Whisper on the Wind (18 page)

Edward took that moment to study his mother. She’d told him consistently not to let hate get the best of him, even though he believed to the core of his soul that she hated them too. And yet, just now, as she looked at this soldier, he didn’t see what he’d always seen before in her eyes. Something was different.

Soon the Major began to struggle again with his cane and then made his way from the room. He paused as he passed Edward’s mother and briefly touched her forearm. “I know this has been difficult, Frau Kirkland, but I beg you to try sleeping tonight. You’ve seen that your boy has not been harmed. I promise you, he will be returned.”

“Promise, Major?” She sounded as skeptical as Edward felt. “How can one part of the web you mentioned guarantee anything for another?”

“Well said. I suppose I spoke out of compassion. Suffice it to say, then, I shall do everything in my power to see that your son is returned as quickly as possible. It’s already in the works, so to speak.”

17

The latest injustice committed by the German Imperial Army is that of the seizure of our young men and the unmitigated gall of their leaders to expect us to provide them with lists of names of those whom they may seize! Stand firm, fellow Belgians, for truly the Germans are revealing to the rest of the world what a barbarous, unconscionable race they are.

La Libre Belgique

“Did you hear something?”

Isa lifted her head from the cradle of her arms resting on the kitchen table, but all she’d heard was Genny’s voice. Her gaze fell on Edward, who was sleeping on the floor with his back against the wall.

Then Isa heard it. “The door! Edward!” Her call or the act of scrambling to her feet awakened him and the three rushed from the kitchen. Isa could see through the glass that it was already morning, and the sun shone behind two silhouettes on the other side. One of those silhouettes was roughly the size of Jonah.

“It’s him!” She fairly sang the two words.

Genny pulled open the door and Jonah was in her arms.

“I apologize for the early arrival,” came the familiar voice of the Hauptmann who had been there last night. “But I assumed you would want him back as soon as possible.”

He was an intrusion upon the moment, and Isa refused to look him in the eye despite his gaze on her.

“Thank you for bringing him to us,” Genny said, still holding Jonah.

At last Jonah stepped back, no doubt seeing Edward in the vestments of a priest.

Edward pulled him away from his mother and spoke before the boy could utter a word. “So, young cousin, how was your night in prison? You realize this will be quite a tale for all of your friends?”

“Most of them were there, and now they’re angry with me because their parents are angry with them.”

“Well, you can tell your own children about it, then, someday when you have them.”

Edward led him away, no doubt to brief Jonah on his new identity.

Isa slipped her arm through Genny’s. Then, remembering they weren’t alone, she glanced again toward the Hauptmann, who lingered in the doorway.

“I was glad to be of assistance,” he said. “And if I may say, I continue to be at your service. If you need anything, simply ask for me at the Kommandantur.”

“Thank you, Hauptmann . . . I’m sorry,” Genny said with a little laugh. “I’m afraid in all of the commotion last night, I don’t recall your name.”

He clicked his heels in a formal salute. “Hauptmann Rudiger von Eckhart.” But during his introduction he looked from Genny to Isa, where his gaze remained.

Isa looked away.

“I must go,” he said, “but I hope I may call again—to check on the progress of our Major von Bürkel. Some of us feel his recuperation has gone on long enough, and we hope to persuade him to come to the Kommandantur a few hours a day.”

Genny glanced up the stairway at her left. “I doubt he’s up and about this early, Hauptmann, but I will see that he’s told of your inquiries.”

“Very well. Then I wish you good day.”

He bowed again, once to Genny and then to Isa. “Good day to you,
mademoiselle
,” he said softly and then, at last, took his leave.

Edward had rejoined them just as Isa closed the door. “I’m glad he’s gone,” she said.

“Where is Jonah now?” Genny asked.

“In the kitchen with Clara,” Edward told her, “who is no doubt feeding him more than whatever portion you’re each allowed.”

“I’m going to see that he’s all right and then put him—and myself—to bed. I suggest the two of you get some sleep as well, after such a long night.”

Isa nodded, but she no longer suffered the fatigue she’d felt a while ago, trying unsuccessfully to rest in a chair, still worrying over Jonah. And now here she was, alone with Edward. Adrenaline spread from somewhere in her middle, shooting out to her limbs, tingling her fingers and toes.

“What we should do is properly thank God Jonah’s all right. When Mr. Whitlock’s clerk told me about the deportations . . .” She shivered, pretending leftover worries to be the cause of her jitters.

He nodded.

“Hmm . . . you didn’t deny God’s involvement in bringing Jonah to safety. Have you come back to acknowledging His existence, after all?”

He grinned. “Must be the effect of the new disguise.”

“One that will allow you to visit now, since even the Major knows you as part of the family.”

“This doesn’t change anything, Isa.”

“It could. I could show you the room right now.”

He stepped closer. “You did the right thing in coming to me, and I’m grateful for the money. But I want nothing to do with that room. And furthermore, don’t use any more of your money; you’ll need it for when you leave.”

“When we all leave, don’t you mean?”

He didn’t answer but took his leave by way of the front door.

* * *

Edward went straight to Jan’s. Since the most recent arrests, Jan had taken a new address and with that yet another identity: he was now a baker for the CRB, a profession that made him practically exempt from German interest or attention.

Edward made sure no one was around when he entered the seven-story apartment building. Some of his clothes were at Jan’s, and Edward needed to take at least one set of street clothes with him to the church, where he would spend much of his time from now on. But he couldn’t very well nap on a pew bench dressed as he was, so perhaps he’d snatch a few hours of rest at Jan’s before asking Father Clemenceau where he was to quarter himself in his new identity.

Jan was just emerging from his bedroom, fully dressed as if ready to go out.

“Going somewhere?”

Jan straightened the collar on his shirt as he spoke. “I was about to look for you, actually. Is there news of Jonah?”

Edward rubbed his eyes as he removed the three-edged black biretta from his head and loosened the cincture at his waist. Then he started on the buttons . . . all thirty-three of them. One for each year Christ was on earth—even Edward remembered the symbolism of that. But at the moment thirty-three buttons seemed too much trouble. All he wanted to do was change his clothes and get some sleep.

“Jonah is home. I’m going to sleep a couple hours, if you don’t mind.”

Jan didn’t reply, only stood in Edward’s way. Edward looked at him expectantly, too tired to be annoyed.

“Last night Isabelle Lassone mentioned a room in her home where she’d hidden her money. When I asked about it, she said it was a safe room.”

Fatigue no longer outweighed annoyance. His pulse picked up. “Nothing is safe with a German Major living there.”

“Exactly what I thought,” Jan said. “But when I asked her, she seemed certain—”

“It’s out of the question.” Edward stepped around Jan to go to the empty bedroom.

“Why? What kind of room is it? How big is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I want to see it.”

“We can’t use it, Jan. So just leave it.”

Jan looked at Edward with a snort. “I didn’t know you thought so little of the paper. A paper you said you’d give your life for, if it came to that.”

“I said I would give my life, not anyone else’s. That’s where my
mother
lives, Jan. Do you think I’d put a press under her roof? Would
you
?”

“I know what I’d do. I’d let
them
decide.”

Edward shook his head, turning away and continuing with the buttons.

Jan circled around. “Why not? Don’t they have a right to decide what they’ll risk and what they won’t? Isn’t Belgium theirs, too? Or do you make all the decisions for them, the way you’ve done for Rosalie and me?”

“If ever I’ve made a decision, it’s because one needed to be made, and neither one of you seemed inclined to do it.”

“Is that the way you see it? Fine. But you’re not even giving them a chance.”

“The simple act of asking puts pressure on them to make what they
think
will be the right decision. It’s unfair to expect them to sleep above an illegal press or comp room.”

“It’s no greater risk than you’ve taken.” Jan took a step closer so that his eyes were near level with Edward’s. “It’s their decision, Edward. Not yours.”

Then Jan turned away, heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To Rosalie’s.”

Now it was Edward’s turn to head Jan off, though it took some doing to move quickly with unfamiliar priest’s garb hampering every step. “This matter is closed. No need to talk to Rosalie about it.”

“Too late,” Jan said with a crooked smile. “I did that last night after you left. And I’m afraid you’ve been outnumbered. She agrees with me.”

He opened the door and left.

With a moan of purest frustration, Edward refastened the few buttons he’d loosed, retied the cincture around his waist, and placed the biretta back on his head. If they were going to confront Isa with a proposal about the room, he intended to be there. First.

* * *

“Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle.”

Groggy, Isa opened her eyes to see Clara just inside her bedroom door.

“Clara?”

“I am so sorry to awaken you, but Monsieur Edward—that is, Father Antoine—he insisted.”

Isa sat up, rubbing her eyes so they would open. “Edward? He’s back?”

“He’s downstairs. I told him you were sleeping—”

“That’s all right, Clara. I’ll see him at once.”

“Yes,
mademoiselle
.” She helped Isa to dress.

Minutes later, Isa passed the Major’s room slowly as she moved toward the stairs. Satisfied that he must still be asleep, she made her way quietly to the first-floor parlor.

“Edward?”

He turned from the window and came to stand directly in front of her. “Jan and Rosalie are coming here to talk to you.”

“Why? If they need anything for the paper, it’s certainly all right—”

Edward shook his head, going back to the window and peering through a slat of the shutter as if looking for someone. “You talked to Jan about the room.”

She nodded, but even as she did, she saw his anger. Someone else might not see it; surely his voice was reasonable, his manner calm. But the narrowing of his lips and the inability to look her in the eye gave him away.

So when he turned to her and grabbed her by the shoulders, she was not surprised. “How could you do it, Isa? With my mother living here, and Jonah? I thought you loved them too.”

“I do!”

“And so you’re willing to risk their lives? Because of your own naive wish to be some kind of Belgian hero?” He kept his voice low but the harsh tone made up for the lack of volume.

“No, of course not! I only thought—”

“You couldn’t possibly be thinking correctly if you’ve even considered such a foolish thing. Shall I tell you the names of those who’ve been arrested, deported to Germany, or sent to the firing squad in connection with this? Do you think your father’s money will make you immune? Hardly. In German eyes, we’re all equal—equally worthless, unless our lives, or deaths, further their regime.”

He let her go, looking again out the window. “They’ll be here shortly, and when they arrive, you’ll refuse them. You’ll have Clara send them away at the door because there must be no possible connection between this house and them. Do you understand?”

“Edward,” she said softly, “I know you want to protect your family. And if you think it’s too dangerous, then perhaps your mother and Jonah might consider returning to Viole’s. But it’s not really your place to protect this house or your mother or Jonah. Or me, for that matter, if that ever occurred to you. It’s God’s. We’re all in His hands, not yours. So is
La Libre Belgique
.”

Now his face reddened and then turned hard. “Maybe you’re willing to trust a God who obviously cannot—or will not—step in when the world’s gone mad, but I’m not.”

“You cannot discount the Lord. Your faith is still in you, if you would just listen to it.”

He said nothing, but his level gaze frightened her. Was he not in the least ashamed to have spoken so harshly against the same God he himself had once introduced her to?

“Why is it acceptable for you to take risks, but not anyone else?”

“It’s the degree of risk. This is your home, Isa. You wouldn’t have any hope for defense if evidence for involvement with the paper is found.”

“When you first decided to help distribute this paper, didn’t you ask yourself how far you’d be willing to go? if it was worth it?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t you think others have the right to do that too?” She put a hand on one of his. “Before I ever returned, I knew what I wanted to do. I love Belgium, Edward. It’s more home to me than anyplace else, and right now it’s sitting under an army that’s trying to stamp out everything I love. All of Belgium wakes up every morning to a foreign army telling her what to do. They’ve stripped the factories, stolen money from the banks, requisitioned everything from copper pots to wool. The only thing left to us that the Germans can’t control is what we think—and so it’s words they fear, because they know as long as the spirit of Belgium is alive they haven’t really conquered us or our faith. The only way to keep that spirit going is to keep the
paper
going. It’s worth every risk.”