A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection

by Dianna Crawford

  “That’s different, and you know it.”

  “Do I?” She jerked the oar out of the mud and hooked it into its slot. “Shimon and I have already decided. We’re going. With or without you.”

  Chapter 6

  Sorena couldn’t make out Axel’s features in the darkness, and she preferred it that way. She’d openly defied him and knew he would be furious. She could hardly blame the man. For some reason, he brought out the worst in her.

  He stood there, unmoving in the shallow, chilly water, facing her and Shimon for several minutes. Finally he spoke. “Shimon, this is very dangerous. If we’re sighted out on the water, there’s no place for us to run and hide.”

  “The night will hide us,” her little trooper replied confidently. “And so will God.” With a resolute nod, he adjusted the woolen scarf Knud’s mother had given him more snugly about his neck.

  Sorena loved his mettle. Seated behind him on one of the strips of canvas stretched between the raft’s sides, she reached forward and squeezed his shoulder.

  “Very well,” Axel muttered, stepping into the raft between the two. “But this is on your head, lady.”

  He was angry.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  An apology?

  “Move up to the seat with Shimon. I’ll paddle. You keep your eyes on the stars.”

  Although Sorena figured she knew more about rowing than he did, she decided it was best not to argue. She handed Axel the oar she’d been using to steady the raft, then grabbed hold of one side and edged past him to join the boy.

  “I’ll help you, Sorena,” Shimon said. “You just point out the star we’re going to follow.”

  His words brought to mind the nativity story and the wise men being led by a star. She patted the child’s knees. “I’ll do that. The fog seems to be breaking up.”

  “Well, Peter,” Axel said to the man who’d led them there, “I guess we’re off. Mange tak. A thousand thanks. We appreciate your help.”

  He gave a somber nod. “God be with you.” He gave the little raft a shove, sending it out of the reeds toward the inky expanse of the channel.

  Axel slotted the oars into the rings, then maneuvered the clumsy inflated boat around until his back was to the sound.

  Sorena appreciated his knowing enough to do that. Perhaps he wasn’t a total novice. She swung her legs over to face forward—and to face him.

  Shimon did the same.

  “God in heaven,” Axel said quietly, “our lives are in Your hands. Keep a tight hold.”

  “And thank You, Father,” Sorena added, placing an arm around Shimon as Axel leaned into the oars, “for sending a godly man to watch over Shimon and me.”

  As soon as the words were out, she realized she’d placed herself in a vulnerable position where Axel was concerned, admitting that she needed him. Truth was, she did. Who knew what might have happened to her and the neighbor boy if it hadn’t been for Axel? What other individual would have come to their aid with no thought regarding his own safety? She busied herself by unfolding one of the blankets their latest benefactor had supplied and wrapping it around Shimon. “If we see a boat, duck your face into the folds and get down low.”

  She shook out another. Then, despite her hesitancy to be too close to Axel, she stood cautiously on the unsteady floor and wrapped the second blanket around his shoulders while he continued to row. She could actually feel the warmth of his breath on her hands as she drew the wool beneath his chin. Trying to keep her gaze occupied with her task, she caught a flash of his white teeth when he grinned.

  It had a strange effect on her insides. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She sat back down and gathered a blanket for herself. Knowing how red her freckled face could become, she was grateful for the darkness.

  “I see some stars over there,” Shimon said, jutting his chin in their direction.

  Sorena looked up. The light fog seemed to be drifting toward the west. She spotted a bright star near the northern horizon along with a cluster of smaller ones. Lyra. “Shimon, look just above the hills across the sound. Do you see the star peeking over? That’s the one we’re heading for. Keep us going straight for it, okay?”

  “I will.” His words sounded confident, even though his teeth had begun to chatter.

  Sorena picked up the last blanket and bundled his legs.

  When the splash of rowing slowed to an even pace, she became aware of Axel again.

  He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “You’re good with children. Do you have any of your own?”

  “No. But I helped raise my younger sisters. What about you?” she ventured. “Do you have a wife and children home waiting for you, worrying over your return?”

  He put his back into rowing again. “Nope. I’ve been too busy fighting the war.” He hesitated for a heartbeat. “I … was sorry to hear about your losses. I hope they didn’t suffer.”

  His kind comment brought a flood of memories. Sorena closed her eyes against the pain and struggled to find her voice. “The North Sea is even colder than this. I don’t imagine they suffered very long.”

  “I see.” He started rowing with more fervor.

  She was glad he did. That was hard to talk about, hard to think about. And she didn’t want to go into detail, especially in front of the boy. “When you get tired, I’ll row awhile.”

  Axel, with Shimon snuggled against him, silently thanked the Lord for keeping them safe. They’d been on the water close to three hours, and not a single vessel had passed. He watched with admiration as Sorena rowed with the efficiency of an old salt. Just a little longer. Sweden’s shore couldn’t be much farther.

  A rumble carried from off in the distance.

  The noise came from the east, but a mist hugged the water. Axel could see only a muted glow. He removed his arm from around the boy and stood.

  About half a kilometer away, more defined light slowly scanned the water.

  “What is it?” Sorena asked urgently.

  “A patrol boat. Coming in our direction.”

  “Straight for us?”

  “No. As long as it doesn’t change course, it won’t run us over. But to be sure, stop and row the opposite way for a few seconds.” Axel tried to sound calm for their sakes. Taking his seat once more, he regretted having agreed to bring them out here. Sorena had already been through so much, and so had Shimon. The possibility of failure weighed heavily on Axel’s shoulders.

  The searchlight popped out of the mist.

  “Cover yourselves and get down in the bottom,” Axel ordered.

  Sorena lifted the oars out of the water and laid them aside as Axel pulled Shimon down with him and covered them both with a blanket. “I’m sure a black raft this small will be hard to make out, even with a searchlight.”

  He felt Sorena crowd in beside Shimon.

  The boy started shivering again, and Axel rubbed his back. “It’s okay. They won’t see us.”

  The patrol boat roared closer.

  Listening to the approaching motor, Axel worried that his earlier assumption had been off the mark. It sounded like it was heading directly for them! He raised the edge of his blanket enough to peek over the side.

  “Are they near?” Sorena asked anxiously, her voice no more than a whisper.

  “If it stays on course, it should pass about ten meters away.”

  He heard her swift intake of breath. “We’ll be caught in its wake for sure.”

  Seconds later, the vibrating roar became deafening.

  Axel reached across Shimon and put a protective arm around Sorena, pulling her closer. If anything happened to them—to her—he would never forgive himself.

  Light pierced the blanket covering Axel. The searchlight! His pulse throbbed.

  The glare lasted less than a second as it moved across them.

  He held his breath, waiting for the beam to zero in on them again … for the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. But he heard no shouts, no change in the engine’s rhythm. Still, his hear
t pounded so hard he thought it would burst. “I think we’re—”

  A powerful wave cut off his statement. Paralyzingly cold water sloshed over the bow. The little boat emerged and rode down, only to be hit by a second surge not quite as strong, sending in more water.

  Sorena rose and threw off her drenched covering. “Quick. Soak up as much as you can with your blankets. Axel, you’re stronger than I am—wring them out while I row. We’ve got to keep Shimon warm, get him to shore before hypothermia sets in.”

  The woman did have a way of taking over. But Axel couldn’t deny she made good sense. Far better to have a woman with pluck than some helpless female prone to tears and fainting spells. His admiration for her went up a notch, and he wondered what other hidden qualities she possessed. He plucked up a dripping blanket and wrung it out. Then he reached for Shimon’s. The shivering boy’s teeth were chattering audibly as he clutched the soggy doll to his chest as if trying to shield it. Axel took the doll and squeezed the water out of it, then returned it to Shimon and began rubbing the boy’s arms and back through the blanket to increase circulation. The worst of the crisis was over.

  Axel had just relieved Sorena at the oars when he noticed a faint light in the east. The sun would be up within the hour.

  “Look.” Facing him in the dimness, Sorena gestured straight ahead. “I see the shore. We’re almost there.” She grabbed hold of the shivering boy and hugged him close. “Just a few minutes more, and we’ll get to a nice dry place, find some good hot food.”

  Axel felt like laughing with relief. Digging the oars in deeper, he put all his remaining muscle into getting them there as fast as possible. They were going to make it to Sweden’s neutral ground.

  By the time they were within a hundred meters of shore, the predawn light brought glorious color back to the wisps of damp hair that had escaped Sorena’s beret. Axel was stunned by her beauty. With the way she cradled Shimon, he would have sworn she could’ve posed for a painting of the Madonna. But as lovely as she was on the outside, her appearance couldn’t hold a candle to the glow of beauty that came from within her. He couldn’t help staring.

  At that moment, she lifted her gaze up at him and kept it there. Her expression did not change, but a subtle warmth came from her eyes to his. Approval … and maybe admiration. Maybe even more.

  When she finally looked away, he felt bereft, as if something precious had been taken from him.

  Suddenly she turned to him, her eyes wide. “The patrol boat! It’s back!”

  He swung around. It was heading right for them at full speed. A man in the conning tower had his attention trained on them. Where was the fog when they needed it?

  Axel rowed as hard as he could.

  Sorena stumbled past him.

  He felt the raft dip as she leaned over the front, frantically scooping water away with her hands. Any second now they’d be in range of the mounted machine gun.

  Sorena glanced over her shoulder as she madly swept her hands through the water. She cringed at the sight of the uniformed soldier at the bow, the machine gun aimed at them. They weren’t going to make it. The three of them would die right here, within fifty meters of the beach. Even the innocent child Shimon.

  “Dive!”

  Before she had a chance to react to Axel’s command, he shoved her over the side. She and Shimon plunged into the icy, breath-stealing waves beneath Axel. He shoved them down farther.

  Bullets pierced the water, but she couldn’t go any deeper. She’d struck bottom. It was no more than a meter deep.

  On top of her, Axel buckled. Sorena knew instinctively that he’d been hit. His grip on her grew slack.

  Seconds later, the firing ceased abruptly.

  Beside her, Shimon flailed about in a frenzy. Had he taken a breath, swallowed water?

  Sorena grabbed his arm and gathered him to herself. Planting her feet on the sandy bottom, she broke the surface enough for them both to gasp for air while she searched for the enemy.

  The speed of the chase had taken the Nazi boat past them. But now, out in deeper water, it was reversing its engines to slow while circling. In less than a minute the machine gun would be in position to fire again. As long as the three of them remained in the water, the Germans would consider them fair game.

  She looked around for Axel and found him facedown in the icy shallows, drifting away from them!

  “Shimon! Grab my neck. I need to help Axel.” Reaching for him, she used all the strength she possessed to flip his big frame over. Then she clutched his collar and slogged on numb legs toward shore. Shimon’s stranglehold nearly pulled her under.

  A faint cough let her know Axel was still alive. She nearly cried out with relief.

  “Kick your feet out behind you, honey. Help me!”

  The roar of the patrol boat’s engines grew louder in her ears, but she couldn’t spare the time or energy to look back. She made for some tall reeds hugging the shore.

  The boat’s engines shifted into forward, plowing straight for them.

  Sorena feared the reeds would not provide a good enough hiding place. The gunner would surely strafe the shoreline.

  Driftwood lay scattered across the beach. And nearly covered by accumulated sand sat a log! “Thank You, Father,” she breathed aloud. “Shimon, you can let go now. It’s not deep here. Take one of Axel’s arms and help me drag him up onto the beach.”

  The boy’s entire body was shaking, but he didn’t hesitate. With God’s help and precious few seconds, they managed to position Axel’s lifeless weight behind the log.

  “Stay down,” she commanded, ducking out of sight of the patrol boat.

  As Sorena moved to check Axel for wounds, the machine gun shattered the air, splintering driftwood in a steady stream of blasts.

  Bullets ricocheted in every direction.

  A line of shots raced across the log.

  Sorena shielded Axel’s body with her own as flying sand peppered her hands and the back of her neck.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the firing stilled.

  The enemy’s engines continued to throb at idle as the boat hovered beyond the shallows.

  Would the Nazis challenge Sweden’s neutrality by coming ashore?

  For eternal moments, she strained her ears to listen for their movements above the sound of her labored breathing. At last the patrol boat revved its engines and chugged away.

  Weak with relief, and beginning to shake uncontrollably, Sorena raised up to make sure the vessel was gone.

  “Look at all the blood.”

  Shimon’s statement jolted Sorena. She moved off Axel and peered down at him. On one side of his head, his blond hair and the sand beneath it were crimson. He was bleeding profusely.

  She pressed her hand over the source. “Shimon, your scarf. Give me your scarf.”

  When he thrust it at her, she wrapped it around Axel’s head as quickly as her numb, trembling fingers would allow. “Run up the bank, honey. Go to the first house you see and get help. Fast. Go!”

  Wide-eyed, his teeth chattering, the boy took off, scrambling up the crumbling bluff with amazing speed.

  Sorena looked down at her fallen hero, this man who had shielded the two of them with his own body. That’s when she saw another red stain seeping into the sand—from his leg.

  He’s been shot twice!

  Her fingers stiff from the cold, she unbuckled the belt at her waist for a tourniquet. “Please, Lord, don’t let him die!”

  Chapter 7

  Panic and anguish gripped Sorena as she knelt beside Axel, pulling the belt from her borrowed dungarees. His lifeblood was seeping from him … because of her stubbornness. With freezing hands she threaded the leather strip beneath his leg, then tugged it tight across the wound and buckled it.

  Was he still breathing? Her hands shook as she saw the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. She touched his arm. His skin felt so cold. She glanced around for something to use to cover him. Nothing. Heaven help her, she
had to keep him warm. She lay beside him, spreading her soggy coat over them both. Thoroughly wet and cold herself, she doubted she’d be much more than a windbreak, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  “Please, God, help Shimon to find help quickly,” she pleaded through chattering teeth. “I’ve already lost two loved ones to the Nazis. I don’t think I could bear to lose Axel, too.” She felt him take a deeper breath beneath her, and hoped that was God’s way of saying He’d heard and cared.

  “Down there!” The young voice sounded like Shimon’s.

  Already? He’d left only an instant ago. Struggling to her feet, Sorena scanned the top of the low bluff.

  One fellow, then another popped into sight. They charged down the bank with the energy of men not yet thirty. Close on their heels, Shimon followed, swaddled from neck to ankle in one of their coats.

  Sorena had never felt such relief. She blinked back pooling tears.

  “How bad was he hit?” the first yelled in a Swedish lilt.

  “He’s unconscious,” she called, “but still alive. You got here so fast!”

  “We heard the gunfire,” the coatless man offered as he neared, “and were coming to investigate.”

  His companion dropped down to examine Axel. “Good. You’ve stemmed the bleeding.” He glanced up at the other fellow, sturdy and muscular as himself. “Olaf, help me lift him. We must get these folks inside before they freeze.”

  Moving to assist, Olaf eyed Sorena, then nodded in the direction of the shore. “You came across in that rubber boat?”

  She peered toward the water.

  The bullet-flattened raft was being dragged along on the swell of a gentle wave. And the rag doll! Surely God’s work. Caught in a fold of the collapsed rubber, it bobbed listlessly in time with the raft’s movements.

  “Yes,” she answered past numb lips as she went to fetch the money-stuffed toy. “It was our only choice. Everything else was being used to ferry the Jews across.”

  “Don’t we know it.” The one called Olaf grunted as he and the other man hoisted Axel’s dead weight. “For two nights now they’ve been landing all up and down the coast from Hoganas to Falsterbo. So many folks needing shelter and food.”