Arms of Deliverance

by Tricia N. Goyer

  “No, wait. That’s my son,” Hendrick called. “I’m a German officer. I—”

  The soldier placed a gun to Hendrick’s head and without another word, swept the child from his arms.

  “My son!” Hendrick screamed. “You cannot take him!”

  Hendrick sat up with a start, his heart pounding. His blanket was pressed to his chest. It took a moment for him to remember where he was. In a rented room, in the city of Liege. He’d come for his son, but found only a grave.

  Another dream. The children in the transport. Had Stella, sweet Stella, been pried out of her father’s arms in such a manner?

  A shiver ran down his spine, but Hendrick refused to accept those thoughts. It was a dream, nothing more.

  Yet … he remembered Frau Schmidt’s office … and the bookcase. He’d vaguely remembered her pushing against it, as if she were shutting a door.

  Is this a message from the gods? Is my child there?

  Hendrick jumped to his feet, knowing he could not return to Brussels, or even attempt to make it back to Berlin, without knowing for sure. He remembered the ashen look on the nun’s face when he’d mentioned his son.

  “She’s hiding something,” he mumbled to himself, pulling on the civilian clothes, now wrinkled and dirty. “And I must find out what it is.”

  Magda and Hans had brought a small table into the room, around which the four of them now sat.

  Magda held Eddie in her unblinking gaze. “You will go into the town of Verviers. There are many refugees, and you will not be noticed.” She placed two white handkerchiefs on the table. “Go into the church in the center of town. Airman must carry one handkerchief with the corner peeking out. With the other one, you must blow your nose like this.”

  Magda lifted it to her face and blew loudly. “Over and over like that, yes?”

  Eddie slid on the peasant’s jacket. It was too short in the arms and waist, and he hoped no one would notice. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  He glanced at Mary, noticing how pale she looked, how small and helpless in the flickering candlelight. I swear if anyone touches her …

  “A man will approach you. He will ask in French if you have a cold, and you will follow him to a safe place on the edge of town.”

  “But I don’t speak French. How will I understand him?”

  “Listen carefully: Je vous vois avoir le rhume. Now repeat.”

  “Je vous …”

  “Je vous vois avoir le rhume.”

  He tried it again, and got it right.

  “Very good. Now keep repeating it in your head.”

  “And Mary?”

  “At first she was refused. They told me they would come at another time for her.”

  Eddie felt Mary slide her small hand into his. “I’d stay rather than leave her. You told us both to get ready.” Eddie tightened his grip.

  “This is what I told them. So they found a way. She go too.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “In the morning. At first light.”

  Mary pulled her hand from Eddie’s. Then she rose and gave Magda a quick hug. “I can never thank you enough. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to stay.”

  Tears filled the older woman’s eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. “These airmen. They risk their lives to help our people. I know you both would do the same”—Magda pointed to the sky—“if I had been the one who had fallen down to you.”

  “The shadow of wings.” It was Hans who spoke this time.

  Eddie turned to him in surprise.

  “They fall over us many time. And for each one I pray. By this we find our own freedom. To help you is to help our people.”

  Lee and Patrick were the last ones remaining in the café, except for the bartender, of course, who cast them impatient looks as he wiped down the polished wood bar yet again. Vinny had left hours before, his head down and shoulders sagging as if he carried the weight of Destiny’s Child upon his back.

  “Okay, Patrick. Let’s go over this again. Vinny remembers seeing five or six chutes, and he is pretty sure that Mary and Officer Anderson were two of them—the two floating down closest to each other. If that’s the case, why haven’t we received word? Vinny was able to get out rather quickly. So do you think it’s because one of them is hurt? Could it be Mary, and the navigator doesn’t want to leave her? Or maybe he’s hurt, and she doesn’t know where to go. Or maybe she doesn’t want to leave him. That sounds like Mary—unless she was alone. I mean, just because they went down close to each other doesn’t mean they’re together. Would she have any idea how to get out of there? Would anyone help her?”

  “Lee, stop.” Patrick raised both hands like a traffic cop. Yet his eyes were sincere, and she knew he cared as much as she did.

  Maybe there was more than just friendship between Mary and this photographer? Lee couldn’t stop the thought from crossing her mind, and she suddenly looked at Patrick with fresh eyes. He is handsome in a Benny Goodman sort of way, except with less hair, of course.

  Patrick sighed. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy with all this worrying and wondering. Sit there and catch your breath. All your fretting isn’t going to help your friend one bit.”

  “You’re right. But I know something that will. Do you have enough film and supplies to last you a week or so?”

  “Lee, I’ve seen that same determined look in Mary’s eyes. What in the world are you up to?”

  She cocked one eyebrow. “What do you think about heading for the front lines? I have a friend who can give us permission. Do you think Lyle will let you?”

  “Let me? As if he had a choice.” Patrick rose, then tucked the chair back to its place under the table. “Can you give me an hour to pack?”

  Eddie and Mary were attempting to get a few hours’ sleep when a knock sounded at the door.

  Mary glanced at Eddie and sighed. “Well, navigator. It looks like they’ve come early. You ready for this?”

  The door opened, but instead of Magda and Hans, the priest stepped through.

  “Oh, boy, we’re dead now,” Mary muttered, feeling the knot in her stomach cinch tighter. “You know things are bad when they send in the big guns.”

  Eddie moaned. “Mary, stop. You’ve got me quaking in my boots.”

  Mary started to stand, but the priest gestured for her to remain seated. He glanced out the door, motioning to someone, and seconds later the nurse and Sister Clarence appeared with a white bundle.

  Then the package moved, and they heard the softest coo. Mary jumped to her feet.

  “Sister, a baby? Is it one of the ones born here? One who didn’t make it out?”

  Without waiting for permission, Mary lifted the blanket to see a sweet face staring up at her. The child had the most brilliant blue eyes she’d ever seen and amazingly thick, dark hair.

  “Oh, can I hold him?” She turned to Eddie. “Look, a baby.”

  Eddie moved to her side, his brow furrowed as if trying to make the connection.

  Mary reached out her arms and swept the baby up, pulling him close. “He’s so beautiful. Oh, little guy, what have you already faced in this big world?”

  The nun and nurse gave each other a knowing look.

  “What?” Mary asked.

  Eddie placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mary, we’ll be leaving soon. He’s a cute kid, really. But I don’t think now’s the time.”

  The priest said something in Dutch, and the nurse motioned to the bed.

  “Sit, please. There is something we must talk to you about,” Sister Clarence said.

  The priest shut the door behind him, and they moved to the bed.

  Mary sat with the infant on her lap. He looked up at her, bobbing his head as he did. “What’s his name, sister?” she asked.

  “Samuel. His name is Samuel.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  As Lee walked up to the colonel and took his arm, she—for an instant—felt it wasn’t really her treading over the rough, wooden floorboards,
but her mother. Her mother’s charisma. Her mother’s charm. Her mother’s sly half smile.

  The colonel was talking to her about a dinner party he would be hosting the following evening. She nodded and grinned without truly hearing. I’ve come three thousand miles to escape my mother, only to realize I’ve become her.

  Lee knew her charm was for a purpose. Her poise was focused in a different direction than her mother’s—news instead of niceties. Helping a friend instead of climbing the social ladder. Still, she knew what it took to turn a man’s attention. To get what she wanted from him with a nod, a smile, and an attentive look. But her time for playing the doting companion was about up. Mary needed her.

  “Excuse me, Colonel, but I won’t be able to join you for dinner after all. I have a photographer waiting outside. We’re going to the front lines in Belgium to get a few stories. I think the guys on the front will go to bed tomorrow night with a smile on their faces, knowing their mamas will be reading about their exploits in next week’s paper.”

  “Of course. Maybe some other time. I’m eager to read your stories, Lee. Let me know how it goes.” He ran his fingers through his graying hair and winked.

  She patted the colonel’s arm and offered him a warm smile. Getting permission to head into a dangerous situation had never been easier. “I’ll be sure to do that, sir. When I return.”

  Mary gently rocked the baby. Sister Clarence sat next to her on the bed. The nun placed her finger to baby Samuel’s hand, and he curled his fist around it. She continued the account she’d been telling. “I heard the screams and knew something was very wrong,” she said. “I sent for the priest so he could offer last rites and then hurried into the delivery room.”

  Mary focused on Samuel’s face, while picturing the scene in her mind. The baby’s eyes were growing heavy.

  The nun shook her head, tears gently trickling down her sad face. “It was too late. Katrine was slipping away.”

  Katrine. Mary’s mind went to the photo she’d seen in that room. It had been inscribed to Katrine. The blood splatters on the wall …

  “The nurses in the delivery room were fired and sent away. They were told if one word of this was leaked, they were as good as dead. They had overheard the young woman’s confession. She had tricked him, you see. She was a Jew in hiding. The officer knew that if word had gotten back that he had slept with someone unclean, he would be jailed. And the fact that he’d had a child with her—that was worthy of the death penalty.”

  “Then what happened?” Mary asked, peering down at the now-sleeping infant.

  “We hid the baby. We told the officer he too had died. He left for a time, and a few weeks later showed up again, looking for his son. He didn’t believe us. Thought the child still lived.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her creased hands, and a slight hint of sternness shown in her eyes.

  “We knew if he found him, he wouldn’t kill the baby. Not right away, at least. It would be too hard to explain. He would use him, own him, like any other object. But the baby would always be evidence of his defilement. Hatred would grow and eventually …” The nun sighed. “Love and hatred cannot possess the same space.”

  The priest said something in French, and the nun kneeled before Eddie, taking his hands in hers.

  “This is why we must ask you to take the child with you. We have prayed much for a deliverer. And when you came … well, you are the answer to prayer.”

  “You want us to do what? To try to escape … with a baby?” Eddie stood and paced across the room. “Don’t you think it will be hard enough just to get ourselves out?” He looked at Mary, studying her. Her stomach knotted. She knew he was worried—worried he’d not be able to protect her as he’d promised.

  Sister Clarence stood, and Mary returned the baby to her. She pressed her fingers to her temples, wishing for the hundredth time since she’d strapped on that parachute that she’d never asked for this assignment. Who cares what my father thinks? Who cares if my stories never make the front page? I just want it all to be over….

  “Do you not think that God has made a way?” Sister Clarence rattled on. “A man and a woman, falling from the sky. A woman who speaks German. A loving couple. Does this not seem like destiny? Like our great Lord’s hand is over us all?”

  Eddie seemed deep in thought as he turned and walked to the far wall. He stood there for a full minute, then turned to face them.

  The features on his face had softened, and he stepped toward Sister Clarence. He reached out with his large hand and stroked the baby’s head. “You’ve been praying for a protector?” He took the child in his arms and approached Mary.

  The priest lifted his large golden crucifix from his chest and began fumbling with it, rubbing it as if attempting to gain strength from the emblem.

  “Mary, do you realize?” Eddie’s voice was low, as if not to wake the baby. “My plane. Its name—drawn from a hat—Destiny’s Child.”

  Tingles traveled up the back of her neck, yet something still didn’t feel right. If the priest and nun loved the child, which was clearly evident, why did they not keep him and raise him themselves? She looked closer, peering into Sister Clarence’s face. She thought of one of Paul’s Pointers. A good reporter can see the truth in someone’s eyes, even if his or her mouth is saying something completely different.

  “Sister Clarence?” Mary approached the woman, meeting her eye-to-eye. “Is there something else you’re not telling us?”

  Sister Clarence hesitated, then nodded. “The officer … he’s been back again. People saw him around town a few days ago. We thought the grave marker had convinced him, but it seems he is still searching for his son.”

  Mary turned to Eddie, who now held the infant against his chest, curled up in a little ball under his chin. Her heart sank with regret, but what could she do?

  “It’s not bad enough that we need to escape the country?” she said. “It’s not bad enough there are Germans all around; now we’re going to be hunted by a Nazi father who wants his son? You know how they feel about their heritage, a thousand-year Reich and all that. I’m sorry, but we can’t do it.”

  She turned to Sister Clarence. “Eddie is a navigator. Do you realize how important his job is? Do you know how many times he’s risked his life to help your people?”

  Eddie interrupted. “We’ll do it. We have to try.”

  “But what about getting out? Getting home? Eddie, this is not your responsibility.” But I am, she wanted to add. What about me? What about us?

  “Look, Mary, when I read the Bible, I see a lot of times when God called people to do things they didn’t want to. Take Joseph, for example. God told him to take care of Mary, and care for the child not his own.”

  “Eddie, I know the Christmas story, but that’s different. That was God’s Son, and this … this child is the son of a Nazi.”

  Eddie lifted the baby and swaddled him close. “Every human is created in the image of God, no matter whose blood pumps through his veins. God knew this child from conception and has a special place for him. It’s no accident He brought us here, at this time, for this purpose.”

  Mary shook her head. “But—”

  “Destiny’s Child made it back after twenty-nine missions, yet on the last one, we end up here. And not just me, but you too.”

  Eddie spoke with an earnestness that Mary would never have imagined. Yet she loved it.

  “Besides, what kind of life could I lead if I returned home safely, but had to turn my back on a child to do so?” He stroked the baby’s back and kissed his head. “I may fulfill every dream I set for myself, but if I fail at this God-given task, what good would I be?”

  Mary cocked her head, looking at him. Studying this man with this child.

  “Besides, Mary,” he added. “Consider what it would be like to have a father who didn’t truly care for you. A father who felt you were never good enough. Especially when we could most likely find a couple who would love to have a child … or I could
even raise him myself. We’ve got to do it. We’ve got to try.”

  What kind of crazy thinking is that? She was just about to say so, but she paused. How did he know?

  Then another thought seemingly came out of nowhere. This is the man I’m going to marry. And this will be my child.

  Hendrick found the office door unlocked. He entered and stopped short, noticing that the bookshelf was partly open. He swallowed hard and pulled his pistol from his pocket, crouching down and approaching with slow steps. He heard voices—a man and woman talking.

  He rushed into the room and saw them sitting at a small table, heads bowed close as they spoke. The man jumped up in surprise, and Hendrick fired a shot, hitting the young man’s thigh. The man screamed and crumbled to the ground.

  “What are you doing? Who are you? What do you want?” The woman stood and hurried to the man. “Hans, are you okay?”

  Hendrick glanced around the room. It appeared to be some type of hidden bedroom. Yet it smelled of soiled diapers and … yes, he noted an empty bottle on the table.

  “Where is he? Where is my son?”

  The woman stood, tossing her gray hair over her shoulder. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

  Hendrick looked to the man on the floor, his face constricted in pain. He pulled a knife from his pocket and moved to the woman. “Oh, don’t worry. You can play stupid all you want.” He nodded his chin toward the man, then pointed the knife at the woman’s chest. “But he’ll tell me all I need to know.”

  Morning’s orange arms were just beginning to penetrate night’s gray leftovers when Mary and Eddie bade good-bye to the castle and their friends. Each carried a bundle as they set out across the frost-covered grounds. She clutched a cardboard box with their lunches, and he held baby Samuel wrapped up tightly and tucked inside his already too-small jacket. With each step the pain in her leg seemed to be renewed, reminding her of the injury that had lain dormant during the time hidden in the safety of the castle. But she refused to say anything to Eddie. They had a mission, after all.