“But shouldn’t we talk about this first?” I asked Henry.
“What is there to talk about?”
While a refusal sat on the tip of my tongue, and yet, no matter how much I toyed with the notion of uttering the single word of no, I didn’t. I couldn’t. For the fear also lurked deep inside, shutting me up, and the worry over living alone suddenly felt as pointless as filling a watering can with holes in the bottom. Now, instead, I feared living with German soldiers—men who could commit terrible things to other men, women, and even children.
Who knows what would happen to me if I lived alone in their company?
I suppose I knew, though.
It had been one of my father’s worst fears.
And that was the problem.
I glanced toward the hauptmann. “You may have all the bedrooms, I need none of them.”
He nodded and made his way toward us, stopping as he passed. His soldiers followed. “You have an hour to pack all the belongings you wish to take. In one hour, my men will return.”
“Wait,” I called after him.
He stopped and spun.
“What about my gardens?”
His eyes narrowed. “You may harvest what you can now. After today, everything is in the possession of the Commandant of the German Forces. You have one hour.”
I buried my face into my hands as the soldiers marched back onto the road and down the lane, vanishing around the corner.
“It shouldn’t take me long to collect my things. I’ll just throw all my clothes in suitcases. They can have everything else.”
“Don’t give them the satisfaction of that.”
“But what else can I do. We only have an hour.”
“Get all your clothes and all the pillows and blankets and throw them in the lorry. I’ll start on the garden, harvesting what I can. An hour isn’t much, but it’s still an hour. “
“And how do you plan on doing all that work?” I pointed to his cane.
“Don’t worry about me. Just go inside and get what you can.”
I moved a few steps from him but stopped again, turning back toward him. “Henry? Are you sure about this?”
“About what?”
“About me moving into your house?”
His head jerked backward, and his brow scrunched. “Why would I not be?”
“I don’t wish to be an imposition.”
“Evelyn, you can never be an imposition. Not in the slightest. Go start packing. We have less than an hour now.”
EIGHT
Evelyn - June 1940
“They finally released you?” a voice called out as we climbed out from the lorry. We both looked up to find Ian, Henry’s grandfather, leaning against the doorframe of their house with an apple in one hand and a knife in the other. He sliced off a bite and stuck it in his mouth, chewing with purpose.
“Had to,” Henry said. “With the Germans here and all.”
Ian shrugged, shaking his head, not in disagreement, but in annoyance at the whole situation.
“I’m under strict instructions to keep it clean,” I said, grunting as I helped him up the stairs into the house. “And he is under strict instructions to stay in bed as much as possible.”
“Like that won’t be difficult.” Ian rolled his eyes, cutting off another bite of apple.
“Especially with my new job.”
“What new job?”
“Apparently, I am the new Purchasing Officer. Whatever that means.”
“Probably has something to do with the rations you are to hand out to the residents now that we are under German rule.” Ian paused as he finished chewing his bite. “Please tell me you cleared out the store before you left town.”
“We got most of it.” Henry pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s in the back.”
“Good. We’ll move it after dark. Hide it in the door under the root cellar.” Ian motioned toward the lorry. “What’s all the other stuff packed in there?”
Henry and I both glanced over our shoulders, looking toward my belongings—or at least what we could get in the hour we had.
“Germans came by Evelyn’s house, informing her they would be . . . taking, two of the bedrooms. She can’t live with strange men, so I told her she could live in our spare bedroom. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? If you would have come and gotten me, I would have helped you pack her stuff.” He motioned us to follow him inside the house. “Ernest and Ivy came by the house today. They said they would come back around dinnertime.They want to bring us dinner.”
“That’s nice of them.” I helped Henry over to the table, pulling out the chair for him to sit. The legs squeaked as they skidded across the floor.
“They also came by with some interesting news of their own.” Ian sat down across the table from Henry while I made my way to the kitchen and poured Henry a glass of water. “It seems Rose Danbury and her grandson Francis are moving into their house with them.”
“Why?”
“Same reason Evelyn is moving in with us. The Germans came to her house this morning, asking to see it and how many vacant bedrooms it had. She didn’t want them to know about Francis, so she told them she was the only one living there. They told her she could have a bedroom, the kitchen, and the use of the living room when they were not there.”
I paused as I reached out to set the glass on the table. Instead of setting it down, however, I hovered it over the wood. My hand trembled as I thought of old lady Danbury and her young grandson having to live with a couple of Germans in her home—her Jewish home.
“Did they figure out she is Jewish?” Henry asked.
“I don’t think so. If she had any lick of sense in her, she would bury any hint of her religion in the grove by Benson’s farm.”
Henry glanced at me, then took the glass from my hand, setting it down in front of him before he grabbed my hand. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just worried for Rose and Francis. They should have evacuated with the children when they had the chance.” I slid into the seat next to Henry and rested my elbows on the table before clasping my hands together and fighting the urge to fidget with my fingers.
Ian stood, rounding the chair as he made his way over to the sink and tossed the knife into the basin. He set the half-eaten apple on the counter and washed his hands. “The Brunson’s should be here before long. I’m going to get some fresh milk for dinner.”
As he left, Henry stood as well. He winced in pain, but cleared his throat to hide it. “We should get some of your things inside. We can deal with the rest later on.”
“No, I will get them. You go sit on the couch for the rest of the night. You’ve already done too much.”
“But—”
I held up my finger and wiggled it, shaking my head. “Couch.”
By the time I retrieved a couple of the suitcases and brought them inside, Henry had hobbled down to the bedroom.
“I thought I told you to stay on the couch,” I said.
He laughed. “I just wanted to make sure the bedroom was in order. Then I will go sit down. I promise. It might be dusty. I don’t know the last time someone used the room.”
“It’s all right. I’ll give it a good cleaning.” I threw the suitcases on the bed and unbuckled them, flipping the tops over to expose my clothes. In my haste in packing, I had folded nothing. Instead, I shoved it all inside without care or concern about wrinkles. A few blouses had stayed somewhat folded when yanked from the drawers, but the skirts and pants hadn’t. And the dresses grabbed from the closet hadn’t in the slightest.
I fetched two of several photograph frames I had ripped off the wall and set them on top of the dresser. One of my parents on their wedding day, and another taken of all of us one summer afternoon on the beach. Happier times, the smiling faces stared back at me, warming my heart for a moment in a time I needed it.
“I’m sorry you had to leave your home,” Henry whispered as he watched me stare at the photographs
.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know it must still be hard.”
I snorted a laugh. “What part of the occupation will ever be easy? I fear moving from my home will be the easiest thing I will have to face in all of this.”
“You shouldn’t feel like that. We will get through it. The war could be over next week.”
“Or it could last years.”
“I just wish I could have . . .” I slapped my hand over my mouth and faced Henry, blinking with wide eyes. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“My books—the boxes of books for the store. They were all in the cellar.” I uncovered my mouth and ran my hands through my hair, gripping the strands and tugging on them as I paced in front of the bed. “How did I forget them? I’m so stupid.”
“You aren’t stupid.”
“But I left them there. Who knows what the Germans will do to them.”
“They might do nothing. What need would they have to go down in the cellar?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got to go get them.”
“You aren’t going back there tonight. I’ll go back in the morning and get them.”
“But what if they are gone by then?”
“Well, let’s hope that isn’t the case. Don’t worry. I’ll get them tomorrow.” He offered a smile before he moved around the bed. His foot must have caught on the frame, though, and he stumbled forward. I rushed to him, grabbing him to help him regain his balance. His body leaned against mine and he closed his eyes, hissing in pain. “I am. Damn, bed post.” He growled.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so too. Thank you for catching me. I probably would have fallen all the way to the ground if you hadn’t.” A slight chuckle moved through his words like he was trying to make light of nearly falling, and as I released him he straightened back up. Our gazes locked on to one another’s for a moment, and the blue hue in his was like the sea after a storm. I had always known his eyes were blue, but not that blue. Like the dark blue sky during a storm, the color deepened with his coal black hair. My heartbeat kicked up and heat rushed up the back of my neck. I moved away from him as it spread into my cheeks. Surely, a bright shade of red, I wanted to hide them from him.
I cleared my throat. “I think I’ll finish up after dinner. Do you know what time Ivy and Ernest will be here?”
The front door opened, and Ivy’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Knock, knock! Is anyone here?”
“I think now,” Henry said, nodding as he made a funny face.
I laughed and waved my hand toward the door. “After you.”
I followed him down the hallway as Ivy and Ernest greeted Ian.
“We came bearing, well, it might not be much, but it’s hot . . .” Ivy stopped talking as she noticed me, and she blinked. Her flame-colored red hair was pinned up into a bun with a few loose curls pulled out around her face. “And it’s good.” She paused after finishing her sentence and moved over to me, wrapping me in a hug. “I’m sorry to hear of your parents,” she whispered in my ear.
“Thank you.”
“I know this is probably a stupid question, but how are you doing? I kept telling Ernest I wanted to go to the hospital to see you and Henry, but with the Germans . . . Ernest wanted me to stay home.”
“I understand.”
“She’ll be fine, and right as rain now that we’ve moved her in here with us.” Ian interrupted us women, moving over beside me to wrap his arm around my shoulder and give me a squeeze.
“Moved her in here?” Ivy jerked her head back and cocked one eyebrow.
“She’s moved into our spare bedroom. It will help me take care of the place and Henry, and that way she won’t have to live with the Germans who came knocking at her door.”
With the mention of the soldiers, Ivy’s hardened stare and confusion softened, and her shoulders relaxed. “Of course, that makes sense. Did you tell Henry and Evelyn about Rose and Francis?”
“I did.” Ian glanced over at Henry, who watched us with a half-smile on his face. Our eyes met and for a moment, he felt unreadable. While I had often understood—or at least believe I did—the thoughts running through his mind, in this moment, I didn’t.
Did he not want me in his house? Did he not wish for me to move in?
Before I could think to ask him, even if it meant I would have to do so in front of everyone, Ernest grabbed Henry’s arm and motioned Henry to follow him outside. Henry ambled, wincing a few times before he shut the door behind him, the two men leaving the three of us in the dining room.
Ian and Ivy, ignoring the two who left, continued on, first chatting about the night’s dinner, how lovely it smelled and would taste according to Ivy, and then moving onto the preparations for moving other people into their homes. Like how they would move and pack the furniture or where they would store it in the barn.
“Unfortunately, I told Rose she would have to leave most of her belongings. We simply cannot take everything from her home. She wishes to leave the soldiers an empty place, but it just isn’t feasible.”
“I can imagine she will still try to take everything, so should you need any help, let me know.” Ian laughed and shook his head as though he could picture a carriage halting in front of Ernest and Ivy’s place filled to the point of things falling out of it.
Knowing Rose, I could picture it too. A collector, if you will. She had treasures in every inch of space in her home. Mementos, she would call them, I doubted she ever threw anything away.
“I just feel bad for Francis. Losing his parents in that horrible accident, then losing his Grandfather last year. And now, he has to leave the only home he has ever known . . . the poor boy must be so confused.”
“Ah, I think we can give him more credit than that. He’s going on thirteen. He’ll be a man soon. I think he understands what they must do.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. Perhaps, being around Ernest will help the boy.”
“I’m sure it will.”
The two of them moved into the kitchen, and while Ian opened the cabinets to collect the bowls, Ivy opened the drawer and grabbed enough spoons for everyone.
“I forgot to bring the biscuits.” She let out a groan as she arced her gaze up toward the ceiling. “How could I have forgotten them?”
“It’s fine. I have some. Baked them fresh this morning.”
While the two continued chatting and fetching a plate to arrange the biscuits on, I slipped toward the front door. Their talk of how wonderful they smelled and how soft they were inside was nothing more than muffled sounds, as was the laughter over the history behind the recipe. Instead of listening to them, I wanted to find out what Henry had been thinking, and why Ernest thought it wise for the two of them to go outside for a moment.
With a gentle turn of the doorknob, it clicked, and the door popped. I opened it slowly, closing my eyes as the hinges squeaked a little.
Drowned out by the crickets singing their melodies in the bushes along the outside of the house, I inched out onto the front porch and leaned against the railing, listening for the two men. However wrong it would be to overhear their conversation.
“Do you really think Evelyn moving in with you is a good idea?” Ernest asked. He kept his tone low and hushed, but it still held a hint of worry that elevated the pitch.
“Why would I not? It’s not like she’s a stranger. I’ve known her most of my life. And so have you.”
“Yes, I know. But . . .”
“But, what?”
“What about Amelia?”
“What about her? She’s in England, and God knows where exactly or for how long.” Henry threw his arm up into the air, growling with frustration behind his words. He hobbled a few steps forward and leaned against the fence.
“And how do you think she would feel about all of this?”
Henry glanced over at Ernest. Although he was a darkened silhouette in the moonlight, I could see a few o
f his features, and he furrowed his brow toward his friend.
“What exactly are you implying, Ernest?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do. Do you think if Amelia were here she would be mad at me? Do you think if she was here, I wouldn’t have offered for the both of them to stay with us? Germans are moving into people’s houses without permission—”
“Yes, I know this.”
“If Amelia was here, then it would be two girls living alone in their house. Do you think the Germans wouldn’t expect them to move into one room while forcing them to care for soldiers in the other two?”
“No, I don’t.”
“So, what does it matter if Amelia is here or not. Am I not supposed to protect her sister?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, then, what did you mean to say?”
Ernest paused for a moment, drawing in a long breath that he exhaled even slower than he inhaled. “I’ve known you our whole lives, and I’ve known Amelia and Evelyn for their entire lives.”
“So, what is your point?”
“Ask anyone around here, which sister we thought you would fall for, and even end up marrying, and it wouldn’t be the one who is now hundreds of miles away in England.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We all know it, Henry. You and Evelyn are . . . the same. Amelia is . . . now don’t get me wrong, she is a lovely girl with a heart of gold and we all love her, but I never knew what the two of you saw in each other aside from just that you thought each other were friendly people.” Ernest leaned against the fence next to Henry. Both of them kept their voices low and with their backs turned to me, I had to cup a hand over my ear to hear them well enough.
“I . . . I didn’t know you thought that way,” Henry said.
“It’s not just me.”
“So, you are worried something will happen between Evelyn and me? And then Amelia would come home to find us together?”
“That’s the gist of it. You can’t come between sisters. It would do neither of them a service.”
Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1) Page 8