A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection

by Dianna Crawford

  Chapter 6

  This day, their wedding day, had come so fast. Standing with his “father” at the front of the sanctuary while the ushers seated arriving guests, Erik felt his nervousness increase with each peal of the church bells. Normally the beautiful Danish chapel he attended with the Christiansens on Sundays instilled him with peace. Constructed of cut stone with a steep slate roofline, the structure’s tall arched windows of jewel-like stained glass bathed the interior in a warm glow, even on dreary days. In today’s sunlight they sparkled like diamonds, casting miniature rainbows everywhere. A bounty of ferns and flowers added lush fragrance that mingled with the perfumes of women dressed in their finest. So many people had come to see him and Annelise get married.

  He tugged at the too-snug tie of the black suit Axel insisted on having made for him. Erik knew he looked dashing in his first tailored outfit, but that hardly soothed his nerves. Anyone would think this ceremony was the real thing!

  The side door swished quietly open, and Axel came to join him, equally elegant in his own tailored attire. He was accompanied by Bergitte’s husband, Svend, whose size made him appear oafish next to suave Axel. Bergitte’s brother Mikkel was unable to obtain leave from military duties to be best man because of heightened tensions between the Danish army and the Germans.

  Svend caught Erik’s eye and patted his breast pocket with an affirmative nod, indicating the presence of the wedding license. Unknown to him, it would remain unsigned to prevent validation.

  A bittersweet sadness came over Erik, but he dared not let it show. He diverted his attention to the mostly unknown faces occupying the pews, their conversations hushed against the subdued music from the pipe organ.

  He easily picked out his relatives. About a hundred other trusted folk from Sjaellands Point also had come, expressly so the American, Charles Bridgeport, and several British flyers could blend in while “hiding” in plain sight. Erik spotted Charles coming to take his seat, flanked by two locals chatting brightly in Danish, little of which Charles understood. Erik tried to see if he could detect anyone who appeared British, but no one stood out.

  What did stand out were the sharply dressed Nazis positioned in the back row on either side. Despite their futile attempt to maintain their superior attitude, they had to know most people detested their very presence.

  Dear Lord, Erik prayed, those particular “guests” possess terrible power. Please take control of this day and all its events. May everything go smoothly as planned, and may the Nazis leave the wedding celebration every bit as unaware as when they got here.

  Erik’s “father” slipped an empathetic arm around him. “Bridegrooms are supposed to be nervous,” the older man whispered, “but you look like you’re about to face a firing squad.” He gave Erik’s shoulder a bearlike squeeze. “Put those other concerns out of your head. My friends and I will see you and your beautiful bride through all the pitfalls of this day. Just do what your grandpa told me on my wedding day.” He chuckled under his breath. “ ‘Forget about the pomp and ceremony. Keep your mind on the prize. The honeymoon.’ ”

  Erik knew no such prize awaited him. Yet hating that he’d deceived his relatives on that point, he mustered a grin. No one except Annelise’s family and the minister knew this was a mock wedding. With so many lives at stake, Axel insisted that the fewer people who were in on the ruse, the better.

  One niggle of guilt did assault Erik. His bride-to-be would be coming down the aisle in a gown worn by every bride in his family for generations, making light of a sacred tradition. In truth, she had no choice. It had been forced upon on her … as had this entire wedding … and him. He grimaced.

  Three fashionably dressed young women arrived and took the pew directly in front of the Nazis. One of them turned and smiled coyly at the officers—to provide feminine diversion, Erik surmised.

  He couldn’t help noticing an abundance of very attractive girls sprinkled throughout the sanctuary. More of Axel’s doing, he figured.

  His uncle/father jabbed him in the ribs, obviously drawing a similar conclusion. “That new brother-in-law of yours must be a very persuasive fellow, to persuade so many available young ladies to attend.”

  Erik slid a glance at Axel and grinned. “You have no idea.”

  The organist abruptly increased the volume, heralding the start of the ceremony. Erik’s heart leapt into his throat. The minister, garbed in his traditional formal robe, came to join him and his groomsmen, while Erik’s “father” took his seat beside his wife in the front pew.

  The talking ceased, and everyone focused forward.

  Bergitte stepped to the doorway at the back, then started down the aisle, her steps measured to the meter of the music. His cousin’s gown of rose taffeta edged with velvet and lace complemented her fair coloring and golden hair, a lovely contrast to the slim brunette who followed in a matching dress, a friend of Annelise’s from church. From their dreamy expressions, neither had an inkling this wedding was anything but real.

  It could have been real, Erik conceded, if Annelise would have provided the smallest bit of encouragement. He’d almost come right out and proposed to her that night in the kitchen, only she hadn’t taken the hint, just gazed up at him with those incredibly sad eyes.

  As Bergitte took her place at the front, Moshe started down the aisle, an adorable little tyke decked out in a new Sunday suit, his curls slicked back and shiny as he proudly carried a small satin pillow bearing a ring tied with a satin bow.

  Erik watched for any indication of suspicion on the part of the Nazis to the Jewish boy’s distinctive eyes and coloring, but they had yet to quit gawking at the pretty girls in front of them.

  Then fragile little Rachel entered in her floral dress with its velvet sash, her sable hair a mass of ringlets and ribbons. She scattered pink and white rose petals from a white basket looped over one arm. The child took her job very seriously!

  Erik almost choked when he spied the rag doll in the basket.

  Halfway down the aisle, she caught sight of him and gave a shy wave, her sweet smile cinching his heart.

  He winked and waved back, vowing silently to protect those two children with his life. Them and Annelise. He would die before he’d let one of them suffer at the hands of those ruthless Nazis.

  The music segued into the formal bridal chorus.

  Pulse racing, Erik turned his attention to the rear.

  On the arm of her grandmother’s brother, Annelise, the vision of his heart, paused on the threshold of the sanctuary for a breathless moment before stepping forward. Her golden beauty shimmered through the misty veil, her glory lighting up the room as she came toward him, a bouquet of pink and white roses and trailing ribbons in her other hand. The Victorian heirloom gown of handmade lace accented her fragile, priceless elegance.

  Erik could barely breathe. How had he gotten caught up in a charade of this magnitude? To think he’d entertained the notion that someone like him was worthy of the perfection now coming to him on satin-slippered feet! Feeling a deeper sense of loss than he’d ever known, he let out a ragged breath.

  The first sight greeting Annelise as the congregation rose in honor of her walk down the bridal runner were the Nazi uniforms flanking either side. The second was the captain’s ever-suspicious stare. She took a firmer hold of her great-uncle’s arm, and he gave her hand an affectionate pat and a smile. Not in on the plan, he doubtless considered her a typically nervous bride.

  Avoiding so much as a glance at Rundstedt, she focused straight ahead, and her gaze collided with Erik’s. He stood tall and resplendent against the flowers and ferns, adoring her with his eyes. She almost forgot her own name. How unutterably sad that this whole ceremony was nothing but a charade. She’d have given anything for it to be real, to have that incredible American love her as much as he appeared to, enough to be faithful always. She almost sighed audibly.

  When she reached the front, her great-uncle raised the edge of her veil to kiss her cheek, then let it fa
ll back into place as he put her hand in Erik’s and stepped away to await his line about giving her to be married.

  The bridegroom took both of Annelise’s hands in his and smiled at her, then turned slightly toward the minister, his gaze never leaving hers. The tenderness in his expression, the soft warmth of his touch brought a sheen of tears. She blinked to clear her vision. Intent in her struggle for composure, she scarcely heard the minister droning on in the background.

  Erik repeated his vows with his eyes as much as his lips, his apparent sincerity almost tangible.

  Then it was her turn. Annelise succumbed to the moment, imagining the wedding was real. But with emotion clogging her throat, she could barely murmur her own responses.

  Before she knew it, the groom was putting his ring on her finger—the simple band he had chosen for her with great consideration. He gently rubbed his thumb over it, sending such a sensation of love through her that her knees felt weak.

  A few final words by the minister, and Erik lifted her veil and drew her to him in a kiss so astoundingly gentle yet passionate that it was like being kissed for the very first time. Now her knees actually did wobble. Only Erik’s strong arms prevented her from sinking to the floor.

  He hugged her, chuckling quietly in her ear.

  The receiving line seemed excruciatingly long as Erik and his beautiful bride greeted the individuals inching past, most of whom they had never met. Still, the congratulations and good wishes seemed sincere—even those from the German officers. In their case, the joviality probably resulted from being invited to a gathering where so many unattached lovelies graced the hall.

  Only one person gave him pause for concern. Rundstedt hung back on the sidelines, observing everything in silence. Did he suspect something? Or was he just being his usual overbearing self?

  When the Nazi finally stepped to the end of the line, Erik felt Annelise grip his arm. Though she appeared outwardly calm, he knew she was thankful that church members had whisked the children out of harm’s way, at least for now.

  “I read your wedding notice in the newspaper a few days ago,” the captain remarked, reaching them. He shook Erik’s hand in grudging courtesy. “So I must concede the ceremony makes it official. I won’t say the best man won. Perhaps merely the lucky one.”

  “Speaking of official,” Svend piped in from down the reception line, extracting a folded document from his breast pocket. “We need to catch the good reverend and get this marriage license signed.”

  Erik heard Annelise’s slight gasp. “You’re right.” He draped his arm around her shoulder, pretending to look around for the minister.

  “I see him.” Svend gestured to draw the man’s attention. “Excuse me, sir. We require a moment of your time.” He waved the paper in the air.

  Observing the Nazi as he approached, the pastor maintained a pleasant expression. He smiled at the newlyweds. “Of course. Come into my office.”

  “And since you’re standing right here,” Svend tipped his head at Rundstedt, “would you mind being the second witness?”

  Annelise didn’t dare venture a look at Erik as the foursome traipsed after the minister into his office. She fixed her attention on the man’s black robe instead. He knew what was at stake here. He’d even been reluctant to be a party to a fake wedding. But now this.

  He took his place behind the desk and held out his hand.

  Svend, completely unaware of the ramifications of the affair, grinned broadly and handed over the official document.

  The reverend took his good-natured time smoothing it out just so before turning it around for Erik and Annelise, as if even yet hoping for a last-minute reprieve for them. When none came, he picked up his fountain pen and offered it, his demeanor bland in the pregnant silence.

  Erik took the pen and with surprising confidence bent and signed his name. He then turned to Annelise, that bravado losing a little of its power as he locked gazes with her and held out the instrument to her.

  She knew she couldn’t show any hesitation, either. She took the pen.

  As she did, Erik closed his hand over hers. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, his gaze never wavering.

  The romantic gesture stopped her heartbeat for a second. But had he done it for her benefit, or the captain’s?

  When he released her hand, her fingers trembled. She steadied herself with her other hand and wrote her name below Erik’s.

  “Good going!” Svend boomed, snatching the pen from her. “That’s the last time you’ll ever sign your maiden name. From now on, you’re a Nielsen.” He scribbled his own signature, then handed the instrument to Rundstedt, who added his name and dropped the pen on the desk.

  The tiny sound echoed inside Annelise’s head like the closing of a great door. It was done.

  It was official.

  She was now Erik Nielsen’s wife.

  For real.

  “Time’s wastin’ away.” Svend Denison slapped one arm around her and the other around Erik and steered them toward the door. “Time to go to the yacht club for the party.”

  Chapter 7

  No one spoke in the big black touring car transporting Captain von Rundstedt, the newlyweds, and Svend to the marina. Nearing their destination, Erik noticed wedding guests already milling about. How ironic that he, the son of a lowly fisherman, would have his wedding reception at a yacht club and honeymoon aboard a luxurious pleasure craft. But then, nothing about this wedding day had been normal, not the least of which was that he had actually married Annelise. That, of course, would have to be dealt with later … after the honeymoon.

  Honeymoon. What an absurd thought.

  Beside him, Annelise stirred, and he filled his lungs with the tantalizing scent of her perfume.

  The car pulled into the parking area and stopped in close proximity to an immense yacht aglow with faint lights. Having expected a small, sleek, but cramped sailing boat, Erik could only stare at the beautiful ship. No wonder Svend’s family chartered out this incredible vessel. The upkeep alone must be exorbitant.

  Then Erik spied the German sentries, and grim reality returned full force. Since the Nazis no longer allowed the Danes to police their own docks, soldiers were positioned every dozen yards along the boardwalk. German naval officers were numbered among the guests, so the guards would likely remain in the background, but they appeared edgy while the throng of revelers gravitated between the yacht and the open French doors of the clubhouse.

  The driver turned off the engine, then got out to assist Annelise. Erik followed close behind. As he straightened, he spied a German patrol boat anchored beyond the marina slips. It was enormously gratifying to realize that with an official escort, no other Nazi ships would bother them in the heavily patrolled southern waters of the Baltic. Obviously Rundstedt had more influence than his rank would normally grant. According to a recent BBC report, the Germans shouldn’t be wasting military equipment on nonessential pursuits when they were having such a rough time trying to conquer Russia.

  Axel, smiling expansively as he emerged from the club, intercepted the arriving foursome. “I’ve got everything running smoothly,” he told Erik and Annelise. “You two go in and enjoy yourselves while you can. You’ll be sailing with the tide, and that’s barely an hour off. What took you so long, anyway?”

  “The photographer insisted we pose for a formal portrait before we left the church,” Annelise answered. “What a perfectionist. He must have taken a dozen different shots before he was satisfied.”

  “And they wouldn’t be legally married if it wasn’t for me,” Svend chimed in. “We almost forgot to get their signatures on the marriage license. But it’s all official now. Captain von Rundstedt and I acted as witnesses.”

  Axel cut a glance to his sister, then grinned in his easy way at Svend and the officer. “Lucky you two were there.”

  A wave of guilt over having signed the document swamped Erik momentarily. Sloughing it off, he put his arm around Annelise and steered her t
oward the music wafting from inside the building. “I do believe my beautiful bride owes me a dance.”

  “Thank you ever so much for the lovely wedding cake,” Annelise gushed, giving Erik’s aunt and uncle a parting hug. “I’ve never seen such a pretty one in my life.”

  “Think nothing of it, dear. Karl and I rarely have an opportunity to do something special for our Erik. It gave us such pleasure.” She beamed with pride, her heightening color glowing against her best navy dress.

  “And it has been our pleasure,” Erik said, “having you here today. Thank you for coming.”

  What if they knew this dream wedding was just part of the war effort? Annelise wondered, fighting tears.

  Axel strolled toward them, arm in arm with a fashionable young brunette Annelise had never seen before. “It’d be great if you two would board the yacht. Svend and his crew are waiting.”

  Annelise knew the meaning behind his casual statement. The clandestine switch of crew members had been successful and the children were tucked safely away below deck. As usual, her brother managed everything without her help. With that horde of people in constant motion, the guards couldn’t possibly keep everyone straight. Still, so many lives were at stake. “We should say our good-byes. It would be rude just to walk out.”

  “Don’t worry, little sis. I’ll take care of it.” Axel gestured to Erik with his chin.

  Erik slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s be off, sweetheart. I can’t wait to check out that boat.” Without waiting for her to respond, he ushered her out a side door leading to the boat slips.

  The German soldier at the gate didn’t bother checking their identification. “Congratulations!” he said in a thick Bavarian accent as they breezed past him.

  “Thank you,” Annelise called over her shoulder and clutched the long skirt of her gown in her hands. Her heels clicked on the hasty ascent up the wooden gangplank. Some wedding guests she didn’t recognize were coming down just then, and she exchanged pleasantries with them. “See you in a week or so.”