From the Ashes of War, page 15
part #3 of The War Trilogy Series
The scene raced through her mind like a movie reel on fast forward. She and Wim had waved goodbye to the young man seated across from her as he drove away in his truck. Just a few minutes later Wim had died in her arms. She blinked away the memory and did her best to smile.
“Yes, I recall it was something like that,” Nathan said. “Then, sometime later, I was sent to find you and some downed American fly boys you were escorting.”
“Yes, that’s right. I remember now.”
“Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t want you thinking I made all that up just for an excuse to join you here.”
“Not at all. I recall how thankful I was in both situations, that you showed up in your truck and gave us a ride.”
“Just part of my job. I was happy to help.”
A waiter appeared and filled their beverage glasses, then took their orders and left, allowing their conversation to continue.
“I must ask,” Anya began, “what brings you here? Or maybe I should ask what brought you to America?”
“Where to begin,” he said, leaning back and folding his hands on the table. “I suppose we all have stories to tell of our war years. For me, one of my earliest assignments in the Resistance—though I don’t think we were even using that title yet—was to help an American Jewish family who’d come to visit relatives in Amsterdam. The stories we were hearing on the wires had us all on edge, of course. And even though Hitler swore he would never attack us, this couple with three young children and a baby due in a few weeks were desperate to get out of the country before it was too late. That was the night our homeland fell to the Germans.”
“What terrible timing. Were you able to get them out in time?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t easy since the Germans were already pouring over the borders. In fact, we were on those same back roads where we shuttled your American pilots that night. And then, right there in the middle of those woods, Mrs. Epstein went into labor.”
“Oh no! What did you do?”
A wide smile warmed his face. “Well, I helped Mr. Epstein deliver his son. First time I ever witnessed the birth of a child.” He beamed. “Go ahead and ask me what they named the little fellow.”
“Let me think. Perhaps Nathan?”
“They did. And boy, did he have a set of lungs on him! I had no idea such a tiny little thing could make so much noise.”
“Weren’t you afraid the Germans would hear him?”
“To be honest, every time I think back on that night, I realize it had to have been a miracle. God must have plugged the ears of those Germans because they were literally all around us.”
“What happened?”
“Mrs. Epstein nursed little Nathan for a good long while to keep him quiet until he fell asleep. Then we waited another half hour before continuing our journey to the coast where I put them on a ferry. Same ferry your Yanks left on.”
The waiter reappeared with their meal. As he left, Nathan paused to pray over their meal, a gesture that surprised her.
“Please,” she said afterward when they picked up their utensils, “continue your story.”
“After the war ended, Mr. Epstein went to a great deal of trouble to locate me. He insisted I come to America as his guest to show his appreciation for helping them escape that night. At first, I declined his offer, but he was most insistent. And truth be told, the idea appealed to me the more I thought about it. After the war ended, I found myself … well, I suppose you’d say I was struggling to adapt to a life I hardly remembered. I don’t know about you, but the transition from war to peacetime was much more difficult than I had imagined. Suddenly, I went from a frantic and demanding purpose, often riddled with the adrenaline of extreme danger, to a life so mundane and—”
“Dull? Without purpose or meaning?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward. “You’ve felt that too?”
“Yes. Like I’ve awakened from a dream that’s left me utterly depleted and disenchanted, but I just can’t shake it off.”
He continued. “And every time I try to move on with my life and put it all behind me, it’s as if I’m paralyzed.” He glanced down at his plate as he pushed the food around. “I might not have suffered the loss of a limb or some life-changing physical wound, but … well, something inside me just isn’t the same.”
“Exactly,” she said, barely above a whisper.
They stared at each other for a long moment. For the first time since the war ended, Anya felt like someone actually understood all the neglected bruises and abrasions still festering in the depths of her heart.
“I sometimes think of it as a story interrupted mid-sentence, with words left hanging and their meaning obliterated,” he said quietly.
“Yes, that’s it. An unfinished story.”
She realized her eyes had been locked on his far too long for comfort. An involuntary shiver quaked her soul.
“Are you all right?” he asked, setting his fork on his plate.
She straightened again. “Yes, I’m fine. Really.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, please. It’s just strange to talk to someone who understands. I suppose I thought I was the only one with such feelings. Silly, now that I think of it.”
“Not silly at all. They don’t hand out instruction manuals for this sort of thing.”
“True.”
Nathan picked up his fork again. “But yes, I agree. It’s nice to talk to someone who understands.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, then. Where were we?”
She welcomed the diversion. “You were telling me why you were in America.”
“Oh yes. I was trying to explain how timely the invitation from the Epsteins was, as I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself after the war. A nice long visit to America seemed just the ticket.”
“And what did you think of America? Different, is it not?”
A crooked smile filled his face. “Like a different planet, isn’t it? Such strange food and the oddest ways of doing things.”
“Where do the Epsteins live?”
“Brooklyn. It’s just across the East River from New York City.”
Anya reached for the book she’d been reading. “Ironic. My sister-in-law gave me this book to read as I travel.”
He mused at the title. “Well, then, I guess you know all about Brooklyn.”
“Hardly. I was still on the first page when you came to my table—”
“Wait, you have a sister-in-law. You’re married?”
“Yes, she said, lifting her left hand and wiggling her ring finger. “Almost a year now.”
“Congratulations. I’m assuming he’s American?”
“Yes, in fact he was one of the pilots I helped transport that night you were sent to find us.”
He smiled again with a slow nod. “Ah, I remember him. The Yank who didn't want to leave you. Kept hugging you. Nice-looking chap as I recall. For a Yank, that is,” he teased.
“Actually, we’d known each other for years. But that’s a long story.”
“The way I see it, we’ve got at least five or six days ahead of us, so by all means, tell me your long love story.”
23
As the Olivia Gale continued cruising toward her destination in England, the seas remained calm for the most part, allowing the ship to make good time.
Anya and Nathan shared the same dining room table at mealtimes, and often passed the time between meals walking the decks or reading in the ship’s library. On the second day, noticing a table set in the corner of the library, Nathan convinced her to work a jigsaw puzzle with him. Neither of them was familiar with the colorful picture on the box, a lad named Huckleberry Finn riding on a raft with a colored man called Jim. But the puzzle kept them busy and gave them something to do.
“If my brother Hans could see me now, he would laugh until his sides split.”
“And why is that?” Nathan asked, connecting four edge pieces at the top of the picture.
“Because I could never sit still for any length of time when I was young. I preferred to be outdoors riding a bicycle or climbing a tree or playing with the piglets at our friends’ farm.”
“Was that Wim’s farm?” he said catching her eye when she looked up.
“You have a good memory.”
“I do, unlike yourself.”
She tossed a puzzle piece at him. “Will you always tease me for not remembering you?”
“Oh yes, ma’am, I will as I must.” He tossed the piece back at her.
She enjoyed the easy banter and welcomed it as a distraction. She’d boarded the Olivia Gale anxious for time to herself, unbridled from Danny and his family, even her friends in New York. Since the day the telegram arrived with news of her father, she’d felt smothered by everyone around her. Smothered, then guilty for feeling smothered. Here she’d hoped for time to think, to plan, and try to come to terms with life’s radical ups and downs. The last thing she wanted was someone constantly accompanying her and expecting her to be chatty.
Even that first night after Nathan joined her for dinner, she’d returned to her cabin uneasy about his presence. He was a perfect gentleman—that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, she’d enjoyed his company. Perhaps too much. The easy, comfortable flow of their conversations. Even the simple pleasure of conversing in their native tongue launched a familiar wave of homesickness. The shared understanding of war experiences and the peculiar scars they left behind. The freedom to let down her defenses and tell him about her new life in America, with Danny, his family, and the shock of learning her father might still be alive.
All of it stealing the time she’d allotted to prepare herself for the path now before her. All of it painting a mural with wide, steady brushstrokes of guilt on her heart when she laid her head on her pillow each night.
Ridiculous. Absurd. Unwarranted.
And utterly exhausting.
But earlier that morning, as Anya brushed her hair, she took a good long look in the small mirror on the wall of her cabin. Her bloodshot eyes mocked the sleep that eluded her. She’d splashed her face with icy-cold water and gave herself a good talking to. The incessant self-inspection had to stop. She must break the cycle of this endless mind-chatter once and for all, or risk losing what was left of her mind.
And Nathan? He was a fellow countryman, a friendly face, and a kind heart. Nothing more. No shame in that.
“Hallo?”
She blinked, glancing up from the puzzle to find him staring at her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The dimples framed his mouth as his green eyes teased her. “Nothing. I was just wondering where you’d gone. You haven’t said or heard a word for a good ten minutes now.”
“Oh, that.” She offered a smirk and an indifferent flip of her wrist. “One of my many talents. The ability to travel back or forth in time when least expected.”
“And where did you travel just now? Anywhere I’d recognize?”
“Look! I found the corner piece.” She patted it into place and admired her work.
“Good for you, but tell me where you went on your time-traveling adventure just now. I’d like to know.”
“So many questions.” She leaned back in her chair. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to go? Perhaps the captain could use some help steering this big boat.”
“No, not today. He said I could have the afternoon off. I told him there was an important puzzle requiring my attention.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“All right. Have it your way, then. Keep your mind-travels to yourself.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
He pushed back from the table and stood to stretch. “Let’s take a break and get some fresh air.”
A few minutes later, they strolled the deck as a light wind breezed through Anya’s hair, clearing her cluttered mind.
“Anya, with your permission, when you arrive in Utrecht, I’d like to help you find your father.”
She stopped. “What?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night, and I realized I was concerned about how difficult a task this will be for you.”
“Nathan, I told you yesterday. I’m not even sure he is alive. It’s possible Helga was mistaken. Her telegrams were vague at best. I’m only making this trip to put my mind to rest once and for all.”
“Yes, and I certainly understand that. But don’t forget, I know Helga too. We worked together on many occasions, and I’ve never once known her to be confused or muddled about anything. In fact, considering her age and all she’s been through these past few years, she’s remarkably bright. The way I see it, she never would have gone to the trouble to wire you in America if she wasn’t absolutely sure it was him.”
“I appreciate your concern, but—”
“And furthermore, Utrecht is different now. Areas of devastation from the long war years still need attention. Families are still separated. There are precious few children attending school. And even now, rationing continues and so many goods are still quite scarce.”
She started to speak, but he cut her off again. “And we haven’t even discussed the difficulties of the displaced persons camps and all the ongoing confusion—”
She grabbed his elbow. “Nathan, stop!”
Blinking, he stepped back. “But—”
“All right, yes. I would appreciate your help.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“Good. Good! I’m glad.”
She braced herself, thinking he might hug her. But an awkward moment passed as they resumed their walk.
“Good,” he said again. “Then tell me again all that you know.”
On the last night of their voyage, the captain of the ship invited Nathan and Anya as guests at his table. To Anya, it felt surreal in contrast to the last night on the Wisteria. The treacherous seas and relentless storm had knocked out the power for two whole days and nights before the skies cleared and enough power was restored for the ship to limp into the New York harbor.
Now, seated at the captain’s table with four other passengers, Anya tried to relax and enjoy the meal.
“Tell me about yourselves,” Captain Meriwether asked, looking at Anya and Nathan. “What brings a lovely couple such as yourselves on a crossing to England?”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Anya quickly corrected. “We’re not married.”
His eyes widened with a hint of humor. “Oh?”
“No! I didn’t mean—” Her face heated instantly. “Well, yes I’m married, but not to—”
“What she meant to say was we’re friends who happened to bump into each other here on the Olivia Gale,” Nathan said, coming to her rescue. “We both worked in the Dutch Resistance during the war.”
“Ah, I see,” the Captain said with a smile. “My apologies for jumping to the wrong conclusions. And bless you both for your wartime efforts. My uncle was part of the French underground. The stories he tells are hard to imagine.” He paused, shaking his head as he continued. “Though a good many of them he can’t even talk about. So you see, I have tremendous appreciation for him and those like you who helped in such dangerous times.”
“Captain, I would like to thank you for transporting so many war brides and their children these past few months,” Anya said. “It can’t be easy, having your ship overrun with so many women and children. Last February, I sailed on the Wisteria with several thousand other war brides and their children.”
“Is that so?” he answered. “Captain Anderson is a good friend. Whenever we’re in port at the same time, we meet for dinner and compare our ‘diaper runs’ as we call them.”
“Speaking of stories to tell,” Nathan quipped. “I’m sure you have a few.”
“You have no idea,” the Captain answered. Over dinner, he shared some of the more memorable moments of those adventures, many of them drawing laughter from his guests.
After dinner, as had become their custom, Nathan walked Anya to her cabin. He paused when they approached her door. “You know, I’ve grown rather accustomed to having you around, Anya McClain. And I say that with all due respect, as I’m sure you know. But it’s been a delight to spend these days together.”
“I’ve enjoyed it as well, Nathan.”
“Good. Then I’ll say goodnight, and look forward to seeing you at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Nathan.”
24
Wickham Market Railway Station, Suffolk County, England
“Anya!” Charlie hollered as she stepped onto the platform and into his outstretched arms. “What a sight for sore eyes! How are you?”
“I’m fine, Charlie. It’s so good to see you again! Where’s Sophie?”
“She’s at home and not at all happy about it,” he said, picking up her luggage and leading her through the clusters of people greeting passengers. “But she’s big as a barn—”
“You horrible man!” She punched his arm playfully. “Don’t let her hear you talk like that. She’s eight months pregnant. She’s supposed to be big.”
“Just you wait until you see her yourself. She’s as big as the Framlingham Castle!”
“You are positively awful,” she said, sliding onto the front seat when he opened the car door for her.
“Hey, I’m just repeating her own words.” He closed her door, then placed her suitcase in the back seat before climbing behind the wheel. “But enough about that. How was the trip across the pond? Better than the last time, I hope?”
“Much better. Perfect seas and smooth sailing this time.”
“Good. I’m sure sorry Danny wasn’t able to make the trip. I’d love to see his ugly mug again.”
“Ugly mug? No, wait—I remember. That’s another one of your American sayings. It means the face, I think?”
“Listen to you—four months in the good ol’ U.S.A., and you’re talking like a regular Yank.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but sometimes I remember Danny’s funny expressions.”
_preview.jpg)
