“No.” Axel caught her hand. “I wanted to make the crossing. It was taking you and Shimon I objected to. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. Or him.”
“And nothing did.” Her lower lip quivered. “You took the bullets for all of us.” Her eyes glistened with renewed moisture.
“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “Didn’t you just hear the doctor? I’ll be good as new in a couple of weeks.”
The statement didn’t seem to help. “Why must you act so noble?” she practically wailed. “Offering me a place to stay—and after all the mean things I said to you …” Her words lost power as she drew a ragged breath.
She looked absolutely stricken. Axel couldn’t abide having her feel so down. Not his spunky Sorena. He raised up on his elbow, ignoring the pounding in his head, and quirked a grin. “You know, I’m really starting to like this, you all contrite and apologizing. I’ll have to get shot more often.”
That did the trick. Her jaw dropped, and she started sputtering, but no sound came out.
Axel’s grin broadened. He’d rendered his mouthy redhead speechless … at least for the moment.
With bewilderment written across her freckles, she tugged free of his grip and back-stepped toward the door. “I promised Shimon I’d go get him the instant you woke up. I’ll have him here in a little while.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he called after her.
When Axel lay back on the pillow, he noticed a buzzer and pushed it. He needed to learn of his family’s fate.
Shortly, he was being wheeled along the gray linoleum floor to the front desk, where a phone awaited his use. Once the local operator transferred his call to Lund, he heard ringing on the other end and imagined the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls of the manor.
On the eighth ring, his chest tightened with concern. Someone should have answered by now.
“Hejsan?” came his sister’s voice in Swedish.
Thank You, God. He released his breath and responded in their customary Danish. “Annelise. You’re there. For a minute I thought …”
“Axel? Axel!” Her shout pierced his eardrum. “Grams! Erik! Come quick. Axel’s alive! Where are you?” she asked only slightly calmer. “Why haven’t you called before? We’ve been sick with worry.”
“It’s okay, sis. I’ve been taking a little nap, but the doctor says I’ll be just fine.”
“Doctor! Where are you?”
“At the hospital in Helsingborg.”
“Hospital? In Helsingborg?”
“The phone, give it to me,” Grams demanded in her gruff voice. “Axel?”
“I’m fine, Grams,” he avowed. “I’m supposed to be released in a day or two.”
“You are sure? I need to see for myself. We’ll take Hannah’s Rolls and be there in … How far away is that?”
“About sixty kilometers. But I’d rather you wait, Grams. I’ll be out in a couple of days, and you can come get me then. No sense wasting precious petrol. Oh, by the way, I’ve invited a couple of people to come stay with us.”
“Axel, Axel,” she said in exasperation. “You always manage to find someone, don’t you? Who is it this time? Jews passing through or airmen or sailors you found out in the sound?”
“Actually, I’m hoping these two won’t be just passing through. I want them to stay.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
He could just picture the arch in those silver brows. “You’ll understand when you meet her. I mean them.”
“Her? Did I hear right?” Annelise obviously had been listening along with Grams. “Don’t tell me your bachelor days are finally coming to an end, brother of mine!”
Axel had to think about that one. But not for long. “If I have my way about it.”
“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “The Axel has fallen!”
The second Sorena pointed out Axel’s hospital room, Shimon forgot her instructions regarding being quiet. He bolted for it, his leather soles slapping loudly on the linoleum, the water-stained rag doll he’d insisted on bringing dangling haphazardly from his hand.
Reaching the doorway, she saw the surprising sight of Axel sitting in a wheelchair, his head still bandaged and his leg propped. He’d already engulfed Shimon in a bear hug and was grinning so broadly his azure eyes crinkled.
So did her heart. She could see he truly loved the boy.
“I knew you’d wake up,” Shimon declared, not quite releasing his hero’s neck as he remained beside the wheelchair. “Me and Sorena been praying and praying.” He eased away slightly, focusing a direct look at Axel. “Besides, me and you still have a job to do, saving Mama and Papa. And God knows that. That’s why He didn’t let you die.”
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies. Awe filled Sorena as she pondered the familiar scripture verse. For Shimon to have such faith in the face of so much evil bolstered her own.
Axel must have been affected, too. He shot a glance to her, then took Shimon’s slim cheeks in his hands and kissed the top of his curly head. “You bet. Just as soon as the Allies come.”
Reluctant to intrude on their man-to-man moment, Sorena didn’t venture forward. Watching the two of them together was so touching, she could’ve cried. But she’d already done too much of that this evening.
“And look!” Shimon shoved the moldy, smelly doll in Axel’s face. “I still have this. We didn’t lose it, no matter what.”
“I’m real proud of you.” Axel took the weathered toy and looked up at Sorena. “Both of you.”
“But Sorena already took some of the money out and sent it to her mother.”
She cringed. She’d wanted to divulge that news a bit later.
“Good,” Axel said. “That’s what it’s for, to help refugees. And that’s us.”
“Yes, sir,” Shimon agreed. “For sure. But not for long.” He flicked a glance at her. “Sorena says when you get out of here, we’re gonna go live in a great big house with your family. With plenty of food—like at Knud’s house. You and me and Sorena.”
Axel looked over the child’s head and met her gaze. “That’s right. Until the Nazis are run out of our country and we can go back home. You, me, and Sorena—if she’s willing to put up with us, of course.”
“Sure she is,” he announced. “She’s been taking care of you and praying for you, just like Mama does Papa. And she won’t leave you now just when you’re better, ’cause my mama would never leave my papa.” He turned to her. “Right?”
The child was making too many assumptions. What must Axel think? She felt the blood drain from her face.
“I think we’re rushing the lady, Shimon,” Axel said gently. He flashed her one of his most charming grins. “She’s already promised to come with us to Lund. That’s enough for now. Once she’s all settled in and feeling at home, we’ll show her what a fine couple of chaps we really are.”
Axel sported his bandages like badges of honor, and his hopeful grin was almost comical. So was Shimon’s gap-toothed giggle. Sorena couldn’t help smiling herself. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re waiting.”
Still grinning, Axel reached back for the metal water pitcher on his bedside table and handed it to Shimon. “Be my buddy and go have the nurse fill this for me?”
Obviously proud to do his hero’s bidding, Shimon scampered off.
“Come closer, Sorena,” Axel coaxed, his tone husky. “We don’t have much time, and there are some things I really need to tell you.”
When she stepped to the side of his chair, he took her hand, and before she realized what he was doing, he put it to his cheek.
The gesture made her heart skip like a schoolgirl’s.
“I know we got off to a rough start. And I know it’s sudden, but this experience has changed me forever. It’s as if I’ve spent my whole life standing outside myself looking in. I never took anything seriously … until now. The way I feel about you I’m taking very seriously. You�
�re the first woman I’ve ever met who’s seen me at my worst. And by jingle, you’re still here.”
Hesitating only a second, Sorena knelt down beside him. “I think we’ve both seen each other at our worst. But don’t forget, I’ve seen you at your best, too.”
He leaned nearer. “And did you like what you saw?”
She could barely speak. “I … yes.”
His gaze gentled. “Did you know I love every one of your freckles?” he asked softly, his breath feathering her face, he was so close. “Especially this one.” His lips brushed her cheek.
Sorena’s pulse missed a beat.
“And this one.” He kissed her nose. Releasing her hand, he cupped the back of her head, and his mouth claimed hers.
Unbelievably, her playboy was kissing her. And it was fine. Perfect. Even exhilarating. With awakening love, she slipped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. After endless months of grinding sorrow, joy was filling her again. To the brim, and overflowing …
From somewhere in the distant swirl, she heard a child’s thin voice. “Wait here, nurse, ’til they’re done kissing. Kisses make everything better, you know.”
Sorena couldn’t argue with that.
DIANNA CRAWFORD
Dianna Crawford, a bestselling author with two RITA nominations, has published twenty novels and several novellas. Widowed a few years ago, she has four grown daughters and several very active grandchildren. She lives in foothills above California’s San Joaquin Valley and is the librarian at her church. In her leisure time she loves to paint and travel with friends.
Letters from Home
by Lynette Sowell
Dedication
To Connie, Margie, and Eileen—thanks for grafting me into “the posse” as we developed our stories together.
It was a joy to research with you as we drifted from one time period to another.
To those from the “Greatest Generation,” example of tenacity and courage to all who’ve come after you.
Truly these were your finest hours.
A big thank-you to the Pioneer Museum in Fredericksburg for answering questions during our research trip to your sweet town.
My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.
ISAIAH 32:18 NIV
Chapter 1
Fredericksburg, Texas
1943
C’mon, Trudy! C’mon!” Eric Meier tugged on his sister’s arm. “We’re going to miss the parade! We can find a good spot to watch if we hurry.”
“Hold your horses. I’m right here with you.” Trudy didn’t mean to drag her feet, because part of her wanted to see the parade and hear the band and some of the Hollywood performers passing through Fredericksburg. Listening on the radio wasn’t the same thing, or reading about it in a magazine. Little Fredericksburg wasn’t a regular stop for many Texas visitors. Not until their own Chester Nimitz had risen to the top ranks of the navy to show the world that even from landlocked Fredericksburg, someone could go on to do great things.
But today Trudy felt closer to forty-one than twenty-one. Her legs felt like lead weights, her muscles tired from working at the beehives until sundown yesterday. She fought away the fatigue, clutched the Brownie camera that hung from a strap around her neck, and tried to be positive. Maybe today she’d get some good shots. Of course, she’d need to order more photo paper, something at a premium during these lean years.
She paused at her parents’ bedroom door. “Mama?” She heard nothing, so she pushed the door open a few inches. Her mother’s low snore filtered through the space. It was best she let her sleep, all worn out from her volunteer work at the hospital. She’d arrived home early that morning.
The front door banged. “Tru–dy! Come on!”
Trudy shook her head and closed the door. Eric could tear all over the countryside on his bicycle, yet for some reason he couldn’t make it to town without her presence at his side? “I’m coming, Eric.”
The May morning sun promised a toasty afternoon. If she had her way, she’d bicycle down to the creek with a book, a pen, and her camera. She’d sit under her favorite live oak tree and watch the wind blow the puffy clouds across the sky. The favorite tree would remind her of Kurt and the promise they’d made to each other under its branches.
Trudy blinked at the momentary pain and let it pass. She closed the front door to the house behind her, as if that could close off the memory. Today, she’d definitely win the bike “race” to town that Eric always tried to egg her to join.
“They have a midget submarine, you know.” Eric’s voice jolted her. He bent over to check the chain on his bicycle. “All the way from Japan. I wonder if we can touch it.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it your mission to find out if you can.” Thank You, Lord, that Eric can keep his childlike wonder, even during the war, even with Father away. It seemed like everyone gave something up once their country had entered the war. A lifetime of days had ticked away since December 7, 1941, a little less than eighteen months ago.
Soon they were off, down the winding road that led into town. Trudy could close her eyes and feel each curve in the road, anticipate each landmark, no matter how minor. The sameness should comfort her, but instead it itched her like a wool scarf that her grandmother had made.
Trudy thought of the ring that still lay inside the jewelry box on her dressing table. Kurt had released her from her promise to marry him after he returned from the war, before his last letter …
He deserved someone who’d be by his side at the peach farm owned by his family, someone who was satisfied with Fredericksburg, with the small-town routine. Once, she’d shared with him her wild dream of seeing the world. Kurt had blinked and asked, “Why?”
Less than a month later, his orders came and he shipped out, leaving her behind. Jealousy fought against fear inside her.
The town hadn’t changed much since her childhood. She caught sight of the first few homes on the outside of town, a snug row of Sunday homes, the middle one owned by her family. Her oma had lived there until her passing over the late winter. Trudy slowed down. If things were different, she’d ask her mother if she could stay in the house by herself and have a measure of independence. Of course, her help was needed most at home.
Next door was the Zimmermann family’s home. How she’d loved Sundays growing up in Fredericksburg, all the comings and goings and visiting. And the food. Oma, I miss you, and every time I see the house, it reminds me of what we’ve all lost.
Eric left her literally in his dust. He rang the bell on his bicycle and the jubilant sound joined with the sounds of celebration ahead of them on Main Street. The war bond tour had descended on Fredericksburg. It wouldn’t surprise her if nearly the whole town assembled along Main Street.
Instead of following Eric, Trudy moved off the road and circled back. She might as well leave her bicycle parked at the Sunday house. She could negotiate any crowd on foot, where a bicycle might get in the way.
“You’re just in time for the parade.” Her longtime friend Kathe exited the Zimmermann family’s Sunday house. Kathe Zimmermann, soon-to-be Kathe Mueller, grinned.
“Eric made sure.” Trudy tried to pop her kickstand down, but the contraption stuck so she leaned the bicycle against the house, just past the porch. “So how are you? I’ve been such a poor bridesmaid, and I should be helping you prepare for the wedding.”
“You’ve done plenty,” Kathe said as she linked her arm through Trudy’s. “Peter and I are keeping things simple, especially now. But my cake is going to be made with white sugar, not brown, and have gobs of buttercream frosting.”
The thought of a rich, creamy wedding cake with plenty of frosting made Trudy’s sweet tooth ache a little. “I’m so happy for both of you.”
“Thanks.” Her friend’s expression fell. “I know this must be hard for you, with Kurt …”
Trudy shrugged. “It’s all right. Like I said, I’m happy for both of you.
The fact that Peter survived, came home to you, and now you get to have your happy ending, I’m just glad someone else is finding some joy in the middle of all this.”
She didn’t have to mention the Wagner twins who’d perished and now lay buried in a Fredericksburg cemetery. The war had cost Fredericksburg so much already, even with their favorite son, Chester Nimitz, commander in chief over the Pacific theater.
Kathe hugged her. “Thank you. I’m praying you’ll have your happy ending, too.”
“I hope so, someday.” A lump swelled in Trudy’s throat. Gertrude Meier, I see now why you wish to travel the world and see life beyond Fredericksburg. That has never been my desire, and I release you to find your way. Lord willing, once this war is over and you have traveled, maybe we will find our way back to each other again. Trudy shoved the letter’s words away, burned into her memory. “Let’s go. I wonder if Mitzie Harmon looks the same in person as she does in the movies.”
Kathe laughed and the sound propelled Trudy back to more innocent times, to childhood. She echoed the laugh as they ambled the rest of the way to Main Street.
Bradley Payne stepped off the bus, the dust of Main Street Fredericksburg swirling around him. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. The bag contained all his worldly goods—well, everything that he’d been toting since leaving Washington, DC, just over three weeks ago.
He adjusted the brim of his hat as he scanned the street lined with people, its buildings resembling something out of a Wild West show combined with European charm he’d seen in Germany. Fredericksburg. Home of his father’s family, the family he never knew. Father, why did you leave the family who accepted you and took you in?
Bradley continued to the Nimitz Hotel, a curious-looking, three-story structure on the corner of Main Street and North Washington. A flag flew from the roof, the building resembling a ship. Charles, the old man who’d built the hotel, was once a sea captain. Ironic that he’d build a hotel like this far from the ocean.
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 46