A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection

by Dianna Crawford

  Ann nodded without looking at him. Her fingers played with the top of the bag.

  “You do know what’s happening at Dunkirk, don’t you?” His tone was somber.

  “Some. I guess I try to ignore as much as I can. As if that will make it go away, I suppose.” She shrugged.

  He paused a moment. “Ann, the Germans are taking France. They’ve pushed the French and English forces to the coastal areas around Dunkirk, right across the English Channel from us. The troops are trying to defend themselves, but they won’t last. There’s a big operation underway to evacuate them. Fishermen in their boats and men in every kind of vessel that will float are risking their lives to bring these men home.”

  “But the channel separates us from the continent. Hasn’t that always been a good protection?”

  Peter slapped his hand against his forehead. “You do wear blinders! Today’s wars aren’t like those of years ago, Ann. You read a lot. You should know that. Planes can fly over the English Channel in twenty minutes, and guns fire long distances today. France thought its Maginot Line of defense fortifications would protect them from the Nazis, but those concrete bunkers and the wooded hill country of the Ardennes were nothing to Germany’s planes and tanks. By the end of June, France will no longer be free, and that’s only a few weeks away. Then we’ll be looking right across that channel at German troops and planes.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel selfish and ignorant, it’s working. I know wishing won’t make things the way I want—”

  Suddenly the piercing wail of an air-raid siren drowned out her words. Peter grabbed her hand as she reached to pick up the groceries. “Leave everything,” he shouted above the noise. “We need to get in the church!” They ran to the small old building and pulled the door open. The interior was dim and cool, but as their eyes adjusted, they could see people sitting here and there in the pews with their heads bowed.

  A side door opened, and the vicar hurried into the sanctuary. “Follow me to the basement,” he called out. “You’ll be safer down there.” He held the door while people rushed past him. Ann and Peter were halfway down the aisle when the all-clear signal sounded. A sigh of relief passed through the church as people came back into the sanctuary and stopped to gather items they had left in the pews.

  Peter followed Ann from the church, still holding her hand as she tried to stop trembling. “Are you all right?” He looked at her with concern. “It was probably just a drill.”

  She nodded, enjoying the security in Peter’s hand covering hers.

  “After we pick up your groceries, I’ll walk you back to the shop.” He led her to the bench where they had left her packages. He was loading his arms when she reached over to grab the bag with her grandfather’s sweets. “Hey, don’t you trust me?” He looked at her, crestfallen.

  Ann shook her head. “Not on your life. That would be like asking the fox to give the chicken a lift home. I’m carrying these, Mr. Austin!”

  Peter chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to consider your company my sweet treat for the day then.” He shifted the bags of groceries and grinned at her, and she felt her cheeks flush.

  The breeze was soft as they walked along the sidewalk. Lofty chestnut trees arched over the walk, leaving it dappled with sunshine. Ann looked up at the sturdy branches. “Just think of the stories they could tell.”

  Peter’s eyes followed her gaze. “They’ve survived for many years. That’s a hopeful sign.”

  Ann watched the changing patterns of the shadows on the sidewalk. “When I sat in the park, everything was so peaceful and beautiful that I had one of my now moments—like I was completely in the present and it would never change. It was so real.” She smiled sheepishly. “That probably sounds stupid.”

  Peter stopped at the curb and glanced down the street before starting across. He smiled at her. “Not at all. I’ve always thought you had poetry in your soul.”

  Ann stepped onto the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes the moment seems to spread and connect with other times in my life when I’ve had that same feeling. Then they run together, and it becomes so real the rest of the world fades and becomes unreal. I’d like to stay in that moment forever.” She laughed softly. “Grandpa would say it’s a little taste of heaven.” Embarrassed at revealing so much of herself, she concentrated on the displays in the shop windows with their diminishing supplies of watches and clocks, fabrics and clothes.

  Suddenly Peter grabbed her elbow and pointed to a notice. “Look—a poetry reading! Would you like to go? I said you have poetry in your soul, so how can you refuse?” He grinned at her.

  She hesitated, wondering if he was teasing or really asking for a date. “I, uh, well, I—”

  “You don’t have to go, but I thought we’d both enjoy it. If it’s no good, we can take a walk or do something else.” Peter looked at her, uncertainty on his face.

  She took a deep breath and smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. We’ll call it a date then.” He gave her a smile, and her heart raced.

  As they approached the shop, a short, middle-aged man stood on the sidewalk staring at the building. “Are you looking for something?” she asked when they walked up to him.

  He gave them a quick glance. “I see this is the shop of Mr. Worthington. He’s known far and wide for the rare and valuable books he’s able to procure for his customers. No one else has his connections.” He spoke briskly with the touch of an accent she couldn’t place.

  Ann felt uncomfortable, but knowing she needed to be polite to a potential customer, she took a deep breath. “Is there something I can help you with, sir? I work at the shop; Mr. Worthington’s my grandfather.”

  The man continued to inspect the building. “I’m told Mr. Worthington’s ancestry goes back to persons of position in Germany. Rare books must run in the family.” One side of his mouth turned up in more of a smirk than a smile.

  Peter shifted the packages. “Come inside, sir. We’ll get Mr. Worthington for you.”

  “Another day, I think.” The man glanced at his watch. “I just wanted to know where to come when it’s time.” He tipped his hat and hurried away.

  “An odd man,” Ann remarked as she opened the shop door. After a trying afternoon, the comforting smell of old books wrapped around her, giving her a sense of warmth and security. She motioned toward the counter. “Leave the groceries there. I’ll put them away.”

  Footsteps approached from the back of the shop, and her grandfather hurried into the room. “My good friend, I was hoping you’d come by. I’ve gotten in some books you’ll want to see.”

  Peter placed the packages on the counter and smiled at Ann. “I enjoyed our afternoon. Don’t forget our date.”

  Ann returned the smile and turned to pick up the groceries, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding. She couldn’t believe it! Peter hadn’t made fun of her when she shared her special feelings, and he’d even asked her for a date!

  Chapter 3

  Peter followed his friend to the workroom, where Nigel handed him a book. “It’s perfect,” Peter said as he sat down and leafed through the volume. “As always, you’ve come to my rescue.”

  Nigel sat at his cluttered worktable, books stacked all around him in various stages of repair and an open Bible in front of him. He rested his elbows on the table and brought his fingers together, tapping them lightly, then resting them under his chin. “I want to thank you for walking Ann home today. I was afraid for her when the sirens sounded.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried to convince her to return to America, but she’s stubborn.” He winked at Peter. “She gets that from her grandmother.”

  Peter laughed and ran his hand over the book. “I refuse to touch that one, sir. But I do understand your concerns; I have the same ones. To stay or not to stay; that’s the question. I have research to finish, and I don’t want to desert our project.”

  Nigel nodded. “Your help has been invaluable. With
the Nazis stealing art treasures to finance their war effort, it’s important we get valuable books and materials to places of safekeeping. And if bombs should fall, I shudder to think of the treasures we’d lose.”

  “I’m honored to serve as a link with our colleagues at the university who are working to preserve materials from either disaster,” Peter replied. “I hope my coming here for research material has kept me above suspicion.”

  Nigel sighed and moved a stack of books to the side. “And if you leave, I’ll not only lose your help, I’ll lose a good friend.”

  Peter rested the book in his lap and glanced around the room. Books were everywhere. “It’s easy to see you consider books your friends as well as your treasures. Did I ever tell you about the collection of Bibles my grandmother left me? Some go back several generations.”

  Nigel studied him for a moment. “That Bible collection. You’ve read the books as well?”

  Peter felt a stab of guilt. “I can’t say I’ve read them as much as I should have. They’ve been more a treasure to preserve than something to read. Not that I don’t believe them,” he added quickly, “but I’ve been so busy with other things I …” He felt as if Nigel were looking into his soul and finding it wanting.

  Nigel leaned forward. “Since rationing and shortages, the value of food has become more apparent. Would you stock your cupboards and leave the food on the shelves only to look at?”

  Peter felt Nigel watching his response and shifted in his chair. “You’re talking about food for the soul. You sound like my grandmother. She said the body couldn’t be nourished by cream puffs, nor would the soul be nourished by the fluff we try to feed it.”

  Nigel nodded. “A wise woman.” He rubbed his hands together. “Peter, you have that collection because men risked their lives to translate and preserve God’s Word many years ago. They didn’t sacrifice themselves so the Bible could be collected. They wanted people to read it and store it in their hearts, not their bookcases.” He peered over his glasses.

  Peter raised his hands. “I admit I have no excuse. The world is too much with us, as they say, and too often it takes times like the present to try men’s souls and make them think of things spiritual.”

  “Every generation is the custodian of God’s Word, Peter, and must see that His truths are learned and passed on. When that doesn’t happen, we have the violence that’s in our world today.” Nigel paused as if making a decision before closing the workroom door. He walked to a bookcase and rolled it aside. Behind it, he pushed on a part of the wall, and a narrow door popped open to reveal a tall safe.

  Peter stared at him and had opened his mouth to speak when Nigel continued.

  “I keep the most valuable books in here. Some are priceless, but there are people willing to pay any amount for what they want. I protect them here until they go to their new owners. And some of these are my own family treasures.” He took out a bundle secured with a cord.

  Peter watched as Nigel placed it on his worktable and removed the paper. Inside lay a large, worn book with a brown leather cover. Nigel carefully opened it at random. Peter stared, and words caught in his throat. “That’s … it’s … it couldn’t be what I think it is.” He blinked and looked up to see Nigel smiling gently. “It is, isn’t it? It’s a Gutenberg Bible!” He let out his breath and stared at it in awe.

  “Yes, Peter, it’s one of the first books produced by a printing press, somewhere around 1455. It’s been in my family for many generations. I’m its guardian in this time. Ann will have to protect it after me, in these times perhaps a dangerous task.”

  “May I?” Peter looked at his friend.

  Nigel nodded, and Peter reached out to touch the book, feeling overwhelmed as he leafed through it. Two columns of Latin ran down each page. Some of the pages were plain. On others, curling vines decorated the sides along with colorful birds and flowers, or vines curled down the center between the columns. The letters at the beginning of each book were elaborate designs done in shades of green, blue, and red. Peter stared at the book, mesmerized.

  “This is volume two,” Nigel explained. “Somewhere along the line the first volume was lost. The Gutenberg Bible was so large, it was usually bound in two volumes—sometimes three. Mine includes Proverbs through the rest of the Old Testament and the entire New Testament.” Nigel rewrapped the book and put it in the safe, and Peter moved the bookcase to its place in front of the panel Nigel had opened. Neither spoke as they worked.

  Peter let out his breath and picked up his book. “I feel as if I’ve been on holy ground.”

  Nigel smiled. “You have been but not because of the Gutenberg Bible, old and rare as it is. With any Bible, you’re on holy ground. This is God’s Word to us, written so we can know Him. Through it, He reveals His love, comes into our hearts to redeem us, and then shows us how to live. Just knowing that should bring a sense of awe.”

  Nigel studied him a moment. “Your Bible collection. I think you take it for granted. Have you ever thought about the men who preserved God’s Word for you? What they sacrificed? Men like William Tyndale, one of the first to translate most of the Bible into English in 1526? He dedicated his life to the task but had to flee England for his safety, was finally betrayed in Antwerp, strangled, and burned at the stake—just for putting the Word into our language. And yet all many people do with Bibles is collect them.”

  Peter felt his face take on a sheepish look.

  “I’m not chastising you, my friend, but there are forces today trying to destroy this Word or, in the case of my treasure, use it to finance their evil purposes. The Bible I have would bring a lot of money. And so I have to ask, ‘Who is willing to defend God’s Word in our time?’ When you go home, Peter, spend some time in your Bible.”

  Peter nodded and extended his hand. “I will, sir. Thank you for sharing this with me. I feel very honored.”

  Nigel placed his other hand over Peter’s. “I didn’t do it for that reason, my friend, though I knew what the book would mean to you. Someone needs to know about my Bible besides Ann. I won’t always be here, and with the country at war, I want someone trustworthy to help her with it if need be.” He walked with Peter to the workroom door. “I shudder to think what would happen if the Nazis knew of that book.”

  At the words, Peter felt a chill. “Is the book in danger? Are you?”

  Nigel shook his head. “I pray not. My name is English, and the family lost its connection with Germany many years ago, but we must always take precautions.”

  They walked into the shop, where Ann was handing a customer his purchase. Peter put his hand on Nigel’s shoulder. “Thank you again, my friend. You’ve shared with me an experience I’ll always cherish. And I will go home to spend some time in my own Bible.” He gave Ann a warm smile and followed the customer out the door.

  Ann glanced quickly at her grandfather. “What experience? What’s this about his Bible?”

  He turned toward her. “I showed him our Bible, Ann. Someone besides you needs to know. We live in dangerous times.”

  “You trust him that much?” Ann was astounded.

  He nodded. “My friend at the university trusts him completely, and he’s been a loyal friend to me. He knows the value of the book, and I think he went home to ponder the value of its contents as well.”

  Peter walked toward the bus stop, thinking about the treasure he’d seen. When he looked up, he saw he had passed his stop and quickly retraced his steps as the bus pulled up and he scrambled on.

  He took a seat and stared out the window as thoughts and questions assailed him. Why had this Bible had such an impact on him? He’d touched many old books and had held many Bibles. Nigel had chided him for collecting Bibles but not being fed by their content. His face felt warm as a thought nagged at him. If all Bibles disappeared, would it matter to him? Would it change his life?

  The bus pulled up to his stop, and he got off, carrying the bag of books Nigel had sent with him. He entered his flat and absently put
the books on the table. Nigel had told him about the man who died for translating the Bible. War was coming to London, and he could die. What had he stood for that would matter?

  The troublesome thoughts continued as he sorted through the books and put them away for safekeeping until he could deliver them to his colleagues. He walked over to the bookcase, picked up a Bible his grandmother had given him, and frowned. If the Bible was holy ground, why wasn’t he feeling the same awe from this one that he did from the Gutenberg Bible? Was he in awe of the book’s age instead of its contents?

  He paced the floor and stopped suddenly as a Bible verse he’d learned in Sunday school popped into his mind. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” He swallowed hard as he thought about things that were treasures in his life—even Ann settled comfortably among them—but the list didn’t include God’s Word.

  “I think I understand,” he spoke aloud as he stared at the book. “The Gutenberg Bible is a reminder of the value men placed on the Word and what they were willing to give up for it. I could sense their commitment. The man holding this book hasn’t made such a commitment. It’s not the treasure of his heart; he doesn’t even read it.”

  Peter sat down in the overstuffed chair by the window and opened the book. In his twenty-nine years of life, this would be the first time he had read the Bible as God’s Word to him.

  Chapter 4

  Ann had unlocked the glass case beneath the counter and bent down to run the feather duster along the shelves when the bell over the door jangled. She peered through the glass case as a man entered the shop. Peter! He looked so handsome, her heart beat faster, and she straightened quickly, banging her head on the frame of the case. Taking a deep breath and squeezing back tears, she stood as Peter approached the counter.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Heydon. Ready for the poetry reading?” Peter smiled at her and folded his umbrella. “I know I’m early. I need to speak to your grandfather before we leave.”