Papa’s Buttons

May 9, 1940 - Amersfoort, Netherlands

The button tin from the bottom drawer of her father’s desk barely fit inside Iris’s peacoat. While everyone in the house was occupied, she slipped out the back door and crossed the lawn toward the tennis court, half-hidden from the kitchen windows by a row of field maples. Iris had spent entire afternoons with her older brother Matt searching for lost tennis balls beneath the blackthorn hedges. A full basket earned them each a bronze one-cent coin, which Matt insisted was proof Jewish children did not need to envy Easter egg hunts after all.

Today, Iris went alone.

She pulled the tin from her pocket. Dutch East Indies was stamped across the top. She traced the faded lettering with her thumb and remembered the muddy floor of her father’s factory in Spakenburg.

The lid popped free with a sharp snap, sending several buttons skittering over the shallow metal edge. She gathered them carefully and arranged them one by one along the dusty white line of the tennis court. No two were alike. Some were pearled and luminous, others dull and practical.

Iris liked to imagine herself a shopkeeper displaying her wares. A few buttons, however, always proved too beautiful to sell. Those she slipped into the pocket of her peacoat.

A moment later, the back door flew open. Matt hurried across the grass, breathless and irritated.

“Where have you been?”

He gripped her arm and steered her toward the house.

“My buttons,” Iris said, looking back at the court.

“Mr. Jansen is here. Everyone’s been looking for you.”

He marched her straight into the library.

“Found her,” he announced before disappearing into the hall.

Cheeks burning, Iris took off her peacoat and slid into the chair across from Mr. Jansen. She had completely forgotten what day it was.

“I hope you’ve been practicing your lessons.”

She hadn’t.

Mr. Jansen pulled Latijnsche Oefeningen, Latin Exercises, from his bag and placed it on the table. “I do not usually instruct little girls, but your father was quite adamant. Let us see how you do.”

“Salvete, Iris.”

“Salve,” she corrected him.

Before Mr. Jansen could respond, the ringing of the telephone erupted in the hall.

Liesbeth, her governess, hurried down the stairs to answer it.

“Hallo, met de familie Levin.”

Iris stared at the open Latin book, listening instead to Liesbeth’s voice.

“No, Mr. Levin is at the factory,” Liesbeth said. “Mrs. Levin is out as well.”

A pause followed.

“Tonight?” Her voice rose sharply. “Are you certain?”

Mr. Jansen looked toward the open doorway, then stood and quietly closed it.

“You are correct,” he said, returning to his chair. “Salve, Iris.”

Beyond the glass, the buttons remained scattered on the tennis court. By the time Mr. Jansen had gone and evening settled over the house, she had nearly forgotten all about them.

Hours later, Iris and Matt stood together at the top of the stairs like sleepwalkers. The brisk spring air drifted up from the open front door. From below came doors clicking, drawers opening, and hurried footsteps.

Liesbeth draped coats over their shoulders.

“Watch your step, sleepyheads,” she whispered as she followed the children down the stairs.

On the ground floor, their father carried suitcases toward the front door. Liesbeth knelt behind the children, turning them toward her and pulling them close. Matt wriggled free. Taking a bonnet from her apron, she lifted it onto Iris’s head, her hands trembling as she tied the bow beneath Iris’s chin. Then she wrapped her arms around Iris for an almost uncomfortably long hug.

Matt did not like to be hugged. Liesbeth blew him a kiss instead.

“It’s time to go,” their mother said abruptly as she guided the children toward the front door.

Outside, Iris heard the small click of Liesbeth locking the door behind them.

The crescent moon sat high in the sky, and Iris imagined reclining in its nook to finish her sleep. The motorcar sat idling in the driveway. Iris followed Matt into the back of the Minerva. The leather seat was cold. Iris had so many questions, but if Matt was not going to ask any, she wasn’t either.

It was strange not to have Liesbeth sitting between them. Iris couldn’t remember a time when it had been just the four of them.

Her mother whispered, “How long before we can come home?”

That was the last thing Iris heard before the tires over the cobblestones lulled her back to sleep.

Without warning, the motorcar jolted and screeched to a stop.

Iris woke with her cheek pressed into the knotted ribbon of her bonnet. Ahead, soldiers dragged a wooden barricade across the road. One approached her father's window.

Iris watched her father hand him an envelope.

The soldier inspected whatever was inside, returned it, then raised one hand.

The barricade was pulled aside.

As the car moved forward, Iris let out the breath she had been holding.

They crept past soldiers and enormous boxy trucks. Iris saw a man kneeling beside his car, his gray hat clutched in his hands as he shouted up at one of the men in uniform.

She started to point, but Matt grabbed her arm.

“Stop being so nosy.”

Soon they were moving steadily down the road again.

Iris leaned her head against the window and watched the crescent moon follow them as if tethered by a string. She liked the idea that she could bring it with her wherever they were headed.

An airplane passed overhead, much louder than Iris was used to. Then came a strange sound, rolling over the roof of the car in waves and pressing against the windows until her stomach felt hollow.

“Papa, what’s that noise?”

“It’s a red siren,” Matt said confidently. “It’s a warning in case the planes attack us.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Red siren?” her mother said. “I think you mean air raid siren.”

“Does that mean the planes are going to attack us?” Iris asked.

“No,” her father said. “It could just be a warning.”

He laid his hand over her mother’s. Her mother squeezed it in return.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” she told Iris.

But Iris had never been on an adventure in the dead of night. She was too excited to sleep.

By morning, they had joined a crowded road filled with cars, bicycles, buses, and soldiers. Matt pressed his face to the glass.

“Why are there soldiers everywhere?”

“It’s okay, Matthijs,” their mother said. “They’re here to keep us safe.”

Their mother divided up some beschuit and handed half to each child.

“Eat up. It may be a while before our next meal.”

Her mother looked toward the dark column of smoke rising far off in the distance and asked her father, “How long will it take to get to the docks?”

“The docks?” Matt asked, suddenly alert. “Will we see sailboats? Are we getting on a sailboat?”

Matt knew everything there was to know about sailboats, even though he had never actually been on one.

“We don’t really know, sweetheart,” Iris’s mother replied. “But probably not.”

“But maybe,” Matt said.

Her father removed one hand from the steering wheel and glanced at his watch.

“If the road stays like this—” her mother began.

“We'll make it,” he said.

After a long while of moving in fits and starts, cars began turning toward a road marked Hoek van Holland.

A tall metal fence topped with coils of jagged wire stood at the entrance. Soldiers moved from car to car, waving some drivers through and ordering others to turn back.

Iris’s father handed one soldier the same envelope he had shown at the barricade.

Iris crossed her fingers and hoped it would have the same magic powers today.

Matt had spent most of the drive speculating about what kind of ship they might board.

“I hope it’s a schooner,” he said.

Iris ignored him and watched the soldier carry the envelope away.

Several minutes later he returned.

“Please step out of the car.”

“Why does Papa have to get out?” Iris asked.

Matt stopped talking about boats.

“Shh.” Her mother reached back and took Iris’s hand.

Her father followed the soldiers toward the gate. Iris watched as he pulled a small card from his wallet. The men examined it and spoke to him while her father pointed back at their car. They nodded.

Her father’s shoulders relaxed.

He hurried to the car and climbed inside.

“Let’s get you all onboard.”

“You mean let us get onboard, don’t you?” her mother said.

Her father did not answer.

Beyond the gate, every open patch of ground seemed filled with cars and bicycles. They parked far from the harbor and continued on foot with one suitcase between them.

As they crossed a low rise, Iris saw the ship.

“Are we going on that big boat?”

“Yes, my love,” her father said. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

It was bigger than any ship Iris had ever seen. Black along the bottom, white above. The little round windows along its side looked like buttons, dozens and dozens of them sewn in a perfect line.

Women climbed the gangway holding children by the hand. Some carried babies wrapped in blankets.

“Hurry, my dears,” their mother said.

The family joined a line snaking along the narrow jetty. Near the gangway, a sailor shouted through a megaphone.

“Please form a single-file line. Women and children only. I repeat, women and children only.”

Her mother stopped.

“What did he say?”

“It will be all right,” her father said.

People pressed around them.

“Keep moving, madam!”

Her mother crouched in front of Iris.

“Iris, darling, wait here with Matt.”

Iris watched her parents step from the line.

At first they spoke quietly.

Then her mother’s voice rose above the crowd.

“Samuel.”

“Sweetheart, you need to get on board with the children. I’ll find another passage.”

“And leave you here?”

“Take the children to Liverpool.”

Her father pulled a folded piece of paper from his wallet.

“This has Mr. Bradbury’s information. Show it to the authorities when you arrive. Tell them he is expecting you.”

“Samuel, I’ve never even met him.”

“I will be there as soon as I can. I promise.”

“I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes. You can.”

“No. We have to find a way to stay together.”

“It isn’t possible, sweetheart.”

Iris leaned toward Matt.

“They’re fighting.”

“They don’t fight.”

“Mama’s upset.”

Their mother covered her face with both hands. Their father touched her shoulder, but she pushed him away.

A sailor raised his megaphone.

“Keep moving! Quickly now!”

The crowd surged forward.

Iris’s mother threw her arms around her father, and they held each other tightly. It was the first time Iris had ever seen her parents embrace.

Then her mother wiped her face and returned to the line.

Iris’s father followed.

He handed the suitcase to Matt.

“Mind your sister. Stay close to your mother.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then he bent down in front of Iris. He straightened her bonnet and buttoned her peacoat.

“You mind your mother and your brother.”

He pulled her against him. Iris’s cheek pressed into the hard edge of his glasses.

“I will see you soon, sweetheart.”

Then he stood and stepped back.

“Papa!”

Her mother placed a hand against each child’s back and urged them toward the gangway.

Once aboard, they were directed onto the open deck. Wind whipped across the ship, and seagulls circled overhead. Below, sailors moved quickly along the jetty, gathering ropes and waving the last passengers toward the gangway.

Iris shoved her hands into her peacoat pockets to keep warm.

Her mother pushed through the crowd until they found a place along the railing.

Iris pressed her face between the rails and looked down. Groups of men stood on the dock, waving toward the passengers above.

She searched until she spotted her father.

He wore his familiar dark glasses and plaid jacket and looked unusually small beside two tall men in stiff black hats. As she lifted her hand from her jacket pocket to wave, she felt something rattle. She reached back in, and her fingers closed around the few buttons she had hidden there.

The buttons.

The special ones she had chosen from the tin box.

Her stomach tightened.

How could she have been so careless?

The buttons were Papa’s. She had taken them without asking, and now he would head back to the house alone and find them scattered across the court. He would know what she had done.

Tears filled her eyes.

“We have to go back,” she said.

Her mother was still watching the dock and did not seem to hear her.

“We have to go back,” Iris said again, louder.

She pulled hard on her mother’s hand.

“I need to get to Papa.”

The wind made it difficult to hear her own words. Her breath came faster. She could no longer see her father clearly through the people gathered along the rail.

“We have to get off. I need to get to Papa!”

Her mother tightened her grip. “Iris—”

Iris yanked against her hand with all her strength.

“Get me off! Let me go to Papa!”

“We can't go back now, sweetheart.”

When her mother still did not move, Iris threw her head back and screamed. She dropped to the deck and kicked her feet against the boards.

People turned to stare.

Matt stood frozen beside the luggage.

“Shhh, my love,” her mother pleaded. “We can’t go back.”

She tried to lift Iris, but Iris twisted away and screamed louder.

The only person who knew how to calm her was Liesbeth.

Liesbeth was back at the house.

Back where Iris wished she could be.

Her mother looked toward the dock, but Samuel had disappeared behind the crowd.

An airplane shrieked overhead.

Iris screamed until her throat hurt.

For one suspended moment, her mother did not move.

An older woman caught her by the arm.

“Hold on to her, madam. She’ll hurt herself.”

Iris’s mother stared at the woman, then toward the gangway.

Her face hardened.

“Stop it, Iris Marie!” she shouted. “I can’t do this!”

Iris fell quiet.

She had never heard Mama use that voice.

Her mother scooped her from the deck.

“Matthijs, bring the bag and follow me.”

“Mama?”

“We’re getting off.”

Matt grabbed the suitcase and followed as his mother forced her way against the stream of passengers still boarding.

Iris clung to her, gulping air between broken sobs.

By the time they reached the gangway, sailors were hurrying the last passengers aboard.

They pushed their way down the gangway.

When they reached the dock, Iris twisted in her mother’s arms and looked back. Women and children crowded the rails above them where they once stood. Sailors pulled a rope across the entrance to the gangway.

Her mother set Iris down and searched the dock.

“Help me find your father.”

Iris looked for the familiar plaid jacket.

The two men in black hats were still there.

Her father was gone.

“Papa’s gone!”

The crew hauled the gangway clear while men on the dock slipped the thick ropes from their posts.

Matt pointed.

“Mama, it’s leaving.”

The engines rumbled. A strip of dark water opened between the ship and the dock.

Matt and his mother watched it pull away while Iris searched the crowd.

Iris took off running when she finally spotted him.

“Papa!”