Until We Find Home

by Cathy Gohlke

  Claire reached for the back of a chair to steady herself. “If Aimee followed Josef,” she began, “if she saw the prisoner . . .”

  “If the prisoner saw her—” Peter went on. “Where? Where could they have gone? Where would a prisoner hide?”

  “Think back,” Madame Langford insisted. “When did Josef first begin taking food? When did he begin pushing people away?”

  Claire’s fingers went to her throat. “The day we all went to harvest rose hips. Remember? The rabbi was here and waiting to begin Shabbat services. Josef hadn’t returned with us. You said he was out picking a bouquet . . . but he never brought the bouquet. And he was very late. . . . The look on his face, I remember.”

  “That would fit,” Peter agreed. “He’s been following me like a shadow since then.”

  “Then you think the prisoner’s hiding place is in the vicinity of where you were picking?” Madame Langford kept them on track.

  “Oui—perhaps,” Gaston agreed. He remembered how tired and dirty Josef was when he’d crept up the stairs that night. The next morning he’d seen that Josef’s shoes were muddied. “There is a stream near there. The man would need water.”

  “Mrs. Newsome, telephone the constable to search those woods. There’s even a cave or two in that area—Christopher and his friends used to play there, even though they were told not to.”

  “A cave would be the perfect place to hide, to sleep out of the night air,” Peter agreed.

  Gaston and Josef had not explored the depths of those caves, but all Gaston could think of was Tom Sawyer and Becky, lost in the cave, and a ruthless Injun Joe tracking them.

  “Tell them to be careful. The man must be armed in some way for Josef to be so afraid.” Claire looked near tears.

  “I’ll telephone straightaway, my lady.” Mrs. Newsome was already in the hallway. “And then another round of tea is in order,” she called behind her. “There’ll be no sleeping tonight until those children are found.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  IT WAS TOO DARK TO SEE; clouds had covered the moon and stars. Josef was tempted to grab Aimee’s hand and run into the night. The prisoner, walking three steps behind, would never see him, but Aimee’s pastel wool hat and coat, gifts from Mrs. Heelis, were visible even by the pale starlight. Aimee shone a beacon for the prisoner.

  Not knowing what else to do, Josef continued to march toward the lake and the Home Guard’s tunnel, walking slowly enough for Aimee to keep pace. The little girl must be dead tired on her feet, but she didn’t whimper. Josef had taken the long way round, hoping the prisoner could not tell, hoping his sense of direction on land was poor in this foreign country.

  Josef wished now that he’d told Gaston where he was going and why. If he and Gaston had not fought, Aimee would not have followed him, and Gaston would be the greatest help in bringing the enemy down.

  Bring the enemy down—that’s what I must do. Perhaps I can get him into the Home Guard’s tunnel and trap him there. But what about Aimee? Would he believe she cannot go down? And if we go down there, no one will know where we are or be able to find us, even in the daylight. He could slit our throats. No one would know until the Home Guard comes again. And when will that be? They don’t use the tunnel regularly, just often enough to be sure that it is supplied in case of invasion.

  Josef had reached no conclusions by the time they reached Lake Windermere.

  “At last,” the prisoner huffed. “I was beginning to think you didn’t know your way. Where is this tunnel with the map?”

  “It will be harder to find in the dark. Do you still have the matches that I gave you last week? It would be much easier if we shone a light.”

  “And bring your Home Guard down on our heads? Do you think I am feebleminded? I cannot tell if you are simply stupid or if you are extremely clever.”

  “If I was clever, I would not have helped you!” Josef shouted.

  “Quiet!” The prisoner slapped Josef across the mouth, knocking him to the ground. “Get moving, Dummkopf! Which way?”

  Aimee began to cry. Josef struggled to his feet and wrapped his arm around the little girl, afraid the prisoner would strike her, too. Egging the man on was dangerous, but he’d hoped someone nearby might hear them. There was no one.

  Josef marched forward, toward the old chestnut that marked the spot for the trapdoor. He and Gaston had been down a half-dozen times since Sergeant Foley’s warning and were never spotted by the Home Guard. How he wished to be spotted now!

  “Why do you hesitate? Where is it?”

  “I told you, it’s hard to find in the dark.”

  The prisoner grabbed Aimee. “Find it, or—”

  “Here! This way! We’ve just passed it, I think.”

  “Surprising how quickly you think when this one’s at risk.”

  How Josef hated the man. “Let her go. Let her go now, or I’ll not take you a step closer.”

  Josef couldn’t see the man’s face, but he felt his indecision. Where such bravado within Josef came from, he didn’t know. But it had worked before. It must work now.

  The prisoner shoved Aimee toward Josef. “I’m losing patience.”

  “This way.” Josef grasped Aimee’s trembling hand and led them all back toward the chestnut tree. “The trapdoor is just beneath the tree. We can’t see it, but if you feel around the base of the tree, there is a rope handle.”

  As the prisoner bent, Josef pulled the hair ribbon from beneath Aimee’s cap and tossed it behind him.

  “Why did—?” the little girl began, but Josef squeezed her hand and she seemed to sense the message.

  “Why?” the prisoner repeated, suspicious.

  Aimee hesitated, but only a moment. “Why can’t we go home now?”

  “That’s right,” Josef took up. “The tunnel is here. The map is there. You don’t need us anymore. Let us go.”

  The prisoner smirked, searching the ground. “And have you alert the authorities?”

  “I won’t!” Josef swore. “I haven’t told them about you all this time. Why would I now? I don’t want to be declared a traitor or a Nazi lover! Let us go.”

  “You’re a convincing little demon.” The German stopped his search, said, “Ach!” and yanked up the trapdoor. “Get down there! Go!”

  “She’s too little. She’s never been down and she won’t be able to navigate the ladder.”

  “Then I’ll throw her down.” He reached for Aimee’s arm.

  “No! I can help her.” Josef tugged her back.

  “I thought as much.”

  “I don’t want to go down there,” Aimee cried.

  “I’ll help you. I’ll go first, then guide your feet. Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” Josef stepped through the hole and found his footing on the ladder. “Come, Aimee. Come to me.” He guided Aimee’s footsteps.

  “Sei schnell!” the prisoner commanded.

  Josef guided Aimee until she was on the ladder in front of him. Together they descended. The prisoner’s bulk shut off the little bit of starlight above. Josef grabbed a torch from the Home Guard’s stash and shone it upward toward the prisoner, praying a patrol would see the light. The sudden brightness was blinding. He glimpsed fear and hope in Aimee’s face and smiled at her, his determination renewed.

  “Turn that off!”

  “You need to see.”

  “I don’t need to see, you scoundrel! You are sly beyond your years. I will teach you to betray me.”

  Josef flicked off the torch. Was it enough? Is anyone patrolling the lake? Did they see the light? He pushed Aimee to the corner of the tunnel, far from the boots and menace of the angry man thundering down the ladder, and stood in the breach.

  It was nearly midnight when David and Sergeant Foley telephoned Claire from the station. “We found the cave Lady Langford mentioned. It looks like someone has been living there awhile.”

  “And Aimee and Josef?” Claire hoped against hope.

  “No sign of them. But we found a heap of
prisoner clothing and a knapsack—might be Josef’s. There’s nothing but a pencil inside. The man must have been supplied with something else to wear, so Gaston may be right. It’s too dark to see footprints now, but we can look in the morning, although I’m worried we’ve trampled anything of use. Mr. Dunnagan is bringing his brother’s dogs up at first light. We hope they can follow the scent. There doesn’t seem to be anything else we can do tonight.”

  “I can’t believe that, can’t accept that.” Though Claire had no idea what more any of them could do.

  “I’m sorry, Claire. Look, I’m coming to Bluebell Wood. I’ll stay with you until we find them. And we will find them, I swear.”

  Claire couldn’t respond beyond the lump in her throat. She hung up the phone. She knew they’d done their best, but their best wasn’t good enough. Bringing the children safely, soundly home was the only acceptable solution.

  “Mademoiselle?” Gaston stood beside Claire, though she’d not heard him come. He pulled her hand from the receiver. “They found nothing?”

  “They found prisoner clothing, a knapsack—nothing in it but a pencil—and evidence that someone has been living there.” Claire shut her eyes. “But no sign of Aimee or Josef.”

  “A pencil, you say?” Gaston’s eyes lit. “Then I know the knapsack belongs to Josef! He would never give a German prisoner that pencil—it is most unique. But if the man left his clothes, he is on the move, trying to escape. He is using Aimee and Josef as his prisoners, what you call his ‘ticket to ride.’”

  Claire groaned, unable to stop hot tears or to keep the required stiff upper lip. “We don’t know that. They could be anywhere.”

  “Non, Mademoiselle Claire. They are somewhere—somewhere a prisoner would want to go, somewhere he could find a way to escape the country, a way to return to Germany. He needs a map. We must think.”

  “I have no idea where he would find one, Gaston. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Claire knew Gaston was right. She felt it in her bones. It was all she could do not to vomit from fear.

  “Non, you have no idea. This is true. But Josef would have an idea!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Home Guard is always afraid of the invasion, oui?”

  “Oui—yes. What does that have to do with it?”

  “They protect the lake most of all. They are always afraid that invasion will come from parachutists landing near the lake or flying boats on the water. They are on the alert for local German sympathizers giving signals there.”

  “I heard Sergeant Foley say so.”

  “Josef knows this. If he was doing as the prisoner required, he would lead him there—to the lake, and I believe I know where.”

  Mrs. Newsome had sent a reluctant but exhausted Lady Langford to bed hours before with a promise to wake her the moment they had news, but no amount of ordering, wheedling, or begging convinced Claire to wait for David.

  “I’m not waiting another minute! It might be a wild-goose chase, but so far Gaston has been right. Telephone the constable and tell him to meet us with men at the lake at the Home Guard’s tunnel. Tell them to call Sergeant Foley—he’ll know where it is. Gaston and I will take the car.”

  “But cars are forbidden on the road until morning. There may not even be enough petrol in the tank!” Mrs. Newsome wrung her hands. The look on Claire’s face shut her up. What am I thinking? This is an emergency! “Don’t go alone. You’ll need help, Miss Claire. You can’t be rushing an escaped German prisoner. He’s strong and desperate or he wouldn’t have taken the children.”

  “I’m going after them. Don’t say anything to Aunt Miranda until we know.”

  “I am coming with you,” Peter declared. “Josef is my brother. Do not try to stop me.”

  “And I,” Bertram affirmed. “If Gaston is going, so am I.”

  “I need one of you here with the others, in case the man might bring them here, might make some kind of demand. Bertram, please stay.”

  “Please—all of you—wait for Mr. David. He’ll surely be here shortly,” Mrs. Newsome begged. Could they not see how dangerous this was? But they all ignored her.

  “The escapee would have been here already if—” Bertram argued.

  “I can’t take that chance. David and Sergeant Foley will surely bring an army of locals to help us, but someone must stay here with the women and children. I can’t leave Aunt Miranda or the children unprotected.”

  Mrs. Newsome raised her brows, tempted to feel insulted by the omission and assumption that she couldn’t take down a Nazi escapee, but decided even she might feel better with one of the young strong men about.

  “Oui,” Bertram acquiesced, but grimly.

  “Thank you. Peter, Gaston—let’s go.”

  “I do wish you’d wait for Mr. David!” Mrs. Newsome tried once more, hurrying to the telephone.

  Claire didn’t answer. She, Peter, and Gaston slipped through the front door, never minding the blackout. Mrs. Newsome, terrified for the three who’d just gone out into the night, could barely speak to the operator, whom she’d woken from a sound sleep.

  The phone at the Home Guard rang and rang, but there was no answer.

  “Please try again,” Mrs. Newsome all but cried. “This is an emergency. We think we know where the children are, but if we’re right, we need the Home Guard desperately.”

  The operator, who’d helped earlier with the telephone search, tried again, but to no avail. “I’m afraid they’ve all gone home for the night, Mrs. Newsome. Shall I ring Sergeant Foley’s home?”

  “Yes! Oh, yes, please!”

  At last a sleepy Mrs. Foley answered. “Yes? What is it? Oh, no, he’s not home yet. As soon as he comes in the door I’ll have him ring Bluebell Wood. Oh, dear, Mrs. Newsome, they shouldn’t have gone out alone. They should have waited for the constable or at least the Home Guard. Whatever possessed them?”

  Mrs. Newsome hung up the phone. Love possessed them. There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend. Miss Claire is closer to following Jesus than she knows.

  There, in the hallway of Bluebell Wood, Mrs. Newsome knelt beside the phone and prayed to the God who’d always answered, seldom in just the way she’d asked or imagined, but to her and others’ greater good. She prayed that He would see Claire and the children through, that He would bring Mr. David home quickly and alert Sergeant Foley and his men. She knew that God, in His sovereignty and omniscience, knew things she didn’t. She prayed for the workings of miracles she could not now imagine. And then she prayed for the ability to trust Him, and to wait.

  Josef sat in the corner of the Home Guard tunnel, his arm wrapped around an exhausted and frightened Aimee. How he wished he could soothe her, tell her that everything would be all right, that things, as Mrs. Newsome always said, would look better in the morning. But he couldn’t.

  By the light of the torch, the prisoner studied the map tacked to a board on the earthen wall of the tunnel. He was a naval officer, and no fool, Josef knew. He’d been lucky to string the man along for as long as he had. Once the man was convinced he had no more need of Josef . . . Josef didn’t want to think what that might mean for him and for Aimee. The longer they stayed in the tunnel, the better the chance that the Home Guard would eventually find them. If only he could think of something to keep the man here. . . .

  Twenty minutes may have passed before the man stood back from the map and shone his torch in Josef’s face. “Come here—now.”

  Josef repositioned Aimee’s head on a lump of quilts and walked to the map.

  “What is this, beside the lake?” The man pointed to a circled position on the map with the penciled name Calgarth.

  Josef swallowed, feeling the lump in his throat grow thicker. “I don’t know—just forest, I guess.” It was the Sunderland flying boat factory and town, the place Herr David worked. The site used to build the flying boats that defended Atlantic convoys against German U-boats—something this naval officer w
ould give anything to seek and destroy. If he escaped—when he escaped British shores—just getting the word to Germany could mean the end of the factory, the end of Calgarth, the bombing of the entire district.

  “You walked us in circles to get here. You know the area well. What is this?”

  Josef gulped. “It was dark. I couldn’t be sure where we were.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re a conniving little Jew.”

  “I’ve done everything you asked.”

  “Well, I don’t need you now.”

  Josef stared into the light, determined not to cry, not to show the fear the man desired. He returned to his corner and tightened his protective grip around Aimee’s shoulder. “I told you we won’t tell—we won’t say anything.”

  The man grunted, turned the light to the map again, and yanked it from the board. He folded it into a small packet and concealed it inside his shirt. “I will see if it is only forest.” His torchlight searched the room, landing on boxed and tinned food supplies. He rummaged through the stock, pulling out small packets, stuffing them inside his shirt and pants pockets. He opened boxes and tins, finally turning to Josef. “There is no compass here.”

  Josef thought of the compass on the pencil inside his knapsack, relieved he’d left it in the cave. He almost said he had one, that they could go back and get it, just to delay and perhaps appease the man, but that would put the prisoner nearer total escape and put him and Aimee nearer the man’s final plans for them. A new idea occurred to him.

  “You said you could get me one. You vowed.”

  “I thought there was one here.”

  The man stood, towering over Josef and Aimee, who had at last fallen into deep sleep.

  “I know where I can get you one, but it will be risky. You have to let us go.”

  “Ha! You are not only conniving but stupid if you think I will let you go.” The man pulled his knife from his boot.

  “If you want the compass, you will. I can get one, but I have to steal it. If Aimee and I return home now, they will believe we were lost and stop looking for us. That will give me opportunity to steal one, and I can get it back to you tomorrow night . . . as soon as everyone is asleep.”