Friends & Enemies (Promise for Tomorrow Book 1)

by Terri Wangard

  “Hya ba.” Her feet starting kicking, like Fritz’s tail. Then she reached out her hands to him.

  “Oh, baby.” Paul raised her to his shoulder. She snuggled in. Paul stared down at the small head covered with downy brown curls. Her tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb. Here was a tiny face of war. He always imagined that face as being Hitler’s, or Goering’s, or even Mussolini’s. They were the perpetrators certainly, but here was another face. The face of a victim.

  The dirty diaper and rag remained on the floor. They could wait. He settled on the living room rocker, rubbing the little one’s back. What happened to her parents? Could bombs from his plane have snuffed out the lives of this child’s parents? He didn’t release them, but he guided the plane to their destination. His heart ached as sorely as it had after Rachel’s death. Dear God in heaven, forgive us all.

  Heidi entered the kitchen with an armload of sweet-smelling laundry fresh off the line. As she dumped it on the table to fold, her nose twitched. Something reeked in here. Had the toilet backed up? She rounded the table and stopped. A soiled diaper piled with filthy nuggets lay on the floor. Who would have left that there?

  Contented baby sounds came from the living room. There she found Paul rocking Sabine. The baby looked ready to nod off. Paul looked pained.

  “Everything all right here?”

  “She’s clean and she doesn’t stink.” The right side of Paul’s mouth twisted and his eyes slid toward the kitchen. “But something else does. Sorry about that.”

  He moved to rise, but she waved him back and cleaned up the mess herself. Returning to the living room, she gestured to the door. “Come outside. There’s a crib in the shade for Sabine.”

  “Sabine, huh? She wouldn’t tell me.” He rose awkwardly, trying not to disturb the baby. “What’s with that stack of paper in the bathroom?”

  Heidi needed a moment to realize what he was talking about. Her smile grew. “Toilet tissue hasn’t been available for a long time and newspapers aren’t that plentiful either. It’s so thoughtful of the Allies to supply our need.”

  “Hmpf. When I get back to England, I’ll be sure to report we needn’t continue with those silly drops.”

  Outside, they joined in the task of weeding the garden. The chatter of the children filled the air, making the job less of a chore. Gretchen abdicated her responsibility of supervision and flopped on her back in the grass. She pointed up into the azure sky. “That fat cloud is a rhinoceros, and that one is an evergreen that’s losing its pine cones, all those little wisps below it. And here’s Frau Ziemer with a pitcher.”

  Heidi looked down from viewing Gretchen’s celestial art narration. “What are you talking about? I don’t see a cloud like, oh, Frau Ziemer is here.”

  She swatted her sister’s arm.

  “Yes, dear, please be a bit more specific in your explanations. I don’t fancy being mistaken for a rhinoceros.” Frau Ziemer had brought out a pitcher of water to refresh the young gardeners.

  The rumble of a bomber formation rolled across the farm. All eyes turned skyward. Heidi tensed when Paul stood to watch the awesome spectacle. Did he wonder if he knew the men up there? Or did he yearn to be with them?

  He heaved a sigh, never looking away from the disappearing planes. “Wouldn’t you like to fly?” Frau Ziemer gasped, and he lowered his gaze. “Wouldn’t you like to soar high above the earth and look down on everything?”

  Skepticism flooded the farmwife’s face. “There is much to be said for keeping one’s feet firmly planted on the ground.”

  Hans Rittgarn exclaimed, “I would like to fly.”

  Paul grinned. “When my friend and I were growing up, we decided we would fly. And we did, too, sort of.”

  Immediately, a group of boys surrounded him, demanding details. Heidi stood, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. Paul grinned and painted a less than favorable picture of his and Art’s long-ago escapade. “Arthur and I climbed up onto the shed roof on a windy day and jumped with umbrellas. Unfortunately, we went straight down like rocks instead floating off like we’d hoped.” He made a whistling sound, followed by “Psht! I landed well, but poor Arthur broke both his legs. That was most embarrassing for him, being cared for like a baby for five weeks. He hated that.” He shrugged. “His mother wasn’t too happy either, because Arthur ruined her brand new umbrella.”

  Amusement warred with Heidi’s effort to look stern as she said pointedly to the boys, “I guess we won’t be trying such a stunt, will we?”

  Paul shrugged. “We might not be able to fly ourselves, but why don’t we fly a kite?” At their grumbling that they didn’t have a kite, Paul shook his head. “Wrong attitude, boys. If we don’t have the real thing, we make a substitute.”

  He jogged to the barn, reappearing with a ball of twine and a rag. Grabbing two branches from the brush pile, he fashioned a crude kite. “This may not work, but I hope it will at least get up in the air before tearing apart. I don’t think Frau Ziemer would agree to let me cut up a pillowcase.”

  He offered the lady a cheeky grin.

  “I certainly will not.” Her tart reply brought giggles from the children.

  They hopped around. So much anticipation over a sorry-looking kite. Heidi crossed her fingers as Paul held it up to the wind and reeled out the twine. The kite struggled to stay in the air.

  He gave the twine to Bernd. “Here. Run with it.”

  Bernd took off, the other boys at his heels. He headed straight for the pine tree.

  “No, don’t go under the tree.”

  Paul’s warning came too late. The kite snagged in the branches and fell apart. Heidi had to turn away and hide her smile from the woebegone faces. Beside her, Gretchen snickered.

  “Well, that took all of ten minutes.” Paul rubbed his hands together. “Game time. Why don’t I organize a relay race, Heidi, while you and Gretchen come up with a list of objects for a scavenger hunt?”

  Holding her cousin’s daughter on one arm, Gretchen held out a few small branches. “Here, Paul, you can use these as batons to pass between runners.”

  Two of the girls looked up, puzzled.

  About to take the branches, Paul tapped a finger against his chest. “You talking to me?”

  “Why’d you call Horst a different name?” Cristobel rose from the stones she’d been piling.

  Gretchen’s eyes rounded. “Did I call you Paul?” Her voice squeaked and her face reddened. “Maybe because you remind me of someone I used to know named Paul.”

  “Really?” Paul grinned. “He was a real nice, handsome fellow?”

  Gretchen covered a snort by drumming her fingers on her chin. “He was a terrible tease.”

  His hand shot out and tugged a braid before she could back away. “I can be like that.”

  Christobel and Gretel danced about his feet. Christobel tugged on his hand. “I think you’re handsome.”

  “Do you now?” Paul swung her up and kissed her cheek.

  Arms extended, Gretel hopped up and down, wanting a kiss, too. Paul obliged her. Even Katarina reached out to him from Gretchen’s arms. He laughed as he plucked the baby from her grasp and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. His voice floated back to the women as he strode toward the boys. “You’d like to help organize a race, wouldn’t you, Kat?”

  Gretchen sagged against the picnic table. “I’m likely to give him away.”

  “Remember to be careful.” Heidi dropped down on the bench, watching him lead away the children like a Pied Piper. “He’s captured the children’s affection so completely. They’ll be devastated when he’s gone.”

  They wouldn’t be the only ones.

  Chapter Fourty-Three

  Bickenbach, Germany

  Monday, June 5, 1944

  “The children’s clothes all seem well worn,” Paul squeezed in beside her on the wide tree swing.

  Heidi inspected their clothing as they played in the sand pit. “We count them lucky if they have one outfit to wear while the ot
her is being washed. New clothing is hard to find these days. I’ve sewn up every scrap of material I can get my hands on.”

  Paul kept them in motion with his foot. “You do a lot of sewing?”

  “I will have you know, sir,” she raised her chin and squared her shoulders, trying to stay balanced on the swing, “I am a professional seamstress.”

  “A professional.” Paul tilted a wide-eyed nod to her. “How did you become professional?”

  “By completing an apprenticeship.”

  Paul’s eyes narrowed and he neglected to keep up their movement. With his foot planted on the ground, the swing twirled sideways. He hastily straightened them out and pushed off again. “Rachel told me something about that. In Germany, you can finish school at age fourteen if you don’t plan on university studies, and enter a trade instead. Is that right?”

  She nodded. “Since I graduated from high school, I could have gone to university, but why would I? I enjoy sewing. Or, I would if I had something to sew with.”

  “Heidi?” Frau Ziemer called. “Oh, Heidi dear, would you mind hanging up the wash if Lina hasn’t already dumped it out of the basket? She’s been underfoot all day.”

  Paul disappeared when Heidi hurried to the clothesline. She was shaking out a dress when she saw him snag Lina and toss her into the air. Lina’s squeals of laughter warmed her heart. At Paul’s feet, Fritz added his barks.

  Lina waved her arms skyward and cried, “Up, up!”

  Paul tossed her again, catching her in mid-giggle. “Good thing you’re a featherweight, little one, you know that?” He settled her on his shoulders and turned to Heidi. “Do we have time to explore a bit? I want to get a good feel for the lay of the land, just in case.”

  Pinning the last small pair of trousers to the line, Heidi shuddered. ‘Just in case’ constituted disaster. Like the police banging on their door some dark night and Paul fleeing into the woods with dogs snapping at his heels. Clenching her jaw, she turned to stack the wash baskets. White material spilled out of a formerly empty basket. “What’s this?”

  “My parachute. It should make a few shirts for the kids.”

  Heidi scooped up the fabric and ran a gentle hand over it. Yards and yards of silk. His parachute! This scant fabric had kept him alive, carrying him gently down to earth from his stricken plane. Cutting it up to make children’s clothes seemed disrespectful after its noble mission, but just think of all she could make with it! She nodded. “Gretel is outgrowing her clothes. I’ll start with a blouse for her and I’ll make it a little bigger so she has room to grow. No one can know where the material came from though. Pilfering from crashed planes is punishable by death.”

  Paul’s eyes widened. “I planned on using that as an explanation if I had to account for my chute and jacket, and stuff. Good thing no one asked. All kinds of pitfalls to entrap us.”

  “You have no idea.” Heidi tucked the chute back into the clothesbasket. “Let’s go into the woods.”

  She led the way to the edge of the woods. The Ziemers’ farm was located on the southwest edge of Bickenbach, with the woods beginning on their west. To their north, the church anchored the west end of the main road.

  “The town hall is on the side street about a block down from St. Stephen’s Church. That’s where you’ll find the Grotes. Most houses are white, but theirs is the big dark gray one to its right. That’s where the Gestapo stays.”

  “Too bad they’re not at the eastern end, but at least they don’t have a clear view of the farm. No spying from darkened windows, and Ursula shouldn’t be likely to repeat her performance as an eavesdropper. What about the neighbors? Any rabid Nazis or underground prospects?”

  “No to either. The Grotes aren’t popular because they’re suspected of telling tales to their Gestapo patrons, and their actions have tainted the Party in the eyes of most. Konrad’s unaware of anyone who has gone as far as actively working against the system, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone. In the underground, you only know the name of your contact, and probably not even his real name. That keeps you from revealing names in an interrogation. I can’t think of anyone I would trust with your identity.”

  They wandered into the woods, with Fritz running ahead. Paul swung Lina down so she could chase the little dog. Once they were out of sight of the farmhouse and barn, Paul studied the trees.

  “That might do,” he walked around, peering up into one tree after another.

  Heidi frowned as he suddenly grasped a branch, swung himself up onto it, and climbed higher. “Why are you climbing a tree?”

  He grinned down at her. “Go check on Lina for a minute, and then come and find me.”

  Heidi shrugged and called Fritz. The dog scampered to her and, as she hoped, brought Lina with him. She scooped her up. “Stay close to, ah…” What was she supposed to call him? “Horst and me. We don’t want you to get lost.” She turned back to the tree and looked up. Paul wasn’t there! She quickly looked around. Yes, that was the tree he’d climbed. “See? We’ve already lost Horst.”

  Where could he have gone? Fritz whined at the tree he’d climbed. Come and find me, Paul had said. She peered up into the higher branches, but then leaves crunched behind her. Fritz raced past, barking joyfully. She turned. Paul picked up Fritz and cuddled him while he grinned at her. Lina giggled.

  “Okay, wise guy, what was that all about?”

  Paul laughed. “Practicing an old American Indian trick. If I have to escape, I can’t leave a track or a scent for dogs. There are only two ways I know of to do that: either walk in a stream or swing from tree to tree. A searching dog would have trailed me as far as that tree, but, as you observed, I wasn’t there.”

  Lowering Fritz and taking Lina from her, he slung an arm around Heidi’s shoulders and they continued walking, ending up at the tree of SS Max’s suicide.

  Heidi traced circles on the ground with a stick. She hadn’t dreamed about him lately, but after being here, he might haunt her again tonight. She used the stick as a pointer. “Karla wanted to bury him in that gulley. She said after the war, we could discover him and report his location.”

  “Bad idea. Questions would have been asked like, who buried him in the first place.”

  They circled back to the farm. Birds sang in the trees, a light breeze caressed her face, and, in the distance, the children laughed in their play. More peace than she’d known since Erich died settled around her. With Paul at her side, Lina asleep on his shoulder, and Fritz scampering about their feet, the war seemed far away. They could be a family on their own quiet farm.

  The war would intrude soon enough. Paul would have to leave, returning to that war with all its danger. But this day would last forever in her memory. Erich would understand. Wouldn’t he? He was lost to her. She had to continue with life.

  God, what am I feeling? Paul’s an enemy, and he’ll be leaving soon. I can’t love him. He’s Rachel’s husband. Except Rachel’s dead. Oh, Lord, help me. “You’re the one who introduced me to a personal relationship with God.”

  Paul’s head snapped in her direction at her abrupt comment. “I did? I did?”

  “Remember in youth group, when we were challenged to find a life verse? You talked about Psalm thirty-one. ‘I trust in thee, O Lord: I said, Thou art my God. My times are in thy hand.’ You were so young, but so committed. That made a deep impression on me.”

  “Scary thought.” He shook his head, seeming more troubled by her admission than pleased. “I was a young whippersnapper spouting off like I knew all about life. I knew nothing.”

  “Paul?” She must have misunderstood. He’d been the epitome of a strong, confident Christian. His faith was amazing, and she’d modeled her prayer life after his, talking to God like the close friend He was. “You… you didn’t have deep faith?”

  “Oh, sure. I knew all the pat answers, but they were rote. The first sign of testing, though, and I pouted. God didn’t play fair. He took away Rachel, so we parted ways.” He inhaled deeply
, scanning the treetops, then studying the sleeping child in his arms. “I knew He was still there… here… everywhere. But I was angry, and wouldn’t talk to Him. I stopped listening, and I didn’t hear Him again until the day I was shot down. Then I heard Him say two words.” He stopped and turned to her. “‘Find Heidi.’”

  “Really?” Tingles swept through her from head to toe. God had used her, was using her, to help Paul? Behold the handmaid of the Lord. “And you found us within days. No wonder Konrad asked me to go to Sankt Goar with him. I’d wondered about that. Why me and not Lieselotte?”

  Her feet still tread upon the ground. Amazing. She ought to be floating. She could sing her own Magnificat. God was using her! To be sure, she was doing His work by caring for the children, but anyone could do that. With Paul, she was God’s chosen instrument to keep him safe, their friend, their enemy. How exhilarating.

  She skipped ahead and pirouetted back. “You know it’s all right to have doubts, don’t you? Remember our Lord’s cry from the cross, ‘My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?’”

  “True, true.” His smile grew. “The student becomes the teacher.” The faint sound of airplanes in the distance intruded. His smile faded. “But your faith has stayed solid despite awful circumstances. Not only have you lost your husband, you’re out of step with your godless government, and your country is being smashed to smithereens. And it’s only going to get worse.”

  They arrived at the edge of the woods. Paul scoped out the area before stepping into the open. Heidi hesitated before following, his words still ringing in her ears. Clinging to God was the only way she could survive in Nazi Germany. To turn her back on God would be to lose all hope.

  Chapter Fourty-Four

  Bickenbach, Germany

  Tuesday, June 6, 1944

  “Hold that post upright while I tighten the wire.”

  A city boy, Paul shook his head over how much work went into farming. Add a war that made supplies impossible to find and routine tasks became daunting. He’d fashioned the new post for the chicken coop out of a tree branch, an easy fix.