Simple Faith (13 page)

The only thing Anja could think to do was to laugh. Peter’s kiss had ignited a fire in her that she’d believed had died with Benjamin. Up to now she had been able to rationalize any hint of attraction she felt for Peter as the result of being overtired or as something that arose out of her concern for his safe return to England and eventually to his family in America. Up to now she had shrugged off Lisbeth’s none-too-subtle hints that perhaps the time had come for Anja to consider a new future for herself and Daniel—one that included the possibility of marriage and even more children. As if such a thing could simply be wished for and it would happen.

But with one kiss, he had made a lie of everything she had tried to tell herself about her emotions when it came to this American flyboy. To have feelings for Peter Trent was ridiculous, impossible, insane. And she simply would not permit such feelings to cloud the serious work ahead of them both.

“That was close,” she said as she glanced down the street to where the two soldiers were turning a corner.

“I doubt they would have questioned us anyway,” Peter replied. “They’re young and—”

“Sometimes it’s the younger ones you need to watch out for. They can be instilled with a false sense of power—well, in reality not so false. They have the power to question, to arrest, to shoot you in the street if they decide that’s what is called for.”

She was instructing him now, and she felt the tension of annoyance tighten the muscles in his arm as they walked back to the café. “Okay, I get it,” he muttered, speaking in English.

“I just wouldn’t want—”

“Just drop it.”

“I don’t see why you are so annoyed. I am just trying to—”

“Knock off the lectures, Anja. Maybe kissing you wasn’t the best choice, but give me credit at least for thinking fast, okay?”

Aside from the topic under discussion, it was a strange exchange because she had continued speaking to him in German while he had reverted to English, and she wasn’t sure he was aware he had made the switch.

“You do know that you are speaking to me in your native tongue,” she said as they stepped inside the café and stopped to place the umbrella in its stand and shake off the rain from their outer garments.

“I … I mean
Ich …
”

“Too late,” she said. “If this had been a real test, you would be on your way to Gestapo headquarters by now.

“I’ll just go say goodnight to Josef and Lisbeth,” she added. And she trudged up the stairs without waiting for him as she normally did.

“Anja?” His voice was edged with an apology. “I’ll be ready. You can trust in that.”

“Good. Because by this time next week, you’ll most likely be in Paris, and I won’t be there to lecture you … or help you if it comes to that.”

In Brussels, Peter’s time with Anja was more frequent and extended than it had been on the occasions when she came to the farm. Then she had been focused on his physical health—frowning when she did not see improvement and even when he had shown off his ability to stand without support.

“You have to be able to walk,” she had told him. “For many miles over impossible terrain through the mountains.”

“I’ll get there,” he’d replied, irritated at her lack of enthusiasm for the tiny progress he had fought so hard all week to show her. Everybody in the farmhouse was so solemn—even the kid.

Josef and Lisbeth were a welcome change once he moved to the hiding place above their café. At least Lisbeth was. He especially enjoyed talking with her, mostly because she was American and had some of the same memories of growing up there that he did. But other than when it was deemed safe for him to come to the kitchen, it was always Josef or Anja who climbed through the maze of fake crates and up the narrow winding stairs to his room. With her advanced pregnancy, the trek was too much for Lisbeth.

After the night of that kiss, Anja continued to be all business in her visits—even when they took their walks. She was constantly giving him instructions about what he should and should not do. “Don’t put your hands in your pockets when you are in a group or waiting inside a shop,” she said. “It’s a very American thing to do and will give you away.”

“Got it.”

“Do you smoke?”

“No. Why?”

“Americans hold smoking materials such as cigarettes and matches different from the way such things are held in Europe. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Well, I don’t smoke, so you can cross that worry off your list.”

“And don’t—”

“Anja, for once could we just take a walk and talk about normal things—the weather, the supper we just had, anything but this constant lecture?”

She went silent and trudged along beside him as if the two of them were headed for the gallows instead of out for a walk on what had turned out to be a fairly mild late January evening. He waited for her to speak, and when she didn’t, he knew that she was annoyed with him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, speaking in German to pacify her. “It’s just that—”

“It is important for you to prepare,” she interrupted. “You have no idea what could happen to you. I—we are just trying to keep you alive and get you back to your unit.”

“Then make me understand, Anja. Tell me the things that you have seen and endured. I know you and Josef and Lisbeth have been through a great deal, but not one of you ever speaks of it. How am I supposed to—”

“We do not speak of it because we wish to move forward. We do not live in our pasts but in our present and future. All you need to know about the things that I have seen or experienced is that they were more horrid than anything you could imagine, and because of them we are uniquely qualified to help you avoid experiencing such horrors firsthand. You may see us as simple country people who—”

“I see you and Josef and Lisbeth as three of the most courageous people I have ever known. I see you especially as someone who by rights should be focusing all her attention on her son and grandparents but who takes time she could spend with them to teach me.”

“Then let me teach you,” she grumbled.

“Not tonight. Back home we have a part of our school day called
recess
. It’s a time for the students to go out to play and get to know each other. Let’s have a little recess from our lessons.”

“You want to play a game?” Her tone told him how exasperated she was with him.

“No, I want to get to know you better. Tell me about your childhood—before you met your late husband, before you had children, before the war.”

They walked on in silence, but finally she drew in a breath and said, “My parents died when I was very young. My father was killed in battle during the Great War. My mother officially died in the flu epidemic, but I believe the cause was a broken heart. I was an only child and was raised by my grandparents.” The words came in short declarative sentences that ended with this last bit of information.

“You lived in Denmark?”

“On the island of Bornholm. My grandfather was a fisherman. My grandmother raised chickens and kept a garden.”

“So you are a child of the sea.”

“Did you grow up near the sea?” she asked. It was the first time she had shown the slightest curiosity about his life before the war.

“Nope. The mountains—foothills really. In the United State people who grew up where I did are called ‘hillbillies’ and—”

“Like billy goats in the hills?”

Peter laughed. It felt so good just to laugh. “Kind of like that, I guess. I never thought of it that way.”

“You Americans have many strange names for things.”

“And
you
are changing the subject. We were talking about your childhood, not mine.”

She shrugged. “It was not so different. I went fishing with my grandfather, and when the weather was warm, I would go swimming.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “It’s been a very long time since I went for a swim.”

“What kinds of things did you do with your grandmother?”

Anja actually giggled and seemed not to notice that he had switched to English. “She tried to teach me to cook. Unfortunately, it is not something I am good at.”

“I can’t imagine anything that you wouldn’t be good at.”

She let that compliment pass but gave herself away when her voice cracked on her next question. “Did you play sports?”

“When you live in a small town like I did and you have any athletic ability at all, it’s practically mandatory. I lettered in football, basketball, baseball, and track.”

“What is this
lettered
?”

“It means I got an award—a commendation of sorts.”

“Because you won all the games?”

“No, because I played—everybody got a letter.”

“And who wrote this letter, and what did it say?”

“Oh no, not that kind of letter—it was the emblem of our high school—a large
S
for Shakers—our team name. Get it? Saltville was the name of the town and we were the Shakers.”

“Your team name was a kitchen item?”

Peter was beginning to understand why people around the world struggled to communicate with each other. “It’s hard to explain, but when I get back home, I’ll send you a picture. You know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words?”

“You speak in riddles—and in English. You have me speaking your language,” she added, horrified at the realization. She glanced around nervously. “You know better than that,” she said—this time in German.

Peter just smiled, and in the darkness he was glad she couldn’t see, because if she caught him smiling, she would not be pleased. But the fact was that he had—without intending to—caught Anja in a mistake. The woman was human after all.

When they returned, Josef and Lisbeth were sitting at the kitchen table. Mikel stood by the window, his back to them. Peter could practically smell that something had changed—something major. “What?” he asked, directing his question to Josef.

Lisbeth stood up and went to stand with Anja. “It’s your grandfather,” she told her. “He has been taken in for questioning.”

Peter heard Anja suck in her breath. “When?”

“About an hour ago. Mikel—”

Anja went to her friend, forcing him to turn and face her. “What happened?”

“Schwarz—the Gestapo officer who came to the farm searching for our friend? He’s been reassigned to headquarters here in Brussels.”

“He knows that I work here in Brussels. Why would he take my grandfather?”

“He’s toying with you. He knows he could take you in for questioning any time, but the likelihood that you will give him the information he wants—information that he knows full well that you have—is slim to nonexistent. So he goes after someone you want to protect—your grandparents, Daniel—”

“Daniel?” Anja’s fist went to her mouth.

Josef stepped forward. “The man is proving a point, Anja. He won’t harm Daniel—at least not now. He’ll start with your grandfather, hoping in your need to protect him you will take his place and talk.”

“And if I don’t?”

Josef looked away. “He’ll move on to your grandmother probably and eventually to perhaps us and others you care about. He’ll save Daniel until there’s no one else for him to threaten you with because he knows that you know that Daniel is always a possibility.”

“I’m so sorry, Anja,” Lisbeth murmured.

“I have to go to there—to wherever they are holding my grandfather.”

“Look, it’s me they want,” Peter said. “So I’ll go.”

“Oh, that’s right—play the hero and get us all arrested,” Mikel said. He turned away again, his fingers clutching the edge of the sink as if he wanted to break it off.

“He’s only trying to help,” Anja said, but Peter could see that she was distracted and had defended him out of habit. “No, we must leave for Paris tonight—Peter and I will go together. We can pose as husband and wife, and Daniel can—”

“Daniel will be safer at the orphanage,” Josef said. “If you and Peter are captured, then he will not be involved.”

“But what about my grandparents?”

“Once he knows you are no longer in Brussels, Schwarz will have no further interest in them. He will—”

“Why wouldn’t he think that refusing to release Olaf might bring Anja back?” Peter asked. “Why wouldn’t he go after Daniel?”

“The nuns will protect Daniel,” Mikel replied impatiently. “We are wasting precious time here.” He turned his attention solely to Anja. “You have to do this. You must leave tonight for Paris. I’ll make sure that your grandfather is released.”