“Close call,” Roy greeted him.
“You’re telling me.” Axel slumped onto the chair and held his head in his hands. “Annelise stopped coming down to the business because Captain von Rundstedt kept lurking around, and I don’t want him near my sister. But since she left, he’s become my shadow. Tonight he all but demanded to see her.”
“We can’t risk any more home visits, Axel.”
“I know.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “She’ll have to start coming to the office again. I can only hope dinner tonight dissuades him from wanting more home-cooked meals.”
“Annelise and Grams are wonderful cooks. What do you mean?”
Grams came down the stairs with two peanut butter sandwiches.
“He means that I made the food saltier than the Dead Sea.” She handed the sandwiches to Roy. “And he still ate every bite.” She let out a sigh. “I do hate to waste good food, but we can’t have him popping up all the time for meals.”
“He didn’t ask for seconds, though.” Axel tried to point out a bright spot.
“That’s good,” Roy encouraged through a mouth full of peanut butter. “By the way, good warning.”
“I had to do something.” Axel gave a curt nod. “Didn’t hear a peep from down here all night.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get any work done, either.” Roy gestured to the photographs hanging on the drying line. “I have so much to do. I’d like to set up a supply of documents that need only a photograph before I leave.”
“We’ll be sad to see you go.” Axel started back up the stairs. “You’re far more productive than the last fellow.”
“Thanks.” Roy smiled and glanced at the photograph on his desk. “But since my replacement is on his way, I need to be off soon.”
Grams gave him a measuring look and followed Axel. “Home is where the heart is,” she called over her shoulder.
And I left mine in Virginia.
Valerie heard a tap on the door. “Come in.”
Her mother poked her head through the doorway. “You’re up late.”
“So are you.”
“I was just checking on Rebekkah, like I used to peek in on you when you were smaller.” Rosemary stepped across the room to stroke Valerie’s hair. “Sometimes I still do.”
“I know.” Valerie gave her mother a brief hug.
“You’ve been tired all month.”
“I just can’t seem to sleep when I don’t know if Roy is safe.” Valerie felt the too-familiar sting of tears prick her eyelids.
“Oh, honey.” Her mother sat down next to her on the bed and nestled her close. “He’s in all of our prayers.”
“I pray and pray,” Valerie confessed, “but still don’t have any peace about it.”
“Even if you pray diligently, so long as you don’t give your cares to the Lord, you won’t be at peace about it.”
“I just can’t.” Valerie grabbed her handkerchief. “I thought I’d finished grieving over Frank—that I’d come to terms with the loss.”
“I thought this was about Roy!” Rosemary tipped Valerie’s chin with her hand.
“It is! Don’t you see? Frank is gone, and nothing will bring him back—I accept that. It’s not because I miss Frank! When I fell in love with Roy, I thought he’d always be safe in spite of the war. He couldn’t fight because of his leg.”
“So you thought his injury made him safe for you to love.” Her mother knew exactly what she meant. “You didn’t have to worry about losing him.”
“And now he’s in Europe risking his life!”
“Valerie, do you love Roy because he can’t fight or because of the man he is?”
“I love him because he’s strong in Christ and kind to others, and he made me feel as though everything would be all right. And now he’s not here.”
Rosemary just held Valerie tight and let her cry. When the sobs subsided into tiny hiccups, she spoke again. “Honey, if you wait to love someone until you’re certain your heart is safe, you’ll never love. Love is the greatest gift God granted us and the heaviest responsibility.” She placed her hands on Valerie’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “If you live in fear of loss, you never really live at all.”
“But I am afraid. I’m afraid for Roy. I’m afraid of being without him.”
“You need to give that fear to the Lord. If you don’t, you’re saying you don’t trust Him with what is most important to you.”
“How can I?” Valerie whispered brokenly. “How did you when Paul was away?”
“Who better to trust than the One who made you? The Father who sent His Son to die for you? Didn’t He assure us of His plans to prosper each of us?”
She pulled out of her mother’s arms and blew her nose. “I don’t know what those plans are, but I’ve got some praying to do. I was wrong, Mom.”
“We all are, honey. That’s why we need Jesus.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Good night, Valerie.”
“Good night.”
Valerie stood on tiptoe at platform 3C as she heard the train whistle. “It’s coming!”
The nine o’clock train chugged into the station. Rosemary stood next to Paul, who carried Rebekkah atop his shoulders. A stream of passengers swarmed out of the cars, blanketing the platform. Valerie peered around as best she could, but Rebekkah spotted Roy before any of them.
“There! Roy!” The toddler flailed her arms so wildly that Paul tightened his grip so she wouldn’t fall off.
As Roy made his way through the throng, Valerie couldn’t stand still. She’d waited five long weeks to see him again—even one more minute was too long. She took off to meet him halfway. When she reached him, he wrapped her in a warm hug. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re home!”
“Me, too.”
She kissed his cheek, then stepped back. “Let me just look at you for a minute!”
“I get the better end of that bargain.” His eyes drank in the sight of her, making her feel beautiful and blessed beyond imagination.
Lord, thank You for bringing him back to me safe and sound. I’m sorry I didn’t put my faith in You sooner!
“My turn!” Rebekkah stretched toward Roy, wiggling her fingers.
He gave an easy laugh and swept her high into the air, grinning at her merry giggle. “Good to see you, too, Bekkah!”
“All right, all right, enough with the mushy stuff.” Paul swiped Rebekkah and passed her to Rosemary before clapping Roy on the back. “Good to see you, Roy.”
“Good to see you, too.” He turned to Valerie. “Paul and I have some business to attend to, so we won’t get home until this evening.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. He’d been gone for five weeks, and “business” was more important than spending time with her?
“But I want you to be ready. I’m taking you out to dinner so I can have you all to myself.” His smile made her heart pound. “Then we’re off to the seven o’clock showing of that new Disney movie.”
“Perfect!” She gave him one last hug before Paul led him away.
“Roy, this is William Donovan.”
Roy shook the stranger’s hand before pulling up an office chair. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan.”
“You, too, Mr. Benson.” Mr. Donovan leaned back and tented his fingers. “You must be wondering why we brought you in here.”
Roy nodded but said nothing as Paul’s friend pulled out a rather thick file and plopped it on the desk before leafing through it.
“Fluent in four languages, served the navy for eight years now. Ascended the ranks quickly to become an officer of cryptography in the OP-20-G. Very impressive, Mr. Benson.” Mr. Donovan shut the folder and peered at him.
“Why so dedicated to America when you were raised in Europe? This is no time for divided loyalties.”
“My father has served the United States Navy my entire life.” Roy refused to let the probing question raise his temper. “Benson loyalty is steadfast, and I’m proud
to follow in his footsteps. It’s my heritage, my duty, and my honor to protect my country.”
Mr. Donovan leaned back and gave Paul a curt nod. “Excellent. Mr. Kincaid speaks quite highly of you and your father. Let’s get down to the reason for this meeting.
“As you know, we live in dangerous times when intelligence and preparation for homeland security are vital. Up until now, there has been no cohesive intelligence unit functioning at the behest of the government since the MI8 was disbanded in 1929.
“The separate cryptography divisions of the army and navy are no longer sufficient, as the Signal Intelligence Service and the OP-20-G have not established a free flow of communication. President Roosevelt has authorized me to establish an American intelligence service, which I’ve dubbed the Office of Strategic Services. Our mission is to collect and analyze strategic information for the Joint Chiefs of Staff and to conduct certain special operations not handled by other agencies. For instance, Latin-American intelligence will be handled exclusively by the FBI.” Mr. Donovan paused for a moment, but Roy remained silent.
Lord, can this be another way You’ve answered my prayer to do Your work in this war?
“If you’re interested, we could use a man of your background and talents.”
“It sounds very worthwhile, but I have obligations to the OP-20-G, Mr. Donovan. Mr. Kincaid already had to make extensive arrangements regarding my leave of absence.”
Donovan broke into an approving smile. “That Benson loyalty, eh? I already attended to the matter. Admiral Rochefort tells me that Station Hypo is now consistently breaking the Japanese naval code and has graciously consented to my request.”
“In that case, sir, I’m your man.” Roy rose to shake his hand again.
“Good.” Donovan chuckled. “By the way, my friends call me Wild Bill.” And with that, the three men went off to enjoy a fine lunch before Wild Bill left to attend to other concerns.
“So.” Roy cleared his throat as Paul pulled out of the parking lot. “Where do they sell rings around here?”
Valerie dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck as she heard Paul’s car pull into the drive. She grabbed her jacket, gave her hair one final pat, and made her way to the top of the stairs.
“He’ll be out in a minute.” Rosemary met her at the bottom, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You look lovely, honey. Have a good evening.”
A few minutes later, Roy came out of his room, dressed in full uniform. He seemed so tall and handsome that he made Valerie’s breath catch as he gazed at her appreciatively.
“You look stunning.” He gallantly offered her his arm as he took her outside. On their way to Giovanni’s, she learned of his time in Europe.
“I stayed in the basement the whole time. It was cold, cramped, quiet …” He reached over and gently clasped her hand. “And lonely. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. I prayed for your safety every day.” Her grip tightened.
“Thank you.” He grinned as he led her into the restaurant.
As they enjoyed warm, fragrant bread and lasagna, Valerie could tell something else was on his mind. When dinner was over, she broached the subject. “You’re probably tired after your trip. We can skip Bambi and go home if you’d like. I’ll sleep better knowing I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” he refused quickly, then gazed at her intensely. “But there is something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I know how you felt about me going,” he began, “but I’m called to my work. Can you support me in it?”
Valerie didn’t need to think it over. “Yes, Roy, I can. I know it’s a part of who you are, and I accept that. I trust you, but more than that, I trust the Lord with our love. I won’t try to stop you from doing His work again.”
He knelt down before her and pulled a small box out of his coat pocket. “Then, since you’ve captured my heart, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes, Roy.” She trembled as he slipped the small diamond onto her finger and swept her into his arms to seal the promise with a kiss.
“You’ve made me a happy man, my love.”
“No happier than you’ve made me.” She stroked her fingers through his wavy hair and smiled. “With God in our hearts and you by my side, our home will always be filled with joy.”
KELLY EILEEN HAKE
Kelly Eileen Hake received her first writing contract at the tender age of seventeen and arranged to wait three months until she was able to legally sign it. Since that first contract a decade ago, she’s fulfilled twenty contracts ranging from short stories to novels. In her spare time, she’s attained her BA in English literature and composition, earned her credential to teach English in secondary schools, and went on to complete her MA in writing popular fiction.
Writing for Barbour combines two of Kelly’s great loves—history and reading. A CBA bestselling author and member of American Christian Fiction Writers, she’s been privileged to earn numerous Heartsong Presents Reader’s Choice Awards and is known for her witty, heartwarming historical romances. She and her gourmet-chef husband live in Southern California with their golden lab mix, Midas!
A Thread of Trust
by Sally Laity
Chapter 1
Copenhagen, Denmark, Spring 1943
The growing darkness outside added gloom to the deserted interior of Christiansen Enterprises, casting murky shadows against the plain office walls. The eeriness heightened Annelise Christiansen’s nagging sense of fear for her brother. She began pulling outdated letters from the customer files—anything to keep busy.
She checked the wall clock again. Where was Axel?
Something creaked.
Closing the file drawer, Annelise glanced through the interior window to the warehouse floor. The employees had left for the day, and only patches of light cast by dangling bare bulbs kept the blackness at bay. Stacked rows of crates and boxes of goods heading to or received from Germany and Sweden created shadowed canyons in the cavernous space.
Someone could easily hide out there. A chill prickled the fine hairs on her arms, and Annelise tugged her lightweight cardigan closer as she dismissed the notion. Being alone in this big place made her uneasy.
When she followed her brother from America to Copenhagen to take over their dying grandfather’s import-export business, she never dreamed they’d be caught up in a whirl of intrigue. Imagine smuggling forged documents and money to facilitate the escape of downed British and American pilots—and more dangerous, harboring hunted fugitives! With the Nazis rounding up Jews in Germany and Poland and shipping them off to death camps, more unfortunates were flooding into Denmark needing to be hidden and given transport to neutral Sweden.
So far, Danish Jews had been spared, but for how much longer, no one knew. Everyone suspected that the Germans occupying the country were merely pretending to be friendly trading partners as they moved armed troops in to “protect the Danes,” while gradually taking control of the government.
Underground resistance came into existence early on, and of course Axel had to be in the middle of it. Only the Lord knew what he’d left the warehouse three hours ago to do, since he assured Annelise her safety lay in not knowing.
Strange that he had no qualms about taking her to Nazi gatherings, convinced that a guileless female could gain useful information. She and Axel were scheduled to attend the foreign minister’s dinner party in less than an hour, and they needed to go home and change. If he ever got here.
And if he hadn’t been arrested.
Shaking off the thought, Annelise forced herself to focus on deciding which of her four gowns she’d don this evening. The very thought of another Nazi party with all the free-flowing schnapps and beer made her cringe. Smuggling for the Allies was hazardous enough without having to rub shoulders with those arrogant officers of the Third Reich.
Annelise exhaled, directing her thoughts to the words of a psalm she’d read in her morning devotions:
“Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.”
The passage still soothed her anxious mind. God’s presence through these troubled times was almost tangible. He had power over all. He was stronger than the German forces, even when the opposite seemed true.
The bell above the shop’s main door trilled, bringing a wave of relief. Only Axel had a key to that entrance. Thank You, Father, for looking after him, for keeping him safe. Breathing the silent prayer, Annelise rushed to the showroom to greet her brother.
Halfway through the furniture and artwork displays, she stopped short. The light streaming from the office illuminated not Axel, but a tall unkempt stranger in dirty seaman’s clothing. Her gaze quickly assessed his unshaven face and muscular frame as she detected the stench of rotten fish and recoiled from the odor. “How did you get in here? That door was locked.”
Erik Nielsen hiked his brows and stared at the most enchanting woman ever to cross his path. Endless days aboard a British fishing trawler, hours waiting in a muddy coastal marsh for his contact, suddenly lost importance. Before him stood a vision silhouetted in a glow of backlight gilding the golden hair around her face like sunshine outlining a cloud. Only the smell of cod and herring proved this was no dream, and for some unfathomable reason, he sensed his life would never be the same.
“I said, where did you get that key?” She stepped toward him, her movements graceful. Puzzlement crested her delightfully feminine features as they came into focus, revealing eyes clear and blue as the heavens.
“Huh?” Entranced by the alluring sight, he couldn’t pull his thoughts together. He’d never entertained the notion of dating, much less marriage, wanting no distractions from the life God had called him to. Now a yearning toward hearth and home, of caring for someone besides himself, swirled through him. Did the Lord have someone for him after all? Was she the one?
“The key. In your hand.”
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 32