A Secret Courage

by Tricia Goyer

  Her lower lip trembled slightly, and she told herself she’d have a good cry later, but not here, not now. It took her a minute to steady herself before the words would come.

  “We used to fight,” she finally said. “He said he’d get around to reading more of the Bible when he had problems he needed answered. I suppose the minor ups and downs happening in Tremont didn’t seem worthy of God’s advice.”

  “I suppose England became that moment. His problems sure were big enough.”

  Emma sighed as she fingered the Bible. Flipping through the pages, she found a bookmark. She flipped to the page and saw a highlighted section. Seeing the story that was highlighted took away the last of her reserves. Large, silent tears found their way down her cheeks.

  “Robert, before you go, can you do something for me?”

  “What’s that, miss?”

  “Would you read this underlined passage to me? I need to hear this right now.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Robert took that Bible from her hands. Emma leaned forward, wrapped her arms around her knees, and pulled them in tight.

  Edward cleared his throat. “‘Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee. Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again.’”

  He was silent then, and when she opened her eyes to look at him, he pointed to something on the page. “There’s a written note here on the side. Do you want me to read that too?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “It says, ‘God, thank you that those who believe in you will never die.’ That’s eternal life right there, Miss Hanson, and that’s what Sammy and I liked to talk about best, imagining what heaven’s going to be like. What dumb luck I’ve got that he got to see it before me.”

  A surprised chuckle burst from her lips. She took the book from Robert’s hands and pressed it to her chest, as if it were Samuel she was embracing. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it, now isn’t it?”

  Robert looked at his wristwatch and then stood. “It was great meeting you.”

  “Thank you for coming.” She stood too despite the tremble in her knees.

  For a second she questioned if it was appropriate to give him a hug, but she couldn’t hold back. As she squeezed hard around his shoulders, she pictured herself holding Samuel, and she almost didn’t want to let go.

  Finally she stepped back. “Please write me, will you? Let me know how you’re doing.”

  Robert nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I can do that. And you have to write back. Sammy would want me to make sure you were all right.”

  When she finally made it upstairs, Emma had no doubt the blotchiness of her face gave away a mix of sadness and joy. Joy over her brother’s faith and a fresh sorrow over his loss. Their shift had already started, and when she entered, everyone looked at her with compassion. Sarah must have told them about the visitor, and even though no one asked specific questions, all of them understood.

  “My brother’s friend,” she stated to the group before hurrying to her desk. “He came to bring me Samuel’s Bible.” And as she sat, Edward approached.

  “Emma, if you need the night off—”

  “No.” The word blurted from her lips. “I want to do this. I need to do this. If it wasn’t for the German…”

  She couldn’t finish her sentence, but they all knew. If it wasn’t for the German madness, her brother would still be alive.

  Emma was thankful Edward did not give her any new photos of Hamburg. Instead, he asked her to work on some reports.

  “I’m going to London in a few days to talk to the chief of staff. I need you to go through all the reports from the last few months of our secret project. Pull out all the key information and compile it in one report.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  For the first time, Emma was thankful to be hidden behind a large pile of paperwork. And finally, when her shift ended and the morning dawned bright outside her window, Emma was eager to get back to her bunk. She was thankful when she looked out to the front of the estate and didn’t see Will’s auto parked there. She wanted to see Will. She wanted to apologize, but not today. The visit with Sammy’s friend and the long hours of work had taken her to the end of her rope.

  Not hungry, she skipped breakfast and went straight to her bunk. It was only there, in the quiet of the Nissen hut, that Emma dared to open the Bible again.

  Turning to the bookmarked section, Emma noticed a second note, one that looked to be written at a different time. Even though it was still clearly Samuel’s handwriting, the script was more slanted. It was also written with a different color of ink.

  “Emma, thy brother shall rise again.”

  Joy leapt in her heart at seeing it, and yet at the same time she wondered why he’d wanted her to have the Bible, why he hadn’t left a request to have it sent to their parents. A flutter in her stomach moved to her heart. Maybe Samuel knew that it was my faith that would need to be strengthened. While things were no doubt hard for her parents, she was here on this side of the world, in the middle of a big war.

  There was no chill, but still Emma wrapped her blanket around herself. She needed the comfort. She needed something to wipe her tears on. She needed something to cling to.

  She thought back to all those sibling talks as they walked the beach. She’d been so insistent that Samuel needed to take life more seriously and take God more seriously. Emma had thought that before she left that should be her one mission—to help her brother take hold of his faith in order to face what was to come. But in so many ways she’d been the one who’d left it behind.

  That girl had been so naive. She’d yet to know the pain and destruction with which this world could pierce her heart. She’d believed in God most when the world seemed a safe, good place, but Samuel had found him while fighting through the darkness.

  Had she left God on the shores of Bass Harbor? Some days it felt that she had. When she’d chosen to travel to Britain alone, she’d felt so brave. She’d pulled up from deep in her heart reserves of courage she didn’t know she had. But in discovering her own strength, had she left God’s strength behind?

  Maybe courage had more to do with trusting God than she thought. Courage, as she could best describe it in her mind, was being able to do something that truly frightened her. And lately the thing that frightened her most was trusting that God would take care of everything, that he had a plan. It was hard enough to see that God had a plan when she read the newspapers or looked at the covers on her desk. But even harder was trusting herself—her heart and maybe even her life—to him.

  The minutes ticked by. Her bunkmates would soon be returning and settling in to sleep. She knew she needed to try to sleep too, as hard as it would be, but she took another moment to flip through the Bible that Samuel had held so dear, and just as she was about to close it she came to another note inside the back cover.

  Dear God, it was our tenth mission, and it was hell out there. I’ve never seen anything like it. We almost died tonight. The plane was hit, and we made it back on a prayer. I read this today,

  “There is a Pilot in Command, and I’m not him. There is a flight plan…”

  The words ended there, as if Samuel had been called away. And two missions later he had left and never returned.

  There is a flight plan, and Samuel is no doubt understanding it more than he ever had before.

  She’d tried to talk her younger brother into loving God more, but when it came to life, talk wasn’t enough. Maybe something she’d said had stuck with him, and maybe she needed to take her own advice.

  Will had told her she’d cracked his heart open, and it now was harder to stay at arm’s distance. This war had also built a shell around her heart, but maybe love would crack it open as well. Will’s love and Samuel’s. How was it possible that in the midst of such pain she felt more loved than ever?

  She’d lost Samuel, though,
and she didn’t want to think about losing Will too. She needed him. Needed to see his care for her. Needed his forgiveness. Emma needed to be reminded that even though the war had heaped pain upon pain, it had also brought them together.

  TWENTY-SIX

  August 10, 1943

  Berndt dipped the oars, and the rowboat skimmed across the water. Through the years, thousands of boats had traveled on the Thames, but never with the same mission.

  The late summer days were cooler in the morning, and that made him smile. If all went as planned his work would be done by September, and then he’d be free to return to his homeland. Free to return as a hero.

  Up ahead, Danesfield House loomed at the bend in the river. For one who knew what to look for, the earthworks of a medieval fortification were clear. Even though it was overgrown and covered by ivy and bushes, the defensive wall of the medieval fort could still be seen if one looked hard enough.

  Berndt had discovered the wall one of the first times he’d rowed to the location. Like men of old, he first turned to the river for transportation. Only later did he discover the hidden tunnels that made transporting explosives to the estate effortless. Every morning when he went through the front gate, the guards checked him to make sure he didn’t carry anything dangerous. Yet they had no idea that in the early morning, even before the guards awoke, he moved along the river, transporting all he needed to fulfill his plan.

  With each stroke of the paddles, anger surged through him. In the photo archives of Danesfield House, he’d seen the photographs of his country—historic buildings, bridges, and roads turned into rubble. People burned into ash. If the Allies wanted to destroy by fire, they’d be taken down by the same. He’d hit them where it hurt. And without the photo reconnaissance, the bombing was sure to stop.

  Seeing his landing spot ahead, Berndt steered the small craft to the shore. He pulled close to the beach and climbed out. And then he tugged the rowboat onto the ground and covered it with brush. He pulled the rucksack out of the boat and swung it over his shoulder. He walked up the hill, hunkered down alongside the damaged wall.

  The end of the wall led him to the gardens, situated behind the Nissen huts. The front entrances of Danesfield House were always guarded, but it amazed him that no one thought to protect the rear, except for one lone sentry who walked the garden once each night.

  Entering the garden area, Berndt moved to the garden shack in the back corner overlooking the cliffs and dropped off his things. Then, moving back the way he came, he walked back down the wall. He almost had enough explosives to finish his work. A few more shipments from his supplier and he’d be ready.

  When he got back to the river’s edge, Berndt made sure the rowboat was still covered, and then he walked down the river, away from the estate. A few minutes later he found the trail he’d created in the woods and walked up to the road. Once there, he trudged along until he reached the gates. He walked slowly to the guard station, noting Howard wasn’t working that day. As Berndt approached, the guard greeted him with a smile.

  “It looks as if it’s going to be a good day today.” The guard scanned the sky. “It might rain this morning, but I imagine it won’t last long.”

  “Yes, well, if it does rain, I have plenty to do inside today. Although I much prefer the gardens.” Berndt didn’t mention that he would be working to set up more explosives inside…after he paid a visit to Vera, of course. A soft smile touched his lips when he thought of her. It was nice to find a bit of pleasure within his work. He hadn’t allowed himself that for years. She made him feel like a man again. His only regret was that she’d have to die too. He couldn’t leave any loose ends.

  The soldier waved him in. “Have a good day.”

  Berndt walked around back to the servants’ entrance and spent time chatting with the rest of the staff. Then he gathered his cleaning supplies and moved down the back stairs to the basement area where the archives were. He set down his supplies on the cart in a downstairs closet and went into the archive room. He walked with slow steps, annoyed that he had to continue the ruse of his limp at times like these. He walked up to the front desk and noticed Vera’s head was lowered. She was bent over, looking through a cardboard box of black-and-white photographs.

  “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” she called without looking up.

  “Don’t worry. I’m happy to wait.”

  Her head darted up, and a glimmer filled her eyes. “You’re here early today.”

  “Of course.” He walked around the desk and held out his hands to her. She stood and stepped into his embrace. Berndt pulled her to himself and breathed in the scent of her hair. She lifted her face and allowed him to kiss her. Her mouth was soft and sweet. After a moment she pulled away.

  She pushed against his chest, but he didn’t release his hold. “Enough now. We’re going to be caught.”

  He nodded and stepped back. “Yes, we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He released a heavy sigh.

  Vera sat again and brushed her hair back from her face. “But if you’re still up for it, maybe we can meet up at the Dog and Badger later?” She’d been asking him to take her out for months. She was sure that their relationship wouldn’t be frowned on, but he didn’t agree.

  “No.” The word shot from Berndt’s mouth. “Not yet. We must focus on proving that Will Fletcher is a spy.”

  She leaned forward over her desk, looking up at him and speaking in a harsh whisper. “Don’t you think we have enough evidence? In addition to the information about his German heritage, I talked to Emma. She admitted that they visited Will’s friend Ruth and that the woman’s accent was strong. I have a feeling that Ruth is in on it too. It’s no wonder he visits her so often. It’s a nice cover to be caring for war orphans, don’t you think?”

  “It’s information, but not enough. We must do two more things.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. First you need to invite both Emma and Will on an outing. Maybe we can all go rowing in Henley. It’s lovely this time of year.”

  Vera frowned. “I can do that, but why?”

  “I want to talk to Will in a casual setting. I want to know who else he is connected with in town—who might be in on his ploy.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “And the second thing you need help with?”

  “I have a camera, but I don’t have a way to develop film. I saw Will poking around the ancient earthworks that run from the estate down to the river. Did you know that Danesfield House was built on the site of an ancient fort? There are all types of hidden walls and secret tunnels that could lead him all over the estate gardens with no one even knowing it—let alone the security guards finding it out. I have a feeling he is up to something. I’m going to try to capture him on film. Can you think of any reason why he’d be considering arson?”

  “Arson?” Her eyes widened. “Well, that does make sense. There is so much important information in this building, in these archives.” Fear filled her gaze. “There is a darkroom in the basement. We use it for making duplicate prints. If you bring me the film I can develop it.”

  Berndt stepped forward and brushed a finger down Vera’s cheek. “I knew I could count on you. And one more thing…It just might help if Emma is there when you develop the film. Right now I’m afraid if you tried to tell her the truth she wouldn’t believe you. I’m afraid her heart is getting in the way of her head.”

  “Maybe if you’d just let me talk to Emma…to tell her what we know.”

  Berndt shook his head. “Darling, you know she won’t listen. You can’t just share words. You have to share truth. Emma’s not going to believe anything you say unless she can see it with her own eyes.”

  “You’re right, Berndt. I just feel so bad. Emma is usually so guarded. And now that she’s finally opened her heart…”

  “Better a broken heart than a spy among us, right?”

  He leaned forward and placed one more kiss on her lips. “You’ll k
now the truth soon, Vera. Everything will be made clear soon enough.”

  August 11, 1943

  Emma climbed into the black automobile parked outside of Danesfield House. It felt strange to be sitting in the backseat with Edward, with Danny in the driver’s seat. For all the months she’d been here she’d felt like any other PI, but not today. Edward had been called to London, and he’d asked her to come with him.

  “I might as well brief you on what information they most want you to report on. The War Cabinet is aware that ground reports have linked secret weapon activity with a village named Watten near Calais.”

  “Yes, I remember. The photographs showed advanced work and a gigantic concrete structure.” She opened her clenched fists and then spread them on her lap, trying to get rid of her nerves. “What about the other locations? All three sites are rail-served from main lines—something the British rocket experts believe is of great importance. Should we talk about that?”

  “Yes, you can share that information. Also go into more detail about Peenemünde, about the rockets and tailless aircraft seen there and the launching apparatus in the earthworks.”

  “I can do that. I just don’t understand why you want me there.”

  Danny pulled out through the gate and headed toward the train station. Emma just wished she’d been able to get word to Will. They had made up, and he was back to painting at Henley. This time, though, he was painting the view of the Thames.

  The car Danny was driving had just left the gates when something caught Emma’s eye. In the woods near the gates she saw a figure moving. Her heartbeat quickened when she noticed it was a man’s form. He was walking through the woods down to the river to what looked to be a rowboat.

  She couldn’t see the boat itself, but could tell from the shape of the brush stacked on top of it. Could it be Berndt? A sinking feeling hit her heart. Just this morning when Emma was getting ready for the day in London, Vera had finally confessed their relationship.

  “I’m in love with Berndt, Emma. At least I think I am.” She must have noticed a scowl on Emma’s face because Vera had playfully tapped her arm. “Don’t look at me like that. Seriously, I know you may not think we’re of equal station, but we are. He is so intelligent. Given the chance, he would be up there in the photo investigation unit with you.