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

by Angela Christina Archer

  While last year Henry had surprised me with a of box of books I thought I had lost, and the chance to finally open my bookshop, this year we didn’t have much for gifts to put under the tree. Of course, even if we had, we had nothing to wrap them in. I managed to surprise Henry with my grandfather’s pocket watch, a trinket I came across when unpacking the suitcase all those months ago when I moved in with him and his grandfather after the Germans demanded the use of my house. And I also gave Ian several of my dad’s tools. Tools, I’m sure he already had out in his own barn, however, he still acted surprised and told me a thousand times how much they would make his life easier.

  Even if he was lying, I cared for the sentiment as much as I cared for the nice string of pearls they gave me which had belonged to Ian’s wife and Henry’s grandmother Ruth who had passed away nearly ten years ago.

  “They look as beautiful on you as they did her,” Ian had gushed after Henry had slipped them on my neck and hooked the clasp in the back.

  The rest of the evening went just as lovely. Even with what little rations we had in our cabinets and the left over root vegetables from the gardens over the summer, we found happiness in Christmas dinner, and enjoying not only a spot of tea—which the Germans hadn’t allowed in months—but also an extra ration of sugar, some sweet chocolates, and some of Ernest Brunson’s homemade—and illegal—gin, although, I could have done without waking up with a pounding headache the next morning. Upon reflection, perhaps the meal and the evening went as well as it did because we enjoyed the gin a little too much. However, I suppose in the end, not only was it fun, but it was worth every sip and every moment I felt sick the next day.

  While Christmas brought hope in the days before and the day of, it had—unfortunately—faded a little in the days after. Children had very little to look forward to, and while the thoughts of celebrating the coming new year eased some of the downtrodden faces that plagued St. Peter’s Port, it was still another year of war and another year of being under German rule. We had already lived through half of 1940 and all of 1941, and now as we stared the coming of 1942 in the face, we didn’t know how much longer it would all last. While I desperately wanted to cling to the idea it would be over soon, chatter among the residents when picking up the meager rations from Henry’s grocery store they could each week, was more of a game of what if, as in what if this is for the rest of our lives?

  “Are you looking forward to tonight?” Henry asked as he sat next to me in the lorry's cab as we headed toward the town. His voice cracked slightly with the bounce of the tires rolling down the road. The sun had already set and cast a blue, pink, and purple hue across the sky, deepening the blue of the coastline in the distance. It had been a year and a half since I’d traveled to town at this late of an hour.

  “I think so.”

  “You think so? That doesn’t sound convincing.”

  The lorry hit a pothole, and I grabbed the dashboard, trying to steady myself in the seat. “I have to admit today I wondered about going at all. I know we will enjoy ourselves and it would be nice to celebrate. However, it all seems rather depressing as a whole.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I cocked my head to the side, raising one eyebrow as I glanced at him.

  He laughed. “All right. All right. I know it was a dumb question, but I had to ask it anyway.”

  “Why? Were you hoping it would change my mind?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on not going. I still want to. It’s just bittersweet, I guess.”

  “I can understand that. A new year brings hope, and yet, it’s another year under German rule.”

  “At least there won’t be any soldiers at the dance,” Ian said. Sitting on the other side of me, he bounced around in the cab with us. “My first night out of the house in the dark and the last thing I want is to be around any Germans.”

  Although he was the one who said it, I couldn’t help but feel as though we all were thinking it. With twenty thousand—or so I’d heard—soldiers on the island, it was hard to go throughout the day in town without running into them. Mostly traveling in groups, they rarely went anywhere alone. At first such a practice scared most people, including me. However, the few conversations I would have with some of them over ration shipments, I realized they were just men like any other men in the world. They had homes and families they missed, and there were even some of them who hated the notion of war. They wished for peace like the rest of us, wanting nothing more than to go back home and never set foot in another country again.

  “Remind me to talk to Mr. Benson tonight. If he’s there, of course.”

  “And why do you wish to speak to him?” Of course I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear Henry say it in hopes he would hear the utter ridiculousness of his plans—even if I also knew the reason for him to take such risks.

  He gave me a sideways glance and dropped his voice. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

  Whether or not Ian heard him, I didn’t know. Living off meager rations had not treated the old man well. His frame had thinned so badly, I had—without him knowing—taken in most of his clothes. I had to. Otherwise, they would fall off his body.

  The only way people were making ends meet each week was the onslaught of black market goods farmers sold to the residents. They came with a hefty price, however, and families were spending whatever money they could earn from the German soldiers to pay for chunks of pork or tins of dried fruit. I know Henry worried about what another year would do to Ian, and I worried, too. However, I also worried about getting caught buying the black market items.

  The lorry continued to bounce down the lane until we reached the smoother streets of St. Peter’s Port. Residents—men, women, and even some of the children who had stayed behind from the evacuation in the summer of 1940—all strolled down the sidewalks toward St. George’s Hall.

  Aside from the once-a-month dance and singing performances at the Lyric or the summer concerts at the Candy Gardens, the Germans had allowed the residents to transform and open St. George’s Hall for local bands to play and people to dance twice a week. It was the perfect entertainment for residents to forget their troubles, even if it was just for an evening here and there.

  “Looks like everyone is planning on ringing in the New Year tonight.” Henry weaved the lorry through the crowd and found a parking space a little down the way.

  The frosty night air rushed up the skirt of my dress, chilling my legs as I climbed out of the cab. My body shivered.

  “Luckily we don’t have that far to walk,” Henry said.

  Offering his arm, he led me up the sidewalk to the hall with Ian a few steps behind us. With our coats wrapped tight around our shoulders, we did our best to ignore the slight breeze nipping at any bare skin it could find.

  “It’s always colder near the harbor,” Ian said, looking over the water. The view hadn’t changed much since the start of the occupation, except for the huge curled strands of barbed wire sitting along the top of the walls around the docks. I remembered the day I first saw them. It was the first time I actually felt like a prisoner in my own hometown.

  After a tiny wait in a short line, the three of us entered the hall. Music resounded off the walls as a few local men played what instruments and songs they knew from artists like Rosemary Clooney, Count Basie, and Artie Shaw.

  Weaving through the crowd, we found our friends, Ivy and Ernest Brunson, married just before the occupation, they still had somewhat of a newlywed glow about them, and another friend, Violet, sitting at a table near the corner. While Ivy danced in her seat, shifting her weight to the different beats of the music, Violet sat with her arms folded across her body and her chin tucked down to her chest.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Henry asked me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  After taking my coat for me and holding my seat while I slid into it, Henry and Ian headed toward the drink table to grab a few cups of b
ramble tea or acorn coffee. I could almost taste the bitterness of the acorns just thinking about the coffee. Not even cream or sugar could help it, and not having any of those because of a lack in rations, I almost wanted nothing to drink.

  “We’re glad you guys made it.” Ivy leaned across the table, cupping her hand near her mouth so I could hear her over the music.

  “Have you been here long?”

  She shook her head. “Just about a half an hour. Violet has been here a little longer.” Ivy glanced at our friend still sitting with her arms crossed. Her gaze burned into the floor, and she didn’t move an inch, even with the mention of her name.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I mouthed to Ivy.

  She shrugged as half her lips curved into a frown as if to say she didn’t know.

  As Henry and Ian returned, Ernest stood from his seat and offered his hand to his wife. “Let’s go show these guys and girls how it’s done.”

  Her smile beamed, and she jumped up. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  Henry and I watched as the pair trotted out to the dance floor, and Ernest, holding one of her hands, twirled her around a few times before he tugged her back into his body, wrapped his arm around her waist and the two of them took off with a quick step routine I’d seen them do dozens of times.

  “You know I think they practice that at home,” Henry said, pointing his chin at them.

  “I think they do, too.”

  “What about you? Do you think you can do that?”

  “Me?” I laughed. “You mean the woman who was born with two left feet? No, I don’t think I can do that, and I’m not about to try, either.”

  He threw his head back, roaring with laughter before he spun back in the chair, facing the table. “What about you, Grandfather? Care to waltz a woman around the dance floor tonight?”

  Ian shrugged, then smiled and gave me a wink. “Only if Evelyn is that woman.”

  “I might try it . . . for you.”

  Henry playfully pretended to slam his hands down on the table. “Oh, for him you’ll go out there, but for me, you won’t?”

  “What can she say?” Ian shrugged, then took a quick sip of his tea. “I guess she’ll try anything for a handsome man.” He winked, and we both laughed.

  “Hey, wasn’t it always Grandmama who talked about how I am the spitting image of you at my age?”

  “Nah, that’s not what she said.” Ian arched his gaze as though he was pretending he was trying to hide a lie, and by the time he glanced back at us, my sides hurt from my laughter.

  While the two men continued their banter, I glanced over at Violet still sulking in her seat.

  “Can you believe it’s already 1942?” I asked her.

  Whether or not she heard me, I didn’t know, but she didn’t answer.

  “Violet? Is everything all right?” I gave her a few seconds, then waved my hand in front of her face. She finally looked up from the floor.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked again.

  She shook her head and dropped her gaze once more.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It certainly doesn’t look like nothing for you to be sitting here so sad.”

  “I suppose it’s just I didn’t really want to come.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “Ivy made me. She spoke to my parents about it, and they told me I couldn’t stay home. I should go and have fun.”

  “So why didn’t you wish to come?”

  She glanced at me once more then, without saying a word, rose from her chair and headed toward the door.

  No matter how many times I called after her, she ignored me and by the time she reached the door, I followed her.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” I told Henry. He gaped at me for a second, but then nodded, telling me to be careful and to watch my surroundings.

  The cool night air and darkness greeted me as I stepped back out onto the street. The once short line of people waiting to get in had dwindled, leaving only a few people walking past St. George’s Hall. Whether they had plans to join the celebration, I didn’t know, but watching them continue on their way said they probably had other things to do. I glanced down one side of the road and then the other, squinting as I searched for Violet. Surely, she wouldn’t have attempted to walk home. Not in the dark. However, she also wasn’t anywhere along the streets or buildings.

  Or at least I couldn’t see her.

  “Violet?” I called out to her. “Violet, where are you?” I waited for a few seconds before I called and waited again. “I’m not going back inside until you tell me where you are, so you might as well tell me.”

  A hand stuck out from between two buildings several feet away and it waved. I stumbled slightly along the uneven sidewalk as I made my way toward her. Nearly blind in the dark and chilled from the crisp winter air, I rubbed the sides of my own arms for warmth.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked her.

  “I just needed some fresh air.”

  “So what’s the matter with you tonight?”

  “I already told you, I didn’t want to come.”

  “I know you did. But I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to celebrate tonight or at least get out of the house for an evening past curfew.”

  “Because I had other plans.” She moved a few steps over and peeked around the corner out onto the street.

  “What other plans?”

  “Just plans, all right?” A slight growl rumbled through her chest as her crisp words snapped and she rolled her eyes.

  “Well, you certainly don’t have to be rude about it. I am only concerned.” I folded my arms across my chest. “But I suppose I’m standing out in the cold for nothing.”

  As I turned to leave, she exhaled a deep breath.

  “Evelyn, wait. Don’t go. I . . . I’m sorry for getting cross. I was just looking forward to the night and my plans were—”

  A high-pitched whistle echoed behind us and we both spun to face the sound. While I clutched my neck and stepped backwards, she just stood there and smiled.

  “How did you find me?” she asked the darkness.

  “How did who find you?” I glanced between her and the shadows of the alley between the buildings. Suddenly a body emerged. It was a man in a German soldier’s uniform, and worse, it was Hauptmann Heinrich.

  As I jumped backward, prepared to flee, Violet lunged for me. She wrapped one arm around my shoulder while covering my mouth with her other hand. “Shhh. Don’t scream. Please don’t scream. He will not hurt you. I promise. He’s a friend and he came here to see me.”

  I blinked and tried to mumble a few words from under her palm. She moved her hand.

  “Please don’t scream.”

  “What do you mean he’s here to see you?” I jerked away from her.

  “Oh, Evelyn, please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Violet, I asked you a question. Why is Hauptmann Heinrich here to see you?”

  “He’s . . . he’s a friend.”

  “He’s a German. And an officer.”

  “I know. But as I said, he’s a friend.”

  “What kind of friend?”

  She dropped her gaze to the ground for a moment while she shrugged. A slight grin etched through half of her face, and without looking up at me she said. “I don’t know. I guess a . . . boyfriend . . . type of friend.”

  “Are you daft?” I retreated away from her a few steps. My brow furrowed.

  She crossed her arms. “No, I’m not daft. What kind of a question is that?”

  “A rather brilliant one given what you just said. Do you not know the trouble you could be in for dating a German Officer? Or the trouble he could be in?”

  “Of course we know the risks,” she glanced at him and held out her hand for him to take. He did. “But we don’t care. I think . . . I think I love him.”

  “Ich liebe dich auch,” Hauptmann Heinrich whispered.

&n
bsp; I shook my head, clutching my throat. Of all the foolish things for Violet to do in her life this one took the cake. “You can’t do this, Violet. You can’t be with him. You’ve got to end this.”

  “I can’t.”

  “But you have to.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  “It’s not just for yourself, though. But for your family. For your parents. Do you even know the shame you are bringing upon them? Do you not care? How do you think they would feel, knowing their only daughter was . . . I can’t even say it.” I lifted my hands, waving them at her as I turned to walk away.

  She grabbed my arm, stopping me again. “Evelyn, wait. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “You know I won’t. But I have to say . . . I wish even I didn’t know.” I glanced at the hauptmann, who just stood behind us with his hands clasped in front of him. He blinked at me a few times before ducking his chin. I imagined his face a bright shade of red by the way he acted. “Just promise me you will think about what this could do to your parents. Other residents could come for them. Hurt them. Hurt you. Our countrymen are dying in this war, dying while trying to fight for us. The Germans are our enemy and your acts . . . well, they are nothing but disloyalty.”

  She released my arm, letting her arm drop and slap against her side. Her shoulders deflated for a moment before she straightened them back and squared them toward me—determined.

  “He’s not like all the rest of them. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be home with his mum and dad. He’s not evil. He hates this war. Hates it as much as I do.”

  “I understand that, and I know you think you love him, but Violet, it can’t be worth . . . I don’t know if love is worth all of that.” My gut twisted with my words. Of course, I thought love was worth anything. However, there had to a line. Right? And surely this was it. Right?

  She closed her eyes for a moment, biting her lip. When she opened them again, she lowered her voice to a whisper and stepped closer to me. “I understand what you’re saying and I know you might, perhaps, be right. But I don’t know if I can let him go. I’ll . . . I’ll have to take it into consideration.”