“Yeah, but he’s not paying you. At the plant he’d pay a dollar and a quarter.”
Rudi leaned against the wall. “This is good work, Tommy. I am not in Gefängnis—”
“Guh-fengus?”
He held both fists in front of his face as if he were holding bars.
“Prison?”
“Ja. I am not in prison.”
“True enough.”
Like everything else in his life, Rudi approached the work with determination, wanting to do the best he could possibly do. Mr. Baker kept an eye on him from a distance, came to examine his work every few hours, and he appeared generally pleased. He had given Rudi a chance to prove himself, which was all Rudi could ask for. And even though the guilt of abandoning his post and leaving the war still bothered him, a part of him felt freed, as if he could look around with open eyes for the first time in his life. He wondered what that said about him.
Under orders, Rudi never went farther than the house and barn. No one from outside the family saw him, so no one questioned the stranger in their midst. Of course, that included going to church—Tommy said Rudi’s being there would “raise quite a ruckus,” whatever that meant. It didn’t much matter; Rudi hadn’t been to church in years. So when the Baker family climbed into their sleigh and headed off to worship, Rudi went out to cut firewood from the load of cordwood that had been delivered the day before. He levered some of the long lengths onto a sawhorse, then cut them into a respectable pile of stove-length pieces using the bucksaw. Once they were split, he stacked them to dry where the sun could beat down on them.
It was a good, hard day’s work, and it took his mind off everything, even Grace, of whom he’d caught only glimpses since he had stumbled into her house with Tommy that night. When he was done, he went inside the house and stripped down to his undershirt and trousers. He washed his face and hands, scrubbing off grime and sweat, then sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper to enjoy a few quiet minutes.
“Don’t you look just like a regular Canadian guy, sitting there, reading the paper.”
He nearly jumped out of the chair. He hadn’t heard Grace’s voice in days, and he had no idea what to say to her. He folded the newspaper neatly, set it aside.
“I brought you something.”
She dropped a comic book on the table in front of him, her manner far less friendly than when she’d first sold him a can of tomatoes. Her eyes travelled over his undershirt, then she looked away. He was embarrassed that she saw him in this state of undress—especially since his shirt was still damp with sweat.
“It’s an older one that I dug out of my cousin’s collection,” she said, indicating the comic.
The bright yellow cover was crowded with superheroes, all of them intent on foiling the Führer. Hitler himself gaped up at Rudi, his wide eyes uncharacteristically afraid.
“Ah,” Rudi said, guilt landing like an anchor in his belly. He searched for the right words. “Thank you. I am not seeing this one before.”
“Looks like a good one. ‘Daredevil Deals the Ace of Death to the Mad Merchant of Hate.’ I hope he really gave it to him.”
What could he say? “I am not this,” he tried, tapping his finger on Hitler’s face.
“Maybe not today.” The barb in her tone stung. “Listen, you may not be good at English, but you’re a good storyteller, Rudi Weiss. You tell me one thing, then you tell my father and everyone else something entirely different. Which are you really, a trapper or a deserter? What would you do if I told my father that you’re also a liar?”
He had wondered when she’d finally ask him that. “Why . . . you are not telling him before?”
“I wanted to see if you would.”
Avoiding the accusation in her voice, he turned the page of the comic book, hoping to see something other than Hitler’s panicked face. The next few pages weren’t much better. The Führer was fat and ridiculous, bellowing orders which the allied superheroes swatted away like flies.
He shook his head. “I cannot say to him.”
“Here’s the problem,” she said, setting one hand on her hip. “I have no idea who you are. I obviously can’t trust you. Maybe you’re something worse than either a trapper or a deserter.”
“Worse?”
“Are you a Nazi spy?”
“Spy?”
“Don’t lie to me!”
He held up his hands. “I do not know this word!”
She growled. “Are you telling other soldiers, other Nazis, about us? Are we in danger because of you?”
Spy . . . ein Spion.
“No! I am not.”
She leaned towards him, her cheeks blazing. “I don’t believe you!”
“It is truth! I am only me! I talk to this family is all.”
“Another lie. I saw you at the dance. There were six of you there. Six.” Her arms folded over her chest. “Tommy bought your deserter story, but I know you are not alone. You have five others with you. Where are they?”
“I think they are dead.”
She shook her head, her lips tight with fury. Her eyes were shining.
He felt sick with guilt. “It is truth, Grace. I am alone.” He closed his eyes, resigned. If any of his men were still alive, he sincerely hoped he wasn’t about to betray them. “We come to dance from U-boat.”
“What? You were on a U-boat? Here?”
“This is my work, U-boat. We are sailing many weeks. We want only to see people and have good time for one night. Is deep water near dance place. Is possible for us.” He swallowed. “We have good time, then we leave. But U-boat is kaputt gemacht. Zerstört. Is explodiert.” He threw his hands up. “You understand? Bombe? U-boat is no more. My men . . . my men is no more.”
She blinked. “That was your U-boat?”
“Ja. Is my U-boat. I am on ice, and I run. I am only me. I think others are dead.”
She sank onto the chair behind her, two fingers pressed to her lips. “Oh, they’re dead, all right. Linda called me and said a group of soldiers scouted out the island the day after the explosion. They came back empty-handed.”
So it was true. He was alone. Everyone had died but him. He should have expected it, and yet grief gripped his throat. He dropped his head into his hands.
“You ran because you had nowhere to go.” She spoke slowly, thinking it through. “You never planned to desert, did you? I mean, you only ended up here because your sub got blown up.” Her tone was not sympathetic. “You and your Nazi U-boat came here to kill us, and now we have you.”
He lifted his chin. “I am not here to kill you.”
“You sailed in a boat that kills people. You’ve probably killed lots of people.”
Memories of that October night threatened to return, but he swallowed his regret. None of this was his fault, and he was damned if he was just going to stand back and agree that it was. He was sorry the war was affecting people, hurting them, killing them, but he couldn’t apologize for either the war or the past.
“I do my job,” he replied. Annoyance rose quickly, like a bubble. “This is my job, and yes. I am German.”
“You are a Nazi! You are the worst of the worst!”
He slammed his hands on the table. “What do you want, Grace? You want to kill me? Put me in prison?” He held his hands up, wrists together as if he were shackled. “Maybe I go to prison and they kill me.”
She didn’t back down. “Maybe. Why shouldn’t they? My brothers are out there fighting men like you,” she hissed. “Two of them are in ships, being hunted by U-boats. And my other brother’s dead.” She had to turn away, and Rudi remembered Tommy mentioning his cousin’s death. “It’s all because of Nazis like you.”
He said nothing, stifled his anger. Everything she said was true. He hoped to God he hadn’t killed her brother.
Sleigh bells rang outside, distant but drawing closer. The family was returning from church.
“You tell all this to father?” he asked.
It was a moment before sh
e faced him again. Her anger had melted away, and her cheeks shone with tears. He had done that. He deserved whatever he got just for hurting her.
The bells were louder now; he heard a couple of voices as well.
“I tell to him tonight,” Rudi told her, making up his mind.
Without a word she strode to the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. “You know,” she said, her back to him, “I liked you. I wanted to believe you.” Her voice had softened again, and he longed to reassure her. “I never really did, but I wanted to.”
TWENTY
An hour later, he stood alone before Mr. Baker’s chair, fulfilling his promise to Grace.
“Mr. Baker, sir. I have story.”
“I’m listening.”
Rudi let out a measured breath. “Is story of German U-boat sailor.”
“Oh? Do you know this guy?”
“Yes, sir. I know this guy.” He stood taller, dared himself to go on. He’d promised her. “This guy and friends win card game on boat. Prize is go to land for one night. They hear music, and are happy to find party. Lots of people dance, have good time.”
Danny’s frown was curious. “They got off the sub? Huh. Never heard of that before.”
“Is maybe first time. I do not know. But is truth. Kapitänleutnant say is okay.”
“Wait,” Danny said slowly. “Are you—”
“After dance men go back to U-boat. Next day comes airplane with Bombe. Boom! U-boat is gone. Only one sailor come out.” He sat down, resigned. “End of story.”
Danny was now staring openly at him. “What are you saying? That U-boat in the channel . . . Are you talking about that one?”
Rudi didn’t need to answer.
“You were on that U-boat?” He shook his head. “But you told us . . .”
“I tell lie.”
Danny’s fingers curled around the arms of his chair. “So you’re not a deserter.”
“Sir, please, I must tell more story. When I come here, I am Nazi, yes. I am not deserter, not anything, just afraid. I go to camp and I am okay.” He took a deep breath, finally saying out loud what he’d been contemplating for a while. “And now I feel myself happy for first time. I work hard, I hurt no one. I want to stay.”
Danny was staring so intently at him that Rudi had to make a conscious effort not to look away. There was nothing more he could do to plead his case. He had given himself up to the inevitable conclusion, to the prison cell or firing squad or whatever the authorities decided to do with him, so he was taken completely off guard when Mr. Baker asked him to describe what it was like on the U-boat.
“Sir?”
“On a U-boat. Tell me about it.”
“U-boat . . . it is hot, sir. Many people in small place for long time.”
“Crowded.”
“Yes, sir. Smells very bad.” He tried desperately to remember what he’d tried so hard to forget. “We do not see many things, only U-boat.”
“Of course. Because you’re underwater. Did you enjoy being a sailor on a U-boat? A member of the Third Reich?”
He swallowed. “It is . . .” What was the word? “Meine Pflicht, what men do for country.”
“Your duty, then.”
Duty. He must remember that word.
“All right. I have another question. Were you proud to be on that ship? When your captain spotted enemy ships and ordered you to fire, was it exciting?”
How should he respond? Certainly being with the navy had been exciting at times, and he did indeed recall the thrill of firing a torpedo at last, after a long hunt. Was he proud of himself? Shouldn’t he be? He had worked his whole life to be where he’d ended up. Yes, he was proud, but it wasn’t like when he’d first started. The indistinct, abstract acts of distant violence they inflicted had begun to cut through his resolve when he thought about the men, like him, who lived on the ships they destroyed. U-69’s intent was only to sink the ships and stop shipments, but men died along the way. Lives were lost. And with those lives went the photographs, the letters, the books, all the little things that proved those men had ever existed.
Rudi had spent many nights in his bunk, battling his conscience, trying to persuade himself that they were in the right, that he had nothing to regret. Only the notion of duty had calmed his tormented conscience.
“Rudi?”
He swallowed, tasting panic. “This is my duty, sir.”
“That was not my question, sailor. Did you like being on board that submarine?”
He should have died weeks earlier. He should be forever trapped under the sea with the rest of them. Every day he lived was one he did not deserve, and he had no right to ask for more.
But this family had taken him in, hidden him, trusted him. The man seated before him had given him the benefit of the doubt despite his natural suspicions. And now Grace, beautiful Grace, suffered because of Rudi’s lies. Because of him. He had to make it right, try to heal the hurt he’d inflicted, prove to her he was not the terrible man she now believed him to be. But how could he repair so much damage?
His sense of duty had been his light in the darkness before. What was he supposed to believe in now?
Danny Baker still waited for a response.
Listen to your heart, son. Do what is right.
Rudi lifted his chin. “Sir, you ask if I am proud being in navy. Navy is all I do as boy, as man, and I do best I can. So yes. I am proud. But I understand why you ask this question. You think U-boat is . . .” He reached deep into his brain, searching for a word Danny had once put there. “It is coward boat.”
Perhaps it was. After all, Rudi and his crew had been responsible for the deaths of men they’d never seen. They could easily have been responsible for Norman’s death, and he’d never have known. It had always seemed an odd, detached way to fight, but that’s all he knew.
“Do I like U-boat? No, sir.” He set his jaw as emotions threatened to intervene. “But I am good sailor. I do my job. But I do not like to kill. I do not want killing. I do not want war.”
He was not included in the brief family meeting which followed. Tommy had taken him to the kitchen, ordered him to stay put, then turned back. Betrayal burned in his friend’s eyes, and Rudi hated himself for it. He had set that fire, put that pain there.
After a while, Mr. Baker cracked open the door. “We’d like to talk to you,” he said, and Rudi followed him back to the sitting room.
Mrs. Baker surprised him by speaking first. She was delicate and beautiful, a fairer version of her daughter, with softer features. A faded scar cut across one cheek, and it made him wonder.
“Rudi, you lied to us,” she said.
Grace sat beside her mother, stiff as an officer on a firing squad. What had she said to the others?
“But we also understand,” Audrey continued, “you were in a difficult position. What we want to know is what is going to happen now.”
He waited, but no one said anything. Other than Grace and Tommy, they didn’t seem angry, just curious.
“Are you planning to stay?” she asked.
“I . . . I can stay?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes, yes! I want to stay. I want to work.” He looked at Danny, stunned. “You are not reporting me?”
“Frankly, I don’t know who I would report you to,” he admitted. “Our guys would lock you up in Halifax. I have a feeling the Germans—if I could actually figure out how to get you to them—would be a lot harder on you.”
“I work hard, Mr. Baker, and I am not lying again.”
Tommy was the only one still scowling. “We can’t keep him hidden forever.”
“We can for now.” Mr. Baker folded his arms. “Rudi made mistakes, but I don’t see what else he could have done, honestly. I could be wrong, but I say he stays.”
How could it be so easy? Rudi wondered. How could all his wrongs have become all right?
Mrs. Baker said, “People deserve second chances.”
Grace’s pa
rents shared a look Rudi couldn’t read, then Danny said, “Rudi did what he’d been told to do, just like Harry and Eugene are doing now. If they got caught in a similar situation, I’d want to think they’d be treated fairly as well.”
“Thank you, sir.” Rudi breathed. This was more than he deserved.
Mr. Baker turned to Tommy’s mother. “Now, Elizabeth, it’s your house. If you’re not comfortable with him staying there anymore, you just speak up. He can stay here.”
Without a word, Grace rose and quickly left the room. Everyone watched her go. Rudi’s stomach clenched; he wanted her to stay, to say something so he’d have an idea what she was thinking. Her father’s decision meant Rudi could speak to her again, that he had a chance to persuade her that he was trustworthy, if that was possible.
“I think Grace has some thinking to do,” Mr. Baker said. “Elizabeth, you let me know by the end of the day about him living at your house.”
The look Tommy’s mother gave Rudi was sad and forgiving at the same time. “He’s welcome to stay if it’s okay with Tommy.”
Tommy’s attention was on his feet, and one hand scrubbed roughly through his hair. “You lie to me again, I’m throwing you in prison with my own two hands. Then I’m dropping the key in the ocean.”
“I will not lie again.” God help him, he prayed that was true. Now that all his ugly truths were out, there should be nothing left to lie about.
They met each other’s eyes, then Tommy faced his uncle. “Then it’s okay with me.”
PART THREE
Grace
TWENTY-ONE
She wished she could see it like they did. She wished she could accept his story, go back to how it had been before all this mess started. But try as she might, she couldn’t. Rudi hadn’t just lied to the family, he’d lied to her. She’d been gullible enough to believe the handsome trapper she’d dreamed about was a good man. Fool me once, she thought. She wasn’t about to be stupid like that again.
He’d finished fixing the shed—she’d overheard her father commenting on what a fine worker he was—and started on the decrepit old barn. She still saw him once in a while, carrying things, speaking with her father, but she never spoke to him. At the same time, she no longer hid in her window. Now she made sure he saw her scowling down at him. The last thing she wanted was to forgive him and fall back into that naive trance she’d been in before.
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