by Lee Strauss
“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” My throat was dry and scratchy. I forced a swallow.
Emil’s gaze moved from the street to my face. “I’ve noticed that,” he said kindly. “Why?”
I shrugged. “People are dying, Emil. I just thought that maybe it would be better not to get too close.”
Emil stopped. “You miss your father.”
I let my gaze fall. “Yes, I do. Very much. I think of him every day.”
“He was a great man.”
I let my eyes lock onto his. “I’m afraid of losing the people I love.”
Emil reached for my hand without breaking his gaze. “I understand, Katharina, but there are no guarantees. Besides, you really have no choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been through too much already. Been friends too long. The damage has already been done.”
I smiled. “I see.”
We walked hand in hand to the end of the street; I matched his gait, comfortably silent.
At the end Emil turned to me.
I tilted my head up to his and he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were rough yet sweet. He cupped my face with such tenderness that my whole body quivered.
I pulled away and smiled shyly. “I should go back.”
We walked to Emil’s house, holding hands. I felt truly happy, pretending for a few moments that the war wasn’t going on at all.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”Emil asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
May 01, 1944
I see Emil nearly every day. We are at war, and so there isn’t much time for leisure. We spend most of our time working together, usually on the farm. The Reich had supplied us with more hens and an extra milking cow, but most of the goods are still shipped out of town. There is a thriving black market going on as well. Eggs and milk slipped away out of the view of the officers who milled around. Most of them are locals, and turn a blind eye, knowing that an extra egg or two could end up on their table.
At the end of each day, I walk with Emil to the end of the drive and he kisses me good night.
“Do you think they’ll let you stay?” I whispered today after a lingering kiss. Emil’s cough had subsided and the doctor had declared him well. The army would want him back.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not fit for the front, but I’m still useful to them, I think.”
“I hope you don’t go.” I embraced him, holding tight. Emil held me back and kissed the top of my head.
“I’m not gone, yet.” Emil lifted my chin. “Let’s not worry about tomorrow, okay?”
September 7, 1944
Emil arrived with a frown on his face. He had an envelope in his hand and my heart filled with dread. It was the letter.
Before Emil could say anything I burst into tears. He held me and stroked my back but kept silent. There were no words that could comfort me. Emil was leaving again.
September 15, 1944
If only all days could be as wonderful as this one! Emil and I strolled through the park by St. Stephens along the riverside. The air had cooled and the autumn leaves fell casually. From there, downtown Passau looked locked in time, unscathed by war.
I fought back tears. “I can't believe you're leaving.”
Emil took my hand and weaved his fingers through mine. “Me neither.”
“Everything just seems so hopeless.” I sighed. “It can’t be much longer now, can it? A year maybe?”
Emil squeezed my hand. “I hope so,” he said.“Maybe less.”
“I wonder what it will be like for us when it’s over,” I said. “I guess it means every German, you, me, everyone, will be prisoners of war.”
“Let’s just pray it’s the Americans or the British that capture us.”
I searched Emil’s face. “Why?”
Emil grimaced and shrugged.
“I’ve heard the Russian’s are especially brutal,” I said.
“I’ve heard this, also.”
“It’s so depressing.” I stopped mid-step and turned to face Emil. “You know, I like to dream about a different world. One where I get married, have children, build a home in a place where bombs aren’t falling. Where I’m not afraid all the time. Is that crazy? Am I a child?”
“I love you.” Emil blurted out. “I want to marry you.”
My heart stopped with shock and then I burst into tears again. For once it wasn’t due to fear or anger. His declaration made me insanely happy.
“Katharina?” Emil ducked to catch my gaze.
“Oh, Emil. I love you, too.”
I kissed him hard and wished more than anything that everything was different. That Emil and I could runaway and hide. Forget about the war and just love each other.
Emil pulled back and smiled brightly. He was so handsome!
“I wish I could give you something to remember this day by, so that you won’t forget me,” he said.
I grinned and then tugged the loose blue thread from the missing button on my coat. “We can do like the American’s do,” I said.
Emil took it and carefully, understanding what I wanted, wrapped it around my finger.
“Voila,” he said.
“It’s perfect,” I gushed. He tied a knot, making sure the string wasn't wrapped too tightly, but secure enough that it wouldn't fall off. “You are spoken for, young lady.”
I held my hand out in front as if I were showing off a ten karat diamond. “That I am.”
September 22, 1944
My heart is breaking. I cry into my pillow as I remember standing together on a platform at the train station. The sign above our heads said Nach Nuremberg. Emil had already said good-bye to his mother and little brother, so that he could spend the remainder of his time with me.
My cheeks were moist with tears, and Emil kissed the salty wetness away, holding me tight.
“It will be okay,” he soothed. “We will see each other again soon. Remember, only a year and then our life together can begin.”
“Promise me?” I said.
“I promise.”
The train arrived and our parting was torture. I felt physically destroyed as I watched Emil board. He blew me a kiss through the open window and I reached out to him as I ran alongside. My chest felt heavy like my lungs might collapse. I choked out a sob as I watched the train disappear into the distance.
“Only a year,” I whispered. “Only a year.”
It might be a dream, but we were dreaming it together. Finally, my weeping subsided and my eyes close in surrender. I dream of Emil’s return.
The End
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Buy the companion novel PLAYING WITH MATCHES on AMAZON.
Read on for the first Chapter of PLAYING WITH MATCHES
Part I
PLAYING WITH MATCHES
Prologue
JULY
THE PILLAR of smoke rising on the horizon could only mean one thing: a farm, which meant food.
Emil Radle limped across the sloping field that was brittle and dry from lack of rain and irrigation. He lost his footing twice, falling, grabbing at his leg, his mouth opening in a wide teeth-baring groan. The first time he beat the pain, pulling himself back onto his feet, hunger pushing him on. The second time he gave into the primal urge to scream and cry, until sleep threatened to take him again. The warm sun beat down, heavy, his mind lapsing into a drug-like state.
Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew he couldn't stay there; if he did he would die. He pulled himself up again, shaky and quivering. Finally, a house came into view. Out of breath, he slipped through the narrow opening of a stiff iron gate and knocked on the door.
It opened and a thin, elderly man with an unshaven face looked him up and down. “Not another one,” he m
uttered.
“Please, do you have a piece of bread? Anything?”
The man frowned. “How old are you, boy?”
“Sixteen.” Emil wondered what he must look like to the man. He hadn’t bathed or had a change of clothes in weeks. He knew his hair was too long. He shifted his weight nervously, rubbing his bad knee.
The man noticed. “What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Injured on the front.”
The man sighed. “I don’t have anything left. Someone knocks on my door every hour looking to eat.”
As if on cue, Emil's stomach growled. “Please, I beg you. I’m starving.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. His face was drawn, fatigued, and his eyes were watery, as if he were about to cry.
“Wait here.” He pointed to a rickety chair on the patio, and Emil let his weary body drop into it. The man returned with a coffee cup and handed it to Emil. “I have a cow out back. She doesn’t give much. It’s all I have.”
Emil slurped it up. It was like a drop in a very large bucket, but it would keep him going for a while.
“Where are you headed?” the man said.
“Passau.”
The man whistled. “That’s a long way from here. At least two hundred kilometers.”
“Yes,” Emil said, handing the cup back. “But it’s my home. I have to find my family.”
“All the trains are out,” the man said. “The roads are too damaged in most places for automobiles.”
“I know. I’m walking.”
“That will take you weeks.” The man glanced at Emil's bad leg and sighed again. “At least you are young. I wish you the best.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The man offered his hand, pulling Emil to his feet. Emil said goodbye then turned to the road. Step, limp, step, limp, he headed south.
Behind him, Nuremberg lay in ruins, a beaten down giant.
Chapter One
OCTOBER
Passau, Germany
HEINZ SCHULTZ’ word could send a man to prison. Though only a youth of fifteen, he was strong, tall, and blond. The boys in his Deutsches Jungvolk unit esteemed him and feared him.
And they wanted to be just like him.
Mesmerized, Emil sat straight and attentive. He didn’t want to miss a thing Heinz might say or an opportunity to be noticed by him.
Heinz grabbed a pointing stick and tapped a well-worn map of Europe that was thumb-tacked to the wall. “This is a map of Europe from 1871.”
He stopped abruptly in front of another, newer map. “And this is a map of Europe as she looks now. What is the striking difference?” His eyes scanned the room before landing on Emil. “Emil?”
Emil squeaked, “Germany is too small?”
“YES!” Heinz shouted. “Germany is too small. Much, much too small.” He pointed again to the first map. “Here we were larger, though not yet great enough. And here,” he swiveled back to the second map. “We are so tiny, you need a magnifying glass to see us. This is injustice!”
The severity of Heinz’s convictions had grown since his voice had changed. It seemed to Emil that Heinz’s voice came from his gut now rather than his head and he couldn't wait until his own voice finally changed. Not yet eleven, Emil knew he had a while to wait which frustrated him. It was hard to act tough when you sounded like a girl.
Heinz stood stiff, hands behind his back, studying each of his students until they were all white in the face with fear. He whispered, “Who is to blame?”
Friedrich slowly raised his long, skinny arm. Though the same age as the rest of the boys, he was much taller, with long, thin legs. He reminded Emil of an ostrich.
“The Jews,” Friedrich answered.
Heinz’s head bobbed in affirmation. “Correct. The Jews. And how do we know this?”
Friedrich continued, “They hurt the war effort by stirring up bad feelings against the government. We lost the Great War because people lost heart when they heard these lies.”
“Jews and Communists,” Heinz said. “They are the real enemies of Germany.”
Emil tried to remember what his father had told him. Germany had lost the Great War because they thought they could win it quickly. They had underestimated their enemies. In the end, they hadn’t enough soldiers left to finish the job.
But according to Heinz, his father was wrong. Germany’s defeat was actually due to these other people, though, he still didn’t fully understand what they did to cause their fall.
“We were a great nation,” Heinz continued. “We are a great nation. And one day we will be an even greater nation.”
Emil felt like a strong wind was pressing him against the wall.
After a long meaningful pause, Heinz said. “Give me examples of our superiority.”
Emil’s hand shot up, and then realizing he wasn’t sure what answer Heinz wanted, quickly brought it down again. Heinz called on his own younger brother, Rolf.
“We are white, Aryan, and not Jewish.”
Rolf said this like he was better than the rest of them, Emil thought, just because he was Heinz’s brother.
Heinz nodded in agreement. “Others?”
Friedrich thrust his arm up again. “We are athletic and fit.”
Moritz shifted uneasily in his chair; Emil knew his hefty friend wasn’t exactly the most coordinated person. This time Emil raised his hand and left it up.
“Emil?”
“We are intelligent.” All eyes were on him. Heinz waited. Why? Should he present an example? A model glider hung above the table prompting him. “We built the Luftwaffe.”
“Indeed,” said Heinz. “The mightiest air force in the world!”
“One day I will be a pilot in the Luftwaffe!” Emil boasted. The continued attention caused crimson flares to rush up his neck.
“A noble goal, Emil,” Heinz said. Emil sat up even taller if that were possible.
Heinz then nodded to Johann who picked up his guitar and led the boys in a boisterous rendition of Deutschland, Deutschland, uber alles: Germany, Germany over all.
“Time’s up,” Heinz said after checking his watch. “But next meeting we have a surprise. There will be a test of courage. Bring swim wear.”
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About the Author
Lee Strauss is the author of The Perception Series (young adult dystopian), A Nursery Rhyme Suspense Serial (NA Romantic Suspense), and young adult historical fiction. She is the married mother of four grown children, three boys and a girl, and divides her time between British Columbia, Canada and Dresden, Germany. When she's not writing or reading she likes to cycle, hike and practice yoga. She enjoys traveling (but not jet lag :0), soy lattes, red wine and dark chocolate.
Visit her at www.leestraussbooks.com
Lee also writes younger YA fantasy as Elle Strauss.
Follow Lee Strauss
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A Piece of Blue String
(A short story companion to Playing with Matches)
By Lee Strauss
Copyright © 2012 Lee Strauss, Elle Strauss
(Originally published in Winter Wonders Anthology by Compass Press.)
Cover by Steven Novak
ISBN: 9781927547168
A companion short story to Playing with Matches.
Excerpts from Katharina Ackermann's diary marking the turn of WW2, and her heart for the boy heading for battle.
Contents
A Piece of Blue String
May 2, 1941
June 24, 1941
August 19, 1941
August 20 1941
August 22, 1941
January 12, 1942
January 16, 1942
February 5, 1942
July 5, 1942
October 27, 1942
February 2, 1943
April 13, 1943
May 16, 1943
June 11,
1943
November 29, 1943
December 20, 1943
January 6, 1944
February 19, 1944
March 30, 1944
March 31, 1944
May 01, 1944
September 7, 1944
September 15, 1944
September 22, 1944
PLAYING WITH MATCHES
Prologue
Chapter One
About the Author
Copyright
