by Kitty Parker
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 by Kitty Parker.
All rights reserved under Kitty Parker. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Prologue
The house was old, paint chipping, the aged shingles creaking with the wind, but it brought a smile to Klara's wind burned face. She re-adjusted the bag on her shoulder and suitcase in her hand before gripping the iron door knocker and clapping it steadily. Like a child, she pressed her ear against the cold, hardwood door, biting her lip as she heard the gentle shuffle of slippers and easy creak of the floor board.
"Grandmere!" she squealed, dropping her bags to embrace the old woman who had just opened the door.
"Bonjour me petite!"
"It's so good to see you! Though, I can't believe they closed the University two months before I graduate."
"I can't believe you didn't go back to England when I told you to, I knew it was going to be dangerous soon, and now you're stuck here like the rest of us."
"Yes, but I'm stuck here with you!" Klara smiled. "Besides, Mama wouldn't have wanted you here alone, during all the turmoil anyway. If I wasn't here, she would have come herself."
"I know dear, I'm glad to have you here, I'm just afraid for your safety, you can't blame me for that."
"Please, I'll be fine, I plan to keep my nose pristine." Klara smiled, pushing her suitcase into the house.
"Well, come in, you can put your things in one of the spare room."
"Merci Grandmere, ohhh something smells wonderful. I hope you haven't gone through any trouble for me."
"Just some chocolate croissants..." Gradmere sang from the kitchen.
"With Chocolate Chaud?!" Klara screamed, pulling off her coat. Normally, Klara was the most mature of girls, but being at her Grandmere's house brought out the child in her. She had spent so much of her childhood in this house, with her Grandmere, that all of their old traditions brought up the memories, throwing her back into the time before she grew up.
"Do you even need to ask?" Grandmere laughed. "I am always sure to keep chocolate in stock when you're coming, even with the rations. Come on dearie, lets eat while it's still warm."
"Sit sit Grandmere, I'll get the chocolate chaud."
"Extra milk in mine please, I know how much you love chocolate." Grandmere chuckled.
Klara poured the milk, added the chocolate and sugar, then sat at the small kitchen table next to Grandmere. She smelled of flour and chocolate which only deepened Klara's smile, she never changed. Her Grandmere was one of her favorite people in the whole world, she was glad to be with her.
They sat, eating and drinking their special mid-day treats, catching up on all they had missed. For being an elderly woman, Grandmere certainly did have enough to talk about. Of course, Klara had plenty to share too, the campus of the University being insane for the past month of her classes. Klara was halfway through her chocolate croissant, telling Grandmere about a rally at school when a harsh knock came through the back door.
"I'll get it Grandmere." Klara quickly wiped her mouth and was out of her chair before her Grandmere could stop her.
"Klara, no!" Grandmere was no young lady but she bounded out of her chair to catch Klara. As her hand unlatched the old knob, Grandmere reached for her arm but it was too late, Klara had already seen what was behind the door.
Her jaw dropped at the sight of a bloodied man standing in the garden. His arm was in a sling, gauze wrapped around his shoulder and head, blood seeping through both. Grandmere pushed her aside to talk to the uninjured man at the door.
"We did the best we could Louise, but he still needs stitches and may have a concussion. We want to move him within the week."
"Of course Daniel, you know where to take him, any bed is fine, there is no one else downstairs now, we've been empty for quite some time." she said in a hurried voice, ushering them through the back door, past a stunned Klara.
The uninjured man showed the injured man through the small door, shooting a quick smile at Klara as he walked past. Grandmere stuck her head out the door twisting her head to the left and right before closing it firmly. Klara stared at her Grandmere, waiting for an explanation, but she received nothing. Grandmere sat down, taking a large bite of croissant, as if composing herself for what was ahead.
"Well? Are you going to explain the bloody man?" Klara asked, twirling her mug carelessly on the table.
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Grandmere!"
"It's too dangerous!" Grandmere said firmly.
"I'm staying with you, for who knows how long! You have to tell me what's going on, please Grandmere!"
"Not now, I have work to do." Grandmere huffed, pushing aside her pastry. She shuffled past Klara to the basement stairs which creaked under her weight. Klara could hear muffled voices downstairs then Daniel came back up the stairs.
"Please, take a croissant with you, my Grandmere made more than enough." Klara said in frustration, trying to be as polite as she could to the stranger, who was obviously a part of this strange phenomenon.
"Grandmere, so you're Klara. She said you'd be coming, she was worried about it." he sighed, taking a pastry. "She was going to stop, but found she couldn't."
"Stop what?" Klara asked, irritated that this strange knew more about her Grandmere than she did.
"I'm sorry, that's for her to tell you. I'm not about to get on Louise's bad side, she's a saint but can get quite fiery when she's angry."
"Don't I know it!" Klara laughed, remembering the day she broke her Grandmere's glass vase and the fury that followed.
"Well, I had better be off, I never like to stay at a house for too long."
Klara nodded and left him out the back door. She could hear her Grandmere singing in the basement. She carefully slid off her shoes and snuck downstairs, careful to avoid the parts in the stairs that always creaked, the stairs she knew so well. Her Grandmere was leaning over a bed, filled with a young, moaning man, pulling a needle through his wound while quietly singing. Finally, she finished and turned to find Klara spying on the stairs.
"I've got to fix the lock on the basement door. Well, don't just sit there, go get him a cup of tea, cold juice and some bread, he could use some sugar and something to eat. There's a fresh loaf of bread in the box, cut him a slice of that."
"You are planing on telling me what's going on right?"
"Go get what I told you, when he's asleep,
we'll talk."
"Yes Grandmere."
Klara gathered exactly what her Grandmere asked for, stuffing everything onto a large painted tray. The young man smiled in thanks as Klara held the warm tea to his lips. Afer helping him with a few swallows of bread, she left him to get some sleep, running up the stairs with her skirt fluttering behind her.
"Tell me." she demanded, beginning to dry the dishes her Grandmere had washed.
"Did Daniel take a croissant?"
"Yes, now tell me what's going on!" Klara persisted.
"Fine, but you can not tell your mother, for one, it wouldn't be safe, and she would be furious with me, especially with you here."
"Agreed."
"Since we've been occupied, I've been taking in wounded Allied soldiers, nursing them to health before they try to escape across the boarder. They have found them easier to get across when they are recovered a bit. Only Daniel knows of my involvement, so only he brings men to me, which keeps me more protected. Each runner only knows one medic safe house."
"What will happen if you're caught?" Klara asked, afraid to hear the answer.
"I'll be executed, or imprisoned." Grandmere answered, nonchalantly, as if she would merely receive a slap on the hand. "And don't ask me to stop, because I won't. If you're not comfortable staying here, I can find somewhere else for you."
"No Grandmere, I'm staying with you."
"Then I don't want to hear another thing about it."
"You won't because I'm going to help."
"No! I won't have you involved. Besides, you're studying to be a school teacher!"
"It doesn't matter, I know I can help, school teacher or not, I was the one who helped with Grandpere's illness."
Grandmere looked at her, not convinced, Klara continued. "I'm not going to run out of here searching for trouble, I'm just asking to help once they're here. I can do stitches, and I can put bandages on, and I can certainly bring them food. Please Grandmere, I hate this war just as much as you do, I want to do my part for the Allies, to get the Germans out of here, so I can go back to school and get on with my life!"
"Fine, fine, you can help, but you will take heed to all I say. Your mother would never forgive me if I let anything happened to you."
"Nothing will happen, I promise."
Chapter 1
Klara woke with a start to the sound of pounding, coming from the front door. She leaned out her window to find five men, in uniform, waiting in the street. Quickly she lit her oil lamp and grabbed her keys. On her way to the door, she locked her Grandmere's door, hoping her hearing loss had enabled her to stay fast asleep. She pulled her robe tightly around her as another pound echoed through the house. Floating down the stairs quickly, she reached the door and yanked it open.
"Guten abend Frauline." a husky soldier huffed, pressing himself toward the door.
"Je ne parle pas Deutch." she said firmly, beginning to close the door.
A taller, slimmer soldier pushed past the husky one. He looked a great deal more pleasant than the others and smiled before speaking. "Parle vous Angles?" he asked, in a much more polite tone.
"Yes." she answered flatly with half a smile.
"Good evening miss," he said in a perfect British accent, "we are doing a routine inspection of the houses in this neighborhood, may we come in please?"
"It's very late, I really don't think that's a good idea." Klara began to shut the door again, but the soldier stepped closer, butting his boot between the door and it's frame.
"I am sorry about the hour Madmoiselle, but you don't really have a choice. I give you my word that you will not be harmed, we will check the house then be off."
"Very well." she swallowed nervously, opening the door. "Would you care for some tea, coffee, some hot chocolate perhaps?" She hoped that giving them some refreshment might distract them from searching the entire house.
"That would be most appreciated, we aren't usually shown much hospitality, and it has been a very long night."
"So which will it be?"
"Since it's so late, how about the hot chocolate." he smiled. "Unless that's more trouble, in which case, the tea will be fine."
"Klara was impressed with his manners, he was the most polite S.S. officer she had ever met. He lead the other men inside and they began the search while she heated enough milk for six cups of chocolate chaud. She began to pour the fudge into the mugs when she heard the harsh squeal of the basement door. Her heart beat fiercely within the small cavity of her chest. At first, she thought of running, but remembered Grandmere upstairs, and there were no men downstairs. Her feet wanted to sprint, but she focused her mind, forcing them to stay still, she continued with the chocolate chaud, thankful for the distraction in provided.
Her mind ticked quickly, thinking of excuses for the beds and medical supplies downstairs. As she was thinking, she could hear the soldiers murmuring something in German that didn't sound pleasant, but then, when did German sound pleasant? She would have laughed at the thought, but was startled by the sound of boots climbing up the steps.
With shaking hands, she placed the mugs on the table, sitting behind one. The soldiers clamored around the table, nudging the polite one as they did.
"Umm, Madmoiselle, we were hoping you could explain what we found in the basement?" he asked tentatively, taking a sip of hot chocolate.
"Oh, of course! I take in boarders, for spare money, you understand. With the war going on, and all the rations a bit of extra money comes in handy. Really, extra money usually comes in handy." she giggled nervously. "They also give us their ration cards, so we end up getting far more, legally of course, because we feed them as well."
"That doesn't explain the medical supplies." he said sadly.
"Right, they are from six years ago, my Grandpere was very ill, I nursed him in the house because he refused to stay in the hospital. I suppose we just never got rid of them, really should though I guess. It can't look very good for them to be down there, huh?"
"No, it doesn't look good, but it is an explanation, which is wonderful." the young man smiled. He turned to his fellow soldiers and explained in German. They nodded, but didn't look as convinced as the young soldier. "Once again, we're very sorry for the inconvenience, thank you so much for the warm drink."
"You're welcome," she smiled, ushering them out the front door, "tell me sir, do I have anything to be worried about?"
"I don't believe so Madmoiselle, thank you for your cooperation." he smiled, turning to walk away.
"Excuse me!" she called. "What is your name?"
"How rude of me, I'm Captain Eiffel."
"Thank you for your kindness Captain, I'm Klara, Klara Kemp."
"Sleep well Miss Kemp." he smiled, before turning to follow his fellow men.
Klara managed to contain the small laugh that threatened to jump from her lungs. After tonights ordeal, she would do anything but sleep well, unless she had a strong drink. She stood at the door, watching as they walked away, sighing in relief. Pulling her robe tighter around her small waist, she closed the door and went to fix herself a drink.
Sleep well...Jack thought, rolling over in his bed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. On the walk back to the barracks, his fellow officers discussed Miss Kemp''s home, vocalizing their distrust in the situation in the basement. Before they had returned to their rooms, they decided surveillance was needed, and that it was possible she was the runner they were looking for, no other house in the neighborhood had been so suspicious, so exactly what they were looking for.
He felt awful, he had told her she had nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about, there was always something to worry about with German soldiers, always, he thought. Miss Kemp had occupied his thoughts all night, he felt guilty and hoped she had been able to sleep more than he had been able to. He knew he didn't know her, but she was stuck in his mind. Her brown hair braided loosely over her shoulder, her robe brushing against her knees as she moved to fix hot chocolate. The
telltale giggle that showed she was nervous and implied she had something to hide. Nothing to worry about!
Unable to lay still any longer he jumped off his bunk, pulling up his trousers and shoving his arms in his coat. He didn't bother shaving, or brushing his thick blonde hair, he pulled open the heavy wooden door as he slipped his arm into his coat, meeting with the gush of winters breeze. Adjusting his collar to block the cold gusts he set off through the maze of French streets, re-tracing last nights steps. Finally, he found the only yellow home, his teeth chattering as he admired the chipping paint before knocking. He was only left on the step for a moment before an old woman with grey hair and gleaming green eyes opened the door.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have the wrong house, I was looking for Miss Kemp." he smiled, trying to hide his confusion. He knew this was the house he visited last night and could not account for his mistake.
"Right house, wrong tenant, let me go get Klara for you. Do come wait in the kitchen, it's freezing out here, and help yourself to a croissant, they're fresh from the bakery."
"Thank you Madame." Jack ducked through the small door and managed to find his way to the kitchen, trying to remember how he had gone the night before. He could hear singing coming from upstairs which stopped after a knock on a door. Soon after, Klara came bustling down the stairs, her skirt clinging to her nylons as she walked, a heavy sweater wrapped around her shoulders.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in a frantic whisper. "I hadn't planned on telling my Grandmere about last night."
"Why wouldn't you tell her? German officers inspected your home and found four beds and medical supplies!" he laughed, sure she was joking.
"Because you told me I had nothing to worry about, and she's not exactly a spry young thing that can handle stressful situations as easily as I can!"
He reached across the table slowly, sincerity in his blue eyes, and took her hand. She flinched and looked at him strangely, but did not remove her hand. "In the kitchen they told me your excuse had satisfied their confusion, but on the walk back to the barracks, they said different, told me they were going to put surveillance on your house. They know that someone from this neighborhood is helping the runners and with your beds and medical supplies you are the greatest suspect. I am sure they would have arrested you last night if I hadn't persuaded them otherwise."