Arms of Deliverance

by Tricia N. Goyer

  “Hendrick, where in the world are you taking me? This isn’t a normal jaunt through the countryside, is it?” Though she’d tried to pretend things were still all right between them, Katrine could see a change in Hendrick’s eyes. It had been a week since their last picnic, and ever since then she’d felt the distance growing between them. Until this morning, that was, when Hendrick had picked her up promptly at eight o’clock with news that he had a special surprise for her.

  They’d been on the road for three hours already. And the farther they drove from the city, the more Katrine clutched the door handle, her hand growing numb from her tight grasp.

  “Katrine, I’m taking you to a very special place. And not to worry, my pet, your things will be arriving shortly. I have it all arranged.”

  “My things? You mean from the Pfizer home? For how long? I don’t understand.”

  Hendrick turned off the two-lane, asphalt road onto a more narrow country lane. Despite his stern face, he’d insisted it was merely an outing. Yet he’d worn his dress uniform, which troubled Katrine from the moment he’d picked her up.

  “Hendrick, they need me. Especially little Arthur.” Tears formed in Katrine’s eyes as she thought of the baby waking to find her gone. She was the only one who knew what songs helped him drift off to sleep. She was the only one he’d allow to bathe him without a fuss.

  Hendrick glanced at her with a look of impatience. “Surely you do not believe that I will allow you to keep working in this condition? You’re frailer than you let on. You must take care of yourself and my child. In fact, you need people taking care of you—not the opposite.”

  Birch and aspen trees lined the road. They crossed a small bridge over a creek that wound along roughly parallel to the lane. Up ahead, Katrine made out a clearing. She sucked in a breath as a large castle-like structure filled her view.

  They drove closer, and her eyes wandered over the manicured lawns and large brick building. From this view it seemed as large as Prague Castle itself, home of the Czech government!

  “Your new home, my pet.” Hendrick’s words were endearing while his voice was cold. Though his mouth curled into a broad smile, he refused to look her direction.

  Dozens of white-trimmed windows faced the roadway. Four towers pointed to the sky, and an arched walkway from the largest tower’s center led to what appeared to be a courtyard.

  I’d get lost in such a place.

  Hendrick slowed the car as they approached the front of the building. A few people milled around the property, but it was mostly quiet, reminding Katrine of the spa in Austria that her father used to take her family to on holiday.

  “I’m going to live here? Are you joking?”

  “I would never joke about your welfare. This is the Führer’s gift to the mothers of the Reich. This place is called Lebensborn—Source of Life. Here you will receive the best food and care possible.”

  “A home for mothers? There is such a thing?” Katrine’s pounding heart echoed in her ears.

  As the car rolled to a stop, she noted two other pregnant women walking along a sidewalk toward the main entrance. They turned, eyeing the car with curiosity. Three other young women sat around a rectangular fountain on the front lawn, all of them at various stages of pregnancy. The girls smiled and waved—clearly at Hendrick. Katrine bit her lip and looked to see his response. He smiled, finally turning his focus back to her.

  “Hendrick, they aren’t women at all, but more like girls. Do you know them? They seem to know you.”

  Hendrick laughed. “No. Believe me, my pet, it’s the car and uniform they’re most interested in.”

  He parked the vehicle in front of the large double doors, but Katrine’s fingers refused to release the door handle. This was really happening. He was leaving her, away from all she knew. Without her permission.

  He opened his car door, and Katrine reached across the seat and grabbed his jacket. “Wait, Hendrick, please.”

  He paused and looked into her face with a questioning gaze.

  “I’d rather not stay here. I know you mean well, but I enjoy my work. My mother worked, caring for children through all her pregnancies, and I’ll be fine doing the same. Then we’ll have a chance to see each other, to be together. You want to be with me, don’t you?”

  “Do you think I have time to care for you myself?” His gaze narrowed. “I have work. A family. Seriously, Katrine, I do not need to deal with a pregnant mistress on top of all that.”

  At her shocked expression his face suddenly softened. “Do not worry, my pet. I’ll visit often. And when the child is born we will return to the city together. Maybe then, I’ll find you your own flat.”

  “Promise?”

  Hendrick gently removed her fingers from his jacket and kissed each one. “Yes, I will return for you. You are my favorite pet, you know. Then the two of us will be together.”

  Katrine noticed a nurse walking toward them. Hendrick released her hand.

  “You mean the three of us.”

  “Three, of course.” And with those words, he was out the door and warmly greeting the nurse.

  Katrine’s throat constricted, and again she wondered just what trouble she’d gotten herself into. “Pretty is as pretty does,” her mother had always told her. And even though she was dressed in fine clothes and soon would be living in a castle, Katrine felt anything but pretty. It was almost as if it were someone else living through the nightmare that had become her existence.

  Actually, it was.

  The chink of crystal tapping crystal met Hendrick’s ears as Frau Schmidt poured him a glass of wine. She handed it to him, patted her blonde coif, and settled onto the sofa beside him.

  Hendrick glanced around the room, taking in the tall bookcases, party posters, and a framed and signed photo of Himmler on Frau Schmidt’s desk.

  “You will give this girl the best. Nothing will be withheld from her care, understand?” He took a sip of the wine, then glanced at his watch, proving to the woman that this was a business call only.

  Frau Schmidt cast him a strained smile. “It is how we care for all our mothers, Officer Schwartz. Did I tell you Himmler himself has visited twice?” She stood and strode to her desk. “There is, of course, this matter of her paperwork. I see it has not yet been provided. We must—”

  “Did you look at her?” Hendrick downed the fine wine in one large drink. “Do you dare question?”

  She placed her glass on the desk and settled in the chair, her hands moving to the top drawer. “No, of course not. But I must have all the paperwork in order before I turn it into—”

  “Into me? Into my office?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  Awkward laughter escaped her lips. “Of course. I suppose I don’t have to worry about getting your required signature.” She closed the desk drawer.

  Hendrick stood. “I assure you, Katrine’s paperwork is in order. You will receive a copy for your files.” He straightened his uniform jacket and moved to the door. “While I value your thoroughness, proceed knowing it is all in order.”

  “Very well, Officer Schwartz. And while you’re here, do you wish to examine last week’s transport? The children should be heading to calisthenics as we speak.”

  “I do not have time. With the most recent bombings by the Americans, my dear wife insists I make arrangements for her to return to Germany.”

  “I understand. It’s an honor to serve you in this way.”

  Hendrick stopped in his tracks. “It is not I you serve, woman, but this country’s future—of which my child will be one of the greatest. Please do not forget that.” He turned and strode out the door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A fist pounding on her door jerked Lee from a fitful sleep. Before she could pull the satin mask from her eyes, she heard Mary jump out of bed and rush to answer it. Light streamed into Lee’s newly uncovered eyes, and she attempted to blink away the brightness.

  “Miss O’Donnelly, a phone call just came in.”

 
Though the messenger appeared as a blurry profile against the hallway’s brightness, Lee recognized his voice as belonging to one of the front desk clerks.

  “Sorry, mum, your editor said to wipe off your face cream and meet him at the airfield. Will you be needin’ a driver?”

  Lee jumped from her bed, not bothering to slip her robe over her satin nightgown. “Yes, please. I’ll be down in a few—ouch.” Her toe struck the leg of her desk, and pain shot through her foot. She yelped and hobbled to the wardrobe. “Go, go, find a driver. I’m coming.”

  “Right, then …” He pulled the door shut, mumbling,

  Lee flipped on the room light and threw on her uniform. Then she grabbed up the musette bag she’d prepacked and hurriedly limped to the door. Mary still stood there, arms crossed at her chest.

  Lee brushed her hair back from her face and slowed down long enough to look into Mary’s gaze. For someone who acted tough, the girl appeared close to tears.

  “Don’t look at me that way. I told you I was going when the time came. I just can’t believe today’s the day.” She hoisted the bag to her shoulder, leaning under its weight. “Can you do me a favor and take any calls that come in for me? I’ll make it up to you.”

  Mary nodded, fingering a coinlike gold pendant that hung from the chain around her neck.

  Lee paused, looking at it closer. “I’ve seen that emblem before. Did you get it at the World’s Fair in ’39?”

  Mary glanced down at the pendant. “You’re about to head out to the biggest invasion in history, one we’ve been hearing rumors about for weeks, and you want to know about my necklace?”

  Lee moved the bag to her other shoulder and shrugged. “It’s just that I haven’t seen you wearing jewelry before.”

  “I, uh, usually don’t. My mom just sent it in a care package. For some reason she thought I’d want it for luck. Okay? You can leave now.”

  Lee held her bag closer to her side, oddly wishing she could confide in Mary about her own stash of jewelry and other valuable items she’d stored at the bottom of her bag—the things Rondi had slipped in. The face of the woman in the market came to mind. Wish I could tell her all about that, too.

  “Tell no one,” the lady had told Lee. “You never know whom you can trust.”

  Roaring planes overhead disrupted her thoughts, and Lee knew now wasn’t the time to go into the details, even if she did trust Mary.

  “Well, then, wish me luck.” Lee hurried out the door, then hesitated, feeling suddenly sorry for leaving her colleague behind. “Don’t worry, your turn will come. You’re worthy of the front page, Mary Kelley.”

  She ignored her toe’s pain while running down the stairs and hurrying to the waiting jeep. Without pausing for the driver to unseat himself and take her bag, she tossed it into the back and jumped into the front. As soon as she hit the seat, the jeep lurched away from the curb.

  Racing off to cover the biggest story of her life, Lee realized how true Mary’s statement the other night was. You were born somebody, Lee. But instead of making her feel better, the thought caused a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d never really know if she had what it took to make it on her own.

  The door clicked shut, and Mary hurried to the window, pulled back the blackout curtain, and opened it. Though cloud cover blocked her view, from the muted roaring sounds above London, Mary knew hundreds of aircrafts filled the predawn sky.

  Her fingers trembled, not from the cold air washing over her, but from the realization that their boys would be fighting and dying today—attempting to invade the beachhead the Germans held with an iron fist.

  But that wasn’t the only reason they trembled.

  Why had she lied about the necklace, which in fact she had worn every day for the last five years? Maybe it was easier being untruthful than cracking open the hard shell surrounding her feelings about her father.

  No one called Mary, asking her to come in before her regular time. Yet she quickly dressed anyway and hurried to the office. As the taxi drove her toward Fleet Street, the dark city seemed unaware of the attacks already in motion.

  Mary glanced at her watch, then sprinted across the busy street packed with automobiles as soon as the traffic cop motioned for her to walk. Her eyelids felt thick and gritty. She’d been up half the night toiling for a unique angle on the World’s Fair, and still the pages in her satchel weren’t any better than what she started with yesterday.

  Her assignment had been to write a story about the fair from a child’s-eye view. She’d attempted to capture the awe—the large crowds, the constant noise and nonstop activity, the amusement park rides, icons, exhibits, and demonstrations, yet something still wasn’t right.

  She’d played with the words into the wee hours of the morning, only to drop into bed frustrated. And even now her mind moved twice as fast as the businessmen she scurried between on her way to the paper. A better lead? More quotes? Or maybe she should just tell Paul to find someone else—someone who understood childhood innocence and wonder. It was obvious she sure didn’t.

  “What was he thinking?” she growled to herself as she hustled up the brick steps to the main lobby. “I need to tell him I’m not the right girl for this stupid story.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  The voice stopped her. She paused with her hand on the smudged metal door handle. Her heartbeat quickened, and she glanced up to see her father standing not more than two feet in front of her.

  “Did I, uh, say that out loud?” Mary readjusted the strap of her satchel over her shoulder and then fiddled with her collar, making sure it was straight.

  “Having trouble with the World’s Fair piece, huh?”

  Mary glanced away.

  “What would you say to an outing?” Donald rubbed his cleanshaven chin and looked down at her. “I’ve wanted to head out there myself. If anything, just to see how they turned that swampy wasteland in Flushing Meadows into this ‘World of Tomorrow.’ Did I ever tell you I used to explore that area as a kid?”

  “No, I missed that one.” Mary tried not to sound too sarcastic. Was he testing her? Trying to see if she’d skip out on her work? Or maybe testing her role as his daughter—now that would be a good one.

  “I have a deadline. This piece is due in—oh—about three hours.”

  Donald smiled, wrinkles forming around his eyes. “Then we’d better hurry.”

  The odor of cigar smoke struck Mary as she hurried into the newsroom. Despite the fact that outside night had surrendered to morning, inside with the blackout curtains still drawn, no one seemed the wiser.

  She fanned the smoke from her face as she hurried to the large map spread across the wall and studied the colored pins representing members of their group. A slip of paper and a handwritten note accompanied each pin, providing the location and assignment of each reporter. It looked like Manson had gone with the Rangers. Silvers with the paratroopers. Schmidt had taken off during the night with the medium bombers who were blasting open a way for the land forces on a beach they’d code-named Utah.

  And O’Donnelly? Well, she was on a ship just off the landing sites. Had been flown from London to the vessel right before the launch. Of all the stinking good luck.

  Mary perched her fists on her hips and looked around the room, feeling sorry to be stuck with these guys. Green-shaded lights illuminated tired faces. Many, she guessed, had been here since midnight when Operation Overlord had been announced.

  One reporter, who she knew had just arrived from a ship somewhere in the Atlantic, knocked over a chair as he lunged for a ringing phone. Other men hammered on their typewriters as if pounding on German heads with each stroke. And yet another man, whom Mary had seen around the office from time to time, sat behind a desk with a sign that read COMBAT CENSOR. Before any news of the landing was published, it had to get by him first. After all, loose lips—or loose news stories—sink ships.

  “M.K., I need you to head down to the airfield in Bassingbourn.
” Sgt. Lyle Milner approached with an unlit cigar dangling from his lips. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and a white residue lined his jaw, highlighting his hurried attempt at shaving. He sighed as a dozen phones rang off the hook and an equal number of reporters called his name.

  “Bassingbourn’s one of the top bomber bases. All the brass are hanging out there. Talk with a few cronies and get their take on this morning’s efforts.”

  Mary resisted the urge to scrape her nail against the dried shaving cream on his face. “Bassingbourn. Isn’t that where Clark Gable was stationed and did that documentary? I watched that a year or so back.”

  “He was stationed at Peterborough in the 508th, but he was filmed at Bassingbourn for publicity and recruiting spots. Bassingbourn was the home of the Memphis Bell. And if you know that, most likely there are some Americans out there who will want the scoop.”

  Mary placed a hand on her boss’s shoulder as she’d seen Lee do. “Sure thing, Lyle. Do I have a ride?”

  Her familiarity didn’t seem to faze him.

  “Yup, there’s a jeep outside. Patrick Jessup’s going with you.” Sergeant Milner pointed across the room to a balding man with a camera bag swung over his shoulder.

  The photographer was thin and average looking, but he perked up when he heard his name, and moved toward Mary with quick steps and an eager expression. She couldn’t help but return his smile.

  After being briefed once again about security concerning classified information, they jumped into the waiting jeep. Mary sat in the front seat next to the driver, and Patrick hopped in back, easing his camera case onto the black vinyl seat as if it were a crystal vase. The engine roared to life, and the driver pulled out onto the road.

  Though morning had brightened slightly, because of cloud cover they still couldn’t make out any action in the sky as they drove the sixty miles toward the air base. Yet the closer they got, the louder grew the sound of aircraft roaring overhead.

  “I should be up there, you know.” Mary cocked her head and stared into the murky sky. “I could produce much better stories if they’d let me do the job I was sent here to do. I mean, I could have stayed in New York for this type of gig. There’s plenty of important people I could’ve tracked down there.”