“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Vinny squeezed his shoulder. “But you just wait. I’ll find someone for you—someone you can’t refuse. Someone even your mother would approve of.”
“That, my friend, I’d like to see.”
Vinny jogged away to catch up with the others.
“Really, Lord, in all seriousness,” Eddie mumbled as he glanced up to the clouds that were thickening, preparing to dump their load. “That I really would like to see.”
CHAPTER TEN
The teacup on the lunch tray quivered from Katrine’s trembling hands as she walked through the large dining hall. The arched ceiling, high chandeliers, and velvet tapestries reflected an era when this place had hosted the finest families in Belgium. Now only three dozen girls occupied the space as guests, sitting at a small cluster of tables, their laughter grating on Katrine’s nerves.
How am I going to last another four months?
She glanced at her plate of sauerkraut and sausage, and her stomach turned grim—almost as grim as the first time she noticed the SS guards stationed at the doors and around the gates. She’d only been here one day, and already Katrine couldn’t wait to leave.
Oh, Hendrick, she thought, how could you leave me here? The flat he’d promised her was what she wanted most. She didn’t need anything grand, just someplace for her and her child. A place where she could come and go as she wished, walking to the park or market. Although the castle and grounds were more grandiose than anything she’d ever imagined, they were like a gilded cage. And she a songbird who’d lost all reason to sing.
Upon her arrival, Hendrick had stayed by her side—holding her hand loosely—as the director, Frau Schmidt, gave her a tour of the facilities. As a mother-to-be, honored by the Third Reich, Katrine was assured her every need would be cared for. Even her spiritual needs were considered by the two nuns who lived and worked at the home.
Tears filled her eyes even now as she realized what they’d think if they really knew her spiritual state. They could offer no help here to ease her loneliness or help her forget what life could have been like without the war.
“Do you need assistance with that, dear?” Sister Josephina in her brown habit approached, holding out her hands for the tray. “Would you like me to carry it for you?”
“No, I’m fine, really. The little one just gave me a swift kick in the ribs, taking my breath away, that’s all.” Katrine lifted her tray higher and glanced down at her round stomach, feigning laughter.
“Good enough. Enjoy your dinner. And if you’d like to join us in the library we’ll be open this evening, reading from Himmler’s latest writings.”
Katrine thanked the nun and found an open chair at the farthest corner table.
The other lone occupant offered a bright smile. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t believe the abundance of food, can you? It’s far more than I can eat.” The girl lifted a spoonful of green beans and sighed. “Of course, I suppose we shouldn’t complain. The rations in Berlin have been terrible lately. It’s one of the reasons my mother insisted I come here.”
“I know what you mean. But it’s hard to eat so much—especially when being here makes me not feel like eating at all.” Katrine forced herself to take a spoonful of potatoes.
The girl leaned closer to Katrine, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “I understand. I didn’t care for it here at first, either. But what could I do? My boyfriend’s on the front lines, and my parents have enough to worry about taking care of my sister and brothers. Is your family here in Belgium?”
“No, they … they died in a bombing raid in Munich.” She repeated the story so believably, it was almost as if it had become the truth.
“I’m so glad you speak German,” the young woman continued. “Most of the girls here don’t. They’re from Belgium, of course, and France. I got in because my mother is Belgian—even though we didn’t live here.”
Katrine placed her fork on her tray. “I moved to Brussels to be a nanny for a family here. And I met Hendrick the first day.”
“Was he the one in the automobile that brought you? I heard the girls talking about him this morning. They say he was so handsome. Like one of those screen stars. I’m Inge, by the way.” She flipped a blonde braid over her shoulder. “My soldier, Adler, wasn’t much to look at, but we’re to be married when he returns, which is more than some of the others have. A few of the ones here know nothing more than their soldiers’ names and ranks.”
Katrine furrowed her brow, but Inge prattled on before she had time to comment. “Are you keeping your baby?”
Two other girls joined them, and Katrine nodded a greeting. One had reddish blonde hair and looked ready to have her baby any day. The other had darker hair, and she—like Katrine—had a small, round tummy.
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I keep my baby?” Katrine answered.
“Not all do, you know,” the redheaded girl butted in. “One shouldn’t just assume. Some wish to be mothers. Others simply feel it’s important to do their part for the Fatherland.”
Katrine felt her stomach lurch, and she ran a hand down her face, not believing what she was hearing.
Inge nodded her agreement and then turned her attention to the other girls, referring to the redheaded one as Anneliese.
Katrine did her best to choke down her food, wondering what type of world she’d been dropped into. These girls talked as though having a child out of wedlock was the most natural thing in the world. No, wait—the most honorable thing.
Hanging above their table, a large swastika ruffled in the breeze of the open window. And below it, the home’s slogan had been painted in neat script across the wall: Sacred to us is every mother of good blood.
Katrine felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she knew there was no way she’d be able to finish her meal. Rising, she pressed her hand to her mouth and hurried from the dining hall. The voices followed her, as did the sounds of shoes—most likely one of the nurses, trailing to ensure she was okay.
And still Katrine hurried on, trying to remember which hall led to her room, and attempting to figure out just how she could escape this nightmare—escape Germany’s gift to mothers.
It had been nearly sixteen hours since Lee had boarded the plane, bound for what she assumed were the front lines of the invasion. But no. Here I still am on some medical ship—they must’ve thought it safer for a lady. What’s a girl gotta do to see some action?
After steaming through the waters during the daylight, the ship had stopped barely a mile from the coast. Behind them, a battleship had fired 14-inch guns, nonstop. Overhead the planes had flown over in wave after wave—like freight trains plowing through the skies, delivering their powerful, noisy loads.
Through the day, landing crafts shuttled back and forth from the troop carriers to the beach, and Lee had seriously considered jumping onto one of them as it plowed past. Should have done it.
Instead she waited as the daylight gave way to darkness, turning the Channel into a private Fourth of July production with long streams of rockets trailing through the sky. From her place on the deck she could still hear guns firing on the shoreline and smell the pungent odor of smoke and gunpowder.
Still, she was too far away to see any real action and knew more about the war’s progression from the BBC playing on the radio than from what she could see with her own eyes. Wouldn’t Mary Kelley love to know I’m so close, but not getting through?
The doctors and nurses on board finally gave up hope that they’d be landing soon, and disappeared into the hold. Still Lee remained on deck, shivering and waiting, clinging to her musette bag and life jacket. What would happen if a German sub broke through the perimeter and attacked them? Or if a dud rocket fell short of its mark and hit their ship instead? The medical personnel would be on the bottom of the Channel before they had a chance to scurry up those metal ladders. No, it was better to watch outside. Better to wait, despite the frigid nigh
t air. She slumped onto the damp steel deck, her back to the captain’s quarters.
The clouds cleared slightly, and the moon appeared high overhead. Still unable to sleep, Lee snatched a notebook and pencil from her pocket and attempted to write a piece about her view from the Channel. Her mind worked overtime to come up with the most descriptive phrasing she could think of. But no matter how vividly she painted the scene of the bombers and the landing craft shuttling in, she knew there would be better stories already on the editor’s desk from correspondents who had actually made it to shore.
It’s all Lyle’s fault, making promises he had no intention to keep. Lee grunted in frustration, and then her thoughts turned to Mary, wondering where her roommate had spent the day.
Lee couldn’t help but chuckle, remembering the first time she’d seen Mary in that schoolgirl outfit and ponytails. It had infuriated and amused her at the same time. Actually, she was almost looking forward to hearing what feat Mary had pulled off today.
Suddenly a loud clang reverberated through the ship, as though someone had hit the steel boiler with a sledgehammer. Lee shrieked and grasped her life jacket. She waited for the others to appear on deck, sure they’d been hit. Then she glanced over the side and wondered just how cold the water would be—whether she’d be forced to swim to the nearest craft or wait for a pick-up.
At least it would be something to write about….
Another loud clang, then nothing else. She screamed again and then noticed a sailor walking across the deck, perfectly calm.
He winked at her as he sauntered past. “It’s just depth charges, lady. The patrol boats are hunting for subs.”
“Don’t you think I know that? It just startled me, that’s all.”
Lee looked down at her half-written story on her notepad, and then flipped to the next page.
Dear Rondi,
You’ll never believe where I am this very minute. I’m sure by the time you read this letter you’ll know all about the invasion and a place they’ve code-named Utah Beach. I could, of course, write and tell you where we are now and what we’re up to, but it most likely will be censored out. I could write about the other war correspondents and the news office here, but that would bore me as much as it would you. What I wish I could tell you is something of the most secretive nature. Something that can’t be written about at all. But if I told you, I’d be doomed for sure. And since I’m your only and best sister, I think you’d like to keep me around. I will say, though, that you’ve had a part in it—even from a distance.
Oh, well, clouds are beginning to cover my writing light (the moonlight, that is), and I may try to sleep despite the horrible conditions. Tell Roger hi, and Mother and Father too. And if you’re lucky, I’ll write more later, when I make it to shore. At least more action will take place there, I hope!
Forever your sister and friend,
Lee
Lee closed the notepad. Then she unfastened the life jacket and used it for a pillow, curling onto a ball on the deck. She thought back to her assignment—not the one given to her by ETO, but the one given by the woman from the market. Somehow the woman had known about the invasion. When and were it would be taking place.
“Three days after you arrive in France, a messenger will find his way to you. It is then you will pass on the goods.”
Lee tucked her fist beneath her chin and sighed. At least she had that adventure to look forward to.
Katrine had just slipped into the cool sheets of the white iron bed when she heard a soft tapping on the door. She pulled the quilt up to her chin, and her mind immediately flashed back to the truckload of young men who’d been dropped off after dinner. She’d watched them from her bedroom window as they boisterously jumped from the trucks with their military bags in hand and huge grins on their faces. She hadn’t seen them after that, but just knowing they were loose in the castle somewhere unnerved her.
What are they doing here? What could they want?
Another knock.
“Who is it?” Her voice trembled.
“It’s Inge. Can I come in?” The girl didn’t wait for an answer. The door swung open, and she scampered across the room, the light in the hall illuminating her long, golden hair. She was dressed in a lace nightgown, with her large stomach making it look as if she’d swallowed a large rubber ball.
“Sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you, but I was going for a glass of milk when I heard the delivery boy in the kitchen talking with the cook. The Americans have invaded France. Millions of them are pouring onto the Continent.” Her eyes were wide with fear, and she sank down onto the bed next to Katrine, instinctively caressing her stomach. “You don’t think they’ll get this far, do you? I mean, Belgium is right next to France. Oh, I should have stayed in Berlin. Why didn’t I stay there?”
Katrine scooted to a sitting position and placed a hand on Inge’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly. There are thousands of German soldiers and machines between them and us, and it’s farther than you think.” She brushed Inge’s hair back from her cheek, amazed that someone so young was soon to be a mother herself. And though Katrine was only twenty-one, she felt a decade older than the other girls here.
“Besides, I’ve only been here a day, and I’ve heard the same thing over and over. We are the pride of the Reich. Our sons will be their future soldiers. Do you seriously think they’d allow anything to happen to us?”
Inge wrapped her arms around Katrine’s neck and gave her a quick hug. “No, you’re right. Nothing’s going to happen to us here.” She stood and hurried across the room. “Thank you, Katrine. I’m certain you are going to be my new best friend.” And with that Inge exited, allowing the door to click shut behind her.
Katrine placed her hand on her shoulder as if she could still feel the warmth from Inge’s hug. Without Hendrick and baby Arthur, her new friend’s warm touch would be all she’d probably receive for a long time. Tightness grew in her chest. She’d felt it before. Loneliness …
She rose from her bed and moved to the window. Cautiously she lifted the blackout curtain and scanned the manicured grounds that spread as far as she could see in the moonlight.
“The Americans are coming …,” she whispered to herself. On one hand, she was thrilled. After all, in their protection she’d no longer have to hide her true identity.
Then again.
Katrine spread her fingers and placed her hands over her stomach.
Then again, what would they do to me, knowing whose child I carried?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Katrine didn’t know she had so many tears bottled up inside. It was the third day after she’d arrived at Wegimont bei Lüttich, and she’d been encouraged to make good use of the vast grounds for exercise.
“We believe all our mothers should keep their bodies in top physical shape to prepare for labor and delivery,” Frau Meier, one of the nurses, had announced after breakfast.
She approached Katrine with a firm hand on her shoulder and eyed her. “You appear to be of healthy stock, but one must not slack during pregnancy. Take a walk around the grounds. It is perfectly safe. After you return, we will provide a thorough health exam, yes? Also, there is still much paperwork to be done.”
Frau Meier was blonde and big-boned, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and always smelled of disinfectant. Yet she moved like a prize boxer and frightened Katrine with her deep voice that seemed always a few decibels too loud.
Katrine slipped on her sweater and eagerly obeyed, sure she didn’t want to get on Frau Meier’s bad side. As she strolled through the well-kept gardens, the bright summer sun and soft breeze urged her on. Past the fountains, past the benches lined with chattering young women, and past the manicured lawn area, she heard the evocative murmur of water flowing over stones. A few meters farther on she discovered a small creek running through a thinly treed forest. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and slowly inhaled a deep, warm breath of pine.
For nearly a mi
nute she breathed in the forest scents, until she remembered that behind her sat the castle—or prison, from her perspective. She opened her eyes and turned around to view the awe-inspiring structure rising from the rolling Belgian countryside like a giant’s residence dropped from the clouds. Through the trees to her right, less than a half mile away, the perimeter wall jutted from the earth. Built with rock and mortar, it was too tall for her to climb, too thick to break through.
Abandoning her dreams of escape for the moment, she found a wide, flat rock to sit on. She closed her eyes, feeling the relief of being free from the spying eyes that seemed to cover the castle’s very walls, and the dam of emotions broke. She sobbed as she’d wanted to since the moment two years ago when she walked away from the life and family she’d known and loved. She plucked a pale, purple lilac from its bush and crushed the stem in her fingers, not even noticing its sweet scent, as she thought of that day.
Things had been growing worse in Prague for the Jews. Restrictions had increased until one day they were no longer welcomed citizens. Their pink slips, stating their relocation, arrived. Her family was chosen for transfer to a nearby work camp. Nazi guards holding ledgers told them to report to a holding center, where they’d board trains for the trip east.
They walked to the assembly center that day, dragging a few meager possessions and leaving everything else they owned behind. Even then, Katrine had no idea those would be her last moments with her family. How quickly life can change.
She wiped her tears and pictured the faces of her parents, sisters, and brothers. According to the calendar that hung in her new, private bedroom, it had been almost two years exactly since she’d made that long walk with her parents toward Messepalast—the large hall that was the first holding cell for their relocation. Despite the fact that SS guards urged them along as they walked, a tall, blond man approached Katrine as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It was a man she recognized as one of her father’s gentile friends.
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