A Secret Courage

by Tricia Goyer

  “But why?”

  “You said the man assaulted you when you were near the bookstore, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “My friend Maureen is the shopkeeper’s daughter. She was at the counter when you were there last time. She’s the one who ordered your Grace Darling book for you.”

  “I remember her. But what does that have to do with the man?”

  “If he’s from the area, Maureen will know him. It’s not a coincidence that you ran across him twice in the same spot. But first I need you to do something for me.”

  “What is that?”

  Will reached into his satchel, taking out a sketch pad and pencil. “I want you to describe him as closely as you can. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  “What are you going to do? Are you going to sketch him?”

  Will nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Emma closed her eyes and thought of every detail. She tried to consider each feature, but more than that how it made up the whole. She opened her eyes and watched as the image emerged in front of her. Every now and then she’d have to tweak what he had drawn, but for the most part Will did a good job reflecting what she described. Soon the man’s face was captured in the sketch.

  A shudder ran down her spine. “That’s him.”

  “Good. I’m going to take it to London and see if Maureen knows anything.”

  “And then you’re going to Scotland Yard, right?”

  Will’s mouth opened slightly, her question having caught him by surprise.

  “It’s not enough just to know who he is,” she continued. “I think the police need to understand that he’s causing trouble, even if we have no idea why.”

  Will nodded and then rose. “I need to get going. I have a lot to think about before I travel to London tomorrow.” He traced the end of her nose with his finger. “Also, you need to get some more sleep.” He gathered up all of his things, preparing to head out.

  Emma nodded and then realized she felt spent after sharing everything with him. The ache in her body returned, and she wanted nothing more than to go lay down.

  “But, Emma, there is something I want to talk to you about. Something I need to tell you. Can you walk me to my auto?”

  “Yes.” She rose and stood next to him. “Of course.”

  “I’m trying to figure out what to paint next. I’ve stayed in the area longer than I should.”

  Her heartbeat quickened, and the thought of Will leaving caused her lower lip to tremble. “Would you have to go a long way away?”

  “Not necessarily. It’s really up to me to decide. So far all my requests have been approved, but I wonder if it’s wise to request to paint another country cottage within walking distance of the woman I’m falling in love with. Do you think they’ll get on to me?” Even though he pretended to be concerned about his work, the true message came through his eyes. Will paused his steps next to a bush of white roses, and she did the same.

  “You’re…falling in love with me?”

  “I actually already have.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”

  “You’re not, of course.” He reached for her hand, taking it and intertwining his fingers with hers.

  “No, I’m not. There were too many clues.” She winked.

  “And how do you feel?”

  “I’m pleased. Because I feel the same way.” She breathed out the words effortlessly, knowing that if she hadn’t wrestled with God the previous night they never would have come. She’d given her broken, guarded heart to God, and he’d softened it, making it able to grow and be filled with Will’s love.

  Looking in his eyes, Emma had never felt so treasured, so loved.

  “I’m going to do everything I can to find out the truth, Emma.” The way he said the words made her feel cherished.

  “Thank you, Will, and since you asked…I think you should try to stay here and paint your next painting around here. I’m not ready for you to leave.”

  His hands were full, but he still leaned forward and placed the softest kiss on her lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Emma walked him to the car, and then a smile filled her face as she walked back to the Nissen hut.

  Things are getting complicated. She’d wanted to know Will as a friend, and now he was so much more. She wanted to serve her country, and now she was involved in secret weapons projects. She wanted to be a good friend, but she also worried about her best friend’s boyfriend.

  As Emma walked into the hut, a sensation came over her. One she recognized. One that told her to pay attention. Except this time she knew instead of looking around, she needed to continue looking inside. God was up to something. She simply had to be prepared for whatever would come.

  THIRTY-ONE

  August 22, 1943

  Will stood outside the bookshop, palette in hand, when Maureen arrived the next morning. She wore a long black dress and a faded yellow sweater. She looked thinner and weary, but her lips lifted in a smile when she saw him.

  “I was wondering when you were going to come back and finish.” She paused, taking in the image of the lady on the beach. “Ah, I see she finally got her fishing net. People have been speculating on what she carried.” Maureen stepped back and tilted her head in appreciation. “Oh, I see you’ve given her a lighthouse too. I like that. I have to say it makes me feel all warm inside to see my lady complete.”

  Will stepped forward and placed a hand on Maureen’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you too.”

  She opened the bookshop door and motioned him inside.

  “I’ll be right in. Just let me clean up my things.”

  She paused in the open doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “A package came for you.”

  Will sighed. “I guessed one had. I’ve just been busy in Henley.”

  “Trying to figure out who murdered Albert, I hear.”

  Will’s eyes narrowed and he looked around. “Maureen. Not on the sidewalk, please. Don’t speak so openly.”

  She nodded and entered, and he gathered up his things and followed her inside. Her attitude worried him. He’d seen it before. He’d witnessed it with Lisel. There came a point where it became too difficult to hold everything inside, and it simply spilled out too easily.

  Once inside, Will washed his brushes in the back water closet and then packed up his things. Maureen had pinned up her hair, and she sat behind the counter with a novel open on her lap. She nibbled on her thumbnail as she read. Will guessed it had become easier for her to live in the pages of a novel than in the real world of London these days. Especially after losing her husband, Donald, and her friend Lisel.

  “I saw the girls.” He paused at the front counter.

  Maureen’s gaze lifted, and brightness filled her eyes. “Oh, how are they?”

  “Sophie seems to be adjusting, but Victoria seems to be having a harder time. You know how close she was to her mother.”

  The woman nodded but didn’t answer.

  “Victoria’s really taken to my friend, though.”

  “Let me guess, the pretty brunette. I hope she enjoyed her book.”

  Will nodded but knew he needed to change the subject. He’d learned long ago that the less someone knew, the better.

  “I have something else for you.” Will pulled the sketch out of his satchel. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this man. Do you know who he is?”

  He placed the sketched image in front of her.

  She looked at it, and recognition was clear on her face. “Why do you need to know?”

  “He assaulted someone I know. He’s been following her. I’m worried about her safety.”

  “He’s a detective.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He’s not with Scotland Yard or anything like that. He finds people. People who don’t want to be found.”

  “And what does he do when he finds them?”

  Maureen shrugged. “Your
guess is as good as mine.”

  Will returned the paper to his satchel. “Do you happen to know his name?”

  Maureen put a bookmark in the book and closed it, as if realizing he wasn’t giving up.

  “I think they call him Bain. I’m not sure if it’s a first or last name.”

  “Do you know where I can find him?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, Will, but I have a feeling if you ask around, he’ll come and find you.”

  The front door opened, and two service men stepped in. Maureen straightened in her seat and pressed a smile on her face. “Good morning…welcome! Please let me know if you need any help.” She pointed. “The postcards are on the rack behind you.”

  They turned to the rack, and her smile faded. “Need a postcard? It seems people don’t read many books anymore.”

  “You said you had a package for me?”

  She reached under the counter and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper. His name was written on it, and he immediately recognized the handwriting. “Thank you for the special order.” He spoke loud enough for the soldiers to hear and then headed out.

  “Will,” Maureen called after him. “Next time you come to London, can you bring her?”

  “Her?”

  “The one who makes you look like that.”

  He stepped back toward her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I mean the one who makes you look like life matters. You are different. In a good way.”

  He smiled. “If we ever have an opportunity, we’ll stop by.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “You’ve reminded me there’s still something to fight for.”

  Will knew whom he had to talk to next—more to make his presence known than to get information. He found his way to the familiar Regency Café. This time of day it was open for business, yet he was still shown to a table in the back. He was soon joined by the tall blond man. Claudius was dressed in a brown suit, and his shoes were shined to a gleam.

  Will took a sip of his coffee—real coffee—and then leaned across the table. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch more. I’m still trying to figure out what’s happening at Danesfield House. It’s kind of you to make time for me.”

  “Just making sure your best interest is still ours.”

  “Surely you’ve read the reports.”

  Claudius lifted an eyebrow. “We all know how much you hold back.”

  Will took a bite of the lentil and cheese pie. “Yes, well, sometimes it’s hard to know who to trust. It’s not always wise to put everything down on paper.”

  “What haven’t you told me?”

  “My cottage was broken into a few weeks ago. They knew where to look.”

  Claudius cocked an eyebrow. “What did they take?”

  “My extra papers. Some of my clothes.” In his mind’s eye he saw his cottage in shambles. The Recording Britain sector knew he was in Medmenham, but only Claudius and a few others knew his real mission. He hadn’t mentioned the break-in to Emma. He hadn’t wanted to worry her. “You don’t know anything about it, do you?”

  “Can you be trusted?”

  “I’m at Medmenham, aren’t I?”

  “Are you inside?”

  Will knew Claudius hadn’t answered his question, and he knew he never would.

  The figures of two WAAF officers passing by the café window caught Will’s attention. His heart skipped a beat before he realized neither one was Emma. “I’m as close as I need to be.”

  The women stopped, reading the menu posted outside, and then moved to the café door.

  He purposefully turned his attention to the two women entering, resting his gaze on them, holding it there. Will didn’t want Claudius to look into his eyes. He didn’t want the man to know how much Emma meant to him. That’s one thing he learned long ago. Once one revealed his weak spots, he became vulnerable. He still had no proof that Claudius was different from who he said he was, but one could never be sure.

  Will glanced back at Claudius and could see in his compatriot’s gaze that he wasn’t fooled.

  Claudius took a long draw of his cigarette and grinned. “So business has become pleasure?”

  “Let’s just say this isn’t my most difficult assignment.”

  “And what’s happening inside? Really happening.”

  “Read the reports. You’ll know what you need to.”

  Claudius turned his attention to the women. “Such pretty things. The gentler species, to be certain. And to me that’s the hardest part of this job.”

  Will nodded and then stood. “Protecting them? Or not getting too close?”

  “For you it seems they’re one in the same.”

  Emma sat with her friends in the mess hall. Everyone was talking, but her mind was still on Will in London. She was both appreciative and curious. Will was a painter, yet he acted with such authority at times. She had a feeling he would find out something about the man who assaulted her, but what then? Would he really go to the police? For some reason she wasn’t sure he would.

  “I promise if I have to eat kidney pie one more day I just might die,” said Nancy, who was sitting beside her.

  Georgette chuckled. “You better get used to it. It’s not my favorite, but I’m so thankful. Last time I went to visit my family the store shelves in the village were nearly empty. From what I’ve heard they’ve increased rationing again.”

  “Emma?” Edward’s voice interrupted the conversation. She turned and looked over her shoulder and saw he held a package in his hands.

  “This came in the mail. It came from a base…not from back home. I thought you’d like to see it.”

  Emma rose. She looked at the postmark of the Royal Air Force base and read the name of the sender. Robert Ames. Robert had said if he found out any more information, he would write to her. She pressed it to her chest. “Thank you for bringing it.”

  Then she turned to the others. “If you will excuse me, I’m going to my bunk.”

  Concern filled Georgette’s eyes. “Yes, of course.”

  Edward placed a hand on her elbow. “Is it more information about your brother?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do you need me to walk you?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  She took two steps, and Nancy called out after her. “Emma, can I have your biscuit?”

  A smile touched her lips even though her heart pounded in her chest. “Yes, Nancy. Of course. And anything else on the plate…even my pie.”

  Five minutes later Emma was sitting in her bunk. Her fingers trembled as she opened the package. The first thing that slipped out was a letter from Robert. There was also a book and another letter with Samuel’s handwriting.

  Dear Miss Hanson,

  A friend of mine found this book and letter on the bookshelf at our base. I’m not sure how it got separated from Samuel’s things. I knew you’d want it.

  Your friend,

  Robert

  Emma picked up the slim volume of White Cliffs of Dover by Alice Miller. It was published three years prior, and even though Emma hadn’t read it she knew the impact it had on people’s beliefs that they should enter the war.

  She opened the letter and read.

  Dear Emma,

  If you have this book, then you know that I’m gone. We only have one life to live, sister, and I pray I am using it as our good Father intended. I also know you might blame yourself. Yes, you traveled to England first, but I would have done so without your leading. Like Alice Miller, I have loved England from the first morning I saw the cliffs of Dover.

  Remember the fort we used to make on the cliffs overlooking Bass Harbor lighthouse? I thought myself so smart then that I had a hiding place you could not find. What you didn’t know was there was a secret tunnel and a rock just large enough to hide in the opening. I’d slip it to the side, tuck myself inside, and pull it back over me. You’d walk within two feet of me and not know of my presence! Mos
t of the time I got such a chuckle out of hiding from you.

  Yet there was that one time when you were frantic in your search for me. Mother had sent you to find me, and you needed me to come home. More than that, a storm brewed on the horizon. You cried and you called, and I hid. Only when you moved up higher on the hill to search did I slip out. I regret that now. I wish I would have told you that I was hidden but safe. My heart aches to think of it.

  If you’re reading this, sister, it is my message to you. I am hidden but safe. The Lord has a good plan for my life. He has numbered all of my days. I will not breathe my last until the moment our Lord had determined from before my birth. The storm rages on the cliffs on England, but God protects me in the cleft of the rock and protects me with his hand. I am hidden, sister, but I am stronger than ever as I walk with the Lord.

  Love,

  Samuel

  Tears blurred the last of the words. The ink smeared under her tears, and she folded up the letter and tucked it away. Oh, Samuel. Hardheaded, crafty, and brilliant. There were not three better words to describe her brother. And he had thought of everything as he considered his death—her, their mother, and their past. He comforted her and caused her to ache even more at his loss.

  Hidden but safe. She’d not known of a more beautiful way to describe heaven. It had been an idea before she’d lost her brother, and within the span of one letter it had become a place. A place as real as this one. A place where her brother walked happy and whole. And she knew he was united with her father.

  Did they each know their impact on her life, even now? A father she never knew…but in a strange way, she had spent her whole life trying to make him proud. She, after all, was all that remained of him on this earth.

  Emma turned over the slim book in her hand. It was a thin blue volume without a dust cover. She’d heard the radio broadcast over the BBC. And as she closed her eyes, she imagined the white cliffs of Dover. She imagined Will taking her there after the war and clinging to him as she said her last good-byes to Samuel.

  And then, as she thought about it, the questions again filled her mind. What if Samuel was trying to tell her something else? What if he wasn’t dead, but hidden and safe?