As he and Knud unloaded the large-handled cans and set them on the slatted platform, Shimon banged out the back door, munching on a spicy muffin. He ran after Sorena coming across the barnyard. “We’re not leaving before supper, are we?”
Axel chuckled. The growing boy had not lost his appetite. Mercifully, Shimon didn’t comprehend the kinds of senseless horrors his parents faced.
Knud looked much too athletic, muscling off a can in each hand as if he were lifting weights—plainly for Sorena’s benefit. “No. You’ll be needing a good hot meal in you first.”
Sorena looked up from a length of hose she was uncoiling next to the barn. “Why is that?”
Her voice, Axel noticed, had a pleasing huskiness to it, sounding nothing like the shrew she’d first seemed to be. Maybe that shrill tone hadn’t been a normal part of her nature. He shouldn’t have judged her so harshly during last night’s extreme threat.
“You’ll be crossing the sound tonight in a rubber raft.” Knud set down his cans and regarded her.
Axel frowned. He couldn’t have heard right. A rubber raft? “That’s the best Johann could do?”
“Yes.” Knud continued to study Sorena as he spoke. “Your friend said you’re lucky to get even that. Everything that floats has been put into service to take the Jews across.” He finally averted his gaze from the redheaded beauty. “You’ll be happy to hear, though, that the Germans weren’t as successful as they might have hoped. They managed to round up only a few folks. Thousands of Jews have already made it to safety.”
“Not my mama and papa,” Shimon lamented, his young voice full of hurt.
Bringing the hose to the men, Sorena detoured and came up behind the boy. She wrapped a motherly arm around his shoulders. “I know. And we won’t forget them. Will we, Axel?”
“Absolutely not.” Placing a can on the platform, he mustered a smile for the youngster. “Shimon, would you run in and find out when supper will be ready? I’m so hungry I could eat one of those cows I just milked.”
Axel waited until Shimon sprinted away before resuming the earlier subject with Knud. “What about transportation to the coast? It would be too risky to take my car.”
“True. Tell you what. If you’ll permit me to siphon the petrol out of it, I’ll drive you there. We’re only allotted enough for milk deliveries.” Knud turned to Sorena and straightened to a rather impressive stance. “I’ll take you also, if you still feel you must go. I’m sure that with Axel’s experience in the Resistance, he’s more than capable of seeing Shimon to safety. If they did happen to get caught, what help could you be if you were imprisoned, too?”
“He’s right, Sorena,” Axel agreed. No longer all that interested in ridding himself of the spirited redhead, Axel’s concern was solely for her safety. Her staying behind would be best … even if Knud’s offer had an underlying motive.
Sorena, dressed in dungarees and a heavy coat, sat scrunched between Knud and Axel on the truck seat, her knee knocking against the gearshift every time the tires hit a bump. As the vehicle sped through the night, the roar of the engine precluded all hope of conversation. For that she was grateful, considering neither man wanted her along on the forty-kilometer ride north to Helsinger.
Shimon had fallen asleep in Axel’s lap, with one leg draped across hers, shortly after they began the trip. She hoped he wouldn’t awaken until they reached their destination—the home of the Resistance worker who would take them to the raft.
Trying to keep her mind off the dangerous journey at sea awaiting them, Sorena toyed with the yarn hair of the rag doll she held and gazed out the window, counting the thinly scattered lights of the farmhouses they passed. Knud had been careful to slow down as they drove through the town of Hillerod, and it seemed the Lord had been looking after them, because they hadn’t had to detour around any roadblocks.
“I see some lights up ahead,” she said, pointing. “Is that Helsinger?”
“What?” Knud leaned closer.
“Helsinger,” she repeated more loudly in his ear.
“Yes. Axel!” he shouted, rousing Shimon in the bargain. “Give your little friend to Sorena. You get down on the floorboard.”
Sorena’s heart started pounding as she stared hard, trying to figure out what exactly Knud saw.
Axel, too, hesitated a moment, then did as he was told.
Knud reached into the crack behind the seat and pulled out a smelly dark tarp. “Sorena, cover Axel up. Then drape your legs across him and rest against the window as if you’re relaxing. Shimon, pull that cap down over your curls, grab hold of the doll Sorena is holding, and lean against her. Pretend to be asleep.”
After checking her own beret for stray hairs, Sorena tugged the boy close as she cut a glance over at Knud. “You didn’t have us do this at Hillerod.”
“Hillerod isn’t sitting next to the narrowest spot between us and Sweden, either. The Nazis keep a tight lock on this place.”
“The road. It’ll be blocked?”
“Most likely.”
“And you plan to go right up to it.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry. Leave it to me.”
Don’t worry! “Isn’t there some way we can drive around it?”
“No. Besides, that’s what they expect from folks who have something to hide.” It sounded plausible, especially since Knud seemed composed and sure of himself. But Sorena felt as if they were driving right into the barrel of a loaded cannon.
Axel, on the floorboard, squeezed her ankle. “Relax. Play it cool.”
Easier said than done. Within seconds, a bright spotlight zeroed in on them as a military truck edged out, blocking the road.
“I’ll do the talking,” Knud said, shifting into a lower gear.
“But we don’t have any papers!”
Shielding his eyes from the glare, he ignored her and slowed to a gradual stop just short of the Nazis. He rolled down his window, the motor idling.
A German soldier with a flashlight in one hand and a rifle in the other came up to the driver’s side of the farm truck. Another walked around to the rear.
The closest one hopped up onto the running board and searched the cab’s interior with his light.
Half frozen with fright, Sorena silently pleaded with God to help her appear calm and to blind the man to the bulky tarp concealing Axel.
The guard aimed his torch at Knud’s face. “What are you doing out on the road after curfew?” he demanded in his heavy German accent.
“Some of my friend Einar Klipping’s cows have come down with a fever. He asked if I could help him out. I’m delivering some milk to make up for his shortfall.”
The casual tone of his voice eased Sorena’s panic, but only slightly. She felt the truck dip as the other soldier climbed up into the bed. She had to stay calm, but with Axel beneath her feet and a Jewish boy clutching her waist, her every instinct spurred her to run for her life.
“Give me your papers.” Slinging his rifle strap over his shoulder, the guard stuck out a gloved hand.
“Sweetheart,” Knud said, offering Sorena a nonchalant smile, “get my authorization out of the glove compartment, would you?”
Noticing the tremor in her hand as she reached to comply, she quickly used the other to still it, then opened the glove box and retrieved the forms. “Here you are, dear.”
While the soldier scanned the documents with his light, the other German hopped off the back and joined his comrade. “Is only milk in back. Nothing more.”
His cohort gave a nod. “Good. And these papers seem to be in order.” He handed them back. “Now give me the woman’s.”
Sorena swallowed a gasp, her every sense on edge. Slowly sneaking a hand to the side, she wrapped her fingers around the door handle.
“Sweetheart, did you bring your identification?”
Her mouth dropped open. He was the one who was supposed to have all the answers. “No,” she shot back, outrage choking off her voice. “You said you’d get it.”
The guard looked from Knud to Sorena, then frowned and rolled his eyes. “I will let you through this time. But do not let me catch either of you without them again. Do you understand?”
“That I do. Thank you, sir.” Shifting into gear once again, Knud pulled slowly away.
Sorena heard some muffled huffing at her feet. Axel. Was he crying?
“You can get up now,” Knud announced. “It’s safe.”
Axel eased up from the cramped position. And he wasn’t crying but laughing. He scooted onto the seat, still chuckling. “Good job, Knud. Be sure to wait for the changing of the guard before you come back through here.”
His mirth obviously was infectious, because Knud joined him, then Shimon.
Sorena supposed that was as good a way as any to release the tension, though she’d prefer to cry. Or better yet, faint.
Finally the laughter tapered off, and Axel did something most unexpected. He pulled her and Shimon close, as if he truly cared. “Knud, I’d like to introduce you to my secret weapon. Miss Smart Mouth. No man can stand against it.”
Once the truck reached the outer edge of Helsinger, caught in the fingers of a wispy fog, Knud took a cobbled side road leading toward the sound. He stopped at a small cottage, whose address he said he’d been instructed to keep to himself.
“You’re to knock three times,” he told Axel. “Then two. When the door opens, ask for Peter.”
As soon as Axel piled out of the crowded cab with Sorena and Shimon, he checked up and down the street just to be sure no one was about. Then, after Knud drove away into the night, he followed the instructions. Fortunately, the person who answered the summons claimed to be Peter. The small trim man ushered Axel and his charges inside.
Axel had to duck to go through the low entrance. The smell of burning coal oil assaulted his nose, but the simple, dimly lit parlor was quite warm, considering the coastal dampness outside.
A woman of medium build in a faded pink chenille robe sat in a rocker near the gray stove. She looked up from her knitting and scoured the heavily dressed threesome as Shimon quickly hid the hated rag doll behind his back.
“Emma,” the man said, addressing his wife, “I’ll be gone a little while. You needn’t wait up for me.”
“Another of your midnight trysts?” the woman asked, her brows arched high in skepticism.
Her husband headed toward the back of the house without replying. His only words were for Axel and company as he gestured for them to follow. “Out this way.”
Wherever they were headed in the foggy darkness, the man didn’t waste time. He set a swift pace.
Axel hefted Shimon up onto his shoulders and hurried after Peter, trusting that Sorena would be able to keep up on her own. Would she call out if she couldn’t? She hadn’t uttered a word since he’d termed her Miss Smart Mouth. Knowing her, he’d probably hear plenty about it before this night was over. Still, he felt a niggling guilt for being so insensitive.
After a fast walk of about ten minutes, they started down a sandy slope toward the gentle sound of lapping water. Where the ground leveled out, the sand was damp, and tall reeds crowded the path on either side.
Peter slowed to a stop. “We’ll be leaving the trail here,” he said under his breath.
Axel stepped off into mush and reeds. He couldn’t imagine who could possibly hear them so far out in the marsh, but he appreciated the fellow’s caution nonetheless.
Behind him, Sorena gasped.
He knew she didn’t enjoy experiencing a second night of sloshing in mud.
As if understanding her plight, a muffled giggle came from Shimon as he nuzzled within the warmth of the woolen scarf Knud’s mother had insisted he wear.
Moments later, the man stopped. “We’re here. I’ve put some blankets in the raft. It’ll be bitter cold out there on the water.”
Axel strained his eyes but couldn’t see anything for the sea grass. He lowered Shimon to the soggy ground. “I’ll help our friend haul the boat down to the water. You stay back with Sorena and hang on to that doll. Could be we’ll need the money.”
When he joined their guide, the man had one end of the raft above the reeds, a rounded black silhouette against a horizon almost as dark.
Running his hand along the smooth rubber skin, Axel felt along for the opposite end. He found it much too soon. Grabbing the handle, he lifted it up and gauged the distance between him and Peter. “This isn’t more than six feet long.”
The man shrugged. “Best I could come up with on such short notice. The Germans are watching every craft they know about. Besides,” he added as he led the way toward the water, “this is less likely to be spotted. You can launch in water half a meter deep. The patrol boats won’t expect to find anyone crossing from here.” He paused. “Watch that you don’t drift toward the docks, though. The tide’s going in that direction. Fix your position on one of the stars and keep going straight.”
Trudging along behind him, Axel looked up into a sky of mostly clouds with a lone star peeking out here or there. He had limited experience at this sort of thing and didn’t relish having to row across the sound in such a dinky raft with only the illusive stars to guide them.
“I know the stars,” Sorena said quietly.
Her voice surprised Axel. He’d been unaware of her presence right behind them.
She touched his arm. “I’ll see we maintain a true course.”
“Once you get out in the sea lane,” Peter said, “there’s more than patrol boats to watch out for.”
More good news.
The man continued. “From what we hear, the Nazi wolf packs have been taking a real beating the last few months. Scores of their subs have been sunk or crippled. Something about the Allies having improved sonar. To keep us from observing the extent of their losses, they no longer come sailing in during broad daylight. Now they sneak in by night with no running lights. Watch for them, too. Even if they don’t see you, their wake could swamp the raft.”
“Right.” Axel caught his breath as he stepped ankle-deep into bone-chilling water, then recovered. “On my shortwave radio, I heard they’d taken major losses back in May. I’m glad to have it verified. We’re winning this war, you know.”
“Yes. We have to.” The man stopped and set down his end of the raft. “This is far enough. But before you set off, sir, I need a private word with you.”
“Sure.” Maybe the fellow had some word of Annelise and Grams. “Sorena, you and Shimon climb into the raft while I speak to our friend.”
Once they slogged the several yards to a drier surface, Axel was first to speak. “When you were contacted to help us, were you by any chance given word of my family? Did they reach Sweden safely?”
Peter shook his head. “No mention of anyone in particular, but my contact reported a miraculously successful night, and they hope to get the remaining people across in the next couple of evenings. I did hear some rather disturbing news, though. Remember all those Danish soldiers the Germans shipped off to work camps in August? A few of our boys escaped and made it back to Copenhagen. They said the Nazis were working the boys eighteen, twenty hours a day on starvation rations. Some have already died, and it won’t be much longer before the rest go, too. They’re faring no better than the Jews.”
Axel clenched his teeth. He couldn’t help but think of the Danish mothers and fathers, and what it must feel like to lose those sons who were the promise of the future. Then there were Shimon and all the other Jewish children he and his family had sheltered over the past three years. Every day that passed, the Germans turned more of them into orphans. “Yes, the Allies have to invade soon. With all the losses the Germans are taking on the Russian front, they’re getting frantic. And more vicious wherever they still have control.”
“Keep that in mind while you’re out on the water. No matter what, don’t let
them take you alive. You or your wife and son.”
Peter started back toward the raft before Axel could correct his misconception. But then, what did it matter? They’d probably never meet this fellow patriot again.
When the two of them reached the water, Axel saw that his two charges had settled into the small craft with Sorena holding it in place by grounding an oar. They looked impossibly vulnerable. Too vulnerable. This whole plan was insane. “Get out. Between the patrol boats, the subs, and the possibility of springing a leak in icy water, I can’t risk taking you two out there. We’ll hide out in Helsinger until a motorboat is available.”
Sorena swung to face him in the darkness. “Every minute we remain in Denmark we’re in danger. But even if we take our time, we can be across in four hours. It’s only seven kilometers across at this spot.”
“How would you know that?” The woman always had to argue.
“Because I’ve traveled these narrows transporting cargo hundreds of times. I’m the oldest of five daughters. There were no boys in the family, so I started going to sea with my father by the time I was eight.”
Shimon piped up. “You did? Really? When you were my age?”
“That’s right.” She focused her attention on the boy. “Taking my turn at the wheel and everything. Of course,” she added, her voice becoming testy, “I wasn’t required to dig out of the mud.”
She never missed a shot.
Sorena turned back to Axel. “Have a little faith. I know these waters. I can get us safely across. Besides, I need to get someplace where I can earn some money as soon as possible. Now that my father and my husband are …” She swallowed. “The funds I send my family are all they have to live on. The authorities sank our freighter.”
Husband? Dead? And her father? The Germans had taken so much from her, and he’d been angry and upset about losing a few possessions. “Don’t worry about your family. I’ll see they’re provided for. But this is much too dangerous. God entrusted you to me, and I won’t risk your lives like this.”
“If it was just you, you’d take the risk.”
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 43
