Later that morning, Heidi weeded the garden and harvested late produce.
“Do you need some help?”
Heidi’s head came up at the timid voice.
Hans stood before her, wearing a jacket two sizes too big, his trousers two inches too short, and both knees patched at least once. She wanted to hug the sad-eyed boy. Would he appreciate the gesture?
“Sure. I could always use some help with the weeding. Which do you prefer?” She stood to her feet and pointed out the different rows. “Here we have the carrots, the beans, and the parsnips.”
She laughed at Hans’ grimace. “I don’t care much for parsnips either.” She raised a hand to hide her mouth as though someone might overhear. “That’s why I never plant very many of them.”
One side of Hans’ mouth quirked upward. He surveyed the different rows. “Carrots are all right, I guess.”
“Such enthusiasm! Carrots happen to be one of my favorites. I like raw carrots best, but when they’re cooked, yeah, they’re all right.” She mimicked his disinterested tone.
That got a real smile out of him. Heidi showed him which plants were vegetables and which were weeds. “Many vegetables are finished for the year. The weeds, however, are never finished.”
He knelt beside her and began to pull weeds one by one, forming a pile at his side.
Heidi broke their companionable silence. “What’s your favorite fairy tale?”
Hans looked up with wide eyes. Then his brows slammed down in a vee. “Not Hansel and Gretel. That was my mother’s favorite.”
“Oh, really? I never would have guessed.” Heidi’s lips quivered for scant seconds in a solemn position before a grin broke through.
Hans smiled again, but it soon faded. “She always said we didn’t have to worry about the wicked witch, because she would protect us.”
Uh-oh.
His thin shoulders slumped. Did he feel betrayed by his mother for leaving them unprotected? Heidi gave him a quick hug. “And she died trying.” She knelt in the dirt and took his shoulders. “You know, don’t you, that she never wanted to leave you? She was just hurt so badly, she couldn’t live.”
Hans sniffed. “But Frau Hagstotz said Mama didn’t want to live. She didn’t die right away, but she didn’t try to get better, because she wanted to be with Papa in heaven.”
“Oh, Frau Hagstotz said that, did she?” That woman ought to be arrested by the Gestapo for her careless words. Heidi unclenched her fingers and clasped one of Hans’ hands between her own. “Listen, Hans. Sometimes grownups say things without thinking. Maybe she thought it would make you feel better to think of your mama and papa together. She certainly didn’t mean your mama didn’t want to be with you. Yes, your parents are probably thrilled to be together again, but you know what? They’re also very sad, because their dear children aren’t with them.”
Hans studied her face. A glimmer ignited in his eyes. “You think so?”
“I know so.” She held his face in her hands as her eyes filled with tears. “Your papa is wishing he could be here to play ball with you. And your mama wishes she and your sisters could bake cookies for you and your papa to enjoy when you come back inside. They want to read bedtime stories to you and tuck you in at night.”
Hans sucked in his lips and blinked rapidly. “Mama named Lina after Papa. Papa’s name was Paul and Lina’s real name is Paulina.”
“That’s a wonderful connection for her.” Heidi pulled her basket closer and together they transferred Hans’ pile of weeds into it. “You didn’t say what your favorite fairy tale is.”
“I like The Elves and the Shoemaker. And The Emperor’s New Clothes.”
“I like those, too.”
A voice intruded behind them. “My, my, aren’t we cozy here.”
Heidi spun around. Ursula Grote approached with two men who wore swastika armbands. Gestapo agents. She must look like an urchin in her dirt-stained skirt and mended blouse. Hans huddled next to her and she wrapped an arm around him. She remained in the middle of the garden, while the visitors stopped at the edge.
Ursula gestured toward Hans. “Who’s your little helper?”
Heidi blinked. “You know the Ziemers welcome refugee children.”
Ursula shrugged. “I don’t believe you’ve met Otto.” She entwined her arm with his. “And this is his friend Rudy. We’re going to Emmelshausen this evening. Why don’t you join us? You look like you need some fun.”
What an odious suggestion. The two Gestapo agents studied her like cats eyeing a mouse. Her skin crawled as though covered with ants. Offending them would invite their scrutiny. Heidi forced as much cordiality as she could into her voice. “I couldn’t possibly get away. Evenings are a busy time, getting all the children settled for the night.”
At that moment, Frau Ziemer called them for lunch.
Heidi smiled. “Excuse us. Enjoy your evening.”
She ignored Otto’s smirk as she grasped Hans’ hand and strode to the house. Frau Ziemer held open the door and they hurried inside.
Gretchen watched the intruders from the window. Her face pale, she turned to Heidi. “What did they want?”
“Ursula suggested I go to Emmelshausen with them tonight because I need some fun.” Heidi’s fingernails dug into her palms. “Can you imagine the type of fun I might have in the company of that unholy trio?”
“Ursula must be meddling again.” Frau Ziemer chopped up an apple as though she had Ursula’s head on the cutting block. “She has no qualms about causing trouble for her neighbors.”
Just last week, a neighbor had been arrested. Frau Eimermann had no idea why her husband had been taken, or where. And several days before that, Herr Wendorf had been questioned for three hours. The heightened police interest in the area had everyone on edge, and no one had a clue as to the reason. Heidi had no desire to be the next victim, but they might be keeping a close eye on her.
“We know you lived in America,” the condolence guy had said. Now she’d declined to socialize with them. Heat surged through her. She tugged at her collar.
Gretel and Lina sat at the table with the other children. Joining them, Heidi pulled Lina from her chair and cuddled the tot. Meeting Gretel’s wide-eyed gaze, she smiled and brushed the little girl’s hand with a finger. “Hans and I worked up quite an appetite in the garden. Lunch sounds good. What are we having?”
Glancing at Frau Ziemer, Gretel answered in a whisper, “Rye bread and potato soup.”
“Mmm. Hans, we’d better get washed up.” Heidi placed Lina back in the highchair.
As the meal began, Heidi turned to Frau Ziemer, “Where is your book of fairy tales? Hans and I would like to reread a few old favorites.”
She winked at him and was rewarded with a grin.
Chapter Nine
Hagen, Germany
Wednesday, September 29, 1943
Heidi and Gretchen made a visit back to Hagen weighed down with canned produce. Lieselotte greeted the sisters at the door when they arrived. Her peach blouse and rust-colored skirt looked like the clothes Heidi had worn to school in America. “Nice outfit.”
“I lost most of my wardrobe when my parents’ house was destroyed in the Bremerhaven bombing last month.” Lieselotte ran her hands across the skirt. “Your mother gave me some of your old school clothes. I spent a day altering them, and she says I don’t look like a school kid.”
No wonder it looked so familiar. The outfit showed its age after eight years of frequent wear, but they couldn’t complain. With clothing rationed, they counted themselves fortunate to have several changes. Lieselotte’s ability with a needle and thread was impressive. Heidi sighed. “That outfit never looked as well on me. Maybe, after the war, we can open a dress shop together.”
Lieselotte smiled. At least her mouth did. Dark circles bruised her eyes.
Heidi prodded her into the parlor. “How is Konrad?”
Drawing a deep breath, Lieselotte sat on the sofa and hugged a throw pillow. She clos
ed her eyes. “Physically, he’s fine now. He’s walking with a cane.” Her eyes opened, and she stared into the distance. “He was so thrilled when Papa came back from America to take over the factory. He wanted nothing more than to return to Hagen, work with Papa, and make a home with me.”
She stopped and buried her face in her hands for a long moment. Taking a shuddering breath, she looked up. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “But Heidi, he is so bitter. He is nearly impossible to live with. If my parents had a home to return to, I think I might go back.”
Heidi sat beside her while Gretchen went to her other side and took her hand.
“He’s worth holding onto though, isn’t he?” Heidi slipped an arm around Lieselotte.
“Nothing I do is right. I try to sympathize with him, and he says to stop patronizing him. How do I know what it’s like to lose a foot, an eye? If I try to help him with something, he tells me he can do it himself. If I don’t help him, I am inconsiderate. I can’t win.”
“Is he at the factory now?” Gretchen whispered.
“Yes, that’s his duty, according to the army. He cannot fight anymore, but he can support those who do.” Lieselotte sighed. “He wanted to work in the factory since we were married. Now he does, but he’d rather be whole and still fighting at the front.”
Lieselotte covered her face with her hands again and started rocking. What sounded like a giggle escaped her. Heidi straightened up. If only Mama was here.
“Lieselotte?” Heidi kept her voice low.
Lieselotte laughed outright. She stilled and dropped her hands. “It should have been funny.”
Heidi exchanged a worried look with Gretchen, and Lieselotte laughed harder. She held up a hand. “I’m all right. Really.”
Raising both hands like a choir director, Lieselotte inhaled sharply. Lowering her hands, she exhaled. And laughed again.
“A foreman at the factory upbraided Konrad for not working. He thought Konrad was one of the guest workers.” Lieselotte emphasized guest with a disdainful curl of her lips. “That thoughtless man didn’t realize he was haranguing a Steinhorst. Papa joined them and said, ‘You will not speak to my son like that.’ The foreman’s jaw dropped and his cigar fell out. Of course, smoking is not allowed around the machinery, but he keeps his cigar in his mouth like a pacifier. Too bad he didn’t swallow it. It would have been funnier.”
Her smile faded. “Of course, Konrad didn’t find anything amusing about it. He was livid. He uses a cane and I thought he might club the man.”
“Did Papa fire him?” Gretchen’s eyes remained saucer-sized.
“No. He’s the Gestapo’s appointee.” Lieselotte’s shoulders sagged, all humor gone. “He was quite unapologetic. I think that’s what really bothered Konrad.” She punched the decorative pillow she still held on her lap. “Instead of taking part in the real fighting, this stooge enjoys bullying half-dead prisoners. Put him on the front lines and he’d lose his bravado.”
Heidi forced her hand in her lap to unclench. He and the condolence guy who’d called on her must be brothers.
“That’s not all. When a little girl saw Konrad on the street with his cane and black eye patch, she shrieked with fright. Her mother glared at Konrad for frightening her. Eventually he’ll no longer need the cane, but incidents like that are tearing him apart.” Lieselotte flipped the pillow to Heidi, jumped up, and grabbed one of their boxes of canning. “Papa directs that all surplus supplies be stored down in the cellar in the event the house is bombed.”
Heidi reached for the other box and paused. If the house was bombed? She looked around. The usual photographs and keepsakes had disappeared. Already down in the cellar? Chills tap-danced down her spine. No place in Germany was truly safe. They lived in a war zone.
Chapter Ten
Coral Gables, Florida
Wednesday, September 29, 1943
A long night awaited them. It promised to be brutal. Paul eyed the dark sky. Nighttime celestial navigation exercises could be fun, but in order to practice celestial navigation, one needed to see the stars. Tonight, nothing but fog could be seen. Good training, Captain Lunn said. England’s always foggy. Would they have to get up at midnight to fly missions when they got overseas?
He’d drawn the trickiest leg of the round robin exercise, navigating from St. Petersburg to Panama City in Florida’s panhandle. Most of the route required flying over the Gulf of Mexico. That left him with no opportunity for pilotage, determining their position by visual reference to the ground. If they couldn’t get above the fog, he wouldn’t be able to get lines of position from stars or planets. Which left him with the radio. He’d have to rely on radio range signals.
Chet worked the first leg, from Coral Gables to St. Petersburg, but Paul tracked their progress on his own. He jotted down their takeoff time and airspeed on his log. Cruising at one hundred fifteen miles per hour, they should reach St. Petersburg in less than two hours.
St. Petersburg lay right where Chet said it would be. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Now it’s time for you to earn your paycheck, Braedel.”
Paul offered a confident smile. Panama City lay nearly two hundred fifty miles to the northwest. He gave the pilot his heading. “Maintain course three zero five at present airspeed.”
“Roger.”
Paul spent the entire time plotting their progress on his map. The drift meter became his best friend. With it, he tracked the effect of the wind on the plane and, with their heading and airspeed, computed their groundspeed.
The time dragged by. Finally, the radio compass proclaimed the good news. They arrived on target. He slumped back in his chair and grinned at Charlie Spencer, navigating the third leg. Top that.
While Charlie offered the pilot their new heading for Jacksonville, Chet turned to Paul with a smirk. “I hate to tell you this, Braedel, but we’re two minutes behind your ETA.”
“What ETA? I never announced an estimated time of arrival.”
“No, but you wrote it down there.”
When had Chet crossed the aisle to read his notes? “Hmpf. You didn’t read my refinements as I finessed our course to bring us in on the money.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Chuckling, Chet turned back to take his own compass readings.
Paul straightened and pulled his map close. “We can help you out, Charlie. Make sure we get to Jacksonville and not Savannah.”
“Nothing doing.” Charlie held out his hand like a stop sign. “You’d make sure we go to Little Rock.”
A favorite amusement of the cadets was to question each other’s navigation in hopes of causing them to turn away from their correct course. Paul had succeeded once in diverting Charlie from his route north to Fort Pierce to fly across state to Fort Myers instead.
Captain Lunn had been unamused. “You’ll be flying in combat with rapidly deteriorating conditions. Damage may take out your instruments. Don’t let it rattle you. The pilot may decide he knows the route better than you do. Don’t let him bully you. Your fellow cadets here want to fluster you.” He eyed Paul, then Charlie. “Don’t let them fool you.”
Maybe Captain Lunn had assigned him to the difficult second leg as retribution for his mischief. Paul shook his head. More likely, he’d pulled the over-water route because he was up to the challenge.
Jacksonville appeared right where Charlie said it would be and Mitch Walton took over to navigate back to base. The drone of the engines and the gentle rocking of the plane lulled Paul to sleep.
“We should be back to base by now.” Irritation flavored the pilot’s voice. “What’s our position?”
Paul blinked away his slumber. He peered out the window. Pea soup fog still surrounded them. Behind him, Mitch knocked on his compass, jerked to the window for a quick look, and turned back to glare at the compass. “I don’t think my compass is working right. I’m not getting good signals.”
Across the aisle, Chet yawned and rubbed his eyes. They both looked to their compasses. The final leg of Jac
ksonville to Coral Gables followed the length of Florida’s eastern coastline. Mitch couldn’t have drawn an easier route, as long as the ground remained visible.
Paul’s drift meter indicated the wind had picked up. From the compass heading, he surmised Mitch hadn’t corrected for drift. “We’re too far west.”
“And south,” Chet added. “I’m getting the Key West radio signal behind us.”
The rumble of the engines changed as the pilot pulled back on power and leaned out the fuel mixture. They circled back. “Let’s get a correct heading, fellas. We don’t have the fuel for a sightseeing trip.”
“We’re over the ocean? And running out of gas? Are we gonna crash?” Roused from his own nap, Charlie grabbed his parachute.
Concentrating on Morse code from a faint radio signal, Paul held in a groan. “We’re in a sea plane, Spencer. This bird lands on the water like a duck. And we’re over the Gulf.”
Charlie yawned, displaying the metal fillings in his back molars. “Oh, right.” He settled back down. “You guys need any help?”
Chet ignored him. “I put us in the southwest quadrant of the Key West radio range. Do you agree?”
“Yes, with St. Petersburg and Miami equally faint in the background.” Paul glanced over his shoulder. “Is that what you would say, Walton?”
Mitch glared at him. “How would I know? My compass ain’t working.”
Had he kept them on course and in range, it would probably be working just fine. Paul refrained from firing back a retort. Let Captain Lunn deal with him.
After Chet gave the pilot his new heading, he turned to Paul. “If we did have to land and a German U-boat found us first, do you think they would take us prisoner? Or make us get into the life raft and sink the plane?”
“Submarines don’t take prisoners.” Paul dropped his compass on the map and crossed his arms as he leaned back and grinned. “Thanks a lot for the cheery thought, Chet.”
Friends & Enemies (Promise for Tomorrow Book 1) Page 6
