The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1)

by Riker, Becky

  Dear Michael, May 10, 1943

  How are things wherever you are? It is cold here. The snow won’t go away, though I did see a glimmer of blue peeking through the gray sky today.

  I’ve mostly had to walk to work the last few months. My father thought it too sloppy to ride my bike, and we can’t use the gas rations for such a thing as getting to our jobs. Other people are in the same predicament. We are so bundled up that you can’t tell men from women, much less one individual from another.

  I have a date tonight with Jason Stanton. I wonder what we will do, waddle over to the theater and watch a movie, I suppose. Jason does not have to go to war because of the family farm. In truth, though, I think he would still go if his father would let him.

  We pray for you every day. I hope you are staying safe.

  Your friend,

  Melba

  CHAPTER TWO

  The morning after Karlijna’s arrival in Eblag, she helped her hostess wash clothes in the building’s community tub. After they returned to the apartment, Mrs. Polaski gave her a scrap of red fabric to tie over her shorn head.

  “I don’t want to offend you,” she assured the girl, “but it might make you a little more comfortable out with others.”

  Karlijna tied it snugly, “Thank you. I think it will also make others more comfortable.”

  The woman sniffed, “Don’t you worry about Miss Kroll. She’s become a little bitter in the past few years. Her young man was taken prisoner.”

  “How horrible.”

  Mrs. Polaski nodded, “It was, but no worse than anything else that has happened here.”

  Karlijna changed the subject, “How far are we from the German border?”

  “Why?” Mrs. Polaski scowled, “Do you want to go back?”

  Karlijna shook her head, “I just want to get home.”

  The woman’s expression softened, “You still have family there?”

  Karlijna swallowed back tears and shook her head.

  Mrs. Polaski laid a wrinkled hand on the girl’s, “Did the Germa’s. . .?”

  Karlijna nodded and shoved back the memory of the last days with her parents.

  “Well then,” the lady rose and hefted the laundry basket to her hip, “You could stay here, but you look like you escaped one of those camps.”

  She snorted softly at her own dark humor.

  “You’re right,” Karlijna pulled a threadbare sleeve further down on her wrist. “If a soldier find me, it won’t be good for any of us.”

  “I’d say you need to go to Sweden instead.”

  “Sweden?” Karlijna opened the door to the staircase.

  “Sweden isn’t in the war, and they’re taking people. Of course,” she stopped her progress up the stairs to look at Karlijna, “mostly they’re Jews. You’re not Jewish are you?”

  Karlijna shook her head, “No. We’re Lutheran.”

  Mrs. Polaski chuckled, “Best not let that get out. The Germans won’t mind, but the Polish might.”

  Mrs. Polaski spent the rest of the day plotting out a course for Karlijna. Two days later, Karlijna was again hiding in the back of a vehicle, this time driven by a Polish man who knew of her presence. The Polaskis had given her a shawl and had insisted she take some of their food rations, so she added them to her precious bundle. Mrs. Polaski had also given her another scarf for her head.

  “Wear them both on the boat,” she advised. “They will keep your head warm and dry.”

  “Thank you,” she gripped their hands before she left. She knew it was too little for what they had done, but the words were all she had to offer.

  The man traveled to the coastal town of Leba. It was a miracle they had made it that far, a distance of more than 100 kilometers, without having the truck thoroughly inspected. Occasionally, a Nazi soldier would wave them down and take a peek into the bed of the pickup and speak to the driver, but after Mr. Krawiec showed his documents allowing him to own and operate a vehicle, the guard invariably waved them on.

  Once the man arrived at his destination, he hurried Karlijna from her hiding spot.

  “Quick,” Mr. Krawiec assisted her from under a pile of wheat sacks, “Nobody is here. Quick.”

  The man’s German was not good, but she understood enough to obey without hesitancy. He led her to a waiting boat and told her to get in. Arms clasped tightly around her few provisions, the young girl did as she was told.

  “Now, go,” he shooed her with his hands, “go down.”

  Karlijna frowned. What did he mean to go down? Should she lie on the floor? As she was contemplating this very thing, she looked to her feet and saw a small trap door. Hoping this was what he meant, she opened it and proceeded down the steep ladder.

  As an afterthought, she looked up to thank the man for his trouble, but he was gone. Stopping momentarily in regret for her ingratitude to the man who had risked his life to help her, she felt a tug on her ankle. Karlijna nearly screamed in fright.

  “Do you want us all to get killed?” a harsh whisper shot up at her.

  Karlijna finished her descent and squinted her eyes in the dark hold. She could see nothing and nobody, but as she squeezed herself into a spot beside the ladder, she felt there were bodies on both sides of her.

  “I’m sorry,” her voice was barely audible as she spoke into the blackness.

  “Never mind, that,” a different voice whispered back, “You’re safe now.”

  The girl wondered if she would ever feel safe again. Certainly not now, when she was cramped into a space on a boat headed who-knew-where with people she didn’t know and couldn’t even see.

  After a time, Karlijna’s eyes began to adjust to the dimness. She looked around. There were two men and two women, along with three small children, one of them a baby, cramped into the tiny space. There was barely enough room for each to draw a breath. Karlijna thought they might have to take turns.

  Karlijna very badly wanted to know where they were going or how everybody else knew to come to this boat, but she dared not speak. It relieved her to see the children were all comfortable enough to sleep, closely cuddled on the laps of the adults.

  After what seemed like hours the gentle bobbing of the boat changed its rhythm. Footsteps were heard on the deck and the motor started up. Everybody’s heads lifted in curiosity.

  “I think we’ve started out,” spoke one man softly, though it sounded almost as a shout.

  The others looked at him sternly as if to quiet him.

  Karlijna leaned her head back on the damp wood of the ladder and closed her eyes in silent prayer.

  Thank you, Father, for bringing me this far. I pray for safety as we travel and for the Nazis not to see us. Please, Father, get us to safety.

  Some time later, the trap door opened, “How many are there of you?”

  “Eight, including children,” one of the men replied.”

  The man grunted and closed the door.

  One of the children started at the slam. Karlijna watched as the parents tried to calm him.

  “Would you keep that boy quiet?” Karlijna recognized the voice as belonging to the same woman who had first spoken her.

  The mother reached into her shawl and pulled out a small bottle. After dropping a little into the boy’s mouth, he began to settle down and drifted back to sleep.

  The boat rocked to and fro with the swells of the water. Karlijna felt as though they had been on the sea for days, instead of the hours she was assured it would take.

  “The first boat we’re meeting only has room for two, maybe three if two are children,” the boat captain was looking down on them again. “The next one won’t come for another few hours.”

  Both couples began to discuss it. The father of the children urged his wife to go with the baby and toddler.

  “Please,” he pleaded with the other occupants, “the children may not sleep much longer. We need to get them to safety before they waken.”

  The other man coughed, but his wife spoke up, “Why s
hould we care about your children? They’re not our concern.”

  She pushed her way to the ladder and held on to the bottom rung, “We’re going. There are only two of us, and we’re going.”

  Karlijna watched as the husband followed up the ladder. That the woman would be so careless of the lives of children was unthinkable.

  The mother buried her face into the hair of her sleeping boy and wept.

  The travelers could tell when they met up with the other boat. She could feel the boat shift as two passengers got off.

  “Are you alone,” the woman whispered to Karlijna as the boat started in motion again,” or will you meet your family on the other side?”

  Karlijna felt tears forming, “No,” she managed, “I am alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” was all the woman said before her husband shushed her.

  Karlijna fell asleep and woke to the trap opening again, “We will be meeting the other boat soon. Gather all that you have.”

  For neither party was this a problem. Karlijna had only her small bundle and the couple only their children. Karlijna wondered how they would manage the ladder with three sleeping children.

  She ascended first, and, though she would have loved to stand and stretch, sense told her to remain low. She saw the father coming up next with the toddler in his arms. He struggled to get himself and the child through the opening.

  “Hurry,” urged the captain, “they are approaching and there will be no time to spare once they arrive.”

  Dropping her parcel, Karlijna reached down and scooped the child from the father’s arms. At the time, she was attempting to help another human being in need. She didn’t realize the action would change her life.

  The young father quickly turned back and brought up the baby before assisting his wife up as she carried the third child.

  “Thank you,” he mouthed as they all crouched in the spot the captain directed.

  The transfer to the other boat was done quicker than Karlijna could have imagined, and, once again, they were being shooed down into the dark belly of the vessel. Like the other hold, it smelled of fish and sweating bodies. To Karlijna, who had smelled much worse, it smelled like hope.

  “How much longer, Erich?” the wife spoke in the darkness.

  “I do not know, my love. Much longer still, I think.”

  Karlijna had been holding the eldest child, a boy of about four years or age, since entering the hold. She looked down at his fair hair and thought of her little sister, Veronike. Sadness gripped her young heart, but she would not allow herself to cry.

  Karlijna closed her eyes and forced her mind to Scripture. She began to recite the twenty-third Psalm. Though her lips were moving, she made not a sound for she knew the dangers of being heard.

  “Did you speak, Miss?”

  Apparently, the mother had been watching her and caught the movement of her mouth despite the dimness of their confines.

  Karlijna shook her head, “I’m just reciting something to calm myself.”

  Despite the dire situation, the woman laughed softly, “If you have a way to calm yourself, please share it.”

  “It is the twenty-third Psalm.”

  “A psalm of David?” the woman sounded confused.

  All speaking stopped at this moment because there was shouting heard outside. Certain they had been discovered, the fugitives’ eyes sought each other. The woman began to cry, her husband shushing and trying to reassure her.

  Karlijna did the only thing she knew to do, “Father, in Heaven, I ask, in Jesus name, spare us. Please bring us safely into port.”

  She continued to pray this, not out loud – for she didn’t know if it would increase their chances of being captured, but with as much fervency.

  The trap opened. The passengers, fearing the worst, looked up in surprise to see the captain’s smiling face. They were further amazed to realize that daylight was already dawning.

  “Welcome to Sweden,” he spoke in German as he reached down, “let me give you a hand out of there.”

  Karlijna looked gratefully at this man who had given her freedom. He was probably in his early forties. His slightly weathered look about him was, no doubt, due to years at sea. He had wrinkles about his eyes as if he were accustomed to smiling. She decided she would have liked him even if he had not been the means of getting her to safety.

  As the husband followed the women and children up the ladder, he questioned the captain, “What were the shouts we heard a while back? We thought for sure we were captured.”

  The captain laughed, “Those were my cousins shouting at us. This is my hundredth trip in a row without being caught.”

  Karlijna stood on deck with the others and wondered if they felt as she did. That this freedom was surreal – that it could not last long.

  She turned to the captain, “You’ve done this for people one hundred times? Why?”

  “Ah,” the captain raised his eyebrows at her, “I said one hundred times without being caught. I’ve made nearly two hundred trips with refugees to Sweden.”

  He did not seem to catch the shocked looks of those in his company, “As to the why. . .”

  He shrugged carelessly, but didn’t reply.

  Karlijna was impressed by his willingness to help those in need. Especially since most of the people were likely in her situation and unable to pay for the service.

  “How many times were you caught?” the wife wanted to know.

  “Three times,” the captain spoke as he steered the boat to a dock. “Twice I hadn’t picked up my group yet, so the Nazis just sent me back to Swedish waters. The other time. . .” his voice drifted off.

  There was a moment of silence before the wife asked, “What happened to the passengers?”

  “I don’t know. The Nazis didn’t kill them like I thought they might. They probably went off to one of those camps.”

  Karlijna pressed her lips tightly together. The other passengers might have preferred death once they experienced the camp.

  “How is it that the Nazis didn’t capture you and your boat?” the husband balanced a child on each hip as the captain secured the boat to the dock.

  “They got my boat, alright,” the captain hopped to the dock and held out a hand to assist the ladies from the craft, “I got away from them because they didn’t think I was foolish enough to jump so they left me alone on my boat,”

  He winked at Karlijna, who turned her face into the hair of the child she still held, “Too bad for them, I’m foolish enough to do just that.”

  “And the boat?” the wife asked.

  “I had to buy a new one,” he shrugged, “I like this one better anyway. She’s got more speed.”

  As they stood on the dock, Karlijna wondering where she should go next, a man resembling the captain approached them.

  “Torkel,” the new arrival clapped the captain on the back before saying something in a language Karlijna could only assume was Swedish.

  “I told you I would,” the captain turned to the small group of refugees, “This is my brother, Leif . He was doubting my abilities.”

  Leif shook his head, “Not your abilities,” he spoke now in German, “just your luck. Kaaren is pacing the floor for you, so you’d better get home before she wears a hole in it.”

  “Ah,” the captain nodded, “I must go to my wife. God bless you.”

  He would have hurried away, but the husband stopped him, “We can’t thank you enough, but we’d like to give you something for your trouble.”

  To Karlijna’s amazement, the man pulled out a wad of bills and handed a large portion of them to the captain.

  The captain waved off the money, “I’m not doing this for the money.”

  “I know,” the younger man replied, “and I thank you, but if the time comes and you need to buy a third boat, this will help.”

  The captain grinned and took the offering, “Thank you.”

  Karlijna wished she had something to offer the man but realized there was
nothing she could give. Her bundle contained only food and some personal items. A look of horror crossed her face as she realized what she had done.

  “What is wrong, dear?” the woman asked her.

  “My things,” she cried out, “I left my things on the other boat.”

  “Are you sure?” the husband asked. “Maybe they are on this boat.” He moved to board again.

  “No,” she shook her head and looked down at the child who was now awake and staring at the scene unconcerned, “I put them down to pick him up. I never got them again.”

  I’m sorry, Miss,” the captain frowned at her dilemma, “there’s no way to get it back now. You should be thankful you’re here safe with your family.”

  “This is true,” Leif inserted, “Another boat got caught tonight. Their ending won’t be so happy.”

  Karlijna was about to correct the captain’s mistake about her family, but the husband spoke first, “Was the boat coming from Poland?”

  “Yes,” the captain’s brother nodded, “It picked up a couple of people from Leba. A husband and wife, I understand.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Karlijna put the boy down on the dock next to his mother and started into the streets. She didn’t know where she was heading, but thought that some motion would be better than standing all morning rooted to the spot. It occurred to her that a church would be the best place to start.

  The girl had not eaten a decent meal since she left Mrs. Polaski’s, and the effects were beginning to show. Her stomach had ceased to growl and was now beginning painful contractions. Knowing her legs would not carry her far if she didn’t get something to drink, at least, Karlijna crossed the street to what looked like a tavern.

  She was about to enter the establishment when she heard a woman’s voice, almost frantic.

  “Miss, wait!” It would have meant nothing to Karlijna but that it was spoken in German and sounded like the woman from the boat.

  Karlijna turned around. It was the woman from the boat, and she was heading directly toward Karlijna, an anxious smile on her face.

  “Please,” she held out one hand as if to stop Karlijna and placed the other to her own chest, catching her breath “please don’t go. We want to be sure you are going to be alright.”