Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1)

by Angela Christina Archer

  She stepped a few more steps closer and stopped once again, hesitating, waiting.

  “I said don’t do it,” I whispered again.

  As the attendant turned to hand over a bowl of soup to one soldier, she lunged for the basket, swiping a large roll with a quick grab. She tucked it under her arm and darted around the soldiers. One of them noticed her, and as she passed him, he shouted at her and grabbed her arm.

  The sudden commotion caught the attention of the rest of the soldiers standing in line, and when the one holding her told them what she’d done, they surrounded the little girl, all shouting in German at her. She dropped to her knees, cowered, and screamed at them not to hurt her and she was sorry.

  The soldier who had helped Violet jumped into the fray, separating his brothers-in-arms and shouting at them until they listened and stepped aside, exposing the girl huddled in a ball on the ground. He bent down, lifting her up so they were eye to eye.

  “Did you take it?” he asked her.

  She nodded, wiping her tear-streaked face. “I’m hungry. I’m sorry I took it. Please forgive me. Don’t take me to Major Lanz.”

  He inhaled a deep breath and nodded. “You may go. But I need your word you will never steal another loaf of bread.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  He stood back up as she hurried away down the street without looking over her shoulder. The other soldiers began complaining as they slapped his shoulders and shoved him around a bit. Some of them looking as though they were teasing and others looking as though he’d pissed them off.

  “Enough!” He waved off their punches. “What she took was mine. She can have my share.”

  A few of them continued to quarrel with him over giving the little girl the bread, while the rest returned to their line at the soup cart, waving their hands at him as though they thought he was daft for giving up his daily bread allowance.

  He moved away from the cart, glancing one last time at Violet before marching off. His jackboots pounded the ground.

  “Did you see what he just did?” Violet brushed her hand against her chest, her voice breathless.

  “So, he gave a little girl a loaf of bread. So what?” Ivy grabbed Violet’s wrist, tugging on her. “Let’s go.”

  Violet moved as though she was the skin of an apple being peeled away from the fruit inside. She glanced over her shoulder back toward the direction the soldier disappeared a few times before she ducked her chin and smiled to herself.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Ivy pointed her finger at Violet’s face as she continued to drag her friend down the street, hurrying her away from the soup cart.

  “Don’t think about what?”

  “You don’t want people to label you as a jerrybag, do you?”

  “What’s a jerrybag?” I asked.

  Ivy whipped her head toward me, scrunching her face as she waved her hand, silently telling me to keep my voice down. She lowered hers to a whisper, “A woman who . . . spends her time with German soldiers.”

  “Do you mean like she dates them?”

  “Dates them. Gets gifts from them. Even sleeps with them.”

  “Are you bloody serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. And it’s a serious crime.”

  “Crime? For what? And how do you know this?” Violet wiggled from Ivy’s hold and tugged on the sleeve of her dress as if to straighten it out now that she was free. She arched her brow at Ivy.

  “Well, it’s not like a legal crime, although I have heard it is for the soldiers. If caught they face punishment.”

  “Like what kind?”

  Ivy shrugged. “I’ve heard they are sent away. To where, I’m not sure. But no matter, while it’s not illegal, it’s frowned upon. And the women face worse. I’ve heard the town men getting quite angry about it. A few of them said if it continues, they would take matters into their own hands.”

  “As in how?” I asked.

  Ivy shrugged again. “I don’t know exactly, and I don’t know if I want to know.”

  “Well, I think it’s a lot of rubbish.” Violet straightened her shoulders and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. Walking with a bit of arrogance to her, she scowled. “They can’t force people who want to be together to stay away from each other.”

  “Yes, they can. And they will.”

  With her gruff tone, Ivy quickened her pace, stepping out and walking about a half of a meter in front of us. She crossed her arms across her chest and tucked her chin. Her shoulders were rigid with annoyance. Violet and I glanced at one another but said nothing as we followed her to the purchasing office.

  Once in front of the building, my fingers hesitated on the door. Ill prepared for Henry’s wrath, I held my breath as I entered, cringing as the bell above the door chimed.

  Henry glanced up from the counter. He paused from marking down the list of supplies he was handing out; his hand and pencil hovered over the paper. I tucked the left side of my hair behind my ear as I made my way toward the front, passing by Ivy who had already found Ernest and given him a hug and a kiss. Violet sneaked around the store behind me, following close, but keeping her distance as Henry watched the both of us for a moment.

  “Can I go now?” the man in front of Henry asked.

  “Yes, of course, I have it marked off.” Henry answered the man, but without taking his eyes off me. “Ernest?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you see to the rest of the line?”

  “Of course.”

  While the married pair took over at the counter, Henry motioned me into the back storage room, and he shut the door behind us.

  “I told you to stay away from town,” he said.

  “I know. But . . . I feel as though I’m going to go mad being locked up.” I scratched my forehead as I heaved a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something for once that felt normal and taking a walk to town with Ivy and Violet reminded me of a time before the occupation.”

  Henry’s shoulders and eyes seemed to soften. “I suppose I was a bit harsh in telling you you can’t come into town. I only want to keep you safe.”

  “I know you do, but you can’t always be around. I’m going to have to take care of myself.”

  “I know.” He raised a finger, wiggling it. “However, if something else happens in town, you will stay home from then on.”

  “I suppose I could live with that.”

  “Are you going to visit the bookshop?”

  I shook my head. “What reason do I have to go there? It will never be a shop. Not anymore.”

  “Don’t say that. It will. When this war ends and we can force the Germans to leave, you will open that shop. I know you will.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. We stood in silence, breathing as we stayed pressed against each other, neither of us—or at least it seemed neither of us—wanting to let go of the other. I thought of the things Ivy had said while we walked to town. I didn’t want to admit to her; I thought as she did, nor did I want to admit that I was, perhaps, feeling the same about him.

  He wasn’t mine to love, though. He was Amelia’s. She might have been in London—or wherever—but when the war was over, she would return to me . . . and she would return to him. Even if it’d been mere weeks, they had spent time together, and it was still enough time for them to share somewhat of a bond. While it wasn’t love between them, it wasn’t only friendship either.

  The door opened behind us and we both moved away from each other as Ivy stepped inside the storage room.

  “Henry . . .” She paused, glancing between the two of us. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

  “You didn’t,” I said to her, ignoring how Henry turned toward me as though he wanted to disagree with me, however he didn’t.

  “Did you need something?” he asked her, resting his hands on his hips.

  “Ernest needs to ask you a question.”

  “All right. I’ll go see
him now.”

  Ivy waited until Henry left the storage room before she whipped around to face me. One of her eyebrows arched as she cocked her head to the side. “So, there is nothing between you, then?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “And what if I do? What if I want nothing to happen between us? Have you ever thought of that? Have you ever thought of the precarious position I am in when the war is over, and Amelia comes home? Or have you just been so focused on proving you were right in thinking there might be something between us?”

  “I—”

  I raised my hand, stopping her. “It’s not exactly like I am in an ideal circumstance, Ivy.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why do you feel the need to give me a hard time?”

  “To make you admit it to yourself!” She stepped toward me with her hands on her hips. She raised her voice; only it wasn’t in a shout of anger. It was in a shout of concern. “You never allow yourself anything in life.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Everything is always about Amelia, while you sit off to the side watching her enjoy all that the world offers her, and all you give up for her.”

  “What have I given up for her?”

  Ivy’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer to me. “What is the real reason you wanted to open the bookshop?”

  The truth sent tension through my shoulders. “Amelia has nothing to do with that. You know I’ve always wanted to own a shop.”

  “So, it’s not to pay for her studies at the university because you knew your parents couldn’t afford it?”

  I opened my mouth, but closed it for a moment. “So, I’m to steal the man she cares for? Is that what you wish for me to do?”

  “Do not change the subject and do not twist my words. But, yes, if you love him more than she does and if he loves you, yes. You are. Don’t let love slip through your fingers because of a promise you or she, or even Henry made months ago—not when you don’t stand a chance in keeping them. The world is different now.” Ivy backed away from me, turning slightly toward the door as she reached for the knob and opened it. “And you will see. She may come home to you . . . to him, to the both of you. But she will not be the same girl who left here. Just as you won’t be the same woman and Henry won’t be the same man who watched her walk away that day.”

  As Ivy left the storage room, her words hit me and twisted in my stomach, mocking me as they danced around and stole my breath.

  While the rest of our group chatted away as we all walked home, Henry and I both walked in silence. Of course, we answered questions when asked or responded when spoken to, but as for joining in the conversations and partaking in the banter, we both stayed tight-lipped.

  I didn’t know why he hadn’t said much, however; I knew why I hadn’t.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but it was because I couldn’t. The day had pounded me like the ocean waves pound the rocks at the base of the cliffs. Like an endless battering ram, the minutes and hours beat me until I didn’t know if I could emotionally handle another one without falling apart.

  I missed my parents. I missed my sister. I missed our lives; the ones shared before the occupation and before the war.

  “Do you need me to come to the purchasing office tomorrow?” Ernest asked Henry. From the tail end of a conversation he had been having with his wife over what they both had planned, he had tapped on Henry’s shoulder, waving his hand to gain his attention.

  “Huh?”

  “I asked if you need me to come with you tomorrow?”

  “Oh . . . no. I can manage.”

  “Let me know if anything changes.”

  “I will.”

  While Ernest and Violet waved their goodbyes, Ivy gave me a peck on the cheek and rubbed my arm. “You going to be all right?”

  “Of course.” I smiled at her. “I will see you later.”

  She glanced over at Henry and then to me and winked. “Soon.”

  “I don’t care what it is you say or think!” I called after her as she trotted off to catch up with the other two.

  She turned in a circle, hopping a few steps backwards. “That doesn’t mean I can’t think it.”

  By the time she finished, the three of them had vanished from sight. The only notion they’d been with us was Ivy’s slight laughter that echoed in her wake.

  “What was that all about?”

  “It’s nothing.” I moved my shoulders as I ducked my chin and smirked.

  He jerked his head. “Really? That is all you’re going to give me?”

  “Just something about finding love or something,” I shook my head. “I don’t know. It confused me too.”

  “Finding love? Did she mean you finding love?”

  My heart thumped, and I cleared my throat. “No. I think she was talking about Violet.” I closed my eyes, praying my words made some sense even if I knew they didn’t.

  The light from his once seemingly happier mood vanished, and his lips curved into a frown. “How can anyone find love in all of this?”

  We stared at one another for a moment before I shrugged. “I don’t know how.”

  “I don’t know how either.”

  He moved around me, stomping up the walkway from the fence to the house, and went inside. Not once since the Germans invaded had I ever wanted to go home for the night, but this one, right now, I did. I didn’t want to spend another night cooking dinner and washing the dishes in silence, and I also didn’t want to spend another evening cooped up in my bedroom, lying on the bed as I thought of all the things I wanted to say, or all the things I should say, but never could find the courage for.

  With an exhaled breath, I followed him, shutting the door behind me. The lock clicked softly.

  “There you are,” Ian made his way from the kitchen toward the front door where I stood, taking off my coat and my shoes.

  “Sorry I wasn’t home earlier, as I said I would be. We stayed in town a little longer than planned.”

  “I figured.” He yanked a rag from his back pocket, dabbing at his forehead, then his neck.

  “Are you hungry?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. But I am tired. I think I might actually turn in for the night.”

  “But it’s only five o’clock.”

  He winked and leaned in close to me, whispering. “Sounds like the perfect time to go to bed, don’t you think?”

  I snorted a laugh. “I suppose.”

  “I’ve already said good night to Henry. He’s in the kitchen.”

  “All right. Sweet dreams.”

  “I hope so.”

  Ian shuffled down the hallway, his feet dragged on the floor as though it would be too much effort to pick them up and walk.

  I watched him until he reached his room and shut the door, then I exhaled a deep breath as I made my way toward the kitchen. A sense of dread in the unknown settled in my heartbeat.

  “Ian turned in for the night,” Henry said as I entered the kitchen. He stood over by the sink, washing his hands.

  “Yes, I know. He told me.”

  “Does he seem more tired to you each day?”

  “A little.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “I don’t blame you. However, I don’t know what we can do but just let him rest all he wants.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Henry dried his hands on a rag. “Are you hungry?”

  “A bit.”

  “Well, at least it’s just a bit. Had you been starving, well, then, I don’t know what you would have done.” He smiled as though trying to make a joke to ease the tension surrounding us.

  “You mean you don’t have a seven-course meal prepared for me?” I brushed my hand against my chest, letting my mouth gape open. “How dare you be so rude.”

  He bowed, laughing at he stood upright. “Please accept my apologies. I’m working with very few supplies.”

  “Excuse
s. Excuses, Mr. Barrow.”

  He ducked his chin, chuckling under his breath. “Can you get me the knife from the drawer?”

  “For what?”

  “I was going to cut the pork into two, get another meal out of them.” He paused. “You said you were only hungry a little, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Then we should make it last.”

  “You’re right we should.” I opened the drawer, digging inside for the handle of the knife. The silver blade glinted in the soft candlelight of the kitchen as I withdrew it and handed it over to him.

  “So, what do you make of Violet and this finding love thing?” Henry asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  He hesitated with the knife over the meat, his brow furrowed. “I wonder who she thinks Violet could date. Most of the young men we went to school with have left to enlist.”

  “But not all of them.”

  “No, not all of them. Still, though, it will be interesting to find out who it is when she finally tells you.”

  Watching him return to cutting the meat, I sat down at the table. My mind traveled a thousand miles a minute, repeating questions over and over. Things I wanted to ask myself. Things I wanted to ask him. The brave girl inside me egged me on, whispering in my ear to just ask. What was the harm in it? At least I would know. At least I wouldn’t be left wondering what he was thinking. Along with her, though, screamed the scared half of me. She shook her head, begging me to stay quiet. All she wanted to do was crawl in the corner and hide away from the world. She was fine with not having any answers, fine with not knowing.

  The two women battled against one another in a tug of war, leaving me fidgeting with my fingers until I began rubbing the back of my neck just to give them a job to do.

  “Do you wish to tell me what is bugging you?” Henry asked. He gave me a sideways glance, not lifting his head too high in my direction.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He pointed toward me. “Something seems to be on your mind. Care to share what it is?”

  “It’s nothing. Just thinking of the war. Thinking of how everything is so different and how our lives would have been if the war hadn’t happened.”

  His work on the meat slowed as he listened, and he took his time cooking it in a pan with some of our butter allowance. He said nothing. I watched for several more minutes before I stood and made my way over to the cabinet.