Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8)

by Robert Elmer

  “That’s how I met your father, Henrik.” Matthias looked down at the water as they neared the harbor. “Right after he had his first heart attack, I was in for a regular checkup, and we started trading heart stories. We had something in common.”

  “Oh.” Henrik’s voice sounded very small, and he bit his lip.

  Without another word, Matthias expertly guided the small plane to a soft touchdown on the water. Peter let out his breath with a sigh. Now they were a boat, taxiing into the middle of the harbor. They would tie up at the Andersens’ dock behind the Anne Marie.

  Peter’s twin sister, Elise, was sitting on the rear deck of the fishing boat dangling her bare feet over the edge. Her straight, blond hair flowed just below her shoulders and fluttered like a flag in the gentle breeze. Except for the fact that she was a girl, and a few inches taller than her brother, she looked a lot like Peter. Her knees and elbows seemed to poke out, and her long legs looked even longer because she had rolled up the bottoms of her pants. It was summer vacation, after all, and the sun was out. Her deep blue eyes matched Peter’s, but of course that was only obvious closer up.

  As they neared the dock, Matthias pushed in the throttle to slow them down, then put his hand on Henrik’s knee. “Look, I know I frightened you boys up there, and I’m very sorry for what happened.” He took a deep breath. “But I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone else about this just yet. There’s no need to concern your mother about this, Henrik. Can I count on you?”

  Henrik swallowed hard and looked straight ahead. Elise waved at them.

  “If this were known,” continued Matthias, “I would probably lose my pilot’s license.”

  Henrik closed his eyes for a second, and Peter could still feel the awful, helpless feeling of falling backward, the cold panic of seeing Matthias go limp at the controls. His jaw hurt, and he could taste blood from biting his tongue.

  Outside, Elise jumped over the dock and got ready to catch them as they came in.

  “Okay,” Henrik finally answered. “We won’t say anything if you promise to go see a doctor again soon and get yourself checked out once more.”

  “As soon as I get a chance,” agreed Matthias, putting out his hand. “Thanks for understanding.”

  Henrik shook the man’s hand while Peter gave him a worried look. They bumped the dock gently, and Henrik threw open the door as soon as Matthias had shut down the engine.

  “Hey, you guys,” Elise called to them as she threw Henrik a long rope from the dock. “How did it go? You looked like you were training for the air circus up there.”

  “Did anyone see us?” Henrik asked, jumping to the dock.

  Elise held the plane away from their dock. “I don’t know. I was inside the boat, and I just came out a minute ago. I’m glad I didn’t go, or I probably would have gotten sick.”

  When it was Peter’s turn to jump to the dock, he slipped and fell to his knees. He looked up at his sister, then back at the plane.

  “I know the feeling,” he whispered.

  2

  No One Believes

  “I’m telling you, it was a gun,” Peter whispered to Elise and Henrik as they set up a folding card table in Henrik’s living room. “Right there in his plane.”

  Henrik looked around as if to see if anyone was listening. Matthias was stirring a steaming pot in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Andersen were standing next to Henrik’s mother near her stove, laughing at a joke Peter’s Uncle Morten had just told. It was the first time all three families had eaten together in months, and all the adults were in a festive mood.

  “But you didn’t actually look at it, right?” asked Henrik. “I’m sure it was just a flare gun, like they have on boats for emergencies.”

  “I know a flare gun when I see one,” Peter whispered urgently. “This was a real gun.”

  “Well, why don’t we find out from Matthias right now? He could tell us.”

  Peter grabbed his friend’s arm to keep him from stepping into the kitchen. “Are you kidding? Used to be you didn’t even want to be in the same room as Matthias. Now—”

  “Maybe I’m getting used to him,” Henrik interrupted, “but he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would carry a gun around. I mean, he’s a businessman. Plus he’s Jewish—like another great person you happen to know.” Henrik flashed a smile.

  Peter looked to his sister for support. “I know he doesn’t seem like the type. But you believe me, don’t you, Elise?”

  “It’s not that we don’t believe you, Peter. We just don’t want it to sound like you’re accusing Matthias of being a gangster.”

  “Of course not.” Peter immediately felt guilty for some of the things that had crossed his mind that afternoon. Matthias the spy. Matthias the bank robber. Matthias the...

  “All right, kids,” boomed Matthias. “Is everyone washed up for dinner?”

  It’s not that I don’t like him, Peter told himself. I just know what I saw. I mean, felt.

  “I hope you don’t all mind squeezing around the table like this,” Mrs. Melchior apologized. “The kids can eat at their own private table in the living room.” Like her son, her dark eyes flashed when she spoke, and she smiled at her guests as she placed a steaming bowl of carrots on the table. “We haven’t had so many guests all at once in a long time.”

  Peter looked in at the adults crowded around the Melchior family’s kitchen table. Mrs. Melchior smiled and hustled bowls of food from the stove to the table. Next to her place sat Matthias, then Peter’s father, straight‑backed and clean‑shaven, looking like the accountant he was. Peter and Elise’s mother, petite and red‑haired, was whispering something into their father’s ear. Then came Uncle Morten, muscled and suntanned, and his wife, Lisbeth, pushing a dark, flowing curl away from her face. His blond beard was more neatly trimmed than usual. Finally, Grandfather Andersen kept watch from the head of the table. He looked a bit thinner and more wrinkled than ever, but the old man smiled and seemed to enjoy being in the midst of all the chatter.

  Peter’s mother leaned across the table and patted her father‑in‑law on the arm. “It’s nice to have you along, Dad.”

  “I don’t mind saying that this meal is a sight better than my own cooking,” he replied, and everyone laughed.

  “Well,” continued Mrs. Andersen, “I’m just glad that you invited us, Ruth. It’s been fun to get to know Matthias a bit more. And the boys were sure thrilled to go for that airplane ride, weren’t you, boys?”

  Peter slipped backward out of the kitchen and went to his chair by the card table in the living room.

  “Uh,” stammered Henrik, caught by the question. “Yeah, it was pretty exciting, all right.”

  Peter was glad they had their own table away from the adults. But Elise looked puzzled.

  “Why are you guys still being so strange about the airplane ride?” she asked.

  Peter gave Henrik a look with his eyebrows arched, like “Should we tell her?”

  Henrik nodded.

  “What?” persisted Elise. “Is it some kind of secret? Something else about the gun?”

  Peter leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Not the gun.”

  “But you have to promise not to tell,” Henrik added.

  Elise leaned back and frowned. “I’m not sure....”

  “We almost crashed,” volunteered Peter, not waiting for her to answer. “Remember how you saw us dipping around out there?”

  “I didn’t see everything, but I thought it looked a little strange.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not all. Matthias...” Peter looked toward the kitchen and lowered his voice even more. Matthias was telling a story, something about camels. “Matthias fainted, and we couldn’t wake him up.”

  “Yeah,” chimed in Henrik. “And I had to fly the plane. I thought we were going to die.”

  Elise’s eyes widened as she looked from Henrik to Peter. “You’re kidding. How did he wake up?”

  Henrik took a big bite of potat
oes smothered in thick, brown gravy, but it didn’t keep him from talking. “I’m not sure; something about his heart. We were about to crash, and then he just woke up all of a sudden.”

  “And he made us promise not to tell anyone,” said Peter. “He said he would lose his flying license if anyone ever found out.”

  “Wow.” Elise still looked shocked. “Now I’m really glad I didn’t come....”

  Their conversation was interrupted by someone in the kitchen gently hitting a spoon against the edge of a drinking glass, trying to get everyone’s attention. Henrik responded by tapping his own glass like a musical instrument. Mr. Andersen looked out into the living room.

  “Okay, kids.” Mrs. Andersen stood up. “That’s enough tapping. I just have an announcement I want everyone to hear.”

  Henrik nudged Peter, and they both put down their spoons.

  Mrs. Andersen continued, “I just got a letter from my sister Hanne, and she and Harald have invited all of us out to their sheep ranch in Ho for a kind of reunion, now that the war has been over for a while.” She looked at Henrik’s mother. “And she especially mentioned that she would like for you, and of course Matthias, to come as well. I’ve told her about Matthias in my letters. They are all eager to meet you both.”

  “When?” asked Peter.

  “Three weeks from now, if that works for everyone.”

  Elise clapped her hands. “That means we’ll get to see Johanna again. She’s been there since last summer.”

  Matthias looked puzzled. “One of your cousins?”

  “Oh no,” Mrs. Andersen explained. “Johanna is the little German orphan girl we found in Copenhagen right after the war. No one knew what to do with her, so we ended up taking care of her for a few days.”

  “And so your sister took her?” Matthias still wasn’t sure about the story.

  “Not my sister. The local pastor and his wife in Ho Village—they’re family friends—they’ve been caring for her.”

  Matthias nodded, finally putting the pieces together. “Well, it sounds like... ah, it would be quite an experience to meet all these people. But since I’m leaving in the morning, I’m not certain I can make it.” He looked at Mrs. Melchior. “If you went, Ruth, would that give you enough time for the wedding?”

  Everyone stopped talking when Matthias mentioned the word “wedding,” and all eyes turned to Mrs. Melchior. Her face turned bright red, but she said nothing, while the smile on Matthias’s face faded to an embarrassed grin.

  “Ah, that’s in case anyone is getting married....” He looked around nervously. “Say, Elise, are you planning to get married in the next few weeks?”

  Elise looked at her mother and giggled, and Henrik choked on the piece of meat he was chewing. Peter slapped him on the back.

  “Are you okay?” asked Peter. “You’re supposed to eat the meat, not breathe it in.”

  Henrik nodded, trying to catch his breath. With his eyes watering, he looked up at his mother. “Mother, may I be excused, please?” He coughed once more. “I’m not feeling so good.”

  By that time, Mrs. Melchior had recovered from her embarrassment, and she appeared to be working hard at finishing up the food on her plate.

  “What’s wrong, Henrik?” she asked.

  “Stomachache.”

  “From eating too quickly?”

  Henrik shook his head, and Matthias jumped up. “I have some really good Swedish medicine for air sickness in the plane. It should help stomachaches. I’d be happy to—”

  “I’ll get it!” Peter volunteered, pushing his chair back and stuffing the last of his potatoes into one bite. His mother gave him a stern look but said nothing.

  “Ah no,” began Matthias, “it’s no trouble.”

  “I’ll go with Peter,” put in Elise. She was already finished eating.

  Outvoted, Matthias reached into his pocket for the keys to the airplane. “Okay, just go ahead and bring back the entire first‑aid kit. It’s in the back of the plane, where you were sitting, Peter.”

  Peter nodded and took the keys.

  “Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Melchior,” Elise said politely.

  “Yeah, thank you,” repeated Peter, heading for the door. “We’ll be back in a couple of minutes, Henrik.”

  The early evening air was still warm, but a cool breeze was starting to pick up from the ocean. Peter quickened his step through the narrow streets.

  “Slow down, Peter. What’s your rush?”

  “It was getting a little tense in there,” said Peter. “Now I can prove to you what I saw in the plane. I’ll show you it wasn’t a flare gun.”

  “That’s what I thought you were doing. You looked pretty eager, the way you jumped up from the table.”

  Peter didn’t say anything, just quickened his stride. When he reached the dock, he pulled the small ring of keys out of his pocket and began trying to open the side door to the plane.

  “None of these keys seems to fit,” he said after the last key.

  “Here, let me try,” she said, taking the key ring from her brother.

  Peter frowned but let her take the keys. The first one she tried in the little lock fit perfectly, and she pulled open the door with a grin.

  “See? Some things just need a woman’s touch.”

  “Where’s the woman?” asked Peter, climbing into the plane after her.

  “Matthias said his first‑aid kit was right there,” she replied. “Behind the seat.”

  Peter climbed over the pilot’s seat and hung over to reach back where he had seen the leather pouch. “Let me show you.”

  But the pouch wasn’t there. Peter leaned even farther and reached behind the seat.

  “It’s not here,” he told Elise. “It was right here before.”

  “Are you sure?” Elise sounded doubtful, but she helped him look.

  Peter checked under the seat and next to the seat, under a blanket, and even in a small box with tools in it.

  “I’m telling you, Elise, when we were up flying, there was a gun in this airplane. But there aren’t too many places it could be hiding. Now it’s gone. Matthias must have taken it.”

  Without warning, the plane rocked from someone else’s weight. Matthias was looking in at them.

  “Did you find the first‑aid kit?” he asked in a friendly tone.

  “Yah!” Peter jerked in fright out of his hiding place.

  “Oh, sorry, Peter,” Matthias apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I had wanted to come down here and check on the plane anyway.”

  Elise, who looked as if she hadn’t heard Matthias coming, either, backed out of the plane and jumped onto the dock.

  “Sure,” said Peter, recovering quickly. He looked down at the floor of the plane behind the passenger seat to see a little metal box, painted white with a red cross. “We found the kit. It must have fallen to the floor.”

  He heard me talking about the gun, Peter thought as he followed Elise onto the dock, clutching the box. He knows I know.

  “We’ll just run this back up to the house,” said Elise, scurrying ahead of Peter.

  “Tell Henrik to just take a little,” Matthias told them.

  As they jogged up the street, Peter was afraid to look back at Matthias or the airplane until he felt the keys in his pocket.

  “Wait a minute.” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I forgot to give the keys back to Matthias.”

  Peter stood still for a moment, wondering what was the worst thing that could happen to him if he went back to the plane. He took a deep breath, turned around, and ran toward the harbor.

  “Call the police if I’m not back in three minutes,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Peter, don’t be silly! I’ll meet you back at the Melchiors’ apartment.”

  “Great, Elise,” Peter mumbled to himself as he ran. “Leave me to face the man with the gun all by myself. By the time the police come to rescue me, it’ll be too late.”

  Peter didn’t stop ru
nning until he stood next to the airplane once more. Matthias was inspecting the propeller, running his hand along one of the edges. He looked up with surprise.

  “Forget something?” he asked.

  Peter reached into his pocket and held out the keys. “I forgot to give you these.”

  “Oh, the keys.” Matthias smiled and stretched out his hand to take them. “Thanks.”

  Peter nodded and turned to go, but Matthias held him with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Peter? Wait a minute. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Peter froze, then somehow managed to turn around and face the man. Matthias looked worried as he fingered his keys.

  “It’s about...” he began, then stopped in midsentence as someone came stomping down the dock in their direction. It was one of the shipyard workers, a friend of Uncle Morten’s. Peter didn’t know his name, but he was short and round and always smiling.

  “Hey, nice plane,” said the little man, strutting up to the plane. “Is this what they call a Stinson?”

  Matthias shook his head, smiled politely, and let go of Peter’s shoulder. “It’s a De Havilland. Hundred‑and‑twenty‑horsepower Gipsy engine. I had those floats mounted by a couple of fellows in Finland, the Karhumaki brothers....”

  Peter slipped away gratefully and started up the gangplank as the men continued to talk about Matthias’s airplane.

  “Peter, would you tell Henrik’s mother I’ll be right there?” Matthias called after him. “And I’ll... ah, I’ll talk to you again later.”

  “Sure,” replied Peter as he sprinted toward the city.

  Back in Henrik’s apartment, the adults and Elise were sitting around the kitchen table eating little slices of pound cake. Peter walked down the hallway to Henrik’s room but stopped in the doorway when he saw Mrs. Melchior hovering over Henrik, who was trying to get up out of his bed.

  “I’m fine now, Mother,” Henrik protested. “You don’t want me to take that stuff if I’m feeling fine, do you?”

  “Now you’re feeling fine all of a sudden?” she asked.

  “But what about what he said, Mother?”

  “You’re just trying to change the subject, Henrik Melchior. Your father used to do that....”