Friends & Enemies (Promise for Tomorrow Book 1)

by Terri Wangard

  After landing, they returned to their quarters in the San Sebastian Hotel. Paul joined Chet for supper. Several other cadets paused by their table.

  “Are you fellas going to the dance at the Coral Gables Country Club tonight? Lots of gorgeous dolls from the U of Miami will be there.” Through his rooftop telescope, Charlie Spencer spent more time checking out girls than stars.

  “I don’t think so,” Paul began.

  Chet cut him off. “We’ll be there.”

  Their classmates moved off and Paul settled his gaze on his friend. A dance versus going up on the roof at night to stargaze? No contest. The stars were his old friends. Sure, from his astronomy classes, he already knew the names and the relative locations of the fifty brightest stars and the planets. No, he didn’t need extra time at the telescope, but the celestial bodies didn’t yammer at him. Besides, if he got up during the wee hours, he’d see Saturn rise before the sun.

  Chet stared back at him. “We don’t have to stay long. Just put in an appearance. Some of the guys are beginning to think you consider yourself too highfalutin for us.”

  By “some of the guys,” Chet meant Walton, maybe Spencer. Paul huffed, dropping his fork on his plate with a clatter. He probably could be a bit more social. “I’m not interested in looking for a girl.”

  “You don’t have to. All you need to do is dance. One dance only, if you like. No pledges of undying love are expected.”

  They walked out into the night. Overhead, the stars began to glitter, but Paul averted his eyes. “I suppose you think I’m going overboard.”

  Chet stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to pretend I know how it feels to lose your wife. I admire your dedication to the class work. I don’t know if I could concentrate the way you are. But come up for air now and then.”

  “Hmpf. That’s a nice way of saying, ‘Stay in the land of the living.’” Paul resumed walking. “Did I tell you I planned on bringing along Rachel’s picture but my dad advised me not to? He felt I’d adjust to her absence better without the constant reminder.” And he had complied!

  The moon lured his attention upward. There was the system of brilliant crater rays emanating from Tycho. And that other bright spot, the Copernicus crater, with the Hyginus Rille to the east of it. He wrenched his attention back to Chet. “My mom wanted me to apply for a longer leave, but I didn’t want to. What would I do? Sit around my empty house where everything reminds me of Rachel? I needed distraction.”

  “Glad to hear that, because that’s what this dance will be. A big distraction.”

  The dance was outside, under the stars. Less than a minute after they arrived, a pretty blonde in a slinky red dress joined them.

  “Hello, boys. I’m Judy.” She wrapped a hand around Paul’s arm.

  “I, uh, hello, Judy.” Paul tried to pull out of her grasp, but she tightened her grip. “Are you a nurse, by any chance?”

  Wide-eyed surprise backed her up a step and he tugged away, straightening his tunic. “You do a good imitation of a blood pressure cuff.”

  She laughed. No, she simpered, like one of those southern belles Rachel had snickered at in Gone With the Wind. She reached for his arm again and he backed away. The cloying fragrance of her perfume tickled his nose and he tried not to twitch.

  “Don’t be shy, Paul.”

  Warning bells sounded. She knew his name. Someone had prepped her. He spared a glance around the crowd mingling on the lawn, and connected with Mitch Walton’s stare. Bingo.

  He grabbed Judy’s wrist before she could latch onto him again. “And what has Mitch told you about me?”

  She batted eyes more green than blue. “Mitch?”

  She’d never make it as an actress. He squared his shoulders, raised his brows, and waited.

  Her bravado melted away. “Oh, you mean Cadet Walton? He only said you’re glum because your girl left you.” She twisted her hand in his grasp to wrap her fingers around his wrist. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you forget her. We’ll have a real good time.”

  Paul released his hold and shook off hers. “Funny way for him to say my wife died.”

  He pivoted on his heel and headed for the refreshment table.

  Chet caught up with him. “You turned away a second too soon, man. She did a perfect imitation of a fish I once saw at the aquarium. Mouth opening and closing in a perfect O. Now she’s zeroing in on Walton. I don’t think she likes being made a fool.”

  A tall brunette offered Paul a glass of punch and he smiled his thanks. Her eyes gleamed with intelligence and humor. If she wasn’t working with the refreshments, he’d consider asking her for his requisite dance. The happy dancers, the laughter, the little twinkling white lights strung from poles and palm trees, all conspired to mock his bereavement. Such gaiety, once a hallmark of his life, now threatened to suffocate him. His breathing quickened. Another minute and he’d be hyperventilating. He had to leave.

  Chet stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and asked the brunette, “Is Livvy here tonight?”

  “Over there.” The brunette pointed. “Talking with Mrs. Lunn.”

  “Thanks, Libby.” He steered Paul toward the brunette’s lookalike. “Come on. I want to introduce you to Livvy. Her husband died in the North Atlantic convoy duty earlier this spring. You don’t have to pretend to be enjoying yourself with her.”

  Trading sob stories held no appeal, but Chet didn’t allow Paul a chance to break away. The young lady listened with apparent interest to the instructor’s wife, but a familiar heaviness cloaked her. Grief. She smiled and laughed at the appropriate places, without engaging her heart. Paul had played the charade, too. Who would cheer up whom?

  “Ladies, may we intrude?” Chet tilted forward in a chivalrous bow that struck Paul as overkill but delighted the ladies. “My fellow sufferer under your husband’s unrelenting demand for perfection,” he nodded to Mrs. Lunn, “is Paul Braedel. Paul, this is Mrs. Lunn and Mrs. Olivia Snodgrass.”

  A knowing look settled in Olivia’s―Livvy’s―eyes. Chet had mentioned him. He also maneuvered for Paul to spend time with her by asking Mrs. Lunn to dance.

  As Chet led Mrs. Lunn away, he said, “You can tell me more about your husband’s transformation from high school dropout to teaching college graduates how to navigate. Did he really learn the value of accurate navigation from tales of Key West natives luring merchant vessels onto the coral reefs to recover the cargo from the resultant wrecked ships?”

  Chet’s voice faded as he waltzed Mrs. Lunn through the dancers. Paul turned to find Livvy watching him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess Chet hopes to learn if the captain has a bit of purloined treasure of his own tucked away.”

  Livvy smiled. “My sister thinks Chet’s sensational. She’s spoken for, unfortunately.”

  He held out a hand in invitation and they joined the dance. “Unfortunately?”

  “To my thinking. Hopefully not to hers, I guess.” Livvy glanced toward the refreshment table and a frown puckered her brow. “I’m afraid my usually sensible sister got caught up with patriotic fervor and became engaged to a young man just before he shipped out. They barely know each other.”

  “Engagements aren’t engraved in stone. If she has doubts, she’s not obligated to marry him. Who knows? He may be wondering what he got himself into as well.” Or he didn’t care. The number of married men, or men with girls back home, who promptly sought out female companionship at the different military bases amazed Paul. A gossip columnist could have a field day.

  The song ended and they left the dance floor. Paul snagged two glasses of punch before they strolled the grounds.

  “Livvy and Libby.” Paul craned his neck for a look at Livvy’s sister. “You two are twins.”

  “Yes, and as she never hesitates to remind me, she’s the elder twin.”

  “Next time she does, suggest you’ll gift her with a cane for Christmas.”

  Livvy jerked her glass away from her mouth and choked on her laugh
ter. “My goodness, Paul. That’s a sensational idea. Oh, and if she persists to remind me, I’ll up my offer to a wheel chair.”

  They arrived at an outdoor pool. Lanterns provided sufficient light to safely negotiate the walkways but not enough to create a glow in the sky. Another reminder of how close the war had come to America.

  The Mediterranean architecture, replete with arches over doors, windows, and walkways, blended well with the palm trees that rustled in the sea-scented breeze. Paul had never been to a country club before. “This is a beautiful place. Have you come here for anything besides military dances?”

  Livvy’s lips pressed tight. She raised her head and looked skyward, almost like she was fighting tears. Maybe she’d spent time with her husband here. Paul was on the verge of apologizing when she blurted out, “I was married here last November.”

  She pointed to a trail leading around the building. They followed it to a courtyard.

  She took a shuddering breath. “We stood under a flowered trellis on a raised platform against the wall there, in front of the banyan tree. A white runner came down the aisle between the seating for the guests. We had lots of carnations and roses. They smelled heavenly. A string quartet played. It was sensational.”

  Livvy turned abruptly and took quick steps back toward the dance.

  Paul caught up with her. “Had you been together long?”

  She exhaled. “Three years. He was a student at the University of Miami. His parents live in Orlando, and I don’t see them. Now it’s almost like he didn’t exist.” Her look turned fierce. “But he did. He was destined for great things. Who knows what he might have accomplished, if he’d only lived.”

  Inside one of the rooms nearby, elegantly dressed ladies glided on the arms of tuxedoed men. The military dance wasn’t the only event taking place here tonight.

  “The courtyard can also be arranged with chairs in a circular setting with a stage in the center. They had it like that for a benefit concert last month. A local family lost their home in a fire and the community turnout was…” she paused, staring at the indoor party.

  “Sensational?”

  “Exactly.” She turned to him and frowned.

  He aimed for a look of innocence, but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.

  A rosy glow brightened her cheeks. “I say that too often, don’t I?”

  He had to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve heard that word uttered all year and in the space of a few minutes, I’ve heard it three times.”

  Livvy laughed in response. She was a good sport. Maybe they could divert each other from their pain while he was here. He tucked her hand on his arm as they continued back to the dance. “Are you an early bird or a night owl?”

  “Definitely an early bird. I like to walk on the beach at dawn.”

  “How would you like to come to the San Sebastian Hotel before sunrise? We’ve got our telescopes on the roof. We can take a peek at Saturn’s rings.”

  Her smile bloomed. “Saturn’s rings. I think I’d like that.”

  Chapter Six

  Western Germany

  Tuesday, September 7, 1943

  Heidi folded the letter as the train pulled out of the Hagen station, heading south. She didn’t need to read it. She’d memorized it. A tear slipped down her cheek as she ran her fingers over Erich’s last missive. Just touching the words he had written brought his presence back. No, not his presence. His absence. Whisking away the tear, she tucked the letter back into its envelope. Too bad Gretchen needed to wait for Konrad and Lieselotte to arrive in Hagen before joining her in Bickenbach; she could use her sister’s company now.

  “Did you get bad news, dear?”

  Heidi dropped the letter and scrambled to catch it before it slid to the floor. An elderly lady sat across from her. When had she boarded the train? Two other travelers in their compartment read or dozed, paying no attention to them.

  “Oh, no. Just missing someone.” Her smile faltered and she brushed at another tear as the train gathered speed. Returning Erich’s letter to her handbag, she asked the first question to come to mind. “Are you traveling far today?”

  The lady smiled. “All the way to Strasbourg. My daughter has a new baby. A fine little boy. Her husband is away in the army now, so I’m going to give her a hand. She also has two daughters.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Five and seven. Ilsa didn’t expect to have more babies, but now she has a son.” The lady chattered on as Heidi strove to keep a smile on her face through a recital of the granddaughters’ many achievements. Then the lady’s monologue veered in another direction, and Heidi perked up. “Karl was sent to the Eastern Front just two months before the baby was due. When have you last seen your young man?”

  “Oh, uh. I haven’t seen him since April.” Heidi wrestled with the temptation to say no more. What was the use? She may as well get used to it. “His submarine sank in May.”

  The grandmother’s hands stilled in the act of pulling her crocheting from her bag. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry for you.” She stared hard at the two other travelers, absorbed in their reading or sleeping. “I don’t understand the need for this war that we can’t win. The last one was such a dreadful time. My Hans died in Verdun and for what?”

  Chills raced down Heidi’s spine. What gumption. People were executed for lesser remarks than those bold words. When the lady began to crochet, Heidi relaxed and stared out at the passing scenery. Her memories of the last time she and Erich had traveled this route played before her eyes. They’d traveled by barge. The captain, in deference to Erich’s naval rank, offered him the helm. He’d nearly swallowed his cigarette when Erich asked, “Where’s the diving mechanism?”

  Tears threatened again, even as a laugh shook her shoulders. Heidi forced her thoughts to safer ground. Without intending to, she spoke aloud. “There’s Marienfels Castle.”

  Her voice sounded tremulous in her ears, but maybe the lady wouldn’t notice as she looked up from her crocheting.

  “Marienfels? Ah, yes. You like castles, do you?” The lady peered over her half glasses.

  “I love this stretch of the Rhine. I think it’s the most beautiful part of Germany.”

  “Beautiful to look at, but I wouldn’t care to live in a castle. Drafty, for one thing. And the water closets? Most likely nothing more than a hole in the floor of an overhang. Hardly what I’d consider proper.”

  Heidi laughed. No, she wouldn’t care for that.

  The grandmother pointed out the window. “Now there’s Rheineck Castle. I visited there many years ago. The castle was largely rebuilt in the last century and is quite ornate but, as I recall, the keep is medieval.”

  When the train stopped at Lahnstein, Heidi received a tutorial about Stolzenfels and Lahneck Castles. Her head swam, trying to keep the castles straight. Finally, she said, “You know about all these Rhine castles, don’t you?”

  The lady laughed in response. “Oh, I should, my dear. My Hans taught medieval history. We visited them all at least once.”

  As the train approached Sankt Goarhausen, Heidi gathered her belongings. “This is my stop.” She bid her traveling companion good-bye. “Enjoy your stay with your daughter.”

  “I’m sure I will.” The lady smiled and patted Heidi’s hand before returning to her crocheting. In a low tone, she added, “God be with you, dear.”

  Heidi disembarked and headed for the ferry station. As the ferry crossed the Rhine, she turned back to look up at Burg Katz perched high above the town. Downriver on the left was Burg Maus. Mouse Castle, so named because it was dwarfed by Cat Castle. A smile teased her lips. Erich had called them the Puss N’Boots pair.

  Upon arriving at Sankt Goar on the Rhine’s west bank, she headed for the house where she could arrange a wagon ride. Once settled in the wagon bed with her sewing machine and suitcase, she looked back toward the river. The turbulent past of the Rhine River valley offered hope that the present war would be a brief interlude. This, too, would
pass. It must. Life would go on.

  Her shoulders sagged. Maybe those who died had it better. Germany couldn’t stop the British and the Americans from bombing their cities, and the Russians were proving to be more than they could handle in the east. This war had to be worse than any previous one. What would become of this beautiful land?

  Bickenbach lay about ten miles to the west. She’d be there soon, if the horse would only pick up his feet a little faster. Arbeitsdienst was one thing the Nazis did right. Her year of compulsory labor service spent on the Ziemers’ farm had been fun. She shifted on the bench seat. Her year of fun had been possible because of Frau Ziemer’s painful injury. Her broken hip must have healed completely if she was now able to care for young children.

  Would Bickenbach have changed much in the four years since she’d spent her days there? Surely not. Their ancestral hometown would always be a small, rural village. Not all of the homes had indoor plumbing, but the Ziemers did, thank goodness. She grinned. Even the inconvenience of an outhouse would be preferable to a hole in the floor of an overhang.

  The air, scented with a hint of rain-washed soil, caressed her face. Coming here was like having a country retreat from the cares of the city. No doubt she would work the gardens again while Frau Ziemer cared for the chickens. Her “chicken anxiety” amused the Ziemers, but they graciously didn’t expect her to concern herself with their “fine feathered friends.” Fine friends, ha! Feathered, yes, but fine only in a pot.

  The wagon lumbered into the Ziemers’ yard, and Frau Ziemer engulfed her in a hug before she had her feet on the ground. Herr Ziemer came from the field to lug her sewing machine into the farmhouse. Their eight small guests clustered nearby, watching wide-eyed.

  “We have Christobel here. She’s seven.” Frau Ziemer laid a work-worn hand on the head of a little girl with grass in her untidy blonde braids and green stains on her knees. Heidi eyed the well-mended dress. Keeping her nicely clothed must be a challenge.