Hearts in Hiding

by Patty Smith Hall

  “Stinkin’ Germans.” The man spit out as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Edie’s stomach clenched into a tight ball. Please make them stop, Lord. Why do they have to drag the war up here, when I’m happy and laughing and so in love with that wonderful man guarding first base, it almost hurts?

  But the men didn’t stop. “Personally, I think FDR ought to load up the whole lot of them and keep ’em locked up just like they’re doing to the Japs out west. It would sure make it a whole lot easier to keep track of them. You just never know with those people.”

  Those people. The words twisted around Edie’s heart, knotting into a tangled ball of raw pain. How she hated those words and all the ugliness they implied, as if being German or Japanese or Negro somehow made you less of a person!

  What about Beau? He’d fought long and hard against getting Cantrell and his cronies at the phone company to string lines out to Gertie’s place. Had it been out of concern for her and the Stephenses’ safety or was he really like the man who tried to attack her, only stopping her with kindness rather than a fist?

  Edie sucked in a breath of fresh air, but tasted salt instead.

  Am I just one of “those people” to You, Lord?

  A hand came to rest between her shoulder blades, and she glanced over. The man who had been standing behind her, the one saying all those horrible things, looked at her through concerned eyes. “Are you okay, miss?”

  She stretched forward, anything to flee his touch. What if he knew the truth, that she was German-American, that her father had defected to the Nazis? Would he be so quick to run to her aid then? “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, unsure of her voice as a knot climbed up her throat. Maggie would have to forgive her for not getting her drink. Spinning on her heels, Edie fled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Time!” Beau called out as he jogged to the pitching mound.

  Mack met him with an irritated glance. “I’m one out away from striking out the side and you’re calling time? What gives?”

  “Something’s up.” Beau pointed out Edie’s retreating form as she disappeared into the tree line. If he hurried, he’d catch her in no time. “I need someone to replace me.”

  “She sure is taking off in a hurry. What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Beau yanked off his glove and shoved it under his arm, his fingers curling into his fist at his side, heat running up the back of his neck. “But she looked pretty upset when that guy over at the concession stand started talking to her.”

  Mack put a hand to Beau’s shoulder. “Now, don’t go getting yourself all worked up. I wouldn’t want to be forced to arrest you over a simple misunderstanding.”

  Beau nodded. “You’re right. It’s just Edie’s not one to get upset over nothing.”

  “Go after her.” Mack grabbed the mitt under Beau’s arm and tossed it to the ground. “I’ll have a little talk with that fellow after we wrap this game up, okay?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Within minutes, he was deep in the forest, the noise of the crowd fading in the distance behind him, the rapid thrumming in his heart the only sound in his ears. His T-shirt clung to his damp skin, warm moisture so thick that even with the heavy umbrella of new leaves, you’d have to cut the air with a razor-sharp knife. A patch of blue sky to his right drew Beau’s gaze to a grove of storm-twisted pines carpeting the forest’s floor.

  There, on a fallen log in the center of the clearing, sat Edie.

  “Are you okay?” He came up beside her slowly. No sense startling her.

  “Fine.”

  Liar. The log dipped slightly beneath him when he sat down. He reached into his jeans pocket for a clean handkerchief and handed it to her.

  She took it from him. “Thank you.”

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “Home.”

  Beau smiled. He liked that Edie thought of Merrilee’s place as home. Gave him hope she might stick around after this war was over. “Didn’t you like the game?”

  She swung around toward him then. Tears gleamed in her blue-green eyes but refused to fall, as if by sheer willpower. “Of course I loved the game. I haven’t had that much fun in years.”

  He slid closer. “Then what made you take off before the final out?”

  The smile she gave him didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know. I mean, I ducked out of work early to go so I figured I’d go home, get something to eat and maybe come back for a while this evening.”

  So that was how she was going to play this, by keeping him in the dark. He wanted Edie’s trust more than his next breath, but he couldn’t force it. She’d make the decision when she was ready. “Well then, do you mind if I sit with you?”

  “The game’s already over?”

  “Almost,” he replied, stretching his right leg out in front of him. “Figured I’d already knocked in the winning runs, no need to keep hotdogging it at first. So I pulled myself out. You know, needed to give someone else the opportunity to play.”

  Edie lowered her head, but not before he caught her lips twitching. Good, he’d hoped to coax one of those beautiful smiles out of her. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mr. Daniels?”

  “Sometimes, like on the ball field or at the hospital. But I’m still trying to figure most things out,” he answered. Now why had he told her that? Maybe because it was the first time he’d admitted it to himself. From the look on her face, she didn’t believe him, either. “It’s true. Growing up the way I did, there was never anything to have a lot of faith in.”

  “You had Merrilee, didn’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Dad didn’t take us up to the big house much when we were younger. I don’t know if me and my brothers were too rambunctious for our grandfather or Dad just didn’t want to mess with us. I didn’t get to know Merrilee until she married John.” One side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “She was probably one of the first people I ever learned to depend on.”

  “And now?”

  He looked at her over his shoulder, studying the fine lines gathered around the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. “I’ve learned that no matter how much people let you down, the Lord never will.”

  “Maybe that’s true for you and for Merrilee and most folks,” she whispered, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “But not for everyone.”

  Maybe they were finally getting to the heart of what happened back at the concession stand. “Where did you get that idea from?”

  “I shouldn’t have let the man bother me so much, but he just kept saying things.” She filled him in about the prisoner-of-war camp opening up at Fort Oglethorpe, and the men’s position on Germans in general. His heart contracted into a painful knot. No wonder she ran. “I can’t help the choices my parents made. All I can do is give my all to help this country claim victory over that mad man over there. But it’s never going to be enough, is it? Some people are always going to think I’m the enemy simply because I’m German.”

  Beau grimaced. Hadn’t he done the same thing, judging her based on an old letter from her grandmother, thought her guilty based on—what? His only experience with Germans? He knew better than anyone what it was like growing up in the shadow of evil, to have people wonder if he’d go down the same rotten path as his dad. And Edie had done nothing to deserve this kind of censure, save being born.

  Lord, forgive me. Help me to always see people for who they are. And give me the right words to comfort Edie.

  “You know, when I was a kid, my momma always made us go to Sunday school. I didn’t like wearing a tie and the shoes always hurt my feet, but I liked the music. There was this one song I always remembered. ‘Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.’”

  Edie gave him a watery smile. “That was one of my favorites.”

  “I didn’t know
what it meant,” he replied, warmth flooding his cheeks. “But when I landed with my platoon over in Africa, and I looked around at the people from all over the world, working together to secure our freedom, that song came back to me for the first time in years. I realized the Lord didn’t want us to pick and choose who we would love. He wanted us to love like He loved.”

  “Even the enemy?” Edie whispered.

  Beau reached down and took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, the soft peaks and valleys of her palm a perfect fit against his own. She tilted her head back until her eyes met his, and he was lost.

  So this was love.

  He didn’t have a chance, not from the moment she aimed that fire poker at his head, doing her best to protect those she loved the most. Beau had been falling ever since.

  “Beau?”

  She was waiting for an answer. A long strand of silky curls had made a break out of her bindings, instead caressing the delicate skin of her jaw. With his free hand, he fingered the unruly curls back behind the shell of her ear. She wasn’t breathing now, but hanging by the thinnest of threads for his answer.

  Beau leaned his forehead against hers. “Especially the enemy, Edwina.”

  He could tell from the play of emotions on her face that she wanted so much to believe him, to grab hold of his words and cling to them for dear life.

  But then she leaned away from him slightly, the warmth of their contact suddenly replaced by a cool emptiness that sent a chill through Beau’s heart. “We ought to be getting back.”

  “Sure.” Beau stood, then turned, holding her hand while gently wrapping his arm around her waist to help her down. As soon as her saddle shoes touched earth, she scooted away from him.

  Beau followed behind her. So she planned to simply sweep her uncomfortable feelings under the rug. Didn’t she know that one day, when she threw back the carpet, her problems would still be there, growing larger over time? But she needed to make the decision to deal with them for herself.

  For some odd reason, his father came to mind. Maybe he was something of a coward, not wanting to talk to James. But he feared Mack would be right. Beau would regret not speaking to his father, if only to offer forgiveness.

  “How’s your knee holding up?”

  Beau looked over at her. She really was a sweet woman, just the kind of girl who could make a man give serious thought to marriage. But not him. This talk had convinced him Edie already had a tough row to hoe without adding his own brand of troubles. What would she want with a man like him, someone with sins of their own making—not to mention a father heading for prison and an absent mother? She deserved a man like Mack. Yet something about that idea stuck in his craw.

  He cleared his throat. “Got a little nervous rounding second that last time, but it’s feeling pretty good.”

  Was that a sigh of relief he heard? “I’m glad.”

  Beau smiled, the thought of Edie worrying about him sending a slice of warmth across his chest. “I think all that work we’ve been doing out on the farm is rebuilding some of the strength I lost when I got injured.”

  “You know, I haven’t thought about that, but you’re probably right.” She paused for a second. “Can I ask you something? Just something I’ve been wondering about for a while now.”

  He leaned in close, enjoying the faint fragrance of vanilla that lingered in the air around her. “Sweetheart, you can ask me anything.”

  Her face clouded with uncertainty. “It’s just that a lot of guys have been injured like you, and most times get sent right back to the front.” She paused, the muscles in her throat a delicate ripple when she swallowed. “I figure your wound must have been worse than you let on to Merrilee. If it is, she needs to know. Merrilee worries about you.”

  Beau’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “If you want to know why I’m not back on the line, don’t hide behind Merrilee. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I’m sorry. It just seemed…wrong to pry.”

  Well, if Edie wanted to know what had happened, he would tell her the truth, or as much as he could without going into too much detail. He glanced around, trying to find a place for them to stop for a while, somewhere out of the early evening sunlight that danced across the forest floor, playing peekaboo with the newly bloomed shoots. Just up ahead stood a massive water oak, its flouncing spring green leaves a perfect umbrella to rest and talk under.

  “Look, if you don’t want to talk about this…”

  “No, it’s just that this is going to take a while.” Sliding his hand up the length of her forearm, he took her elbow. The soft contour of her arm pressed against his fingertips, sending little shocks of awareness through his hand and up his arm. He led her over some downed limbs, steadying her as she stepped across the thin branches until they reached the tree. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he turned to her. “So what is it you’d like to know?”

  “What happened?”

  He glanced out over the wooded area, trying to put his scattered memories of that time into some semblance of order. “There was a bridge right outside of Tunis that we were ordered to take, but there were too many of them.” He snorted out a humorless chuckle. “We were like ducks on a pond, just there for the picking. By the time we got the order to retreat, my squadron was surrounded. We were forced to surrender.”

  “You were a…prisoner?”

  He nodded. “In Italy at first, but once our boys got them on the run, the Italians shipped us north. I ended up in a prison camp near Moosberg.”

  “But that’s in…”

  Had she heard of Moosberg? Beau studied her for a moment. The color in her cheeks had faded to an alabaster cream, her blue-green eyes deepening to match the churning seas just off the African coast. She bit into her lip until he feared she would draw blood.

  He dropped his gaze to their clasped hands. When had his fingers sought out and entwined with hers again? “You familiar with the village?”

  “I believe Grandma still has a sister living there.”

  He hadn’t considered that she might still have family back in Germany. How painful that must be for her, the thought of people she loved right there on the front line?

  He snuck a glance at her. The tension in her face had softened a bit. The lines that had creased her forehead and around her eyes were fading, her lips slightly parted as if waiting for his next question.

  Or a kiss.

  Beau cleared his throat. “Not much left to tell. It wasn’t a picnic, but we had the Geneva Convention to protect us and Red Cross rations to feed us, so it wasn’t as bad as it was for some.”

  “What happened to the men who didn’t have that protection?”

  He met her gaze and held it for a long moment. No way on earth was he going to tell her what the Germans had done to the Russians, to those unprotected by the bullheadedness of their leaders. The nightmares that followed his time in the prison camp didn’t visit him as often anymore, but in the recess of his soul, he still heard the unearthly screams of terror from the Russian side of the camp.

  “How come Merrilee never talked about you being missing?”

  “I didn’t put her down as a contact. I didn’t want her worrying about me if something did happen.”

  “Does Merrilee know?”

  He shook his head. “No, I haven’t told a soul about my time there.”

  Until now.

  Beau studied her. Why had he told her? After all, he’d decided it wouldn’t be right to burden anyone with his time in Moosberg, so he swore to himself that he wouldn’t burden anyone with it, ever. But Edie didn’t view his imprisonment as anything but what it was, a consequence of war. He felt free to talk without needing prodding. Edie was so easy to talk to—asking questions, yes, but never expecting more than he was ready to give. She understood without making him go into every detail.

  “Beau?”

  “Hmm?”

  She bent her head forward, her hair cascading into a dark curtain across her face. “How did y
ou feel about the Lord then, when you were in that…camp?”

  His heart shifted slightly inside him. Could a man fall more in love than he already was? Before today, he would have doubted it, calling it silly mush, but he knew he’d never stop falling for this woman all the days of his life.

  But she needed comforting, not love just now. Reaching out, Beau gently outlined the silhouette of her face, the skin beneath his fingertips warm, the weight of her hair a soft mass of curls against his hand. He pushed the strands back, tracing the shell of her ear as he secured her hair into place.

  Edie glanced up at him then, her wary eyes studying him. Yes, she was searching, much like he had been during his time at Moosberg. Railing at the Lord, wondering why the God he’d been told about in Sunday school would forsake him in his need, only to discover He’d been there with him all the time.

  Beau leaned back against the trunk of the oak, gathering her close. He’d be honest with her, even if she didn’t believe him. “The thing is, I didn’t lose my faith in the Lord then. That’s where I found it for the very first time.”

  The evening air hummed a soft tune, but Edie’s mind was a muddle as she walked beside Beau up the dirt driveway to Merrilee’s. He’d dodged bullets, running along the front lines, nursing the wounded, only to get shot and left for dead. But would death have been a better alternative to the horrors the Nazis inflicted on their prisoners? The night birds rustled in the trees overhead, their mournful song echoing in the high branches.

  I didn’t lose my faith there, Edie. It’s where I found it.

  Edie sucked in a deep breath of moist air. She had faith in the Lord, maybe not the kind Beau had and maybe not as strong as his, but a faith nevertheless. But what she’d been calling faith wasn’t enough now, not now that she’d seen what God had worked through Beau.

  Lord, I don’t want to be worried by what others say about me anymore. I just want what Beau has, an absolute faith in You.

  “You’re being mighty quiet over there.” His deep rumble held a hint of concern.