by Stacy Henrie
“My father is ill. But you may address any questions to me. I’m in charge of this farm now.”
“Are you?” the man holding the noose said as he stepped forward. “Well, then we’ve got some business to conduct with you, son.”
“That’s right, Joe. You tell ’im,” another man hollered. Friedrick recognized him as a store owner from town.
Friedrick straightened to his full height of six feet, two inches and crossed his arms over his chest. He relished the fact that he stood at least half a foot taller than Joe. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Joe looked him up and down and smiled, but his expression looked warped in the torchlight. It reminded Friedrick of a wolf, like those in the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tale book he liked to read aloud to Harlan and Greta.
“No real trouble. Just out doing our patriotic duty as Hilden’s vigilance committee.” Joe strolled up the porch steps as though he belonged there. He twisted the rope into a tighter coil in his hands. A distant crack of thunder added emphasis to the sinister gesture. “You see, the schoolteacher, Miss Lehmann…Do you know Miss Lehmann, son?”
Friedrick sensed a trap. Miss Lehmann had been Harlan and Greta’s schoolteacher before she’d been fired. She also attended the same church as the Wagners, which meant Friedrick would have to answer with care. “I’m familiar with who Miss Lehmann is.”
“Did you hear she’s been speakin’ German in our school?” Joe added. “And that’s against the law.”
The reminder had Friedrick fisting his hands. The governor had recently issued a statewide proclamation prohibiting the use of any foreign language in public. No more speaking German in the schools or on the telephone or in public places.
“She’s also been prayin’ for the Kaiser’s safety in front of the children.” Joe sent a stream of tobacco-laced saliva toward the porch. Friedrick didn’t flinch or back away as the dark liquid sprayed his boots.
He eyed the noose again and prayed Miss Lehmann hadn’t come to any harm before she’d left Hilden. However foolish she’d been to openly oppose the proclamation, she didn’t deserve any ill treatment.
“Did you hear we fired her?” the store owner shouted. His words were accompanied by cheers.
“We were aware the school was closed,” Friedrick said with dismissal, “but thank you, gentlemen, for the reminder.” He remained where he stood, though, certain their reason for being there wasn’t to share the old news about getting rid of the schoolteacher.
Joe released an ugly chuckle. “We’re not quite finished, son. Since Miss Lehmann is likely a German spy, we’re visiting all our good German neighbors tonight and seeing where their loyalties lie.”
Anger ignited inside Friedrick at the man’s veiled accusation. He and his half siblings had been born on American soil, same as these men. His father and Elsa, while German-born, were still as loyal to this country as anyone he knew.
He fought to keep his voice calm and even as he said, “We’re American citizens, same as you folks, and we honor the laws of this country.”
“Then how come you ain’t fightin’ over there with our boys?” a man at Joe’s elbow demanded.
Joe glanced at his friend and gave a thoughtful nod. “That’s a good question. What do you say to that, son?”
Friedrick’s growing resentment was making it hard to stand still and breathe normally. Why should he have to answer to the likes of them? “I have a farm deferment. My father is dying, so I run the place now.”
“Looks like your neighbor George Wyatt told us the truth about you,” Joe said.
Hearing the name of his neighbor caused a spark of shock to run through Friedrick. He looked past Joe to see George standing near the fence, hat in hand. His face remained expressionless, but his eyes reflected his sorrow. He and Friedrick had helped each other with their harvest the last few years. Though George’s presence in the mob bothered Friedrick, he appreciated the man’s defense.
“You might not be able to fight, son, but you can surely buy liberty bonds.”
“I bought a fifty-dollar bond last fall. Paid for it in full that day.” Friedrick stuck out his chin in pride. No one could accuse his family of slacking in their effort to fund the war.
“Times like these call for another demonstration of loyalty.” Joe brought his face so close to Friedrick’s he could smell the chewing tobacco resting inside Joe’s cheek. “So what’s it gonna be? You going to be the proud owner of a hundred-dollar bond, as part of our great country’s third loan drive?”
The outrageous sum hit Friedrick like a punch to the gut. His family didn’t have extra money to throw at bonds. His father’s costly medicine and frequent doctor visits had drained them of nearly all their savings.
“And if we decline, respectfully?” Friedrick said with intended sarcasm.
Joe examined the rope in his other hand. “I’ll put it to you real simple. You buy a bond tonight, or you can try this rope on for size. You choose, son.”
Had things deteriorated so quickly for the German-Americans in Hilden that Friedrick must buy more bonds or risk his life? Rage burned hot through his veins at the injustice. He was being treated as an enemy, when he was as loyal and American as these men watching and waiting for his response. Would they have been any less insistent of his family if he’d been fighting overseas?
He pushed such a question from his mind—it was futile. He hadn’t been allowed to fight, at least not on the battlefields of France, but that didn’t mean the war had passed his family by. Friedrick was beginning to see there were battles here, too. Not between trained soldiers, but between townspeople and neighbors. While he couldn’t protect his country, he would protect his family. Even if it mean buying a bond with their remaining savings to satisfy these men and keep them from coming back.
Friedrick schooled his voice once again to hide his fury, though he took great pleasure from being able to look down his nose at Joe. “I’ll get the money,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
Joe nodded approval. “Good, boy.”
He went back inside, though he left the door partway open to keep the men from thinking he wasn’t returning. Elsa and his siblings stood at the parlor entrance. Their expressions reflected concern but also innocence—they hadn’t overheard the awful conversation.
“Everything’s going to be all right.” His reassurance erased some of the tension radiating from the three of them. Friedrick went to the kitchen and pulled an old Mason jar from the back of one of the cupboards. His family followed him.
“What are you doing, Friedrick?” Elsa asked. “What do those men want?”
“We need to buy a liberty bond.” He removed all but one bill—and their $50 bond—from the jar.
“But you already bought a bond.” Her eyes narrowed in on the money in his hand. “How much?”
Friedrick put the jar back and shut the cupboard. “A hundred dollars,” he replied in a flat voice.
Elsa gasped, her hand rising to her throat. “But that leaves us only five dollars. What about your father’s medicine? We cannot—”
“Mother.” Friedrick waited for her to look at him. He was only too aware of how Harlan and Greta watched the two of them with wide eyes. “We will figure this out. I told you everything will be fine. You must trust me.” He didn’t want her coming outside in protest or upsetting his siblings any more than they had been at the sight of the mob. “Please.”
She studied his face for a long moment, then she lowered her head and nodded.
“Stay inside. I’ll be right back.”
He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he walked past them into the hallway. A noise from his father’s bedroom made him turn.
“Friedrick?” Heinrich swayed in the doorway. Friedrick hurried to support him. “I heard a noise outside.”
“It’s all right, Papa. Go back to bed.”
“What are you doing with that money?”
Before Friedrick could answer, the front door squeaked o
pen and Joe’s loud voice boomed through the hall. “Hurry it up, son. We’ve got other people to visit.” More like people to terrorize. Friedrick strangled the bills in his hand.
“Who is that?” Heinrich asked him, his tone weary and concerned.
“I’ll explain later. Right now you need to let Mother help you back into bed.”
Elsa took Friedrick’s place at his father’s side, her face set in a determined expression. “Come, Heinrich. We must help you lie back down. Friedrick will take care of everything.”
He was keenly aware of all four of them watching him, looking to him for guidance. His responsibility, as man of the house, had never felt so daunting.
“Harlan,” Friedrick directed in a low voice as he moved down the hall, “you and Greta go wash up and put on your pajamas.” He wanted them far away from the men in the yard.
For once, the boy didn’t object. “Let’s go, Greta.”
When the two of them had disappeared up the stairs, Friedrick strode to the open door. He slapped their money into the man’s open palm. “There’s your hundred dollars.”
Joe pocketed the cash. “Now all’s left is to fill out your application.” He withdrew a paper and pencil from his coat and handed them to Friedrick.
Friedrick turned to use the doorjamb as a desk. Every cell in his body screamed at him to rip the application in half and take back his family’s money, but another glance at the noose silenced the urge. He filled in the required information, but he had the pencil pressed so hard to the paper, it tore in one place. Not caring, he thrust the application and pencil at Joe.
The man grinned as he took them in his free hand. “We’ll see this and your money get to the bank. You can pick up your bond there.” He swung the rope over his shoulder. “I knew a smart, patriotic young man like you wouldn’t be needin’ the likes of this. Have a nice night now.” He whirled around and marched down the porch steps. The rest of the mob trailed him across the yard and out the picket fence.
Friedrick watched them from the doorway, making certain every last one of them left before he shut and bolted the door. His hands shook slightly as he removed his boots for a second time. Instead of carrying them to the kitchen, he dropped them in a heap beside the front door. Elsa would surely forgive him if he left them there tonight.
“Oh, Friedrick.” Greta appeared in her long, white nightgown and threw her arms around his waist. “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.”
Friedrick gave her a tight hug in return. “Me, too.”
Harlan joined them in the hall. Though the danger had passed, their faces were still pinched with worry. Friedrick didn’t want them to go to sleep and think of nothing but seeing their mother upset and their family threatened. “Why don’t you two go wait in your beds? I’ll come up and read you a story.”
Harlan lifted his chin. “Really?”
Friedrick nodded.
The two raced back up the stairs. Friedrick went into the parlor and grabbed the first storybook he found from the bookcase. Before heading upstairs, he decided to look in on his father. He paused outside the door when he heard Elsa talking.
“It will be fine, Heinrich. You’ll see.” The bright tone to her words sounded forced to Friedrick, but perhaps his father was too sick to notice. “Remember how trouble always comes before the dawn, before the sun returns. Friedrick will make things right. You’ll see.”
Friedrick turned away, not wishing to disturb them. There was nothing more to be said at the moment. He started up the stairs but halted halfway up as the weight of what he’d had to do tonight descended with full force upon him.
With his free hand, he gripped the banister tightly, one foot resting on the step above him. They’d skirted the danger this time, but what about the next? He didn’t think for a second the conflict was over. And now he had the added burden of stretching their last five dollars.
He could buy seed for spring planting on credit, but if the crops didn’t produce well…There was the option of selling both bonds for cash, to recoup their money, but he feared Joe and the mob finding out. How disloyal would he and his family appear then?
The weight of providing for and protecting his family pressed down on him, threatening to crush his spirit. He’d given away their money—money meant to help his father—but was that really protecting the ones he loved? Or hurting them? If he’d refused to buy the bond, he might have ended up half-dead, or worse. What would Elsa and his siblings have done then? Whether he fought against the injustice or submitted to it, his family lost something either way.
Friedrick pushed away from the banister and resumed climbing the stairs. Harlan and Greta were waiting for him. But the opposing viewpoints and compromises still squeezed at him, making it hard to swallow. Almost as if he had Joe’s rope around his neck after all.
From a Great War springs a great love…
A preview of Hope Rising, by Stacy Henrie, follows.
Chapter 1
July 1918
You’ve become skin and bones since you came here, Evelyn. And no wonder; you eat like a bird.” Alice Thornton waved her fork at the half-empty plate Evelyn had slid aside. “If my mother were here, she’d try to fatten you up. Unlike the hospital cook, apparently.”
Evelyn smiled, despite the queasiness in her stomach. She could imagine Mrs. Thornton—a rotund, matronly version of red-headed Alice—chasing her down with a ladle of stew in hand. Alice talked a lot about her family, particularly her three beanpole brothers who never put on pounds no matter how much they ate, much to their mother’s chagrin.
That wasn’t Evelyn’s problem. The morning sickness that plagued her, even now in the middle of the day, prevented her from stomaching much of any meal. But she certainly didn’t plan on telling Alice that.
Almost of its own volition, her hand rose to rest against the middle of her white nurse’s apron. The tiny life inside her could only be tens weeks along by now, but her own life had been altered just the same. Would anyone else notice her lack of appetite, as Alice had, or her frequent trips to the bathroom?
Alice turned to chat with another nurse seated near them, giving Evelyn a moment to herself. She slipped her hand beneath her apron, into the pocket of her gray crepe dress and felt the letter tucked there. It brought instant calm as she withdrew the folded slip of paper. Though the letter had arrived less than a week ago, she had Ralph’s words memorized. Still, she liked to see the bold strokes of his handwriting and read the reassurance behind the words he’d penned.
I’m still in shock at your news of the baby. I find myself thinking at odd times of the day, even in the middle of a battle, that I’m going to be a father. I am going to do right by you and the baby, Evelyn. Not like my own father. As soon as I get leave again, I’m coming to the hospital there and we’ll get married. I know you’ll be discharged after that, being married and all, but you won’t have to worry about what to tell your grandparents anymore. You can tell them you got hitched in France and came home to have our baby.
I miss you and think of you every day.
Yours,
Ralph
“Did we get mail today?”
Alice’s voice broke into Evelyn’s reverie. Startled, she glanced up in confusion. “Mail?”
Her roommate pointed at the sheet of paper in Evelyn’s grip.
Evelyn quickly folded the letter and shoved it into her pocket, away from Alice’s curious gaze. “Oh, I’m not sure. This is from last week.”
“Is it from your grandparents?”
Though she wanted to answer in the affirmative, Evelyn wouldn’t lie. She hadn’t heard from either her grandmother or her grandfather in several months. Their declining health made returning Evelyn’s missives difficult.
“It’s from a…friend,” she hedged. She steeled herself for more questions, but thankfully Alice accepted the response with a nod.
Evelyn hadn’t yet broached the subject of the baby or her inevitable homecoming in her letters to her grandparen
ts. She’d wait until she and Ralph were married. That way when she told them, she would be breaking the news as a new bride and not an unwed mother. What would that shock do to them? She was hopeful they’d like Ralph—that his charisma would eventually win them over as it had her. The thought of his larger than life personality filling the too quiet house where she’d grown up brought a smile to her lips.
“Better hurry up.” Evelyn stood and picked up her plate. “I heard Sister Marcelle is doing a round of ward visits today or tomorrow.”
Alice frowned and scrambled up from the table. “In that case, I’ll skip the rest. Sister Henriette is likely to tell her that I yelled at Sergeant Dennis good and long this morning. But honestly, the man refuses to rest.”
Evelyn’s smile flattened into a frown as she followed Alice to the kitchen. She’d noticed the way Sergeant Dennis watched Alice. The man was clearly captivated by the younger girl and would go to great lengths to garner a response from her—even if it was a good scolding. Evelyn could only hope her roommate would remain blind to the man’s attention. Alice didn’t seem the type to disregard the rule forbidding nurses and soldiers from fraternizing, but then again, Evelyn hadn’t expected to break the rule herself. Not until she’d met Ralph.
A torrent of French greeted them as they set their dishes beside the kitchen’s enormous sink. The hospital cook stood at the back door, shaking her spoon at a dark-headed youngster.
“S’il vous plaît?” the boy entreated.
“Non pas de pain,” the cook responded. She slammed the door in the boy’s disheartened face and muttered under her breath. Throwing a pointed look at Evelyn and Alice, she returned to her table and began whacking dough with a stick.
“Come on, Evelyn.” Alice retreated back toward the entrance to the large dining hall. None of the twenty nurses at St. Vincent’s liked spending much time in the kitchen with the cantankerous cook.
“I’ll be along in a minute. You go ahead.”
