "It's your call this time, big brother."
    As a matter of fact, yes it was. Steffen drew the older man inside and the door creaked shut behind them.
    "It's not what it looks like."
     

     
    Two hours later Steffen did his best not to be startled by the next gentle knock at the door—this time the back service entrance of the church.
    "Did you hear that?" he whispered to Henning, who had already snapped off the inside light.
    "I heard it. They're late. Open the door."
    "No, wait." For a moment Steffen considered blowing out the flickering flame at the end of the brass candlelighter rod he held in one hand. He sniffed and sneezed as it smoked in his face.
    But there it was again, this time two knocks and then three, and Steffen swallowed hard despite his dry mouth. Keeping the back light turned off, they swung the door slowly open, and Steffen shivered at a draft of cool outside air. Before he could catch a glimpse of who had been knocking, the candlelighter flame immediately blew out.
    "Anyone there?" His voice cracked and he strained to see anything in the darkness. Naturally the rest of København lay muted and dark behind blackout shades, as it did every night. Only a shuffling sound on the cobblestone pavement told him someone was there.
    "Pastor Steffen?"
    Steffen recognized the nurse's voice close by, almost next to him, and felt a hand on his arm. Steffen's or Hanne's, he wasn't sure.
    "Let's not be chatting out here," snapped Henning, sparking his own lighter. A golden pool of light revealed four frightened faces huddled just outside.
    "Please come inside," Steffen told them, keeping his voice steady. He set aside the candlelighter and helped an older woman over the single step, while others followed. Once they were all inside, Henning