Season of My Enemy, page 25
Despite his hard line of instruction, however, everyone’s head turned as first one car, then another, and still a third came roaring up the driveway. The lead car’s horn blared, which Wolf recognized as the O’Briens’ car, and the other two followed suit. Arms waved and shouting came from out the open windows. All three vehicles lurched to a halt in a stirring of dust, and Jerry and Patsy O’Brien jerked their car doors open.
At that same moment, the screen door on the house clattered open, and Fannie stepped onto the porch. Frau O’Brien followed right behind. Wolf forgot the commotion altogether as he fixed his gaze on Fannie. She’d raised a hand to her forehead, shading her eyes from the bright sun, a stance he’d come to think of often when he thought of her.
It was the first time Wolf had laid eyes on her in over six months. In some of the quiet moments during that long cold season when he’d read her letters, Wolf wondered if he’d imagined the smoothness of her skin and the bloom on her cheek, or the way her dark eyes could look quizzical one moment and then a slight dimple would appear the next, revealing a sense of humor she often kept tucked away from casual observers. Today she wasn’t dressed in her brother’s dungarees for field work. She wore a pink dress with white-and-pink striped trim, and it suited her shape most appealingly.
“Did you hear?” Patsy shouted as she ran toward Fannie and her mother on the porch. She waved a piece of paper.
Jerry jogged toward them with a yell to his brother and the prisoners. “It’s over! Victory declared in Europe! The war is over!”
“And there’s a telegram from Dale!” Patsy’s voice squealed across the lawn.
Their friends in the vehicles behind them laid on the car horns again in a joyous cacophony.
Wolf immediately sought out Fannie’s reaction, but when Frau O’Brien swooned, he lurched forward as though he could run to help. He just as quickly regained himself as Fannie grasped her mother, offering support.
Patsy ran up the steps and took her mother’s other arm. Together, the sisters helped her to the rocking chair.
Now Calvin too drew back as if in disbelief. Despite his poor hearing, he must’ve heard enough to understand the gist that something momentous had occurred. “Stay right here.” He took long strides until he united with his family, who were poring over the paper Patsy offered. His mother handed it to him, then she broke down.
“Is it really true?” Fritz mumbled. “The war is over?”
It took Wolf a moment longer to absorb his questions. He glanced at them; at Horst, Fritz, Rudy, Otto, Hermann, and big Richard. “Not the war, but Germany’s part in it.”
The men shifted, some grasping arms and whispering questions, but there was no denying the relief and even the joy on their faces. Yet it mingled with uncertainty too. Yes, Germany’s part in the war had come to an end, but just as quickly Wolf’s brain buzzed with the question they all must ask. What did the future hold for them now?
Fannie’s family on the porch still talked until Jerry ran back to his friends. In a moment, the cars roared off again, leaving Jerry and Patsy behind, horns and occupants whistling as they careened off in a scrim of dust.
Frau O’Brien went indoors with Patsy, and Calvin turned toward the PWs again. But Fannie stood on the porch, just looking. Wolf stared back, certain her gaze was searching for his, yet she didn’t approach, didn’t smile, didn’t wave. Then she turned on her heel so that her pink skirt flared slightly, and she followed the others inside.
Calvin reached them. “You heard. Germany surrendered. Tomorrow there’ll be no work. V-E Day, they’re calling it. Victory in Europe. My brother …” Calvin looked away as his Adam’s apple climbed and lowered jerkily. He cleared his throat. “My brother is alive.” He ground his jaw, and now he looked again at Wolf. “They found him in one of those camps.” A long silence descended as they all stood there waiting. Then Jerry approached and Calvin turned to him. “Get these guys busy, will you? I thought I could stand the sight of them, but now I’m not so sure.” His fingers coiled as he strode away, and Wolf imagined that right then Cal wished he still had his gun.
“Herr O’Brien!” Wolf shouted and took a step. The private moved with him, ready to intervene. Wolf acknowledged him with only a glance.
Cal halted and turned back around. He pulled his shoulders back.
“What?”
“I am glad your brother is alive. I hope he is well.”
Calvin studied him as if to be sure he heard correctly before turning away again.
Wolf couldn’t beg Cal’s forgiveness for the sins of others. He could only speak the truth of his own heart. If Cal wanted to pass judgment on all of them for the acts of some, such a thing was out of Wolf’s hands. Ultimately, he and his boys were at God’s mercy, not Calvin O’Brien’s. He quoted scripture loud enough for only Rudy and Fritz, the two nearest him to hear: “Will not the judge of all the earth deal justly?”
CHAPTER 26
Three weeks after they learned of Dale’s rescue, he was on a ship bound for the United States. In that time, V-E celebrations brought Fannie and her family a new buoyancy of heart and spirit. Still, even in her thankfulness and with the busy days of preparation for Dale coming home to distract her, Fannie’s feelings toward the Germans among them remained ambiguous. How many ways had Dale and the other newly rescued prisoners been mistreated? Severe illness and starvation would prevent many of them from ever coming home again. Even while she and her family sought to treat the German PWs with kindness—feeding them, seeing that they had rest and refreshment, having herself bandaged an injury a time or two—what had the Germans done for her brother and his fellows? Offered them barely enough gruel to subsist upon? Provided little warmth in winter or warm clothes to cover their bodies? Ignored or punished them when they fell ill? The movie reels and news reports flooded back and galled her.
Dale wrote to them while on a train from New York to Chicago, but he mentioned nothing of his imprisonment. He’d kept his letter to them brief and light, saying in shaky handwriting that he’d lost a little weight, only amending it to say, “well, a lot of weight actually.” But he claimed it was nothing his mother’s home cooking wouldn’t mend. He told them he could almost smell her apple pie. Nevertheless, the army was sending him to a hospital in Chicago for a while.
Mom had gotten a ticket as soon as she could and gone to be with him. Now, finally, she was bringing him home on the noon train. Mom had phoned to say that Dale was weak but gaining strength and that his spirits were good.
So this morning Fannie and Patsy baked three pies just to make his wishes come true. Fannie set them on the table to cool. As steam rose from the slits in the piecrusts, her eyes were drawn out the window where she could see the workers in the field, hoeing shoots of new corn. Her study drew easily to Wolf’s tall form and his white-blond hair, and her insides knotted with confusion.
Realistically, she understood Wolf had nothing to do with Dale’s condition, but the old anger she’d felt a year ago when learning that their enemy would be coming to their farm surged again, and she didn’t know where to place it. She’d prayed for God to take it, and it shrank, but still, the desire to hold on to it lingered just within her grasp. Someone had to take the blame.
Patsy breezed into the kitchen with a book in her hand, and Fannie jerked her gaze from the window.
“Yum! How did they turn out?” Patsy inhaled the apple and cinnamon aroma.
“Good, I think. I’m going to get washed up. It’s almost time to go to the station. Is Dale’s room freshened up?”
“Windows are open. Bed is made. I even put some flowers on his desk. He’ll find it just like he left it.”
Fannie rinsed her fingers at the sink and dried them on a flour sack towel. “Run and tell Jerry to make sure he’s cleaned up a little bit before we get back, okay?”
“I didn’t think I was allowed to go out there.” Patsy sounded quizzical.
Fannie removed her apron and hung it in the pantry, avoiding Patsy’s inquisitive eyes on her. She forced out a reply. “They aren’t our enemies anymore.” A month ago, she didn’t want them to be. But now? After learning how Germany treated her brother?
“You don’t need to tell me. I get it. Honestly, Fan, the PWs have been here for a month, and I’ve not even seen you go out there except to talk to Cal once or twice or ride the tiller with Jerry. You spent the whole winter writing to Captain Kloninger, and now …” She gave a protracted sigh. “Have you even spoken to him since he returned?”
“I haven’t seen the need. Cal is handling things now.” Which was a huge relief.
“I thought you liked him. I mean, really liked him.”
Patsy was right. With Calvin taking charge, Fannie had done her best to avoid all of the PWs, most especially their captain. “As soon as the Japanese surrender, they’ll be getting sent back to Germany, so what’s the point?”
Fannie looked up in time to catch Patsy roll her eyes. “Whatever you say, Fan. It just seems rude and not like you, that’s all. He did save your life, after all.”
Fannie opened her mouth to respond, but before she could figure out just what to answer, her little sister batted open the screen door and stepped out.
Fannie pressed a hand to her forehead, then shook off Patsy’s reprimand and left the kitchen. She didn’t want to think about this now. Didn’t need her emotions about Wolf stirred up any further with Dale coming home—no matter how directly Patsy has struck the bull’s-eye.
She’d only just gotten changed out of her work clothes and her hair pinned in place when Cal hollered for her.
“Coming!” She reached for her clutch and trotted down the stairs.
“You about set?”
He’d washed up and changed, and Fannie caught the scent of his hair tonic. “I’m ready.” At the car, Cal held open the passenger door, and she moved past him. Then he got behind the wheel and started the engine. “You smell nice,” she said loudly, turning her head to make sure he heard her.
“Liza will be by later.” He gave her a wink.
As they headed down the drive, Fannie couldn’t help looking again toward the workers, and this time Wolf caught her glance. Was that a nod of greeting? Patsy’s reprimand bit into her, and she felt ashamed.
She snapped her gaze forward. Cal hummed a tune as they turned onto the road and sped off. He’d progressed. When they’d first heard the news about the prisoners in the Nazi concentration camps, and all of her family reeled from sorrow and disgust, Fannie worried about the effect on Cal and whether or not he’d digress. But after seeing the films, reading the papers, and listening to the radio broadcasts, she soon realized that Calvin hadn’t been upended by the information the way she was. He said he’d seen enough overseas to believe just about anything of Hitler and his SS and the rest of the Nazis. Fannie suspected that Liza’s regard had also gone a long way to ground him again.
Mom focused on being grateful that Dale was returning, even though she didn’t hide her tears for the ones who were lost. Fannie didn’t ask questions when she saw her laying another one of her cobblestones between the house and barn. Maybe when they got home, Fannie would find a way to mark her thankfulness too. She was relieved, after all, not only for Dale and Calvin but also for the fact that the German PWs had been taken out of the war.
Getting captured might have saved their lives. They didn’t know what kind of maniac was leading them. And yet …
She suppressed her tangled thoughts and looked at her watch. “We’re a little early.”
They arrived at the depot with plenty of time to park and stroll to the platform. It wasn’t a crowded day. An elderly couple waited on a nearby bench, while a woman kept a sharp watch on two young children, occasionally giving an eager glance down the track. The shriek of the whistle and rumble of wheels came soon enough, and Fannie clutched Cal’s arm. “Here it comes.”
Her heart pounded faster as the train chugged in and squealed to a stop. She scanned the windows for some sign of her mother and Dale. First a middle-aged man got off the train, then a pair of women roughly her own age, and then an older man with a cane, and finally her mother appeared.
She lurched forward, waiting for Dale to emerge. It was a stark moment before Fannie realized that the limping man with the cane and thin crop of hair was him. Dale! Her breath caught.
“Mom.” Her voice came in a short gasp. Had she really spoken? She wanted to cry out, but sight of him sent such a torrent of emotion running through her, all she could do was stutter-step forward, grasping at the fact that the frail fellow looking at her was truly Dale.
His face was thin and his eyes shadowed and hollow, but when he smiled her way, that much hadn’t changed. She hurried over.
“Fannie.” He held open his skinny arm, and she fell against him gently, but his embrace was solid. “Look at you.”
She dared not repeat his words. “I’m so glad you’re home.” Her eyes blurred, and when she peered through her tears, Dale’s eyes reddened for a moment, but he didn’t shed a drop.
“My, my,” he said several times in between looking her over and reaching to shake Cal’s hand. “Been a long time. Longer than I ever thought it would be.”
Mom dashed a finger beneath each eye. “Come on, Son. Let’s go home. I’m sure Patsy and Jerry are anxious.”
“My, my,” Dale said again, shaking his head as his glance swept the depot with the white spire of a church rising up behind, the field across the road, the old hometown in the distance. He leaned on his cane as he walked.
“Do you hurt, Dale?” Fannie had to ask. How could her strong, energetic brother possibly be so feeble?
“Not much. Just a little weak yet is all. I’ll get better. Don’t you worry. I’ll be as hale as Calvin before you know it.”
Fannie kept her arm in his, offering her shoulder for support should he need it. But he never put his weight on her, slight as it was. They took their time heading to the car while Calvin retrieved their mother’s luggage along with Dale’s meager duffel bag containing mostly some toiletries he’d received while hospitalized.
“Mom, why don’t you sit up front with Calvin.” Fannie opened Dale’s door and held his cane while he got in the back.
“Thanks. I’ll probably not need that thing in a few more days. I feel ten times as good as I did already, just after eating regularly.”
She smiled and scooted around the car, but her heart clenched at the thought of how ill he must have been and how many days and nights he might have gone hungry, especially near the end when the Germans were thinking only of getting away. He could’ve easily died if rescue hadn’t come soon. Her throat caught again on a sob, and she had to turn her face toward the window to contain it.
“You can eat as much as you want,” Mom said from the front seat while they waited for Cal to stuff her bag in the trunk.
Calvin slammed the lid and got in. As he started the engine, Fannie searched for something bright to say. “You’ll get your wish, Dale. I baked you a pie. Three, actually.”
Dale chuckled. “Three pies! My, my. Not sure I can eat three pies.”
Calvin grinned into the rearview mirror. “Jerry and I can help you out with that.”
Fannie felt her breath come a little easier. “Patsy did the crust cutouts for the top. She likes to make designs. Leaves and flowers and things.”
“She always was creative.”
“You won’t believe how tall she’s getting. Jerry too. He’s as tall as you.”
Dale scratched his chin. “Hard to imagine those two growing up. A fella goes away for a couple years and comes home to a new family, practically.”
Mom turned her face to Cal. “Calvin, Dale mentioned wanting to visit Dad’s grave as soon as could be. Will you be free later, after dinner? We can all go to the churchyard together.”
“Sure. Mind if Liza comes along?”
“She’ll be family soon,” Mom said.
“I heard congratulations are in order,” Dale said. He leaned forward and patted Cal’s shoulder with his knobby fingers.
As they neared home, Fannie wished she could catch her mother’s eye. Had Mom warned Dale about their hired help? Fannie cleared her throat. The driveway was just ahead. Calvin slowed the car for the turn. As they swung in, she quickly spotted the seven men still bending over hoes in the cornfield and their guard standing only a few yards away, watching on.
“Mom?”
Dale reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. “She told me.”
Fannie grasped his fingers and met his gaze. He smiled softly then turned his face toward the window.
What did he think or feel about the news? After all he’d been through, like Cal, he had returned and found the enemy here at his home. Even though they labored in their simple work clothes with the stark letters PW printed on the backs, did he envision them in their brown Nazi uniforms, tall boots, and narrowed gazes, ordering him about? Did he hear angry words and insults? Did he see his fellows beaten or shot or left lying sick on a flea-ridden pallet?
Her heart charged ahead, and her grip tightened in his, but he only kept his gaze trained thoughtfully on the workers. Then it finally flitted toward other things—the house, the barn, Patsy waving wildly from the porch step, and Jerry trotting down to rush past her.
And Fannie could breathe again.
Being finally together, all of them except their father, felt right and normal. To Fannie’s recollection, it was the first moment things had felt that way in more than two long years. As they got out of the car and Dale was swamped in more hugs, the tension slid out of Fannie and relief rushed into its place.
