Mary glanced up at a bank of clouds floating in. She wondered if they carried snow. With a smile, Eddie reached over and took her hand.
They left the castle grounds and stepped onto the road. Snow had started to fall, speckling Eddie’s black hat with white crystals. Gray frost had covered layers of mud on the road, but soon it would be covered with white again. Fields between the towns lay quiet, taking their winter rest and accepting their slow white blanket from the sky. Mary imagined the fields in late summer, bursting with crops, with life.
They walked a few miles, and Mary’s feet already ached from the cold seeping through her peasant shoes, adding to the pain in her leg. How will I make it? Soon they passed by a quaint cottage. Smoke rose from the chimney, and an old truck sat in the front.
Mary saw the curtain lift, and she remembered what Magda had said. She kept her eyes forward, not daring to meet the gaze of the person inside. Keep walking. You’re a family seeking refuge in Verviers. You’ve lost your home and are looking for loved ones. Still her heart pounded, and her knees felt weak.
Magda had told them to steer away from people. And, surprisingly, she agreed they should take the child along.
“The greatest dangers do not come from the Gestapo, but from homegrown Fascists known as the Black Brigades. Yet, no one will suspect,” Magda had said as they prepared to leave. She handed Eddie extra bullets for his pistol. “They are looking for one or two flyers—they would not think to suspect a man, wife, and child.”
Eddie’s eyes had met hers, and Mary was almost certain she’d seen his lips part, mouthing the word wife. Fresh snow now crunched under Mary’s feet, yet somehow she felt warmer remembering Eddie’s look of adoration.
They’d yet to see any sign of the German troops that Magda spoke of. And at this moment, as the snow-covered world still seemed safe around her, Mary imagined she and Eddie were in his home state of Montana. They were a family, out walking through a blanket of untouched snow, searching for the perfect Christmas tree on their property.
A twig snapped under her feet, and she came back to reality. “So, were you serious when you told them you’d consider adopting this baby?”
“Sure,” Eddie said, adjusting the baby in his grasp, then kissing his bundled head. “I’m just glad to be able to take him away from that Nazi. Can you imagine having him for a dad? Having your father hate you because of his own shame? Besides, I’ve always wanted kids.”
Mary coughed nervously. “And what about a mom?” she asked, turning the conversation back the direction she’d intended. “A child needs a mom too.”
Eddie looked at Mary, and his eyes locked with hers. “Maybe before I get back home I’ll find myself a good woman.” His serious expression softened to a slight smile, and he gave her a wink. “Someone who will love me, love Samuel, and maybe will want to give him three or four brothers and sisters.”
“Three or four? Doesn’t that seem like a lot?”
“Nah, my mom had four. Sure made for a lot of fun times as a kid.” Eddie glanced at a tree with a long branch stretched out like an arm. “See that?”
“That tree? Yeah.”
“Reminds me of the one me and my brother used to jump from into the lake when I was a kid.” Eddie laughed and brushed snow from his shoulder. “There was this one time. Richard was getting ready to jump when Sally Brown came walking up saying, ‘Hi, fellas! I brought some lemonade for ya.’ My brother was so sweet on that Sally. He fell backwards into the lake with such a jerk, his shorts got stuck on a branch. He was so embarrassed he swam all the way to the other side of the lake and waited for me to bring him his shorts.”
Mary laughed. “That’s quite a story.”
Suddenly Eddie’s gaze peered through the falling snow toward the rolling, frosted hills. Mary detected a layer of tears creeping over his eyes.
“Boy, I miss that guy,” he finally said. “My sisters and mom and dad too.”
“You surprise me, Eddie.”
“Why?”
“I never pictured a strong army airman being so sentimental.”
“I’ve never been sentimental, not until waiting for so many planes to come back from missions—and learning they weren’t ever coming back. Not until looking through my window straight into the face of a Kraut pilot firing on us, smiling with each hit. Not until hiding in a dark hole in the forest for a whole day, not knowing if I’d be safe—or the girl with me.” He caressed her hand as they walked. “It’s times like these when a man realizes it’s the simple things that matter most—a caring wife, a bundle of kids, and a little place to call your own.”
“I never thought about it like that. You surprise me again.”
“How’s that?”
“Because you have a way of making me long for things that have nothing to do with front-page news.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
Mary turned to face him. “Yeah, I’d say it’s a good thing. Very good.” She reached up and touched a snowflake on his cheek, brushing it away.
A deep contentment filled Eddie’s gaze, and he took one of her curls between his thumb and forefinger. He looked like he was going to say something, but the baby started to fuss. “We’d better keep moving.”
He pulled out one of the bottles Sister Clarence had packed for them, and frowned. “It’s a little cold. I hope it doesn’t give him a stomachache.” He pulled back the blanket just enough to put the bottle in the baby’s mouth.
Mary’s heart warmed to this man with each step. Someone who would love and care for a child who wasn’t his own. A child of the enemy.
“How do you know so much about babies? Look at you. It’s as if you’ve been doing this all your life.”
“Nieces and nephews. I have six of them.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I was the favorite uncle.”
Up ahead, Mary saw another cottage coming into view. She pulled her hands from her pockets, blowing on them. Keep walking. You’re just an average family.
“I’d like to hear more about your family,” she said.
“It sounds like you’re interviewing me for one of your stories. Do you have a notepad hidden in one of those pockets?”
“Oh, I don’t need a notepad. It’s all right here.” She tapped the side of her head. “And I do have to admit this would make a great ‘unsung hero story.’”
“My folks are hard workers, that’s to be sure. In fact, I can hardly remember my mother’s hands idle. She has a large garden, mainly green beans, tomatoes, and squash, because of the short growing season. She loves to crochet the prettiest things too. Not that I understand why each table and shelf needs so many frills, but they do look nice.”
Samuel let out a contented sigh as he finished the bottle. Eddie tucked it back into his pocket.
“My dad, he’s a mechanic. Works on cars, tractors, anything with an engine. His hands are always caked with grease or bandaged up. In fact, thinking about it, it seems I remember their hands even more than their faces, especially when they were folded.”
“I thought you said their hands were never idle.”
“I don’t mean they were idle. I picture them in prayer. That’s the best work of all, when you think about it. Most important, anyway.” Eddie glanced up. “And what about you? I’ve been telling you everything, and I know so little about your dad and mom.”
“Well, there’s not much to tell. I grew up with my mom, just my mom,” Mary hurriedly said. “We were poor in the pocket but rich in words. I told you earlier how she made up stories, but I didn’t tell you why. She never learned how to read.
“One night, in the second grade, I could sound out enough words to see that the headline story was about men out of jobs all over the city. But when I asked my mom to read it, she told me that the men lined up were actually actors auditioning for a part in Gary Cooper’s latest movie. She said she’d seen the filming on her way to work. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t sleep all night, and in the morning I made her confess the truth
. She stopped reading to me after that. But now I regret I found out.”
“Because the truth hurt her?”
“My mother? Are you kidding? I was sorry because her stories were much better than any I read in the headlines.”
Suddenly Mary noticed a black army truck moving toward them. A red swastika was painted on the door.
“Keep up the pace. Don’t freeze.” Eddie took her hand as the truck moved closer.
Yet instead of continuing on, the truck stopped in front of them.
You are a German refugee. This is your son and husband … no, brother.
Mary waved and glanced up at the truck. “Guten Morgen allerseits!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The German soldier leaned out the window. “What are you doing on the road in this weather? Do you need help?”
“A ride would be nice.” Mary spoke in German and looked to Eddie, pursing her lips and hoping he understood not to speak.
Trust me, she wished she could tell him.
“Just down the road to Verviers—that is where we are headed. My brother, he is deaf and dumb, and I must get him to my sister’s house. Taking care of him and this new baby is too difficult.”
“And where did you come from?” The soldier eyed her with suspicion.
“From Soumage, just up the road. I didn’t realize how cold it was until we set out.”
He opened the door and motioned them inside. Eddie’s feet didn’t move. Mary made a fist and knocked it on the side of his head. “Dummkopf!”
Eddie glanced at her, let his jaw go slack, and climbed inside the truck. Mary followed, squeezing in.
“Thank you. We appreciate not having to walk.” Her mind hurried to think of what Magda had said—where their next contact would meet them.
“Just drive us to the market in Verviers, please. We can walk from there.”
The bouncing of the truck woke Samuel, and he started to cry. Eddie didn’t budge.
Good job. Yes, you’re deaf, I remember.
She took the infant from Eddie and held him to her chest. Her mind thought back to the music filtering through the thin walls of their apartment back in New York. Thank you, Cousin Velma. God rest your soul.
“Schön ist die Welt, drum, Brü-der, lasst uns rei-sen wohl,” Mary began to sing. “In die wei-te Welt, wohl in die Wei-te Welt.”
Fine is the world, so brothers let us travel, all through this wide, wide world, all through this wide, wide world.
The men in the cab joined in.
We are not proud; we don’t need any horse to go from here to there, to go from here to there.
When the song ended, the man seated next to her smiled. “I have not heard that song since my father sang to me as a child.” He pointed to Samuel. “Where is this babe’s father?”
Mary lowered her gaze. “He is dead. He died, fighting against the Americans.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“Do not worry.” The soldier reached past Eddie and patted her shoulder. “We will avenge his death, yes? This is where we are going now. To Sankt Vith. To take back the ground lost from the American devils.”
St. Vith. Wasn’t that their next destination? Where they were to cross over into American-held territory?
“In two days, yes, we will attack. And the city will be ours once more,” the soldier boasted.
Two days. That wasn’t very much time. She and Eddie could most likely get there by then, but could they get out? Just because the Americans held the Belgian town didn’t mean the Allied soldiers would be able to give them a ride out to safety—especially if they were fighting to hold the city.
Lee. I must ask our next contact to find her. Mary knew she was their best chance of making it back alive. If she were anywhere close to the front lines, Lee would find a way to get them out.
They’d arrived hours before they were due, so Mary and Eddie hurried from the market to the parish church, pushing the doors open to find warmth within its walls. Mary unbundled baby Samuel.
“There you go, sweet one,” she said as the baby emerged from the mass of blankets. “Does that feel better?”
Samuel cooed as they walked into the sanctuary. A nun was praying near the altar, but paid them no mind as they slipped into the second seat from the rear.
Eddie leaned close. “Hey, what was that about dummkopf?”
“Well, we couldn’t have you speaking to them, now could we?” she whispered.
“We should have just let them drive past.”
“But we’re here, and we’re warm. I think it was a blessing in disguise.”
The nun turned and walked toward them. Eddie made the sign of the cross, and they immediately sank to their knees and bowed their heads.
She moved past them, slipped a coat over her habit, and exited.
They slid back onto the pew.
“You won’t believe what those soldiers were saying,” Mary whispered, brushing her fingers across the infant’s downy soft hair. “They’re heading for St. Vith and plan to attack in two days.”
“That’s where we’re heading.” Eddie’s eyes grew wide. “Didn’t Magda say the area was under American control?”
“Yes, but we don’t know for how long. I know Magda believed just getting us there, behind the American lines, would be good enough, but we need to make a plan to leave. And I think I have one. But we’re going to need the help of our next contact.”
Her eyes looked to the stained glass window showing Jesus gathering the children around Him.
“Let’s pray for His help,” she said. “Let’s pray my plan will work.”
Eddie walked around the church. He gazed at the altar candles—a hundred, flickering, dancing prayers. He’d never been in a Catholic church before, but he’d had a friend who’d described it to him. He glanced at the pictures on the walls—Christ’s journey to the cross. At the same time, Eddie’s senses were poised as he listened for any sound of someone coming. He checked the door once more, then gazed at Mary and the baby.
She wore the dress and coat of a peasant woman. Her cheeks and nose were smudged with dirt she’d most likely picked up while climbing out of the German truck. But she was no peasant. He had to hand it to this big-time reporter from New York; she handled herself like a pro. Samuel sat on her lap, gurgling as she tickled him with one of her blond ringlets. Mary’s giggle echoed through the empty church, and the candlelight made her smile seem even more attractive.
Eddie sighed. Man, I think I love this woman.
“You know how to handle this little guy pretty good yourself,” he said as he slid into the pew beside her.
“Oh, I love babies. But I want to tell you about my plan.”
“I’m listening.”
“I told you about my friend Lee. I’m guessing she’s at the press camp closest to the front lines.”
“How in the world do you know that?”
“If it’s the closest to the action you can get, Lee will be there. She has connections, and she’s not afraid to use them. It’s a lesson I’m learning.”
Mary turned her back toward Eddie, held the baby with one arm, and lifted her hair from the nape of her neck with her free hand. “Can you unclasp this chain for me? Lee will recognize this, I’m sure of it.”
Her neck was creamy white, and Eddie was not prepared for the effect it had on him. He studied the gold chain for a minute before lifting it from the warmth of her skin and fumbling with the small clasp. Finally, it released.
Mary dropped her hair, and his arms wrapped over her shoulders as he lowered the chain into her upraised hand. He breathed in the scent of her hair and smiled.
Mary seemed to lean into his touch. Her eyes closed just for a moment—then back to business.
“This necklace was a gift from my father. When we meet the contact, I think we should ask if he’ll take it to the nearest Allied press center and ask for Lee. Maybe I’ll write a note—”
“No, you don’t want to do that,” Eddie interrupted. He
took the necklace from her, then studied the pendant souvenir from the World’s Fair. “If he gets caught—well, it won’t be good. It’ll be dangerous enough having something clearly American with him.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “It sure seems like a long shot, but I’m starting to trust your instincts. It’s worth a try.”
The door opened, and two pairs of shoes clomped along the wooden floor in their direction. Neither of the refugees dared turn around. In seconds, the nun stood beside them with another person, a priest, who approached Eddie and pointed to the two handkerchiefs in his pocket. He took one of the handkerchiefs and loudly blew his nose.
He then turned to Mary and said something in German. When he finished, he motioned for them to join him.
“Mary, what did he say?”
“He said we’re early, and we’ll be staying with a family in town. They’re expecting us.’”
Mary rose to follow the priest, but Eddie paused, reaching for her arm. “I’m not sure. This isn’t the plan. He didn’t say that French phrase.”
“Eddie, he knew the sign and countersign. And he’s right, we’re early, which would explain a lot. It’s a priest, for goodness’ sake. Come on. I’m ready for a warm bed and some food. Besides, Samuel will be hungry again soon, and we want to have a chance to warm his bottle this time.”
The short winter day was already turning to dusk as they walked over packed snow through the sleepy town of Verviers. They finally came to a beautiful house toward the edge of town. It was made of brick, and dried, snow-covered ivy draped the front. They were led down the cobblestone drive, but instead of turning toward the front door, they kept walking beyond the house to a small caretaker’s cottage.
The priest knocked twice, then without waiting said, “The eggs are in the basket.”
The door opened, and a short, slim man with hunched shoulders and brown scraggly hair peered out. After seeing them, he smiled a toothless grin. “In. In.”
As they walked in, the caretaker, priest, and nun left. At the caretaker’s rough wooden table waited their contact, Julien. He was a young man, yet serious enough to make him seem older. He greeted them in English.
Arms of Deliverance Page 25
