Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1)

by Angela Christina Archer

  My knees weakened with every step, and by the time I’d reached the store, I didn’t know how much longer they would carry me. I flung the door open, dropping to my knees as I darted inside, shifted back around, and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock until I heard it click. With my forehead pressed on the doorframe, I sobbed, letting my body slip down toward the floor.

  Thoughts of being alone circled me like hunters circle prey, and I tucked my legs up to my chest, willing myself to get up and get the key to the lorry from underneath the counter as Henry told me to. Although no one had followed me, my imagination seemed to want to tell me otherwise. It wanted me to believe that a crowd of German troops had already surrounded the store and were on the other side of the windows. Their eyes burning into the blackout curtains as though they could see through them.

  “I can’t stay here. I’ve got to go,” I whispered to myself. “I can’t stay here.”

  Heaving myself up to my feet, I stumbled across the store to the counter, leaning on the empty shelves for balance. I fetched the key resting on the hook underneath the top shelf and darted to the stockroom toward the back door. With a peek in each direction, I wiggled through, locking the door behind me before I climbed in the lorry, unsure if I could drive through town in this moment, but knowing I couldn’t stay, either. The engine cranked for a few moments, then purred into a rumble until I shifted it into gear and stomped on the pedal.

  The wheels of the lorry spun down the streets and out onto the country lane. German soldiers still patrolled different parts of the town and surrounding countryside. A sense of pride seemed to linger through their smiles, while the residents of Guernsey also traveling the roads looked on at them with fear. Pale faces, wide blinking eyes, the men and women gave the Germans huge berths, scurrying away as I drove past them.

  My eyes blurred with tears and no matter how often I wiped them away, they didn’t stop. Instead, they kept coming and coming and the more I begged for them to listen, the more they ignored me. Mocking me instead, while my mind replayed the afternoon with each scream of terror and each gunshot. I could still feel them in my chest.

  I rounded the corner, catching sight of another motor vehicle headed straight toward me.

  The driver laid on his horn, and while I swerved left, he swerved right. I slammed my foot onto the brake pedal, but with the speed of the lorry, it didn’t matter. The tires skidded in the dirt and rocks and the lorry ran off the road, veering into a ditch where the bumper hit a small bank and the lorry stopped. The sudden loss of forward movement threw me forward, and my head hit the glass windshield while my chest bounced off the steering wheel.

  Dazed, I leaned back against the seat. Warmth trickled down my forehead and in between my eyes and as I wiped it, my crimson blood smeared all over my fingers. The cut stung, and I winced as I wiped again, then pressed my palm into the wound to help stop it from bleeding more.

  A fist pounded on the driver’s side window.

  “Verrückte Frau!” a man yelled, causing me to jump. I hadn’t noticed he was a soldier until he spoke. “Was stimmt nicht mit dir? What is wrong with you? You need to watch the road.”

  He pounded on my window several more times.

  “What is your name? Give me your name.”

  I shook my head, burying my face in my hands for a moment as I ignored the pounding headache building in my temple and my wound continued to bleed.

  Germans were never one for looking the other way. Swift and harsh reprimands seemed to play their only motto, and the different punishments ran through my mind. Being arrested and sent off to a camp in Germany or France, hanged, shot—just like Harold and his dad today, killed for no other reason than angering Major Lanz.

  “Give him your name!” Another solider pounded on the passenger side window, and while I glanced between the two, I noticed another two of them standing near the hood of the lorry.

  I waved my hands again and shook my head before I pressed on the horn; the sound made them jump backwards for a moment before they surrounded the lorry again, this time shouting even more words as they balled their hands into fists and shook them.

  With my lorry still running, I shifted it into reverse, grinding the gears as my hands trembled. I hit the pedal, but the wheels just spun in the dirt. The men jumped backwards again, then after seeing I could go nowhere, lunged for the lorry once again.

  The one standing at the driver's door grabbed the handle and tugged on it. Luckily, I had the sense to lock it before I left town and I scooted away from the door to the middle of the seat. While they continued to shout, I drew my knees up to my chest, and buried my face in my knees, screaming as I covered my ears and sobbed.

  As suddenly as they had attacked my lorry, they left and as I heard their Kübelwagens drive away; I sunk down to the floor, wedging myself between the seat and the dashboard before I reached up and turned the key. The engine died underneath me.

  “Evelyn!” Someone shouted. Before I could lift my head from my knees, a hand slapped against the driver’s side window. “Evelyn? Are you in there?” Henry shouted.

  I opened my eyes as he lifted his hands to the glass to help him see inside better. As soon as he saw me, he grabbed the doorknob, tugging on it.

  “Unlock the door. Evelyn, unlock the door.”

  I struggled for a moment to break free from the floor before I crawled up onto the seat and unlocked the door. As he opened it, I flung myself out of the cab and into his arms.

  “What the bloody hell happened?”

  “I ran off the road.” I stuttered through my sobs.

  “Well, I can see that, but why did you?”

  “I almost hit some soldiers in a Kübelwagen, but I swerved to miss them and ended up off the road. They were so angry with me. They attacked the lorry and were banging on the windows and yelling at me.”

  Henry heaved a deep sigh, and his hand grabbed the back of my head as his grip on me tightened. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I should have had you stay at the store and not had you try to drive home.”

  He pulled away from me and his hands slid up the sides of my neck, cradling the back of my head. His face was inches from mine as he bent down closer to me.

  “Are you all right? Aside from scared out of your mind, obviously.”

  I nodded. “How . . . how did you find me?”

  “I was walking home when I saw the lorry. Damn near broke the cane trying to get to you.” He gave me another hug, then released me so he could walk around the lorry, checking out the damage and how badly I’d gotten it stuck.

  “Is it bad?”

  He shook his head, checking the bumper again. “Nothing Ernest and I won’t be able to handle in the morning.”

  “You mean we should leave it here?”

  “I doubt anyone will take it. It’s not as though it can go anywhere at the moment.” He opened the door and yanked the key from the ignition, spinning the ring around his finger. “If they don’t have the key, they can’t take it. Besides, the curfew starts in a couple of hours. No one will be on the road until morning.”

  Tears burned my eyes, and I covered my face for a moment to hide them. Henry grabbed my wrists, easing them away from my face.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have sent you home. To the store, yes, but to drive home after what you saw . . . I should have had you wait for me.”

  “Did you . . . did you do as Major Lanz asked?”

  Henry’s lips thinned, and he nodded.

  “Someone is going to have to tell Violet about Harold,” I said.

  Henry jerked his head. “Is she even going to care?”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

  “It’s a valid question to ask, though. Right? I know she didn’t love him and hearing her speak of him at times, I wondered if she even liked him.”

  “Well, I suppose you’re right there . . . in that she didn’t love him. But I
don’t think she is so heartless or indifferent to him she wouldn’t care that he died.”

  Henry shrugged. “I will leave telling her up to you then. She might hear it from someone else though.”

  “I suppose you’re right. The entire island will know about it within a few days the way gossip spreads around.”

  He motioned me toward the lane, holding out his hand for me to take. While I should have thought it odd for him to hold my hand as we walked, it wasn’t. It wasn’t odd at all, and that was because it wasn’t an act of affection or love between us. Instead, it was an act of protection and comfort, as though linked, we could ward off the trouble in the world.

  While he had his grandfather, I only had him. Well, him and Amelia, but with her hundreds of miles away in London—or wherever she was—I only had him.

  The walk home was the same one we’d taken several times a week for the last several months. Nothing about the land had changed much except for the patches of grass dug up by the German troops and their vehicles. The tires had cut through the meadows, weaving around as the different troops patrolled the area from time to time.

  Once out of town, it was hard to feel the constraints of war. At least it was until you happened upon Germans taking a walk or out to keep tabs on the residents. But as long as we met no one along the lanes, it was a peaceful walk. A place where time stood still, and one could find their breath for even just a moment out of the day.

  “I think you should stay home from now on,” Henry said. His breath, hot against the cold air, steamed in front of his face.

  “Why?”

  “Because I fear it will start getting dangerous in town.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “It’s cold. It’s winter. People will start feeling the effects of the lack of supplies.”

  “And what do you think will happen?”

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps riots. Although, I say that with little certainty. What stronghold would unarmed citizens have against thousands of armed German troops?” He shrugged, inhaling a deep breath and exhaling it. With the sense of a slight chill to him, his hand trembled on his cane.

  “But wouldn’t I be safer with you? I mean no disrespect to Ian, but . . .”

  “I know. You don’t have to say another word. However, as little as he can do, you will still be safer in the country. If something were to happen, it would take some time for the soldiers to make it out to the farms.”

  “Still. What about you?”

  “What about me?” He whipped his head, looking down upon me with an arched eyebrow.

  “Don’t give me that look. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You are getting on with that cane a lot better than you did months ago, but you still need help. And you need help with the store and supplies when the ships come in from France. You can’t check them off and hand them out and deal with questions. It’s better if I stay with you.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Henry.” I didn’t mean to shout, and yet I did. “I’m not staying at the farm.”

  He heaved another sigh as he closed his eyes for a moment. “If you think this is one argument you will win . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t have you in town. I’ll take Ernest with me if I have to, you can stay with Ivy.”

  “But—”

  “No, now it’s time for me to say but nothing.” He stopped walking and faced me. “Please, can you just do this for me? I made a promise to Amelia that I would keep you safe.”

  “And you have.”

  He arched an eyebrow in such a way I could read his thoughts. “I’m sorry. But you’re staying away from town. That’s all there is to it.” He paused for a second, but continued, raising his hand as I opened my mouth. “I can’t . . . I can’t have anything happen to you. Aside from my grandfather, you . . . you are all I have here.”

  I snorted a laugh as I tucked my hair behind my ears and heat rushed up the back of my neck. “That’s funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

  “Then you should understand why I need you to stay home.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I can’t let anything happen to you. It . . . it would break me.”

  NINETEEN

  Evelyn - November 1940

  I hadn’t said much after Henry’s confession that evening while we walked home. Instead, I’d stayed silent as I walked beside him, and then had gone about my business making what I could for dinner for the three of us, before I slipped back to my room where I laid in bed, brushing my hair and repeating the conversation over and over inside my head.

  It wasn’t just the words he said; it had been the tone, too. Spoken like a man desperate to convey all the feelings weighing on his shoulders, and yet, not knowing how he could. I’d heard it in him before, when he begged Amelia to get on the boat and leave Guernsey.

  While I had the same thought only moments before, and believed he was all I had here, I hadn’t thought or even wondered if he felt the same way. To now know he did, scared me—even several days after he had said it.

  “You know what is happening, don’t you?” Ivy asked as we stepped off the porch and made our way down to the gate and out onto the lane. We stopped at the edge of the property, waiting a few minutes for Violet before setting off toward town. The place Henry had asked me not to visit, and the one place I couldn’t stay away from. Not anymore. Not when I was about to go insane if I had to stay at the farm even one more day. I had respected Henry’s request and had listened to him. However, as the days passed, I grew wearier with the thought of my isolation.

  “Do I want to know?”

  “He’s falling in love with you.”

  “Oh, Ivy, bite your tongue.”

  “What? It’s true. I know it is.”

  “No, you don’t. You only think it, and why you do, I don’t know. You know how long he watched Amelia from afar.”

  “And has he mentioned her? Have you discussed her at all? Where she is? What she is doing? Does he talk of her as though he is thinking of her?”

  A part of me didn’t want to answer Ivy. Only because I knew she would misunderstand what I told her, throwing it back at me as proof of something she was adamant to prove.

  “Well, has he?” She pressed again.

  “No. But—”

  “But nothing.”

  “I know you’re wrong. Neither of us have spoken about Amelia. For me, it’s painful and I’m sure it is for him as well, which is why we don’t. Trust me, he sees me as his sister. Nothing more.”

  “But to say what he did?”

  “Is exactly something a brother would say to a sister.”

  “I don’t care what you think. I know what I know.”

  “What do you know?” a voice asked from behind us. We both spun to find Violet with her bouncing blonde curls and beaming smile. “What do you know?” she asked Ivy again.

  “Henry has feelings for Evelyn.”

  “Oh, I already knew that. I thought you had some new gossip.”

  I whipped my head around to look at her. “You knew nothing of the sort.”

  The two girls exchanged glances, then laughed. I growled under my breath.

  “Can we just change the subject, please?” I asked, praying they would.

  The rest of the walk into town was a mix of conversation. The war, the occupation, the lack of supplies, then followed by any town gossip such as families moving in with one another because the Germans took their homes. Mundane topics with a hint of boredom, and I found myself not listening too much of what Ivy and Violet said to one another.

  “I need to stop by the purchasing office to see Ernest.” Ivy glanced down without moving her head and brushed at the skirt of her dress. Her nonchalant tone made me think she had a plan up her sleeve.

  “We can’t,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  I flashed her a glare, hoping to convey the knowledge I knew what she was doing. “You know I’m not supposed to go into town. If I go in t
here . . .”

  “What? What will happen if you go in there?”

  “Your beau will be mad?” Violet asked. She clutched her hands together, holding them up near her chest. A slight mock to her, she giggled. I nudged her with my shoulder. Both of us more focused on each other, and neither of us paying much attention, the force of me bumping into her, knocked her balance off and she stumbled a few steps to the side. Her shoe caught on a stone and she flew forward.

  “Violet, watch out!”

  Before either Ivy or I could move, a German soldier standing in line at a soup cart reached out, grabbing her before her body slammed into the ground.

  “Geht es dir gut?” the soldier asked her.

  She shook her head. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  He smiled, releasing his grip on her. “I asked if you are all right.”

  “Yes . . . I am.” She backed a few steps away from him, not taking her eyes off him while he didn’t take his eyes off her. They just stared at one another, and his lips twitched as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

  “Hauptmann Roth Heinrich,” he finally said, laying his hand on his chest. A name I’d heard before I covered my mouth as I realized he had been the one who helped Henry deal with—as Major Lanz ordered—Harold and his father.

  “Violet Carlton.” A soft mumble of a giggle inched through Violet’s lips.

  Two little boys and a little girl ran past us as Ivy and I watched our friend and the soldier. The boys screamed at one another, and while they continued on down the lane, the little girl skidded to a stop near the soup cart. Her eyes fixed on a basket of bread sitting on the ground next to the cart. Her eyes darted from the cart attendant to the basket and back to the attendant.

  “No, no, no, don’t do it,” I whispered to myself. I didn’t want to shout at her in fear I would cast her unwanted attention.