The Journey Back by Johanna Reiss

Author:Johanna Reiss [Reiss, Johanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs
ISBN: 9780595430505
Google: 5QZZmAEACAAJ
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2007-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Part Three

FALL

&

WINTER

On the morning of the wedding a fine dr’v. zle was falling, dripping off trees and buildings as slowly as it collected. We were standing outside Town Hall, under the roof of the bicycle shed: Mrs. Vos, Father, Nel, Sini, who had come home yesterday, me-and most of Winterswijk’s Jews.

“That Ies de Leeuw is sure in a hurry,” a passerby called out. “Had to make up for lost time, I guess,” someone answered.

Father did not seem to hear. He was too busy looking down the street that led to the station. From the opposite direction two people were moving toward us. They got off their bicycles. Confused, they looked around. “J0han and Dientje,” Sini and I shouted, running up to them.

They had come! We hugged. Father had seen them, too. “Magda,” he said proudly, “These are the people who hid Annie and S’mi. They’ve come by bicycle all the way from Ussdo.” Briefly she looked at their faces, then, curiously, at the rest of them.

“How d’you do, Mrs. er-”

“Call her Magda,” Father suggested. “Hello,”

Mrs. Vos said, and turned back to the other guests. Bong, bong, bong-bong, the bell in the church clock began to strike. Father brushed the rain off his coat, then brushed his coat over again, even though there were no more drops. He walked to the corner, to check the street leading to the station again. But Rachel must not have changed her mind.

He came back, took Mrs. Vos’s arm, and started to walk up the steps to Town Hall. So did Sini and I, Johan and Dientje, and the other guests.

It was time. In the Wedding Room we sat down-Sini next to me, then Nel.

For a second I glanced behind me. Johan and Dientje were staring at.

Mrs. Vos. The’it faces were blank. The door opened-again.

“Isn’t it wonderful? How can she do it?” people were whispering as Mrs.

Menko came in, leaning on someone’s arm and holding a cane. She slowly walked to her place. A man in a black suit strode in after her, leafed through some papers, and without wasting any more time, began to speak.

“I, as the regis tear of this Town Hall, will marry you in accordance with the civil law of the Netherlands.” I looked out the window at the hands of the

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