Konrad stepped forward. “I am sorry for your loss, but we need to move on.” He lifted Fritz from the bike basket and thrust him into Heidi’s arms. “Let’s get your bicycle onto the wagon.”
“You’ll help me?” Paul’s face wore hope, wariness, exhaustion. How must it feel to be alone in an enemy country?
“Of course we’ll help. You’re a friend.” Heidi gritted her teeth. The consequences if they were discovered were steep. Arrest, if Paul was discovered in their midst, definitely. Concentration camp, likely. Execution, likelier. But she couldn’t turn away Rachel’s husband. They had to help.
In short order, they were on their way to Bickenbach. Squeezed between Konrad and Paul, Heidi cuddled Fritz. What an adorable little dog. The children would love him. She stroked his silken fur as Paul described his abrupt arrival in Germany and subsequent days.
“An old lady in the park here looked kind of suspicious. She seemed to accept my story that I’m looking for my fiancée Louisa while recovering from battle wounds. Of course, I didn’t give her time to ask questions.”
“Louisa.” Heidi smiled. “As in Rachel Louisa Mikolsky. Good thing you used her middle name. Rachel is a Jewish name that might have caused problems.”
Paul sat straighter, a frown wrinkling his brow. “Rachel is a beautiful name.”
Heidi shrugged. “It’s still Jewish.”
When Paul mentioned acquiring identification booklets, Konrad held out his hand. He gave Heidi the reins so he could examine the papers.
“They got you this far, but they won’t stand up to scrutiny with Bickenbach’s busybody burgermeister. Do you have a photo of yourself?”
Paul passed over a small photo in which he wore a civilian suit and tie. Heidi stared at it. Why did he carry such a thing, and how had Konrad known about it?
Konrad glanced at it. “Good. I know someone in the underground who can create a set of documents for you.”
“You do?” Heidi and Paul chorused the question.
Paul tensed beside her. Hope kindled in his eyes. Hope and yearning. Their meeting must have been like waking up from a nightmare.
Her brother merely smiled and tipped his head. Who could his contact be? And how had he gotten involved? He wouldn’t answer if she asked. Some things were better left unsaid.
Loud rumbling rolled along the river valley. All eyes turned upward as a vast formation of airplanes appeared overhead, heading north. Another city must lie in ruins somewhere to the south. Streams of contrails trailed away from the tiny dots sparkling in the sun.
A sigh suggesting contentment eased out of Paul. His wistful, awe-filled expression shouted approval. They were headed out of town, but someone might still notice him. She jabbed her elbow in his ribs and hissed, “Remember where you are. Do not look so thrilled about them.”
He jerked away from her, but didn’t look down until the planes had disappeared. Only then did he say, “I’ve rarely seen them from this distance. They have to be over twenty-five thousand feet up. By the way,” he added, pressing a hand to his side, “take it easy with my ribs, will you? I was wounded a couple weeks ago, and I’m still a bit tender.”
Heidi gaped at him. “You were wounded? How badly? Why are you flying already? Are the Allies that desperate for pilots?”
“I’m not a pilot.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not a pilot,” he repeated. “I started flight school, but after I came back from bereavement leave, I switched to navigator school. I’m a navigator on a B-17 Flying Fortress, or at least, I was. No safer, of course.”
“Okay.” The designation didn’t mean much. “How were you wounded?”
“A Messerschmitt bullet came into the nose of the plane.” He gave her a quick grin. “That was Art’s and my office. Remember Art Jensen? The bullet ripped across my ribs, taking off a lot of skin. I also banged my head and got a concussion. That earned me about a week of sick leave.”
Konrad peered around her. “Let’s see your scar.”
Paul looked surprised, but he tugged up his shirt. Heidi gasped at the sight of the ugly, red, four-inch-long furrow along his ribs. That must have hurt. Imagine the damage if the bullet had hit Paul straight on.
“Good.” Konrad nodded. “I’ll tell my contact about that. He’ll put it in your soldbuch. It’s good to have the scar to back up the claim.”
Paul relaxed, but Heidi stared at Konrad. “He could have been killed.”
“Like thousands of others. That’s war, Heidi. No time for sentiment. Our task now is to keep Paul alive and get him out of Germany.”
Paul patted her hand. “Had I died, my parents would have been grieved, but I wouldn’t have been disappointed. I would have been reunited with Rachel.”
Sudden tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
And what of Erich? Not even during her sharpest grief had she wished to join him in death. Of course, she’d never been in danger of dying except maybe during the Hagen bombing. Fritz stretched up and nosed her chin. She bent over to hug the puppy.
Konrad questioned Paul about his accent. What a stroke of good fortune that Konrad had joined them in Bickenbach in time to aid Paul. All things did work together for good to them that love God, even Lieselotte’s typhus. Heidi smiled. Lieselotte would be pleased to know her illness served a good purpose.
“What do we tell the family?”
“Nothing about Paul.” Konrad looked over at him. “I’ve got a new story for you. How does this sound? We met in the Wehrmacht during a training phase in East Prussia. Now you’re based in Calais, France, where you were wounded. I’ve invited you to stay with us awhile as you recuperate before you head back by way of Trier.”
“Trier?”
“You’ll need to head west toward France. Trier’s on the way, on the Mosel River.” Konrad smiled. “We’ll be doing a little remodeling at the farmhouse where we’re staying. How are you at construction?”
“I can swing a hammer, and I can even hit the nails more often than my thumb.”
Konrad’s head dropped back and he laughed out loud. Heidi smiled. These two would be good friends. Too bad they were enemies. She took a deep breath. Repercussions loomed large. They were harboring and aiding an enemy airman, someone the Propaganda Ministry encouraged them to kill. If Paul’s nationality was discovered, she and Konrad would most likely be executed, but what about the others? The Ziemers, Gretchen, and Karla could be implicated even though they didn’t know Paul’s true identity. What would happen to the children?
What had happened with Konrad? His experiences with the army must have prodded him to link up with the underground. He hadn’t hesitated to help Paul. Maybe Paul wasn’t the first downed airman he’d aided. All she’d done was hide rabbits and venture briefly into the black market. So what?
She studied Paul. Rachel had loved him so. He was always so full of life. A smile teased her lips. Like that time at the amusement park in Milwaukee. That was so long ago.
It was September of 1935. Paul led Rachel and Heidi straight to the Ferris wheel. Heidi pressed a hand to her stomach as she watched it, but Paul exhibited no qualms. “I love this. Closest I’ve ever been to flying, but someday, I’ll do that, too.”
When their turn came to take a seat, Paul and Rachel stepped right up, but Heidi dragged her feet. As the attendant locked their safety bar, she stifled the urge to beg off. The attendant flipped a switch, and the huge wheel swept them back and up slightly before making a sudden stop. She gasped and grabbed the bar.
“Relax,” Paul laughed. “They have to stop at each seat to change all the passengers. Then they’ll let us go.”
She relaxed her death grip, but didn’t let go. “Great.”
“Yeah, isn’t it?”
Soon the wheel continued in full motion. Up, forward, down, and around. Heidi squeezed her eyes shut. Her stomach failed to rotate in tandem.
Paul laughed again. “Open your eye
s, Heidi. You don’t want to miss anything.”
Breathe, breathe. Come on, Heidi, show some backbone. Life will have worse challenges than this. She peered through one eye. The breeze of their descent tossed her hair behind her. Then they swooshed back and started up again, clearing the tops of the trees. Her stomach found the rhythm. From on top, she gazed far out across the sparkling water of Lake Michigan. The toot of a whistle floated up from a diminutive train hauling people around the park far below. The aroma of grilled bratwursts wafted upward and made her mouth water.
Down they swooped. This time Heidi laughed. Rachel and Paul exchanged grins.
“You are right. This is great!”
Paul hadn’t mocked her fear. He’d helped her conquer it. He could be a terrible tease, but his teasing was always good-natured. Not like his friend, Art Jensen. That friendship never made sense. Art’s teasing tended to be cruel.
“You and Art flew together? Where is he? Why aren’t you together?” Paul’s eyes darkened and he looked away, his jaw flexing. “Paul? Where is Art? What happened? Was he captured?” Or had he landed in his parachute only to be killed by angry German civilians? She couldn’t voice that question.
Paul’s chest expanded with his breath. When Fritz whined and pawed his leg, he transferred his puppy to his lap and petted him for a moment. “Art’s dead.”
Heidi caught her breath, and Paul looked at her then. “While I was on sick leave, our plane was hit by flak. It exploded and killed them all.”
Simple words, huge implications. He didn’t seem bitter. Rather, he seemed curious about Germany. Even while talking with Konrad, his eyes swept back and forth. Of course, German blood ran in his veins. Heidi looked around, trying to see everything as though for the first time. No hint of war marred their vicinity. Springtime dressed the vegetation in vivid green.
They approached Bickenbach and Konrad said, “Two more concerns. First, your hair. You need a Wehrmacht cut.”
“Which is?” Paul eyed Konrad’s hair.
Heidi produced a comb from her purse and set to work on him. “Brushed back on top and the sides cut short. Your hair is already parted on the right, so we’ll just angle it back like this.” She captured his chin in her hand, turned his head from side to side to inspect her work. “It doesn’t want to stay and we don’t have any pomade, but if you wet it, it should learn its new position. You’ve got good body. You don’t want to slick it down flat. Lieselotte’s good with hair. She can give you a trim to finish the look.”
She ran her fingers through Paul’s hair to mold the shape. His hair was just like Erich’s, thick with a hint of wave. Paul quirked an eyebrow. What was she doing, caressing his hair? He wasn’t Erich. Her face heated and she faced forward, her hands clenched in her lap.
“And the other concern?” Paul had to clear his throat. He must have been affected by her touch, too.
“We should change your name. I doubt anyone around here knows Horst Brummel, but we can’t take that chance. Horst is fine, but we need another surname.”
“How about my own name, Braedel? It’s German.”
Konrad thought a moment. “No. Your crewmates may talk in interrogation. Again, it’s unlikely to be known here, but safety first. How about Baesler? And we need to find better fitting clothes for you so you blend in better.”
“Oh, we’ve got clothes.” Heidi clasped her hands together. “You’re about the size of the man Karla and I found in the woods who committed suicide. You can wear his clothes.”
Konrad’s expression turned thunderous. His voice was deceptively quiet. “Suicide?”
“Um, yes. Haven’t we mentioned that? We found him last month.” Heidi gulped, and told him about the man Karla had insisted they ought to bury. That body would be pretty disgusting now if they’d left it there. “I managed to talk her out of it, but we did keep his belongings.”
Konrad shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Lecherous Gestapo agent, SS suicides, snooping mayoral daughters. What’s Bickenbach coming to?” He huffed a laugh and looked around her at Paul. “Sounds like our cousin. Leave her alone and she gets into all kinds of mischief.”
Chapter Fourty
Bickenbach, Germany
Same Day
Paul shifted on the bench when they reached the village. His new persona better work. They turned down the lane leading to a farm where a crowd of children played in the yard. Twisting his cap in his hands, he whispered, “Could we pray?”
Konrad eased the horse to a stop. “Good idea.”
Paul bowed his head. “Father in heaven, You are greater than all men. I’ve brought danger here to the Steinhorsts and their farm friends. I ask that you blind the eyes of those who might betray us. Grant us peace, knowing that we are safe in your hands no matter what may happen. Orchestrate events to bring me safely back to my base and to keep safe the Steinhorsts and the family here in Bickenbach. We ask in the name of our great Savior. Amen.”
Heidi smiled at him. The Steinhorsts had attended his church in Milwaukee. Here they were believers in a nation aligned against God. This must be another sign of God’s blessing on him in Germany.
The farmhouse stood three stories tall. White with a dark roof, it would have been plain except for the scene painted on its front. Paul stared at it. “This is what I expected of German architecture, or at least decoration.”
A maiden tended her garden, with flowering vines rising up to lavish bouquets around all the windows. The paint looked weathered and dull. Such a painting couldn’t be easily refreshed by slapping on a fresh coat.
Heidi laughed as she looked at the scene. “I’ve seen it so often, I don’t notice it anymore.”
They stopped near the house to unhitch the wagon filled with building materials. Paul jumped down, set Fritz on the ground, and turned to assist Heidi.
She grinned. “You are about to meet our family.”
Herr Ziemer came to lead the horse to the barn. Surprise crossed his face when Fritz trotted up and barked, his tail wagging. “Well, well, who have we here?”
“That’s Fritz.” Heidi turned to Paul, “And this is Horst, ah…”
“Baesler,” Paul supplied.
Heidi crossed her eyes at him. “Right. Horst Baesler, an army acquaintance of Konrad’s on recuperative leave. He’s going to help with the remodeling, and Fritz will delight the children.” She tucked her hand around the farmer’s arm. “This is Herr Ziemer, an old family friend.”
The man chuckled. “Watch how you emphasize old, young lady.”
“A longtime family friend,” she amended.
Paul noted the affection between them. His presence could fracture that relationship.
“Your help would be much appreciated, but wouldn’t you rather spend your leave with your family?”
“I am not from the Rhineland, so I’m pleased to find a familiar face.” His Pomeranian heritage proved to be a huge blessing. No one would expect to know him here.
The children swarmed around them, eager to pet the puppy. Fritz licked a little girl’s hand and she cried out, jerking away her hand. Heidi dropped to her knees to help them get acquainted.
Konrad untied the ropes securing the wagonload. “I thought Horst could stay in the farmhand’s loft in the barn, since there’s no farmhand here now. We’ll have the attic fit for the children in no time, before Horst needs to rejoin his unit.”
He nodded toward the lumber and Paul hurried to grasp one end. He cast a dubious eye at the house, and Konrad read his doubt.
“We’ll take this around to the side, where we’ll hoist everything up with a pulley system we’ve rigged.” His tone turned wry as they headed for the house. “Our hope is to get everything up to the third floor without causing too much damage.”
Several boys stepped forward on their return, clamoring to help with outstretched hands. Paul gave one boy a sack of nails.
“That’s Bernd.” Heidi moved beside him.
Another boy received a can of pain
t. “My cousin, Ludwig.”
The next boy’s sad eyes tugged at Paul’s heart.
“Dieter.” Heidi’s voice softened.
Paul filled his hands with a cut-down box containing paintbrushes and a paint tray. He gave the boy a wink and a pat on the shoulder. Dieter’s eyes widened, a spark of life kindling. Man, oh, man. Here were the war’s most innocent victims. If Paul wasn’t careful, he could lose his heart on this farm. He had to clear his throat to get rid of the lump forming there before joining Konrad in hauling another load of lumber.
The last of the lumber was stacked below the window when the farm lady came outside with two young women and more children even younger than those he’d already met. Heidi scooped up a little girl and kissed her cheek. “This is Lina.”
Obviously her favorite. Paul took a tiny hand and bowed over it. “Hello, Lina.”
The tot giggled and buried her face in Heidi’s shoulder.
Heidi turned to the ladies. “Horst, this is Frau Ziemer, my cousin Karla, and my sister Gretchen.”
Paul nodded at each one. Gretchen stared at him through narrowed eyes, a finger tapping her chin. Uh, oh. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a single memory of Gretchen Steinhorst. She wouldn’t remember him. Would she?
The cousin offered a friendly smile. “Where were you based?”
Here was his first test of his new identity. “Northern France, near Calais. I was wounded by shrapnel during an air raid.” He splayed his fingers across his abdomen. “After surgery, I was returned to Germany for recuperation. I hoped to find friends in the Rhineland area, but they evacuated, and my search was proving fruitless. I was glad to run into Konrad and his sister.”
He smiled at Heidi and she smiled back. Karla seemed to accept his story, but why did Gretchen continue to study him?
Friends & Enemies (Promise for Tomorrow Book 1) Page 21
