Daisies Are Forever

by Liz Tolsma

  “You don’t seem to have a compulsion to steal. I wondered if this was your first time.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures. You should know. You’re a brilliant liar.”

  “A blister is not a desperate measure, Mitch. Saving your hide is.” He didn’t miss how she didn’t comment on his remark.

  “Not unless you want an infection. Do you want Katya to be right about you losing a foot?”

  She blew out her breath, and he figured he won that battle.

  “You have to be careful with using English. Don’t let anyone other than me hear you. And don’t speak in German.”

  “Not unless it’s necessary.”

  “Don’t let it be.”

  “Are you always this bossy?”

  Even in the semi-dark, her amber eyes sparked. “With the girls and the old women, I have enough people to keep safe. If you get into trouble or draw attention to yourself, you put me at risk. And when you put me at risk, you put the others at risk. I’ve watched you with the children. I know you don’t want to do that.” She pulled the ever-present daisy scarf around her neck. “Are we in agreement?”

  “About what?”

  “You don’t speak German or English.”

  “May I speak French? How about Spanish?”

  She huffed, then began to turn away, her brown hair bouncing on her shoulders.

  His heart pounded at her beauty and his instincts took over. In three long strides he reached her, spun her around to face him, and kissed her full on the lips.

  Hard.

  Until he couldn’t breathe.

  TEN

  Stunned and shocked, Gisela allowed Mitch to kiss her for what seemed like endless minutes. His kiss was firm and sure, though not demanding. She enjoyed it.

  Then reason returned and she pushed herself away and landed a smack on his cheek, her hand stinging.

  He put his hand to his face. “What did you do that for?”

  “What did you kiss me for?” She backed up a step.

  “Because I wanted to.”

  The whir of a plane’s engines broke the stillness of the night. This one remained high in the sky and faded away. Her shoulders relaxed, then tightened again. “Do you always do whatever you want?”

  He tapped her chin with his finger. “You’re a beautiful woman. And the only ones I’ve seen for five long years have been large, old East Prussian farm women. Not very attractive.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to kiss me whenever you want.”

  “You’re supposed to be my wife.”

  “But you aren’t my husband.”

  “I apologize.”

  “As do I. And it won’t happen again.”

  “You are controlling.”

  “I am not. Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” She balled her fists and dug her nails into her palms.

  “Again, I apologize.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “You intrigue me, Gisela.”

  “And you infuriate me, Mitch.”

  “Let me ask you a question. And I’m not making sport of you. You’re American and German. Or are you German and American?”

  “I thought you weren’t making fun of me.”

  “I’m not. Where do your loyalties lie?”

  “Then I’ll tell you. Yes, I belonged to the Hitler Youth when I was younger. Does that shock you?”

  “So, you are pro-Hitler?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I can’t figure you out, Miss Cramer.”

  “That’s good.”

  “These German soldiers are boors. You’ve spoken about California. I don’t think you’ll remain in Germany after the war.”

  She sighed and leaned back against the wall. “For the right man, I might.”

  He lifted one dark, bushy eyebrow.

  Why had she said that?

  The low din in the gym roused Gisela from her light slumber. Every muscle in her body ached. She sat slumped over, her head on Mitch’s shoulder. She bolted upright, not wanting him to know she had leaned against him in her sleep. A great desire to stroke his stubbly cheek came over her. She combed her fingers through her hair instead.

  They had to get out of here. A train would be the fastest way to Berlin, if they still ran. The last one had pulled out of the Heiligenbeil station weeks ago, in January. She needed to get to Mutti.

  Mitch still slept, his black hair mussed and in need of a cut. She touched his upper arm and he opened his eyes.

  “Guten morgen.”

  “Good morning to you too.” He smiled a rakish grin, his dimples deepening.

  “I thought your friend said you weren’t very cheery.”

  His expression dropped and his dimples disappeared.

  “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  “Don’t be. I only wish Xavier could have seen the end of this dreadful war.”

  She understood.

  “Are you going to slap me again?”

  “Are you going to kiss me again?”

  “Touché.”

  Kurt yawned and stretched. “What is this talk?”

  “We need to find out if we can catch a train. As soon as possible.”

  He straightened, his piercing gaze boring into her. “You and I will go. We don’t know if there will be one today—or if the trains are even running from here anymore. They would have to let a wounded soldier on board.”

  Annelies’s eyes flew open. “Tante Gisela, can’t I come with you?” Her fair eyebrows scrunched.

  Gisela squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the remembrance of another time she had left someone behind. She had vowed to Heide’s and Lotta’s memories that she would never desert another person under her care.

  She stroked Annelies’s hair, her heart breaking for the little girl. “Of course you can. I will never leave you, I promise.” She stood and swiped her hands over the rough wool of her skirt. Why would Kurt want to separate her from the girls? And the rest of the group? His frosty eyes gave away nothing.

  Though she would prefer to leave Kurt behind, they had to stay together. “Nein. We will all go. If there is no train today, we can come back. Before one of us could return from the bahnhof and retrieve the rest, the train could be gone.”

  Mitch nodded. “Ja. Good plan.”

  Hadn’t she told him not to speak German? She caught the way Kurt raised one blond eyebrow. They incited too much suspicion.

  Bettina grabbed Katya’s hand. “Sister, we are going exploring in Barcelona. What an exciting day this shall be—all the wonderful architecture.”

  Katya struck her forehead with the palm of her hand. “That would be lovely, Sister, but we are in Madrid. You are so addle brained.”

  Bettina humphed. “You are addle brained. This is Barcelona.”

  All Gisela needed was for the two of them to argue today. It was bad enough she had to referee Ella’s children. “We are neither in Barcelona nor Madrid. This is Danzig.”

  Bettina shook her head, her words eeking out from between the few teeth she had left. “Danzig? I’ve never heard of that river.”

  Kurt shook his head. “It’s foolish for all to go. We will have to fight the crowds and might become separated.” Gisela squirmed under his heavy gaze.

  Renate climbed into her lap and began sucking her thumb. Gisela kissed the girl’s golden curls and her heart expanded. “Nein. I refuse to leave either set of sisters.”

  Mitch jabbed her in the side. “Or your husband.”

  Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks. “Of course not.” She fiddled with securing the straps on the rucksack to cover her discomfiture.

  They ate a little of their ever-dwindling rations, packed up their few possessions, and were ready to leave in short order.

  Gisela shouldn’t have been surprised at the large number of women already up and about, heading out the door. None of them wanted to stay here.

  Daylight revealed what had been hidden by shadows in the night
. In the center of the schoolyard, a bomb crater yawned wide. Gisela shivered and clutched Annelies’s hand a good bit tighter. They needed to get out of this place. Now. Next time the bombardier might be more accurate.

  Mitch clutched Gisela’s hand in his right, Renate’s in his left. Kurt and Audra brought up the rear with Bettina and Katya. He paused a moment to stare at a church steeple. The base was a large ball with consecutively smaller balls—maybe four or five of them—reaching toward the gray sky.

  The city’s main thoroughfare was clogged with wagons, most pulled by two horses, some covered with canvas. Here and there he spied box wagons. No matter which direction he turned, person upon person moved forward. Away from the Soviets.

  He leaned over to Gisela. “This is worse than London traffic.”

  “I thought you lived in a small town.”

  “I’ve been to London several times.”

  “Which do you like better?”

  He shrugged. “My pop would move to London if he could. Katie is happy in Dorchester. But Mum and I like it where we are. There is open space and sky. Flying above it is a thrill.”

  “Is that what you want to do? Be a pilot?”

  A woman scurried past them with her three small children. A horse whinnied.

  “Yes, it’s what I want. Crackers, isn’t it, since I’m in the army? But you should come with me once. In an open biplane. Feel the wind on your face.”

  “You said you couldn’t figure me out. Well, I can’t figure you out either.”

  Mitch grinned. “I like it that way.”

  The crowd pushed them forward. Whether based on rumors or facts, these people were terrified of the Red Army. He, too, had heard the tales of raping and plundering. If true, they had good reason to be afraid.

  They became caught in the ceaseless flow of refugees. What they needed was the train station. Gisela was right. The faster they could head west, the better.

  Gisela stopped a woman on the street, a white scarf on her head, her black coat buttoned to her chin.

  “Bitte, where is the bahnhof? We are trying to get to Berlin.”

  The woman—he couldn’t tell her age—peered at their group and then at Annelies who clasped Gisela’s hand and moved to hide behind her. “I am going there now. Come with me and I will show you the way.”

  “Danke, danke.” Gisela’s head bobbed and they followed the woman who set a brisk pace. Fine with him.

  “Why do you want to go to Berlin?”

  “My mutti lives there. We will get her and continue to safety.”

  The woman nodded. “What I hear, the Allies are bombing every day there—all day and all night. You do not want to stay.”

  Mitch intended to go farther than Berlin—however far he had to go in order to meet up with either the British or the Americans. He’d miss Gisela’s banter, but he’d not stay in Berlin.

  But how far would that be until he met up with his mates? And how would he cross enemy lines? He swallowed hard. Sooner or later, the war would catch up with him.

  Their guide pumped her short legs and in short order brought them to a building that resembled a church more than a train station. A square pink-brick tower with multiple spires rose over another building highlighted by a huge arched window.

  The woman swept her hand across her body. “Every day I look for my daughter and grandchildren, hoping they will come from Königsberg. I pray they will be on the next train.”

  Gisela shook her head and patted the woman’s hand. “No more trains are running from Königsberg. They haven’t been for a while.”

  “I pray and I pray.”

  The woman had nothing more to hang on to but the hope that she would be reunited with her family. Gisela’s insistence that they go to her mum in Berlin was much the same. He understood that need. The need to smell his mum’s bread baking in the oven. The need to make his father proud of him. It propelled them forward, through this madness.

  They entered the main terminal that was crowded with people, some scurrying to and fro, others milling about. The train tracks sat empty.

  What if they didn’t get out of here?

  Holding to Gisela and Renate and motioning Kurt and Audra to follow, Mitch meandered to a group of about five or six women, all with packs on their backs. “Any trains west today? Perhaps to Berlin?”

  Gisela stepped on his foot. He hid his grimace. Yes, he would hear about his transgression later. He almost wanted to laugh.

  A young woman, perhaps still a teenager, her hair rolled in two sausages on the top of her head, answered. “Nein, they are being stingy with the information they give. They said they never know when a train will roll in or where it might end up going.”

  Another adjusted the little blue hat on her head. “They haven’t had regular train service in weeks. Sometimes one can get through. Other times the Russian planes will shoot at it and it might be delayed for days. Many days they have no trains, and every once in a while, they have two or three.”

  Gisela stepped in before he could violate their agreement again. “How long have you been here?”

  “Three days.” The slightly older girl shook her red hair. “Still no train.”

  Mitch willed away the panic crushing his chest. What if no more trains ran? The children and the old women would never be able to survive the grueling trip west on foot.

  The information they gleaned from other groups they asked was much the same.

  Though he wasn’t physically traveling in circles as he had in France and again in East Prussia, the result was similar. He never got any farther ahead than when he started.

  He huffed in and out.

  Kurt tapped him on the shoulder. “This is crazy. Why don’t you take the others to the school and Gisela and I will find a train. We will come for you.”

  Gisela spun around. “Nein. We stay together.”

  He wouldn’t be surprised if she spit fire from her mouth. She sure was insistent that they not be separated. Not that he could blame her.

  Getting split from your group brought tragic consequences.

  ELEVEN

  Kurt sat on the cold, hard floor of the train platform and watched Josep, Annelies on one knee and Renate on the other. Gisela sat next to her husband, her knees drawn to her chin, hugging her legs. She had limped along this morning in their vain search for information about a train.

  While the old ladies snored away, one leaning on each of Audra’s shoulders, Annelies and Renate fussed, antsy, not finding much to like about the way Josep bounced them on his knees.

  Kurt dug through his rucksack to the bottom. While in the hospital in Braunsberg after his injury, the nurses had given him some paper and pencil so he could write home. He never did. How could he tell his parents they were right? They had said he would never make it as a musician. And now he would never become a concert pianist.

  He pulled the crumpled sheets from his bag and withdrew the pencil. The girls ceased their squirming and watched his every move. He handed the paper to Annelies and the pencil to Renate. “You have to take turns drawing.” The older one nodded, face somber but a light in her gray eyes.

  Gisela smiled at Kurt. “Danke.”

  His fingers, the ones that were no longer there, could almost feel the cool ivory piano keys. A warm satisfaction spread through him. “They need to be entertained.” He aimed an expressionless stare in Josep’s direction.

  Annelies stuck her tongue out and concentrated on the scribbles on the page. “I need to eat.”

  Josep rumpled her hair. “Are you hungry?”

  Annelies nodded. “Ja, Onkel Josep. I want candy.”

  Kurt’s rival smiled that ridiculous smile. “Nein, no candy.”

  “I will get you some soup from the Deutsches Rotes Kreuz. The Red Cross has a table on the other side of the bahnhof. How will that be?” Kurt stood and brushed off his pants before grabbing Gisela by the wrist. “Tante Gisela and I will go.”

  She tugged her arm from his grasp. “N
ein. Where I go, the children go.”

  Josep also rose. “Me too.”

  Kurt sighed. Would he never be able to get Gisela by herself?

  Annelies dropped the pencil and it rolled away. “I want to go.”

  “We all will. Audra, you stay here with Bettina and Katya.”

  Audra’s green eyes turned cold, but she nodded her consent. “Don’t be long.”

  What a hassle it was to do such a simple task as getting a bowl of soup.

  Josep swung Renate on his shoulders and the little girl shrieked in delight. Kurt stared down at Annelies, expectation written across her face.

  Curse his empty sleeve.

  Unwashed bodies pressed in on every side of Gisela. The crowd in the bahnhof had swelled throughout the morning. She wandered in the general direction of the soup kitchen the DRK had set up.

  She wished they still had their cart, loaded with food, packed with love from home. But wishing wouldn’t bring it back. Envy rose in her chest when she spied two middle-aged women munching on a large stick of knockwurst. Her stomach growled. There were two of them with plenty to spare. It had never been her favorite food, but it would be more filling than a bowl of thin soup. She had to ask.

  “Excuse me.” They kept on chewing, the heavier woman wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  The thin woman fluffed her gray-speckled hair. “What can I help you with?”

  “These are two soldiers who fought gloriously for their fatherland.” Never mind that they fought for opposite countries. “Could you spare a little of that sausage?”

  They stared at Gisela, then at each other. The thinner one scooted closer to her traveling companion and motioned for Gisela to sit. “What sweet little girls. How old, do you say?”

  Play on a woman’s nurturing instinct to get her what she wanted. “Just three and five. They have been through so much.”

  The bigger one stopped chomping on her food. “Oh, look at their freckles. My granddaughter has freckles. I love them. What is your name? Where are you coming from?”

  “I’m Gisela Cramer from Heiligenbeil. We’ve run low on food because one cart fell through the ice on the Frische Haff and the other we had to abandon to catch a truck. The walk was too hard on the girls.”