Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8)

by Robert Elmer

  “While Henrik and Peter and I will stay behind to watch the bikes,” continued Mr. Andersen. “And whatever luggage we can’t fit into the car.”

  “How far did you say it is from here to the farm?” asked Henrik, standing up.

  Peter looked out the window. “Just a few miles. Look, there’s Pastor Kai!”

  Peter and Elise both leaned out the window to see their friend standing on the platform, waving up at them and grinning. Pastor Kai Steffensen seemed to have collected a few more gray hairs in the year since they had last seen him in the big city of Copenhagen, but other than that, he looked just as he had the first time they had met. Peter still thought he seemed like a pleasant, absentminded professor.

  “Welcome, welcome!” Pastor Kai called up at them. They waved before turning away to get off. It didn’t appear as if many others were getting off at this stop.

  “Come with me, Peter, Henrik.” Mr. Andersen took his son by the arm and hurried to the back of the train. “We have to get the bikes.”

  Henrik and Mr. Andersen quickly handed down the five bikes to Peter and Uncle Morten on the platform while the conductor studied his watch impatiently from the steps of the last car.

  “Last one,” said Henrik, passing down his own black bike, the one Grandfather Andersen had repaired before their trip. “Actually, I should probably just leave it here on the train.” He waved to the conductor and swung down to join the others. “I’m not going to be able to use it where I’m going.”

  The conductor stepped up on the train and blew his whistle to the driver. Peter and the others stood back as the train huffed and puffed into motion.

  “My, this is an occasion.” Pastor Kai beamed at all of them and pumped their hands all around. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing you all for weeks. Your cousins are excited that you finally made it.”

  “So are we,” agreed Elise, picking up her bag. But Pastor Kai snatched it out of her grip.

  “No you don’t,” he told her. “Your parents called and told me everything about what happened. We’ve been praying for you at church, and you’re going to be resting here. No chores. No hard work. No carrying heavy bags. You can just sit around and draw our portraits.”

  Elise grinned shyly. “Well...”

  “That’s the way it’s going to be,” insisted Pastor Kai with a smile and a bow. “You’re here to get better, and we’re going to make sure that’s what you do.” He turned to leave, taking another bag in his free hand. “Now, gentlemen, let’s see how much we can fit in our car. Follow me.”

  The car was a large gray boxy sedan with dented fenders. One of its outside door handles was missing.

  “It may not look like much,” said Pastor Kai as he opened the doors, “but the car runs just fine, and it gets around.”

  Peter and Henrik helped Elise and the others pack their things in the car; they even strapped one of the bikes to the back end, where the spare tire was hung.

  “This will do it for now,” said Pastor Kai, climbing into the driver’s seat. “I’ll be back for you three in forty‑five minutes.”

  He looked at Henrik. “By the way, your mother arrived yesterday morning with Grandfather Andersen.”

  “Grandfather’s here, too?” asked Peter as they pulled the rest of the bikes together on the sidewalk in front of the train station to wait.

  “He’s a bit tired, but he’s here. Told us he had to come see for himself if your sister was all right.” Pastor Kai’s car pulled away and turned down the street in the direction of his little village.

  The town of Oksbøl looked like a hundred other little Danish country towns. A neat row of white stucco shops ran down the main cobblestone street, some outlined in heavy brown timbers. All had red tile roofs. At the edge of town, Peter could see a steeple from the local church, which was another whitewashed, heavy‑walled stucco building.

  A young girl skipping their direction stopped and stared at them curiously, then turned and ran, giggling. Without the chugging of the train, the only sounds were a few robins in a grove of beech trees on the far side of the railroad tracks. An old man sat dozing on another pile of luggage in the warm morning sun, and Peter thought back to what he and Henrik had been talking about on the train.

  “Ah, excuse me, sir.” Peter stepped up to the old man and cleared his throat. The old man didn’t move, only snored.

  “Hello?” Peter looked around. His father and Henrik were sitting on the ground next to the bikes, looking almost as sleepy as the little town itself.

  “Excuse me?” Peter finally tapped the old man lightly on the shoulder, sending him into a snort and a jerk.

  “Yes, yes.” The man’s eyes fluttered, and he answered without looking. “Next train comes through tonight.”

  Peter waited for a minute, but the man went back to his snoring. By the length of his beard, it looked as if he could have been snoring there for quite a while. Peter tapped him on the shoulder once more.

  “I’m wondering if you’ve seen a car around here lately....”

  The old man gave a mighty snort and sat up straight. He adjusted his teeth and stared directly at Peter.

  “A little black car that might have been parked outside the station? Did you see—”

  “Yes, yes,” interrupted the old man. “Fellow in a pastor’s collar. Drove off with a car full of folks.”

  “No, I don’t mean him.” Peter tried to look at the old man who had already closed his eyes again and was breathing heavily. “I meant...”

  Peter sighed and gave up on his detective work. From his perch by the luggage, Henrik gave him a curious look.

  “Come on, Henrik.” Peter waved at his friend. “Let’s find out if there’s any place that sells ice cream in this town.”

  “So does it look the same as when you visited two years ago?” asked Pastor Kai.

  Peter hung on as they bounced over a gravel road on the way to the farming village called Ho. They had passed through a patch of thick woods and had emerged into an area of fields dotted with cotton‑puff sheep. Ho Bay—long, wide, and sparkling in the sunshine—stretched out on their left as they neared the village.

  “It’s beautiful,” admitted Peter. “Pretty much the way I remember it.”

  “Where’s the farm?” Henrik asked. He was perched on the backseat of the car with his backpack on his lap, looking nervous.

  “Past the little town coming up,” Peter replied. “Pastor Kai lives on the edge of town in the parsonage, and then you keep going for a few miles to the end of the road. That’s where Uncle Harald and Aunt Hanne live.”

  Henrik nodded while Peter enjoyed the now‑familiar scenery. In between purple heather‑carpeted rolling hills that spilled down toward the ocean, he could smell woods filled with pine and beech trees. Emerald green fields were divided into neat little pastures by miles of white rail fences.

  “Lots of sheep,” observed Henrik.

  Peter rolled down the window to get a full breath of the salt‑laced air, his favorite smell. “This is where my mom grew up.” He stuck his arm out the window and turned his hand to let the wind catch it like a bird’s wing. “Ocean out there on the right. Bay on the left. Ocean ahead of us, too. Almost like being on an island. This is where I’m going to live someday.”

  He pointed out places where he had been before, places where he and Elise had ridden bicycles with their cousins, Kurt and Marianne. But that had been during the war, and now Peter thought it seemed almost strange not to see German soldiers in the town, or German checkpoints on the country roads. Henrik crossed his arms and nodded stiffly as Peter talked.

  “Are you okay?” Peter finally asked. “You look like you did before final exams last May.”

  Henrik only nodded but kept his arms locked tightly in front of him. “I’m okay. I was just thinking. Where would a ship come through?”

  “Oh.” Peter understood and pointed in the direction of Bluewater Hook, far out to the right. “The lighthouse is way out there. I
guess Matthias is supposed to be here pretty soon, isn’t he?”

  Henrik just closed his eyes as they bounced over the gravel road on the way out to the farm. “Today. He’s supposed to get here today sometime.”

  Pastor Kai looked up through the rearview mirror. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy spending some time with Peter’s cousins, Henrik.”

  Henrik nodded and opened his eyes. “Peter’s told me all about them.”

  “Kurt has grown another three or four inches, Peter,” the pastor continued, “if you can believe that. And he’s always going a mile a minute, into everything, as usual. Marianne is playing the piano. My wife is giving her lessons, along with our little Johanna.”

  “Johanna.” Peter rolled up his window. He hadn’t thought about the little golden‑haired German refugee girl they had discovered in Copenhagen the year before. “I almost forgot. How’s she doing?”

  Pastor Kai chuckled. “She talks like a regular Dane now. We’re in the process of legally adopting her. She and our Jakob get along like the best of friends.”

  “That’s terrific,” replied Peter.

  “And you remember her older brother, Gustav, the fellow I met when he was trying to find his little sister here on the coast? He’s studying now at the university in Aarhus. Wants to be a doctor. Doing real well, too.”

  “What about Mikkel?” Peter asked, remembering his oldest cousin. When they had visited before, Mikkel had always been off somewhere, busy in the Underground movement with things he wouldn’t talk about. But that had been during the war.

  “He’s in Aarhus, too, studying to be a veterinarian. Took Gustav under his wing. Funny how it turned out.”

  They chatted like that for several minutes, comparing notes on the people they knew. And from the front seat, Peter’s father also seemed to enjoy the drive. As they passed another patch of woods, though, an explosion outside jolted the car.

  “Hold on!” cried Pastor Kai as he veered over to the side of the road. Henrik dug his nails into Peter’s leg as they almost swerved out of control.

  16

  Danger on the Beach

  Pastor Kai clapped his hands together and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Well, that’s the third flat tire this month,” he told them. “I’ll have it fixed in just a minute.”

  Everyone stood outside the car to inspect the damage. Peter and Henrik did what they could to help, holding the car steady while Pastor Kai and Peter’s father struggled to replace the tire. And just as the pastor had promised, they were back on the road in a few minutes. It was still only late morning when they neared the Ringsted farm.

  “Well, here we are,” announced Pastor Kai as they pulled into the long driveway to the farm. The scattered buildings all shared the same look, with white stucco walls, thick wooden beams that crisscrossed the walls, and old‑fashioned thatched straw roofs. Peter remembered the big U‑shaped main building, built around a gravel courtyard. Kitchen and living rooms were straight ahead at the top of the U, next to a tall, white flagpole topped by a bright red‑and‑white Danish flag.

  “Over there, on the left,” Peter pointed for his father and Henrik. “That’s the barn part. And on the right is where everyone sleeps. And—”

  “And straight ahead,” interrupted Pastor Kai, “is the whole family reunion, coming our way!”

  Peter looked out the front window to see his cousins, Kurt and Marianne, running out the main door into the courtyard, smiling and waving. Even though he was younger, Kurt was a head taller than his sister, with a face full of freckles. His long arms and legs didn’t seem to match the rest of his body.

  Marianne, who was a year older than Peter and Elise and two years older than Kurt, looked just like her mother, Aunt Hanne. Even smiling she looked serious, but she was pretty with a prim, yellow summer dress and dark, braided hair.

  They were followed by Elise, who had her arm around a smiling little girl whom Peter recognized as Johanna, the German refugee. Peter knew she was about seven years old now, but she still seemed almost like a doll next to Elise. Pastor Kai’s son, Jakob—dark‑haired, blue‑eyed, and about the same age as Johanna—tagged along with the energetic little girl. Running circles around the group was the biggest dog Peter had ever seen.

  “Whoa!” Peter said, hanging on to the back of the seat as Pastor Kai braked to a stop. “You didn’t tell us about the new dog.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re about to meet Hector. The Ringsteds got him last year. He is...”

  Hector seemed every bit as big as the car in which they were riding, with legs almost as long as Elise’s, a head as big as a good‑sized cow’s, and brown, spotty markings. His excited barks were like cannon fire and made the windows shake.

  “... he is a Great Dane!” Pastor Kai finished with a shout.

  Henrik backed away from the window but grinned at the sight of the enormous animal staring in at them. There was something almost intelligent about the dog’s look, as if he knew a secret but wouldn’t tell.

  “Now I know what a fish in an aquarium feels like,” Henrik muttered.

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about the dog,” Pastor Kai assured them. “I thought the same thing the first time I met him. He’s really a pussycat.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mr. Andersen said, pushing open his door.

  The next few minutes were a wild combination of hugs and hellos, introductions, and barking Hector. Henrik’s mother was there, and she hugged her son as if she hadn’t seen him in months instead of days. Henrik also had to meet Uncle Harald, who had come in from the fields, and Aunt Hanne, who was beaming and laughing at the invasion.

  Uncle Harald, even taller than Uncle Morten, looked just as he had the first time Peter met him. He was big and friendly, with broad shoulders, sandy hair, dark blue coveralls, and muscles all over. Uncle Harald’s grin seemed to light up his whole face, but it was his booming voice that Peter remembered the most. If they ever got lost in a fog, Peter thought, Uncle Harald’s voice would do just fine as a foghorn. In fact, his voice and Hector’s barks seemed to go together quite naturally. And when Peter shook his Uncle Harald’s hand, it was like holding the hand of a giant.

  “I forgot to warn you about Uncle Harald’s handshakes,” Peter whispered into Henrik’s ear.

  While everyone was still grinning and shaking hands, Peter looked over his shoulder at the long, snaking driveway. In spite of the happy reunion, he shivered.

  “Who are you looking for?” asked Henrik, following Peter’s glance.

  “Oh, no one. I was just thinking...” Peter’s voice was a hush. “If Mr. Broken Nose was at the lake, wouldn’t he follow us here?”

  Henrik squinted, then shook his head. “No one followed us, Peter. Now, would you quit worrying?”

  Aunt Hanne came and put her arms around Peter and Henrik.

  “Your grandfather’s here, too, Peter,” she said with a smile.

  Aunt Hanne was an older version of her daughter—petite, delicate, and birdlike. It almost seemed as if she could perch on her husband’s big shoulders. Her soft smile welcomed them as much as Uncle Harald’s.

  Elise looked around expectantly. “Pastor Kai told us Grandfather was here. But I don’t see him.”

  “He’s in taking a nap,” their aunt replied. “I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.”

  After Pastor Kai had helped them unload the bags and bikes, he promised they would all return the next day for dinner.

  “We’ll put up tables outside,” Marianne suggested, counting the number of people there. “With Mom and Dad, Kurt and me, that’s four...”

  “Then the four Andersens,” added Kurt. “That makes eight, plus Morten and Lisbeth, Henrik and his mother. Twelve. Oh, and Grandfather Andersen, that’s thirteen.”

  “And Pastor and Mrs. Steffensen,” finished Aunt Hanne, “along with little Johanna and Jakob.”

  “Seventeen!” Uncle Harald laughed. “I’m going out to kill another fatted calf.”

&
nbsp; Peter looked around for Henrik and saw him talking with his mother off in a corner of the courtyard. A few minutes later, they joined the rest of the group.

  “Isn’t this a wonderful farm?” Henrik’s mother asked. Hector trotted up to her and licked her hand.

  “No!” Kurt scolded his dog and pulled him away by the collar.

  “It’s all right.” Mrs. Melchior gave her son’s hand a squeeze as she gazed out past the trees behind the farmhouse. “The ocean’s out that direction, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” Aunt Hanne replied. They all started toward the door of the Ringsted farmhouse, and the big dog broke away from Kurt’s grip.

  “Hector!” Kurt yelled. “Not in the house!”

  But Hector was already gathering speed like a locomotive, and he barreled through the front door and into the kitchen. There was a crash as the Great Dane skidded with all four feet, then knocked something over. Kurt and Marianne rushed in to rescue their dog. A moment later, Hector came running out of the house with Kurt in tow. In his mouth, the dog was clutching a bright red pair of what looked like boxing shorts, and everyone laughed.

  “You bring me back my swimming trunks!” yelled Kurt, but the dog only sprinted out of the courtyard and disappeared. Kurt stopped next to his mother.

  “So I guess this means we can go swimming, right?” He looked first at Peter, then at Henrik. “The water’s really warm in the bay this year. We’ve already been in a couple of times.”

  “Can we?” Peter asked his parents, who nodded and smiled.

  It took only a moment for Peter to rush into the house, fish the shorts he used as a swimsuit out of his bag, and run back out. Henrik was right behind him.

  “We’ll be out in a little while,” Marianne told them. “Elise and I might come out to watch.” Then she looked at Elise. “Oh, but I almost forgot, it’s nearly lunchtime. Do you need to rest?”

  Elise laughed. “Everyone is treating me like an old lady. I can still walk, you know.”

  “Come on!” Kurt urged them. “Hector has probably already ripped my swimsuit to shreds.”