August 9, 1943

I didn't think I was going to make it to work this morning. Oh, that makes it sound so mundane, when it wasn't mundane at all. Just a few minutes before I was to leave, three policemen came to our house. The police know my father and his position in the community, so I didn't think to much of it. As soon as I'd let them in, though, they started barking at Papa like they were giant dogs and he a defenseless puppy.

"Where is Almassy?"

"Gone to America."

"Marton is withholding taxes, isn't he?"

"No."

On and on, over and over, until I was red-faced with rage and it seemed they'd asked about every family in our synagogue. Papa kept his equilibrium, but I wasn't having charitable thoughts, let me tell you. Finally, after forty-five minutes, they left as abruptly as they'd come.

"What in the world was the purpose of that?" I asked furiously, breathing in and out as quickly as if I'd just taken a run.

"Calm yourself, My Child," Papa said gently. "It's only meant to intimidate us. I can handle verbal harassment quite well. Upsetting us is exactly what they mean to do."

"We should report them!" I said.

"To whom?" he asked. "Our kind have been barely welcome here for a long time, Anna." I could not deny it, so I kissed my father's cheek and left for work, using the long walk to Jonas's to calm my nerves.

I must say, it didn't work, and I was still shaken when I arrived, glad that I would be working alone. I went over every display in the store three times, straightening everything until it was geometrically perfect.

Finally, when I was starting my fourth circuit, Edwin came to me. I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I didn't even notice the shop door opening.

"Anna?"

I turned, surprised, and launched myself into his arms. He had the presence of mind and delicacy to simply put his arms around me and hold on tightly, and I had the indelicacy to start crying immediately. I had the fleeting thought that he was likely to think I was unhinged, given that I'd cried during our previous encounter, but he didn't seem to mind.

"My Anna," he said in his velvety voice. "My darling girl." He cradled my head in one of his large hands, and I closed my eyes and enjoyed his comfort. Finally, when my sobs quieted, he broached the question. "What has upset you so much, sweetheart?" Had I been in a less fragile emotional state, I would have snorted at the idea of someone calling me "sweetheart," but as it was, I almost purred like a kitten.

"The police came today," I said softly. "They questioned my father. I was scared they were going to take him away. It's—getting worse."

"I could protect you," said Edwin, very softly, so softly I could hardly hear him.

"What?" I asked, confused. I knew enough to be sure a British officer didn't wield that kind of power just because he wished to.

He gently pushed me a little way away, so he could look into my face. He left one hand on my shoulder and rubbed the other one across his face, obviously nervous. I silently drummed the toes of my worn-out boots into the wooden floor, feeling the strange tension that had suddenly filled the air between us.

"It's—I've been thinking about this for a few days, but I shouldn't even presume," he said. "You'll think I'm taking advantage."

"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked. I hadn't seen Edwin so uncertain before, and I wanted to put him out of his misery.

"Marriage," he choked out. "We could get married. As my family, you and your father would be protected."

"Why in the world would you agree to marry me?" I asked, no doubt staring at him like he'd sprouted wings.

"Agree to marry you," he said to the floor, "as if someone was twisting my arm." He shook his head and put his hands around my waist, pulling me closer. "Anna, I've wanted to marry you since the day I saw you through the shop window for the first time. I would marry you tomorrow or in ten years. It doesn't matter. I'm very sure." I lifted my hand to his face to wipe away the tears that were leaking from his wonderful eyes.

"Listen," he said. "I—I wouldn't take advantage. We could live like brother and sister, if you wanted. I just want to keep you safe."

"Brother and sister?" I laughed loudly. I'm sure it was a terribly inappropriate response, but I'm not much good at classic romance, really. Then, I kissed him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe and kissed him as hard as I could. He was surprised at first, but he quickly got into the spirit of the thing and lifted me off my feet after a moment.

"Thank you," I said, when we'd finally pulled back to catch breath and he'd set me back on the ground. "I thought my arms were going to break." It was his turn to laugh. "Now you see exactly how sisterly I feel," I continued.

"Do you really want to marry me?" he asked.

"I'll be honest with you," I said. "I've always been cautious. It's not at all like me to marry a man I've only known for a week. However, I've never lived through a war before, and I've never met you before. I know that I love you. I also know that I'm stubborn and opinionated, and I know it won't be easy.

Edwin smiled, and his eyes crinkled, and he took my hands. "The best things in life are never the easy things, Anna. If you let me, I'll make you Anna Jarvis, and I'll work every day of my life to keep you safe and help you find your happiness."

"Edwin," I said, "if you let me, I'll no doubt drive you to distraction and burn your toast. But I promise to make you laugh when you're sad and stay with you through thick and thin."

This time, he kissed me, and I melted into him like butter on a summer morning.

I suppose all of this will seem terribly romantic one day, in retrospect, when we're old and gray. But I am a reasonable woman, and I know it won't be easy. That's the real beauty of it, to me. Edwin isn't marrying me after a long, drawn-out courtship. He's sacrificing so very much, committing his life to a woman he's only known for a week, giving up every chance he might have at happiness with someone else to offer shelter and protection to someone he's chosen to love. Commitment is an unfashionable word for an unfashionable thing, but I have always thought it was the best thing of all.

He says I am giving up something too. If I am, then why does it feel like I'm gaining the whole world?

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all the real-life wartime couples who found themselves in circumstances that forced them into acts of extraordinary and unusual sacrifice and commitment.