Suddenly, she sat straight up as the air-raid siren wailed, a feeling of terror racing through her at the deafening sound of antiaircraft guns and exploding bombs. “Let’s get to the basement!” her grandfather called out over the noise. He reached for her hand, and they hurried downstairs, where he closed the door carefully and turned on a small light.
Explosions sounded in the distance, and Ann felt the terror build in the pit of her stomach. Even down here, she could hear the planes overhead, some droning and some like a swarm of bees buzzing in terrible anger.
She sat on the edge of the sofa and clasped her hands tightly to keep them from trembling as she prayed for their safety. Trying to escape the sounds, she closed her eyes to picture Peter’s teasing smile and his hazel eyes that seemed to say he understood her deepest thoughts. Her heart ached for the security of his presence.
Her grandfather got out a kerosene lamp. “We’ll need this if the power goes out.” He sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her. Ann laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as he stroked her hair gently. After reading the Twenty-third Psalm and praying, they listened to the terrifying sounds until both fell asleep.
Suddenly Ann awoke. Silence! The light was still on, and she could see the room was unchanged. She touched her grandfather’s shoulder, and he sat up quickly, looking around in confusion for a moment before hurrying to the door. All was quiet above. He motioned to her, and they ascended the stairs to find the first floor unscathed. Ann breathed a sigh of relief.
“But others somewhere will not be so fortunate this morning,” he remarked as he unlocked the door. “We need to check on Mrs. Wilson today.”
In the early morning light, they could see thick, dark clouds of smoke billowing above the trees. Their neighbors’ homes, however, appeared undamaged. They were staring at the scene when Mrs. Chumley tromped out of her shop, dressed in her nightclothes. Her red hair stuck out from under a green hat with a feathered plume, and she wore work boots on her feet. She shook her fist at the sky and tromped back inside.
Ann chuckled. “Leave it to Mrs. Chumley to bring us a smile at a time like this!”
“Let’s thank the Lord for His protection and pray He extends it to others in the days ahead,” her grandfather said as he stepped back inside. “Then you work in the shop this morning, Ann. With the attacks increasing, I have things to do in the workroom.”
Throughout the day, Ann looked up quickly whenever the shop bell jangled, but Peter didn’t appear. When she expressed her fears, her grandfather reminded her Peter had said he’d be very busy for a while, but she knew she wouldn’t have peace until he walked through their shop door unscathed.
With night raids occurring on a regular basis, her grandfather set up cots in the basement, where they would sleep until the bombing raids ceased. She spent the afternoon moving their bedding down from upstairs and seeing there was a supply of food and water.
After their dinner of scrambled eggs and toast, her grandfather stood. “Leave the dishes for now, Ann. We need to talk.” He walked to their sitting room and sat in his overstuffed chair. When Ann was seated, he stared at his hands for a moment, then looked up at her. “It’s about our Gutenberg Bible.” He ran his hand over the arm of the chair slowly. “We can’t let it be destroyed by the bombs, and we can’t let it fall into the hands of evil men.”
Ann watched him carefully. The conversation seemed to be very difficult for him.
He looked at her and took a breath. “I think some men know I have it, and now in the confusion of the bombing, I’m afraid someone will try to steal it. We can’t let that happen.”
Ann caught her breath.
Quietly, he continued. “The book has to be taken to America. I can’t do it. If someone is watching the shop and I leave, they’ll know I have the Bible with me, and it would be in jeopardy. I don’t like putting you in danger, my Ann, but it’s also your possession. You have to be the one to save it.” He reached in his pocket and took out an envelope. “I was finally able to obtain a ticket to America. You need to take our Bible to safety.”
Ann stared at him. “You expect me to leave you here alone? I’ve told you before I will not do that, Grandpa! Can’t you ship it?”
He shook his head. “Boxes can be searched. It needs to travel with someone who will have it in her possession and look out for it.” He stood. “I have a plan. Come downstairs with me.”
Protesting, Ann followed him to the workroom, where he opened the safe and took out a book. She stared at a worn copy of The Works of William Shakespeare and frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He smiled. “I’m pleased to see you’re confused. I put a false cover on the Bible.”
“It doesn’t look like the Gutenberg Bible at all.” She touched the metal latches he had added at the opening to secure the closure.
He breathed deeply. “I hope others will think so, too.” He returned the book to the safe and handed her a large cloth bag. “You’ll carry the Bible in this, and we’ll add balls of yarn to conceal the book. When you’re aboard ship, you’ll need to work on the afghan whenever people are around so they’ll believe this really is your knitting bag.”
All Ann could do was stare.
He rubbed his chin. “Now, we need to have your possessions taken from here a bit at a time so nothing will look suspicious. Your ship sails in two weeks, so we need to get started.”
She tried to speak but couldn’t seem to get any words out.
He looked at her, waiting. “Don’t be afraid, my Ann. I’ll be praying for you. And don’t worry about leaving me here. You couldn’t protect me from the bombs anyway. Only God can do that. The truth is, I’ll be safer when the Bible’s on its way to America.”
Ann took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize you’d be in danger if I refused.” She nodded. “I’ll go. I love you too much to see you hurt, Grandpa, and I couldn’t live with myself if I helped the Nazi cause.” Her heart felt like a leaded weight. She blinked back tears as she patted his shoulder and forced a mischievous wink. “Besides, Mrs. Wilson will be more than happy to see you’re well fed.” She noticed a spot of pink appear in his cheeks.
He turned quickly. “Good. Then it’s settled. Now we need to pack your things.” He headed to the basement. “I’ll get your trunk and suitcases.”
Chapter 8
Peter sat at his desk, reviewing the plans. Arrangements had been made for the removal of Ann’s possessions, and she would be spirited away at night for the journey to the ocean liner. He felt guilty knowing he could make the trip in the safety of daylight while Ann would be at risk from night raids and vehicles with covered headlights.
He ran his hand over his forehead and walked to the window. In the far distance lay areas of the city that had been bombed, and he remembered the day he had walked through the streets to view the damage. Walls jutted into the sky, and the ruins resembled archaeological sites with remnants left here and there. Smoke rose from smoldering fires. People picked through the rubble for any belongings that survived, and some were staying in the remains of their houses without windows or walls.
“Hitler’s wrong if he thinks he can crush the English spirit,” he said aloud. “He’ll only make them fight harder. They’re carrying on with remarkable courage.” He turned to finish packing before he made one last trip to the bookshop to say good-bye to Nigel and review the plans.
When he entered the store, Ann looked up quickly, a big smile spreading over her face. “Peter! It’s so good to see you! Where have you been?” She hurried over to greet him. “Grandpa, Peter’s here!”
“I’ll stay away more often if this is the welcome I get!” He smiled at her and took her hand. She looked so trusting and happy to see him, he hated to think what lay ahead.
Nigel hurried into the shop. “Peter, my friend, come, see what I’ve found for you.” Peter smiled at her and followed him into the workroom, where Nigel handed him some papers. They reviewed the p
lans, prayed together, and said their good-byes.
As they returned to the shop, Peter turned to Nigel. “Now, may I borrow your granddaughter?”
He nodded. “Keep her safe.”
“We can go to our special spot for a bit of peace and quiet.” Peter paused with his hand on the doorknob.
Ann gave him a shaky smile. “I’d like that.”
They were quiet as they walked to the park. Ann’s heart ached, knowing she might never see Peter again. They entered their secluded spot and sat on the bench. The place that had been such a solace now seemed strange and different, she thought as she stared at the late-summer flowers, not trusting herself to speak. The wind rustled the leaves above them and moved through the trees with a mournful sigh. To Ann, it was the sound of her heart being broadcast for all to hear.
Peter picked up a wilted daisy and straightened the petals. “I’ll be praying for you, Ann. Your grandfather told me about your plans to go home.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I wish….” He paused and looked up at the trees and sky. “Maybe when this is over, we’ll be back here someday.”
Ann couldn’t hold back the tears. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and mopped at her eyes. “It will be so hard to leave. I’ll worry about you and Grandpa and the city, but this is something I have to do. Others have sacrificed things they cared about. Now it’s my turn, and I have to give up all this for something I believe is right. I just didn’t expect it to be so hard.” She wiped her eyes again.
Peter reached over and took her hand. “Courage is doing the right thing even when it breaks your heart. Think how sad it would be if you could leave everything without caring.” He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair gently. His chin rested on her head, and her tears made wet splotches on his shirt.
Ann sat up and wiped her nose. “Please take care of Grandpa for me, Peter. I know Mrs. Wilson will see that he has food. They care about each other so he’ll have someone after I’m gone, but promise me you’ll come by often and see that he’s safe. You’ve been a dear friend to him; I’ll never forget that.”
Peter stared at her, then looked down. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get there as often … as I can. I’m sure Mrs. Wilson will do a better job than I could, though.” He stood quickly and pulled her to her feet. “Now, you need to stop worrying and enjoy the rest of your time here. I miss that smile of yours.” He lifted her chin. “We’ll see each other again, I promise. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Ann couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down her face. Peter took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Okay, kiddo, time to get you back to the shop before we have a flood here. I didn’t bring a boat!” He grinned at her, and she managed a wet smile. He bent to give her a tender kiss, then took her arm and walked her home.
When Peter left her at the shop, Ann went to the window to watch him walk away. Instead he approached a tall man she’d seen out there before. Why would Peter be talking to him? By the time Peter had finished the conversation, curiosity had replaced her tears.
The following days passed quickly, and most of Ann’s possessions had been sent ahead. As she made a last tour of the neighborhood and talked to people she had grown fond of, she chuckled to herself. Mrs. Chumley felt something was up and decided Ann was eloping with Peter. “You can’t fool me,” she insisted. “I know romance when I see it!” She thrust an object at Ann. “From Albert and me.” Ann stared at the framed picture of King George VI. “Deserves a place of honor in every proper home,” her neighbor declared proudly.
Ann took a deep breath. “I can’t take it now. Please keep it for me.” She tried to make her smile sincere.
“Sure thing, dearie.” Mrs. Chumley gave a wink. “A person don’t need much on a trip like that. It’ll be here when you get back.”
Bombing raids had continued every night starting at dusk, so Ann was thankful their area of town remained unscathed. She glanced at the clock—one hour left. Now she had to face the good-bye she dreaded, and she hurried into the workroom, where her grandfather was repairing a book. Keeping busy was his way of handling the pain of her leaving, she realized.
“Grandpa, please stay safe and let Mrs. Wilson see that you’re properly fed. She cares for you very much, and I have a feeling it’s mutual. You have my blessing.” They spent the hour reminiscing, and her grandfather reviewed important points for the safety of both her and the Bible.
Ann clasped and unclasped her hands. “I thought Peter would come by one last time. Tell him—” Suddenly, there was a soft tap on the back door, and she jumped.
Her grandfather stood. “Ann, your ride is here.” He put his arms around her, and she hugged his neck, fighting back tears. “Grandpa, I can’t leave you here. Come with me. Please.”
He patted her hair gently. “God will watch over me—and I’m sure Mrs. Wilson will, too. I’ll be praying for your safety, as you will mine. God will keep us safe.” He reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Now you must go. And do what these people tell you; I’m trusting them completely with my two greatest treasures.”
Her grandfather turned and opened the door to admit a man who reached for Ann’s suitcases. “We need to leave right away, miss.” Ann nodded and hugged her grandfather one last time before following the man out the door and into the night, carrying the knitting bag into which was tucked a well-worn copy of Shakespeare.
Chapter 9
Ann stepped into the ocean liner’s tourist-class entrance and stared at the chaos around her. Everyone in London seemed to be boarding the ship. How would she ever find her cabin in this confusion? She spotted a ship steward and quickly asked directions.
“Follow me, miss.” Looking relieved to get away from the clamor, the steward took her suitcases and led her down the grand staircase to her corridor, finally stopping at her cabin door. “As you can see, this won’t be a normal passage. We’re carrying as many refugees as we can hold, so you’ll find cots set up in the ballroom, lounges, and everywhere we can put them. People want to get to America while they can.” He unlocked the door and set her suitcases inside.
Ann took a deep breath and asked the question that had been plaguing her. “Will the ship be in much danger from German submarines?”
He paused at the door. “We’ll be escorted by a convoy of navy ships until we’re several hundred miles from the English coast,” he explained briskly. “Then we’ll be on our own until we approach North America and pick up another convoy. The United States is still neutral in this war, so the Germans haven’t been targeting her passenger liners. Once we’re on our own, we’ll do everything we can to make it clear we’re hauling civilians and not military personnel.”
Ann let out her breath. “So, there’s no danger?”
“We can’t guarantee that.” He gave a frown. “There have been maverick attacks against neutral ships, but the captain will do all he can to make this a safe trip.” He took some papers from a folder. “We’re carrying so many extra passengers, meals will be served in shifts. We ask that you come to the tourist-class dining room promptly at your assigned hour.” He handed her a schedule and a list of wartime regulations and hurried down the hall.
Ann put the bag on the bed and looked around the small cabin. It was compact with a single bed, dressing table, a tiny closet, and bathroom. How did her grandfather get her a cabin of her own, especially one this nice? She had come over third class. She glanced at the beautiful wood finish of the furnishings and paneled walls.
The ship rocked gently. This didn’t seem real. One day she was in London, and now she was on a ship sailing for America in the middle of a war. The old worry nagged at her as she thought of leaving her grandfather and Peter to the mercy of the bombing raids.
After hanging her clothes in the closet, she set her suitcase on the dressing table and put her smaller travel bag on the floor of the closet. Now what? Her grandfather had said to keep the Bible with her at all times. There was no place she’
d be more comfortable than in the ship’s library, and she had time to locate it before dinner. She checked a map of the ship she had found on the dresser and picked up the knitting bag.
After carefully locking the cabin door, she hurried down the corridor and up the grand staircase. To the left, she could see the main lounge filled with row after row of mattresses and cots. People sat against the walls with their possessions and children around them. Ann swallowed hard and turned in the opposite direction to the library.
Inside, she walked around the small room, checking the titles before sitting down and taking out the afghan she had started with Mrs. Wilson’s help. As she struggled to remember the instructions, the door opened and a distinguished-looking gentleman entered. He nodded to her and picked up a magazine.
She fumbled with the knitting and was relieved when she glanced at her watch and saw it was almost time for her dinner hour. She put the afghan in the bag and hurried down the staircase. Suddenly her heart gave a lurch, and she gasped as she saw the back of a man’s head standing out above the crowd. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her! The man looked like Peter! He quickly turned a corner, and she lost sight of him. Suddenly she felt very alone.
When she finally arrived at the spacious dining room, she found long rows of tables had been set up to accommodate the increased number of passengers. She took a seat and was inspecting the lovely room when a voice spoke at her left. “Is this seat taken?” Looking up, she saw it was the gentleman from the library and shook her head. With his white hair and blue eyes, he reminded her of her grandfather. Somehow she didn’t feel as alone when someone seemed familiar.
“You’re the lady from the library,” he said as he sat down. “When I travel, I spend most of my time in the ship’s library, too, though not to knit.” He smiled. “I’m Winston Humbolt, and you’re …?”
“Ann Heydon,” she replied. “I notice you don’t have an accent; you’re American?”
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 5