Island of Saints (22 page)

Helen was amazed at the relationship developing between Josef and Danny. Somehow, despite their frightening introduction that day at Helen's cottage, the two were becoming fast friends. In addition, when it became apparent that Danny had evidently blocked the most noteworthy part of that day from his memory, Wan also relaxed around Josef.

As far as the deputy was concerned, neither Josef nor Helen had mentioned his mistake, Danny, it seemed, had forgotten it, and
he
certainly wasn't going to bring it up, so . . .

Just as Helen predicted, Wan became Josef's friend and advocate. Though it made her nervous at first, she was gradually getting used to seeing Wan and Josef together.

To Helen's amazement, it was Wan who loaned an old car to Josef—never thinking that his new friend might not have a license to drive. It was also Wan who introduced Josef to the Nelsons and the Callaways—local families with long traditions in fishing and shrimping. Josef learned the trade from them, worked on their boats, and soon was a welcome presence with the other men as they labored together. Most afternoons would find Josef, in line at the fish house with his day's catch, jabbering away in the accent that so amused the crews or listening to the stories of the boat captains as they dumped thousands of pounds of seafood on the conveyors and complained about the scarcity of shrimp and fish. It certainly was better, they assured Josef, in the “old days.”

Just as Josef had hoped, his new life was taking shape. Helen was happier, calmer, and beginning to suspect there might be more to her friendship with Josef than she'd allowed herself to imagine. It could have gone on forever. And they had every reason to suspect that it might.

As so often happens, however, even those who do not
expect
the worst find themselves unable to fend it off. And so it was on the morning of Christmas Eve, 1942, during what should have been the most hopeful time of their lives, that Josef and Helen looked up and saw their safe corner of the world altered in the blink of an eye.

CHAPTER 14

WHEN HELEN CAME OUT OF THE COTTAGE, SHE WAS surprised to see Josef standing beside the truck. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “I thought I was supposed to meet you by the road.”

As Helen descended the stairs, Josef gallantly opened the door of the truck for her. “I was up,” he said. “I decided to walk. Last chance for a while. Rain is coming.” He helped her in, shut the door, and ran around to the other side. Though Josef had Wan's old car, it didn't run well, and he used it only to transport him to the docks and back. Almost every time he went into town, Josef rode with Helen.

“Really?” Helen asked, leaning out the truck's open window and scanning the sky for clouds. “It doesn't look like rain.”

“On its way, I assure you. Drop in temperature . . . wind shift. Bad weather on its way.”

“Gee,” Helen said as she slipped the clutch and gunned the old truck down the driveway, “I hope Santa has his rain jacket!”

The evening before, meeting as usual on the beach, the two had made plans to come into town together for Christmas Eve. Helen had to work only the lunch shift, but wanted to spend some time shopping in Foley before going to work. Shrimping had been slow most of December so Josef had no problem taking a day off—and besides, he was looking forward to spending an entire day with Helen.

They stopped at the café to ask Billy if there was anything he needed from town, and as they parked in front of the small building, Danny came out to say hello. “Merry Christmas, Josef! Merry Christmas, Helen!”

“Merry Christmas to you, Danny,” they said in unison.

“My mama has a present for you, Helen, but I don't. I have one for Josef. Here,” Danny said as he pulled a small package from his pocket and gave it to Josef. “I made it for you. Open it.”

When the paper was torn away, Josef was speechless. He held the item up for Helen to see. “Oh, Danny,” she gasped. “You made this?” He nodded proudly.

It was an intricate carving, about the size of a man's finger, of a speckled trout. Its proportion was flawless, the detail incredible. Josef was stunned. “Danny . . . I don't know what to say. Thank you. It's beautiful. I didn't know you could do this.”

“I didn't know I could do it, either,” Danny said. “It's my first one. I did it with my daddy's pocketknife. Are you coming inside? My mama saw you drive up and said if you are going to town, could you get a sack of flour and a tin of lard from the store? She said you would know what kind to get. Are you coming inside?”

“Well, Danny,” Helen said as Josef waved at Margaret through the front window, “I don't have to come inside now. You've taken care of all the details for me. But I'll be back in a couple of hours.” Then she wiggled her eyebrows at Danny and added, “We have some errands to run for Santa Claus!”

“Okay! Okay!” Danny rubbed his hands together excitedly. “I'm gonna tell my daddy!” Before he went back into the café, however, Danny wrapped Josef in a big bear hug. “I love you, Josef. Merry Christmas again. Merry Christmas again to you, too, Helen. I will make a present for you next year.”

As they watched the young man make his way back inside, Helen shook her head in wonder and took the carved trout from Josef, examining it again. “I love you, Josef,” she murmured softly, repeating the words that had come from Danny, surprising them both only moments before. She handed the carving back. Looking carefully at the man before her, Helen asked, “Why does he love you, Josef?”

Josef didn't know how to answer the question and stood silently, a bit uncomfortable, unsure about that himself. Helen answered for him. “Because you possess a good and true spirit,” she explained. “Danny senses that you are not concerned about what he is . . . only about what he can become. Danny does not process shades of gray. He sees life only in black and white. In a way he could never define, he perceives you to be worthy of his love. I believe that too.”

Josef was still, held prisoner by Helen's gaze. After her words had been spoken, the silent seconds that followed seemed to last an eternity. Neither moved. Josef wanted to take her in his arms, to hold this woman, to kiss her. Helen thought he might. Instead, the words that came out of
his
mouth were, “I think I'll get him a pocketknife.”

Helen's eyebrows raised. “What?” she said.

“I . . . Ahhh . . . I would like to get Danny a pocketknife. He said he used Billy's to carve the fish. And it is beautiful, certainly, just like it is, but he should have his own. Knife. He should have his own knife. And I can get one
for
him.” Josef was babbling and knew it, but he couldn't find an exit line. Helen found it for him.

“Josef,” she said, placing her hand on his arm, “let's go get one.”

Her touch flustered Josef, and it showed. He looked at Helen as if he had no idea what she was talking about, and she struggled to keep from smiling. “Josef. Get in the truck. Let's go get a knife for Danny.”

Josef blinked. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, let's do.”

Crosby's Drugs on Laurel Avenue was decorated with large multicolored lights. Reds, blues, greens—it was the only business in Foley that had been able to obtain these modern bulbs, and the effect was startling. It was as beautiful as anything in New York, everyone agreed. Roy Musso, the pharmacist who wore a Santa hat, added to the atmosphere. Crosby's Drugs epitomized Christmas to the local people, and the threat of rain or the fact that there had never, ever been the slightest possibility of snow—even though the temperature
had
dropped all the way to fifty-six degrees—dampened their enthusiasm not one bit.

On the second shelf next to the Little Orphan Annie Official Decoder Rings, there were several pocketknives from which to choose. Josef settled on a dark bone-handled Schrade that had two blades. At sixty cents, it was expensive, but Josef had the money and was determined that Danny should have a knife equal to his obvious talent.

As they waited for the gift to be wrapped, Josef smiled mysteriously and asked, “Would it be possible to separate for a bit? I have some shopping I would like to accomplish on my own, if you don't mind.”

Helen feigned a display of innocent confusion. “Why can't I go with you?” she teased. “Aren't we having fun?”

Josef lifted his chin and looked away to demonstrate the fact that he was unmoved by her plea. “Sorry,” he said. “What did you tell Danny? I am on an errand for Santa Claus!”

Helen laughed, but as she noticed a sudden change in Josef's expression, her laughter died away. Josef had turned his head toward the drugstore's big picture window while talking with Helen, but was now staring intently through it at something that had captured his undivided attention. “Josef,” she said, suddenly concerned, “what is it? What's wrong?” She tried to follow his gaze.

“Who is that man?” he asked. Josef had an uneasy feeling, but could not place the figure huddled inside the cab of a heavily loaded flatbed truck. He was familiar somehow. Too familiar.

“What man?” Helen asked, straining to see. “Where?”

“The black truck with the cargo boxes . . . across the street.”

Helen focused now and saw an old man. He was dirty—she could see that from where she was standing. He wore a baseball cap, had a long gray beard, and apparently was parked, just sitting there, doing nothing. “I know who that is,” Helen said, involuntarily curling her lip. “He's only been in the café a couple of times, and Billy waits on him. He won't let any of us do it. Billy can't stand him.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Kramer. It's ‘something' Kramer. I've heard Wan and the others talk about him too. They don't like him at all.”

Josef had not moved. “What does he do?”

Helen shrugged. “Ahhhh . . . fishing? I think?”

“Does he have a boat with a red top?”

“Josef, I don't know. You're scaring me,” Helen said. “What is this about? Why do
you
recognize him?”

Josef exhaled. His mind was already working furiously when he answered. “Because,” he said, “he has a boat with a red top.”

Moving quickly, Josef swept the gift-wrapped package from the counter and took Helen's arm. “We must leave
now
,” he said. “Hurry. This man must not see me.”

Walking fast to keep up as they moved toward the door, Helen was frightened. “Josef,” she said, “what's this about? Who is he to you?”

“Let's get out of here and I'll tell you later,” he answered.

The truck was parked less than twenty feet from the drugstore's front door. It would be a simple matter, Josef knew, to cover his face with a hand as if to shield his eyes or straighten his hair and step quickly to the vehicle. They would be away in seconds. Kramer wasn't even looking in their direction.

Helen was close behind Josef as he ducked his head, threw a hand to his brow, and powered through the door. She bumped him when he stopped. Looking around Josef, Helen could see that he had literally run into a man who was entering the store. The man had come around the corner beside the entrance and simply gotten caught in their stampede.

Helen placed her hand on Josef's back, preparing to continue on out the door, but Josef didn't move. Helen pushed gently and maneuvered to the side a bit in an effort to see Josef's face. No one had said, “Excuse me,” or “I'm sorry.” In fact, neither man had moved at all.

“Josef?” she said hesitantly. But Josef did not respond. He was not being rude or inattentive. In his defense, Josef had never even heard Helen's voice. Josef's focus at that moment was narrowed to a pinpoint as his heart hammered in his ears. It was the sound of his life being torn apart, but still, he did not move. He was frozen by the face of the man in front of him . . . the face of Ernst Schneider.

AS THE BLUE CHEVY TRUCK, ALREADY POINTED TOWARD THE south, screeched away in that direction, Schneider ran across the street. “Go,” he said, leaping into the flatbed cab and slamming the door behind him. “Go! Follow them!”

“Calm down,” Kramer said as he made a slow U-turn across the middle of the street. “I saw you over there. I saw them two run. Won't do 'em no good.”

“What do you mean?” Schneider demanded. “And hurry up! Let's go!”

“Hey, boy!” Kramer growled as he suddenly lifted his foot from the accelerator, slowing the truck even more. “You don't talk to me that way. You do . . . we gon' have problems. I
ain't
hurrying up 'cause I know where to find 'em. And I
ain't
hurrying up 'cause you ain't gon' do nothin' to 'em with me around. I ain't gon' be a part of moppin' up your messes.”

Ernst Schneider seethed, but he said nothing. He had only two weeks left in the miserable place anyway, and he was too smart by far to be lured into a confrontation with an imbecile like Harris Kramer. In a way, however, Schneider identified with the man.
You do not talk to me that way,
either,
he said silently to the filthy man driving the truck.
You are correct. We will have problems.

Schneider planned to kill Kramer anyway before he left.
Only two more weeks,
he mused.
Almost finished. And now
this.
Schneider shook his head as he saw Josef's face in his mind's eye.
How could this have happened?

Last July, Schneider's coded message aboard the U-166 had ordered him ashore. There he was to use a crystal set—a radio—that had already been constructed in the attic of a fish house to contact and direct U-boats toward any merchant ships or troop transports departing Mobile Bay. Further, he was to direct fire on any vessel of
any
kind moving east or west, into or out of the Mississippi River basin. Transportation ashore, he was informed, would be provided by a man already in place—the owner of the fish house.