Hope at Dawn

by Stacie Henrie

  “I couldn’t…” She’d been nursing Friedrick through his illness. Not that she would have gone to tell Mr. Foster anything, even if she’d been given the chance. Would he be further enraged if he learned how much time she’d spent here with Friedrick, alone? Would others find out? Would she be branded a German sympathizer?

  “You couldn’t come? Is that what you were about to say, Miss Campbell? And why is that?”

  Tell the truth. Her father’s repeated council from her youth entered her mind and gave her courage. She’d done the humane thing in caring for Friedrick, which was nothing to be ashamed of.

  “I was not able to come, Mr. Foster, because I was nursing Mr. Wagner back to health.” She kept her head held high. “While in jail, he came down with influenza. He was too sick to make it home, and so I stayed here in the school with him and cared for him until he was well enough to return to his farm.”

  A flicker of surprise crossed the man’s face.

  “You may ask any of the neighbors. They can testify to the truth of my story. A man was in need of help and I was the one who could provide it.”

  “I wasn’t aware you were here in the school alone with him.”

  Livy hated the blush that crept into her cheeks. “I promise you nothing untoward happened. He was nearly at death’s door for most of the time.”

  “I believe you, Miss Campbell, but your promise holds little weight with me.” He plunked on his hat and marched toward the door, where he stopped. “You have failed to put up the poster I gave you. You have also withheld information from me regarding Mr. Wagner’s loyalty or lack thereof to this country. We may not have evidence of any true wrongdoing on his part, but such is not the case with you.”

  Too angry and stunned to keep silent, Livy opened her mouth to protest, but the superintendent wasn’t finished.

  “I came here to get a feel for your own loyalties, Miss Campbell.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Foster, my loyalties—”

  “Apparently he was right about you and your German sympathies.”

  Livy blinked in confusion. “He?”

  “You are hereby released of your position, just as Mr. Wagner has been released from his.” He withdrew a piece of paper and extended it toward her. “This is your first and final paycheck.”

  Friedrick had lost his job, too? The revelation stung as hard and biting as Robert’s slap last night. “What is Mr. Wagner being fired for?”

  “I can’t very well employ a maintenance man whose mother broke the law, can I?”

  She wanted to argue for Friedrick’s innocence, but she knew she couldn’t change Mr. Foster’s opinion of the situation, at least not at present. The man had made up his mind, probably before he’d even set foot inside the school.

  Sadness washed over Livy, making her steps feel weighted as she walked forward. She hated to think how the children would feel when they learned they had lost another teacher. And what would Friedrick’s family do without the extra money?

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she took her check from Mr. Foster.

  “So am I.” The man shifted his weight as if suddenly nervous. “There is one other thing that must be done.” When he lifted his head, his face had hardened. “But this is your own doing, Miss Campbell. Please get your coat.”

  Livy drew back, a worm of panic uncurling inside her. “I don’t understand.”

  Mr. Foster went to the door. “You may take over now,” he said to someone outside as he exited the school.

  A man wearing a sheriff’s badge appeared in the doorway. “Miss Olivia Campbell?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Sheriff Tate.” He sounded tired. “I’m here to inform you that you’re under arrest for seditious behavior against this country.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Quite serious, miss. You withheld information from the superintendent and refused to show allegiance to America by hanging a war bond poster.” He reached out and took hold of her arm, gentle but firm. “If you’ll get your coat, please.”

  Too numb to think, Livy put on her coat. She stuffed her check into one of the pockets and allowed Sheriff Tate to lead her from the school. An automobile sat waiting out front, with Mr. Foster in the front seat.

  “No, wait.” Livy hung back.

  “Please, Miss Campbell.” The sheriff gave her a soft push toward the car. “Don’t make things worse by resisting arrest.”

  “But I…” This wasn’t happening. She felt as though she were moving through a dream. The nightmarish quality only intensified when her gaze jumped to a familiar car parked in front of her cabin. Robert leaned against the fender, a smug expression on his face. He’d threatened her and Friedrick, and now he was making good on his threat.

  Fury burned through her as she averted her face. At that moment she caught sight of Friedrick driving his horses hard up the road.

  “Livy?” he hollered.

  Her heart twisted with both relief and panic. Would they arrest him, too? His family couldn’t afford to have him in jail again—for who knew how long this time.

  “Miss, please get in the car.” Sheriff Tate opened the door with his free hand.

  “Wait,” Friedrick shouted. He drove past the car and jerked his horses to a stop.

  “Come on, Sheriff,” Mr. Foster grumbled from the front seat. “I need to get back to my office.”

  Livy stepped toward Friedrick. There was no mistaking the anguish in his eyes, even from a distance.

  She wanted so much to break free—to find solace in his strong embrace, to kiss him until she forgot all about the fear—but she wasn’t free. And neither was he, not in the way they’d pretended.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Friedrick before the sheriff placed her inside the car.

  * * *

  Friedrick watched, powerless, as the sheriff’s car sped down the road in the direction he’d come. Why had Livy been arrested? His biggest fear had been over her losing her job, not being hauled off to jail. He gathered the reins, ready to turn the horses around and go after her, when he noticed another automobile and its owner.

  His initial surprise at Livy’s arrest exploded into rage as he sprang from the wagon seat and marched toward Robert. How dare the man try to hurt Livy again and again and again.

  “You!” Friedrick forced out between clenched teeth. His hands, balled into fists, shook with fury. “You were the one who had us both fired.”

  Robert lifted his shoulders in a bored shrug. “I told you I’d get even.”

  “And for what? To see the girl you supposedly love carted to jail by the town sheriff?”

  “I wasn’t the traitor.”

  Friedrick came to stop near the car, his jaw so tense it hurt. “What did you accuse her of?” he demanded in a loud voice. “Why is Livy going to jail?”

  “I told you.” Robert stepped away from his car. “She’s a German sympathizer.”

  “Livy Campbell is no traitor.”

  “Whether she is or isn’t is not your concern,” Robert said, his voice low and deadly. “You leave her alone from now on or you’ll find yourself in a worse situation than losing your job. Seems I heard in town you got yourself a real sick pa and some kid brother and sister. Wouldn’t want any harm coming to them, would you?”

  The ugly words hit their mark, as Friedrick suspected Robert wanted. If the man found Joe and his crowd, there could be real trouble for Friedrick’s family. This thought alone gave him the strength to unclench his aching fingers and walk away.

  “That’s right. You run on home now,” Robert scoffed.

  Friedrick climbed onto the wagon and snapped the reins. He needed to formulate a plan—a way to help Livy out of jail before she could be tried and sentenced to prison like Miss Lehmann—but the anger still pounding in his head made thinking difficult. If only he could have sent Robert back to where he belonged, more than a little bruised. But he wouldn’t fight violence with violence.

>   The lash of the wind on Friedrick’s face as he drove the horses hard toward the farm cooled his neck and his fury. Deep anguish rushed in to take its place, though. If he’d kept himself from falling for Livy, she wouldn’t be in such a mess.

  Could he really have stopped himself from loving Livy? He shook his head. He’d been destined to love her from the moment he’d gone over to cheer her up at the dance hall on her birthday. She was everything and more to him. As sure as the sun, he knew he would never find another girl like her. Someone who loved him back, in spite of his heritage. Someone who made him smile, made him want to conquer the world.

  The thought of Livy spending even a few minutes in the cold, wretched jail tortured him. He had to get her out of there, but doing so might exact a price from his family.

  Friedrick groaned in frustration. Why did everything have to come back to choosing his family or choosing to fight, this time for the girl he loved? His family had suffered enough already, but Livy wasn’t guilty of any crime.

  He jerked the horses to a stop, his breathing as hard as theirs. Think, Friedrick. Think. Could he save Livy and his family, too? He felt for the check in his pocket. It could buy his father more medicine. Or possibly Livy’s freedom. But which should he choose? He owed his family everything, but what would life be without Livy? Even if he never saw her again, Friedrick could force himself to be content as long as she was safe.

  What about Livy’s parents? he wondered. Surely they would be willing to pay bail to have Livy released, if he notified them.

  Friedrick dismissed the thought. He was largely responsible for Livy’s confinement in jail, and he would figure out how to get her out.

  Something tall and black, beyond the road, drew his attention. A tree trunk with a jagged top. The cause of death was evident—lightning. It reminded Friedrick of the war stories he’d heard about No Man’s Land in France, where the bodies of the dead lay among splintered pieces of torched trees. The horrific image filled him with piercing despair.

  Where are You, God? He rested his hands on his knees and put his head in his open palms. Have You forgotten us, Thy children?

  Overseas, men and boys, on both sides of the trenches, were being killed. Here at home, his life was slowly being stolen as well—his family’s savings, their language, their dignity, and now Livy.

  What am I to do?

  “Friedrick?”

  He jerked his head up and found Maria standing beside the wagon. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped directly across the road from her farm.

  “Are you all right? I saw you stop. Do you need something?”

  A miracle.

  “No.” He gathered the reins to drive on, but the sincere compassion on her face made him pause. The beginnings of a plan sprouted in his mind. Maybe there was something Maria could do. Friedrick nearly laughed at the irony. God certainly had a sense of humor if the solution to Friedrick’s problem was none other than Maria Schmitt.

  “There is something I need you to do, Maria.” He climbed to the ground and removed the check from his pocket. “Can you borrow your family’s wagon and cash this check at the bank for me?”

  Her eyebrows rose in obvious surprise, but she took the slip of paper from him. “My father took the wagon for an errand up north.”

  “I’d let you borrow mine, but someone in town might recognize it.”

  “Are you in trouble, Friedrick?” She frowned in concern.

  Not yet anyway. “I lost my job today and things may go badly for me and my family if I go to town.”

  She eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. “I can walk. Will the bank let me cash your check?”

  “The bank owner might not, but the young clerk who works there—the one who was wounded in the war—he most certainly will. Especially if you show him that dazzling smile of yours.”

  “Why do I need to impress the bank clerk?” Maria asked, her lips twitching with such a smile. “Are you playing matchmaker?”

  Friedrick shook his head, all traces of humor gone. There was more he needed to do before Livy might be freed. “Miss Campbell is in trouble. She was fired and taken to jail. I’m going to try to post bail for her tonight.”

  “How much do you have?” She glanced at the check in her hand. “Twenty-five dollars surely won’t be enough.”

  “I know.” Friedrick climbed back up onto the seat. “I’m going to try to raise more. I think some of the families around here, at least those with children at Livy’s school, might be willing to help.”

  Maria stepped to the wagon, one hand curling over the side. “You’re asking us to help someone who isn’t one of our own?”

  “I am.” He met her level gaze, silently pleading for her to understand. He needed her help; Livy needed their help. “Where does the bigotry end, if not now, Maria? When do we stand up against the injustice? Whether it’s for a German or an American. That’s what I am asking you and the others to do.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes especially dark and vulnerable. The lack of pretense enhanced her natural beauty. Maria would make some lucky man happy, even if it wasn’t him.

  “I’ll get the check cashed.” She tossed her hair and released her hold on the wagon. “You can count on it.”

  Relief flooded him. Livy wasn’t free yet, but she was one step closer. “Thank you, Maria. Bring the money by this evening.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Pray that I can raise enough.”

  * * *

  To Livy’s surprise, the jail cells stood empty. Sheriff Tate opened the door to one and gestured for Livy to go inside. She stalked past him, not sure whether she felt more angry or concerned. Two cots stood on opposite sides of the cell, a dull white bedpan beneath each. A small window, covered with bars, provided meager light. Humiliation engulfed her as she sank onto one of the cots.

  “How long do I have to stay?” she asked, though she feared the answer. She pulled her coat tighter around herself.

  The sheriff focused on the row of stones at her back when he answered. “That all depends, Miss Campbell. If someone can post bail for you or if Mr. Foster drops the charges, then you’re free to go.”

  “How much is bail?”

  “A hundred dollars.”

  She fingered the check in her pocket, though she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to go to the bank and cash it.

  “Do you want to contact your folks?”

  “They don’t have a telephone.”

  “How about a telegram then?”

  Did she want to tell her family she’d been branded a German sympathizer and thrown in jail? Would there be repercussions against them because she’d chosen to stand up for Friedrick and the other German-Americans? She shivered at the thought.

  Despite the tears threatening to spill over, she shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “Well, maybe tomorrow. Supper’ll be around in about two hours.” Sheriff Tate gave her a look of pity and left the cell.

  Livy lifted her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her long skirt. Her gaze wandered over the blank walls. Was this the cell Friedrick had stayed in for three nights? How had he managed the boredom and inactivity during the day?

  What would Nora say if Livy wrote to tell her dear friend about serving time in jail? Would she be upset or would she understand Livy’s loyalty to Friedrick? More questions crowded in on themselves inside her mind. How long would she actually have to stay here? Could she request an audience with Mr. Foster and plead with him to drop the charges?

  Livy squeezed her eyes shut as several tears slid down her face. Her life had once again turned to shambles. She’d left home to avoid Robert, the war, and the constant memory of her brothers. But even here, the war had found her. Now she would have to say good-bye to the people and the place that had brought her more happiness than she’d experienced in years.

  A hard ache rose into her throat at the thought of never seeing her students or Friedrick again. To be denied the sight of his handsome face
and the security of his touch was the cruelest of punishments—far worse than a jail sentence.

  Sniffing hard, Livy opened her eyes. She noticed a dead moth sitting on the edge of the windowsill. The rest of the room had been swept free of insects and dust, but someone had missed this tiny creature. Had the moth known where it was going? Did it realize the window would never open, no matter how hard it beat its wings against the glass?

  The pain in Livy’s throat deepened with empathy for this lifeless insect. Was she, too, beating against the glass of fate to think she could freely love a man of German descent? Had she truly done wrong in helping Friedrick? She didn’t feel like a traitor to her country, but she didn’t know what that was supposed to feel like. At the moment, all she felt inside was empty and cold.

  Please help my fear and confusion, God.

  Had she misunderstood the feeling of hope she’d felt about returning to her job after Tom’s death? Had God intended for her to remain distant friends with Friedrick and nothing more?

  “I wish you were here, Tom or Joel,” she whispered to herself. “I could sure use your help.”

  Memories of the two of them filled her thoughts. Tom, the tease. Joel, the sage. Friedrick reminded her a bit of both. Would they care that he was German-American when he treated her so well and loved her so fully?

  A snatch of conversation, the night before Tom and Joel had left for training, returned to her memory. She’d asked Tom what he’d do if he came back from the war disfigured or blind. Did he think Nora would still have him then?

  “I do,” he’d said, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Nora lives that scripture we learned as kids in Sunday school. The one that talks about how God looks on the heart and not on what we look like on the outside.”

  God looketh on the heart.

  Livy didn’t voice the words out loud, but they echoed through her as if someone had shouted them. Could this be the advice her father had tried to give her when she’d first come to Hilden? To look on people’s hearts, regardless of where they came from?

  God didn’t see Friedrick as German or American. He saw Friedrick’s heart, just as Livy had been privileged to do. A heart full of kindness, hard work, and loyalty. If those were the qualities she’d exemplified in keeping Friedrick’s secret and nursing him back to health, then she would do it all over again.