Ann’s face filled with color as he squeezed her hand. “I’ve … we’ve missed seeing you at the shop lately.” She looked at him with questions in her eyes.
Peter picked a leaf and smoothed its surface. “I’ve had to take on more responsibilities at the university.” He stood and pulled her to her feet, gently putting his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. As she nestled against his chest, the world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of them in their sanctuary.
He sighed when she pulled away and spoke. “I’d better go. I’ve been gone so long, Grandpa will be worried.” They looked at each other silently, the uncertainty of the times hanging between them.
“I’ll walk you back.” Peter reached down and picked a daisy to tuck in her hair. “A beautiful flower for a lovely lady. I’ve been praying I’ll have the opportunity to give you many more.” He lifted her chin and gave her a soft kiss, then took her arm and walked her to the shop.
Chapter 6
As the weeks of summer passed, Ann tried to avoid the incessant radio broadcasts. Her grandfather listened to them religiously, so she no longer minded the hours she spent waiting in long lines for the food they needed. German air attacks had now reached the outer suburbs of London. As she walked through the city, she couldn’t ignore the sandbags piled high in front of most stores.
Again it seemed so long since she’d seen Peter. She sighed as she remembered the walks they’d taken, sharing their thoughts and dreams as they ambled along, and the day they took a picnic lunch to the park to enjoy their favorite poetry. Why did he disappear for periods of time?
The August day felt warm as she hurried home with her few purchases. She entered the shop, relieved to be met by quiet as her grandfather sat with his Bible open. “I bought what I could,” she told him. “We won’t starve, but meals may be strange.”
He nodded. “And Mrs. Wilson brought some bread. We should invite her to share a meal with us; she’s been very kind.” He gave a soft smile.
“I agree.” Ann hesitated a moment. “Has Peter been here lately? I’ve been standing in line so much, I thought perhaps I’d missed him.” She shifted the packages with exaggerated concentration.
Her grandfather looked up at her, his eyes tender. “You don’t need to pretend, my dear. I can see how much you care for him, and I certainly approve. He’s a young man I’d be honored to have in the family. And yes, he has come by while you’ve been running errands.” He rummaged through the desk. “He left something for you. I forgot all about it.”
Ann took the package he handed her and hurried to the door to their living quarters. “I’ll take these upstairs and see what I can fix for dinner.” She ran up the steps and pulled out a small book, Poems for the Heart. She opened it to see a note in Peter’s handwriting. “We missed the poetry reading, so I hope you’ll enjoy reading some poetry on your own. When I read this one, I thought of you. Peter.”
She quickly looked at the pages where Peter had placed the paper. On the left she saw one of her favorite poems by William Wordsworth. Peter had remembered! She skimmed to enjoy the lines she loved:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
……………
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
She ran her finger down the page to the last verse:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon the inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
She caught her breath. Peter understood! He knew she spent time in quiet places like her sanctuary near St. Andrew’s, reflecting on memories to refresh her mind and spirit! She ran her hand over the page. Peter hadn’t laughed at her when she’d shared her deepest feelings. Instead he said she had poetry in her soul. Peter was the man she’d longed for all her life. Did she dare hope he’d be more than her friend?
She shifted her glance to the page on the right and stared. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways …”
A shiver ran through her as the words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning leaped from the page. He couldn’t mean this one, could he? She tried to catch her breath as her grandfather’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. She quickly took the book to her room and started on the evening meal. Which poem did Peter mean?
On the morning of August 24, Ann opened the blackout curtains and stared at a wall of white: Fog had spread across London. She had straightened the shop and was getting ready for the day’s business when the bell on the door jangled and a man stepped into the room. “Peter! What are you doing here so early?” She smiled and put down the keys to the cabinet as her heart beat faster.
“I didn’t know I was on a schedule.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “After struggling to get here in this pea soup, that’s all the welcome I get?”
“No, you don’t need a schedule. You’re welcome anytime. This is a business. It’s just that we weren’t expecting you. Grandpa’s in the back.” Ann stopped as Peter chuckled at her rambling. Which poem did he mean?
“I thought we could—” Peter stopped suddenly as the air-raid sirens began to wail.
“Follow me!” her grandfather called out as he hurried into the room. “We need to take cover, just in case!” He led them to the storeroom in the basement, where he closed the door and turned on a light. “We’ll be as safe in here as anywhere.” He reached for their hands and asked God’s protection as the piercing sounds continued above. Then he took a Bible from a shelf and opened it.
Ann and Peter sat down on a small sofa. He put his arm around her and drew her close so her head rested on his shoulder. She could feel his heart beating rapidly and hoped it was because of her nearness as well as the sirens.
Time dragged while the wailing continued. Suddenly there was a loud silence. Her grandfather listened a moment before he opened the door. “Stay here. I’m going up to see what’s happened.”
Ann stood quickly. “We’re not letting you go up there by yourself!” They followed him up the stairs.
Her grandfather opened the shop door, and they stepped out, relieved to find their street unchanged. The fog had thinned, and they anxiously scanned the skyline through a wispy veil. In the distance, smoke billowed above the treetops, and a church spire pointed toward the sky in the midst of boiling black clouds.
“The city was hit,” her grandfather said softly. “People over there need our prayers.”
As they stared in disbelief, Mrs. Chumley stomped out of her shop and scanned the skies. In spite of the disaster, Ann chuckled at their neighbor. Her red hair stuck out in all directions, and she had two different kinds of shoes on her feet. Her bright green summer dress was buttoned with one side hanging lower than the other. As she searched the skyline, her red curls bobbed and her glasses moved up and down on her nose. “If those Germans think they’re going to march in here and find us quaking in fear, they don’t know the English!” she declared, then looked around and gave a huff. “Well, what are you standing here for? This is a business day. Let’s get to it!” She turned and marched into her shop.
Peter stared after her and shook his head. “I’d better get back to the university to see if all’s well. We’ll plan to do something another day when things are quieter, Ann. I’ll try to come by soon.” He touched her cheek gently and hurried down the walk.
On Monday morning, Ann finished the breakfast dishes and came downstairs to find her grandfather hunched over the newspaper. “The situation is about to get worse, mark my word. British planes made a raid on a Berlin suburb last night in retaliation for what the Germans did here. Hitler won’t let this pass. He’ll be back!”
Ann shuddered at the danger that lay ahead for the city and people she loved.
Tense days followed. To Ann, they crept by as she waited impatiently for Peter to appear. She was sweeping the stockroom
when the bell jangled and a customer entered. As she had so often lately, she paused to listen for that familiar voice.
“Peter!” she heard her grandfather exclaim. “Ann and I were beginning to worry about you.”
She dropped the broom and hurried into the shop. “Where have you been?” she blurted out. “I was afraid you’d gone back home and hadn’t had time to tell us.” She stared at him as her heart thudded and the warmth came into her face.
“I’ve been busy at the university. I’m sorry I worried you.” Peter quickly glanced at her grandfather.
“Why don’t you fix some tea, Ann? We’ve been saving it to enjoy at a time like this.” Her grandfather smiled at her.
Ann nodded and hurried from the room.
Peter sat down and put his hat on the desk. “I told our friend about the Bible, Nigel, and he met with those higher up in our work. They were astounded at what you have and very concerned for its safety. It took time, but they were able to pull strings and book passage for Ann on the same ship I’m leaving on.” He reached in his pocket and took out an envelope. “Keep this ticket safe. I couldn’t get either of us passage until the middle of September, but things seem to have calmed down for a while anyway.”
Nigel reached out to grasp Peter’s hand firmly. “The Lord’s been good to us, and you have my deep gratitude, my friend, but let’s not tell Ann about this yet. The less she knows, the better. I’ll tell her at the last minute, and it’s essential she not discover you’re on board until she gets there.” They could hear the rattle of teacups and Ann’s footsteps on the stairs. “Come by late Wednesday morning,” Nigel said. “I’ll see that Ann’s out on an errand, and we’ll plan the details.”
Peter nodded as Ann came into the room carrying a tray. He hurried to take it from her and smiled into her eyes. The room was quiet as she poured the hot but weak tea and handed Peter a cup.
Nigel cleared his throat. “I have a book I need to work on. I’ll leave you two to solve the world’s problems.” He took his cup of tea and left the room.
“I’m sorry I worried you.” Peter set his cup on the desk, reached over, and took her hand. “There’s much going on at the university that takes my time. With the war moving closer, we need to ensure records and important items will be safe.”
Ann drew a deep breath. “I was afraid you’d left for America.” As she looked at him, tears filled her eyes.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily!” He smiled and handed her a small bag. “Here. Sweets for someone sweet.”
Ann sniffed. “Cookies! Where did you get them?” She peered into the sack. “One for each of us!”
“My friend at the university gave them to me. I wanted to share them with the most special people in my life.” He put his hand on the sack and winked. “One’s for your grandfather, don’t forget.”
She handed him a cookie, and they ate slowly, savoring each bite. “When I was little, I’d raid the cookie jar and eat until my stomach hurt.” She sighed.
Peter chuckled. “And I remember one time my grandma taught me a lesson. I’d been eating cookies she’d baked for her ladies’ group, so she put extra salt in the next batch. Was that awful! I was a more cautious cookie thief after that!” He smiled at the memory and wiped the crumbs from his hand. “Ann, I—”
The bell jangled as a customer walked in, and Peter stood. “Your help is needed. I’ll come by as soon as I can.” He smiled at her and headed for the door.
Ann’s heart dropped as she watched Peter leave. Something felt different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She sighed and turned to help the customer.
Chapter 7
On Wednesday morning, Peter arrived at the shop to find Ann out running errands as Nigel had promised. He took a seat beside the desk. “So, how do we get Ann to the ship without arousing suspicion?”
Nigel sat back in his chair. “I’ve thought of nothing else, Peter. I’ve decided to tell her about the ticket right away. The ship leaves in a few weeks, and we need her possessions taken from here a bit at a time in case the shop’s being watched. We’ll want her to slip away from here at night. I’m hoping you can arrange all that.”
Peter nodded. “I’ll work on it with our friends. They’ve reserved a very small but private room for her aboard ship. Now we have to decide how to protect the Bible. Ann will be transporting it, but we don’t want to put her in jeopardy. We can always keep it in the ship’s safe, if we can trust those with access to it, but these days there are too many people who will do anything for money.”
Nigel got up and paced to the counter, rubbing his chin. “She’ll have her suitcases with her. We can ship some books on her ticket, but we want the Bible to remain in her possession.” He paused. “Maybe I can disguise it so it looks like some ordinary book that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.”
“How about Shakespeare?” Peter suggested.
Nigel tapped his fingers together. “An excellent idea!”
Peter paused. “But the Gutenberg Bible’s twelve by seventeen inches and thick. That’s too large for her to carry as casual reading.”
Nigel was silent a moment. “Mrs. Wilson keeps her knitting in a large cloth bag. Maybe she has an extra one that would hold the Bible.”
“And we could fill it with knitting supplies so the book wouldn’t show,” Peter added. “Mrs. Wilson could teach her to knit—”
“Perfect!” Nigel’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Wilson and start on the false cover right away.”
“Passengers will be carrying all their possessions on this trip, so a bag that’s a bit heavy won’t be out of place,” Peter commented.
Nigel placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I want you to know how much I appreciate this, and if I may speak out of turn, you and Ann have my blessing….” He paused and looked at Peter.
Peter smiled broadly. “I was hoping to hear those words before we left. But how I wish you were going with us. Ann will be very sad to leave you, and I’ll miss a dear friend.”
“We’ll be together again one day, Peter. If it’s not until heaven, take good care of Ann for me.”
“You know I will.” He looked at Nigel solemnly and stood to warmly clasp his friend’s shoulder.
“If you have time, Peter, stop by late this afternoon. I should have the information you ordered, and maybe I can talk Ann into fixing us something to eat,” Nigel suggested. “We need to enjoy an evening together while we can.”
Peter’s face lit up. “A real dinner? Tell her I’ll be there!” He was smiling in anticipation as he hurried out the door.
Ann finished the errands and returned to find her grandfather again listening to his radio, a Bible in his lap. He looked up as she walked in. “The fighting’s fierce and the bombing heavy in the south of the country,” he reported. “And with the Germans bombing areas around London, be sure the basement is well stocked with food and water.” He paused to listen again before he said, “Oh, and Peter will be by later to look at some materials. I invited him to join us for dinner. I didn’t think you’d mind. Mrs. Wilson will be here, too.”
Peter was coming! Ann hurried upstairs to plan the menu, hoping she had enough food on hand to make a decent meal. The afternoon passed quickly, and soon she heard her grandfather leading Peter and Mrs. Wilson up the stairs. The table was set, and she was dishing up the food as they walked in. Her grandfather seated Mrs. Wilson, and Peter joined them at the table, smiling at Ann warmly.
“This isn’t fancy, but at least there was plenty of fish available when I shopped this morning,” she explained as she set the platter on the table, then added bowls of potatoes and green beans and the plate of bread Mrs. Wilson had brought. “I wish we had butter, but we’ve used our ration coupons. We’ll have fresh fruit for dessert; I didn’t have sugar to make anything.”
“No need to apologize.” Peter chuckled. “You wouldn’t want to know what I usually eat for dinner!” He bowed his head for the prayer her grandfather offered. The convers
ation was light as they enjoyed the meal, and Ann felt her spirits lift as thoughts of war faded.
When they finished, her grandfather ushered Peter and Mrs. Wilson into the sitting room, where they discussed England in more peaceful times. As Ann was bringing a pot of the tea they had saved for special occasions, she paused and looked at the three people so dear to her. Maybe someday she and Peter could invite her grandfather and Mrs. Wilson to dinner at their apartment. Suddenly her face grew warm. Where had that idea come from?
She served the tea as Peter told stories about his family in America, and Mrs. Wilson and her grandfather shared tales of their childhood days in nineteenth-century England. Mrs. Wilson worked on her knitting and offered to teach Ann how to make an afghan. “I volunteer to be your first victim, er, recipient,” Peter teased. He chuckled as she flicked a piece of yarn at him.
Finally her grandfather left to walk Mrs. Wilson home, and Peter stood. “I have to catch the bus. Will you see me out?” At the shop door, he turned to her. “The dinner was delicious, Ann. Imagine, a poet who can cook! I’m impressed!”
She smiled. “Thank you for the compliment, but I only read poetry.”
“I wish we had time to share our special poem, but this will have to do.” He bent to give her a long, warm kiss and smiled into her eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”
Ann closed the door behind him and tried to catch her breath. Which poem did he mean?
Upstairs, she cleaned the kitchen, then headed for her room to get ready for bed. She paused at the book of poetry and turned to the pages where Peter had placed the note. What was he trying to tell her? She fell asleep, her dreams filled with images of a bookshop and a cozy home with Peter.
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 4