Of Windmills and War (37 page)

He
smiled. “Should I have sucker-punched her, you think?”

Anya pursed
her lips, recognizing the tease. “I should hope not, as you are a gentleman. But
this
Beverly
obviously
didn’t deserve you.”

He took
a deep breath. “As it turns out, we were apart that first summer. I stayed for
summer school and she went to her family’s lake house. And while she was there,
she fell in love with her brother’s best friend who came to visit. He and her
brother both played football for Northwestern.”

She
shook her head. “What is it with you Americans and your sports? Always the baseball
or the football—”

“And I seem
to remember how much you truly loved hearing about my Cubs.”

She
pressed her lips hoping to camouflage her grin. “Back to the girls. Were there
others? Surely she wasn’t the only one.”

“Well,
sad though it may seem, she was. But what about you? I know there’s been a war
going on, but have you met anyone along the way? Another Resistance worker
perhaps? Frederic’s kind of handsome, don’t you think?”

“If you
like a man who’s fascinated with his own belching and other bodily noises.”

He
laughed. “Ah. How very romantic. But no one else?”

What a
thing to ask,
she thought. “I don’t know what it’s like for
the Allies, but here in The Netherlands, we’ve hardly had time for romance.” She
didn’t mean to snap at him but knew that’s how it sounded. “What with the war
going on, as you said.”

“What
about that guy . . . what was his name? The one at the farm
where you used to help out.”

She
never saw it coming, the knife he’d just shoved in her heart. His question took
her breath away. She could only stare at him, unable to form a single word.

“Come
on, you know who I mean—Willard? William?” His eyes danced. He seemed to enjoy
his line of questioning.

“Wim,”
she whispered.

“Yeah,
that’s it! Wim. He broke his leg, right? As I recall, he had a crush on you,
right?”

She
dropped her eyes.

“C’mon,
you can tell me. Were you in love with him?”

His
playful grin only twisted the knife in her heart. She couldn’t bear it. Without
a word, she rolled back on the bed, then stood up.

 “Anya,
I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have pried. I didn’t mean anything by it. Hey, I was
mostly just teasing.”

She
turned around to face him, her fist knotted over her mouth. She shook her head.

“Anya,
please—” He reached out for her, but she pulled back her hand.

She
turned, rushed across the room, and fled up the stairs.

51

“Anya! Please
don’t go. Come back!”

Danny couldn’t
believe he had been so insensitive. He had no idea what had caused her to up
and leave like that. Still, with everything else she’d been through, he should
have been more cautious. He should have known to tread carefully with such personal
questions.
Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

He
leaned back against the pillows, mentally kicking himself for being such an inconsiderate
fool. He looked around and found only a few of the guys looking his way. Had
they heard everything? Did they know something he didn’t?

“You
Americans, you are . . . how you say—fumble?” Frederic came
around the corner, puffing on some kind of cigarette. It smelled like dried
manure.

“I
don’t know what you mean,” Danny said, wishing the conversation was already over.

“You
have Anya here,” he said, pointing his cigarette toward Danny’s bed, “but now
she’s gone. You fumble.” He shrugged as if Danny should clearly understand his
meaning.

“I
didn’t know football was so popular in The Netherlands.”

Frederic’s
bushy brows drew together. “Eh?”

“Never
mind,” Danny said, waving him off.

Frederic
rattled off something in Dutch then punctuated it with a perfectly timed flatulent.
He offered a proud smile then wandered off.

Wonderful.

Before
he could brow-beat himself further, a sudden burst of commotion came barreling down
the stairs. Everyone was talking at once, shouting in both English and Dutch. Then,
out from the middle of the knot of people, a scruffy man in uniform broke free.

“Danny!”

“Lane!”

The
navigator rushed to Danny’s side as he tried to stand up. When he did, Pendergrass
hugged the stuffing out of him. “Where on earth have you been?” he croaked.

“I
can’t believe it’s really you!” Lane said, finally stepping back. “They told me
a co-pilot had been brought in a couple of days ago, and I hoped it was you.
Are you okay?” he asked, just then noticing Danny’s faltering stance.

“I’m
fine, I’m fine! Come here and have a seat.”

“Lieutenant,
we need to debrief Lieutenant Pendergrass,” Eduard insisted, finally reaching
them.

“And
you will,” Danny said, “but just give us a couple of minutes, okay?”

Eduard
held up two fingers. “Two minutes and not a second more.”

Lane
helped Danny sit back down on the side of the bed. “You’re obviously hurt,” he
said, falling into the wooden chair.

“Just a
sprained ankle, nothing serious. I can’t believe you’re here! I’ve had them
asking all over about you and the other guys. Are they with you?”

Lane’s
face fell. “No, I was hoping to find them here. No word? Nothing?”

“Nothing.
These Resistance folks even contacted the 390th for me, but they were told I
was the only member of
Sophie’s
crew they’d heard from. What happened?
How did you get here?”

“I
landed somewhere in
Germany
, not far from the border.”
Lane pulled his hand roughly over his face. “Never did see Tony after we
jumped. We got separated on the way down. Somebody up there must’ve been
looking out for me, because I landed in the middle of nowhere and was never
approached by any Germans. Not once. I gathered up my chute and made a run for
it. I heard their tanks coming, but I hid in a ravine surrounded by a bunch of
bushes.”

“Is
that where you’ve been all this time?”

“At
first, I thought better safe than sorry. If no one knew I was there, better to
stay put and keep it that way. Then early this morning just after
midnight
, I
decided to take my chances. Took me a long time, trying to stay out of sight—darting
here and there, always watching my back. Once the sun came up, I hunkered down
in a bombed out church. Crawled up in the chimney. Stayed there all day.

“Then
long after the sun went down this evening, I made tracks and finally crossed
what I thought must be the border. Came across those other guys,” he nodded
toward three RAF men huddled around a table with some of the Resistance
workers. “They’d just jumped from their
Lancaster
,” he
said, pointing at the Resistance men, “and those guys were there picking them
up. I’m here to tell you, it
had
to be a miracle. A minute before or
after, and they would’ve been gone and I’d still be out there. Those guys work
fast.”

Danny reached
for Lane’s hand with both of his. “A miracle. Had to be. I’m so glad you made
it, Lane.”

“Glad
you made it too, Danny. Real glad.”

Eduard
patted Lane on the shoulder. “Now, I must insist we spend some time with
Lieutenant Pendergrass.” Eduard handed the navigator a cup of tea. “Are you
hungry?”

“Starving,”
he answered, both hands on his stomach.

“While
we chat, I shall have the ladies prepare you a bowl of stew.”

“Thank
you. That sounds great. I’m absolutely famished.” Lane patted Danny on the knee
then followed Eduard across the room.

“Enjoy,”
Danny said with a smile, picturing his navigator chowing down on kitty cat
stew.

Anya
never came back downstairs. Danny couldn’t get her off his mind, but had no
idea what to do. Once the guys finished their questioning with Lane, they took
him upstairs for a
midnight
meal. Danny hated to miss out
on watching that, but decided not to try the stairs. He’d no doubt hear all about
it later.

One of
the RAF pilots came back down and chatted briefly with Danny, updating him on
the progress of the Allied efforts. Most everyone seemed to believe the war
would soon be over. “We’re liberating towns and cities left and right. Besides,
apparently there are so few targets left to bomb, there’s precious little left
to do. We’ve all done our part and Jerry’s all but finished. Any day now. Any
day.”

Lane
showed up a while later, clean from a shower. “That’ll wake you up,” he said,
still towel drying his hair.

“What’s
that?” Danny asked.

“That
shower. Whew!” He shook off a shiver. “I think my goose bumps have goose bumps!”
He threw his towel on the bunk above Danny’s.

“That’s
why I took a bath.”

“Wait—you
took a bath? Was it warm?”

“Warm
enough. The ladies heated some water over the fire and filled the tub for me.
Nice and toasty.”

“You’re
lying.”

“So how
was your dinner?”

Lane
pulled his chair close to Danny’s bedside and lowered his voice. “Do I even
want
to know what that was?”

“Nah.
But keep it to yourself. These poor folks have had it rough. And just so you
know, someone most likely skipped a meal so you could have it.”

Lane
propped his feet up on the end of Danny’s bed, crossing his ankles. “I kinda
wondered about that. They’re all paper thin.” He shook his head while raking
his fingers through his damp hair. “I can’t even imagine, can you?”

“No. But
I’ll tell you one thing. It sure makes what we do worthwhile.”

“That’s
for sure. All of it.”

Danny
leaned his head back against the pillows. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our
crew. The guys who went down with
Sophie.
I still can’t believe they’re
gone.”

Lane
took a deep breath then slowly let it out. “I kept thinking about them the
whole time I was out there hiding. And I realized, when you get right down to
it, we’re all just a bunch of kids. Barely out of high school, some of these guys.
And yet here we are, on the other side of the world, flying these great big Fortresses—”

“Like
sitting ducks—”

“Like
sitting ducks. But I look around here and see these people . . .
and I think, they’re why we do it. I never really thought about that before. Up
in our birds, we don’t see them face to face.”

“You
have no idea. Spend some time talking to them and you’ll understand even more.
The stories they tell are—well, there aren’t even words to describe them.”

“I
would but they’re sending me back to base in the morning.”

“What?”
Danny sat up.

“I
guess you’d be going too, but with your injuries they didn’t want to risk it.
Speaking of which, why didn’t you tell me you had a concussion?”

“It’s
not important,” Danny said, waving him off. “How are you getting back? They
can’t exactly put you on a flight out of here.”

“I’m
not sure. They didn’t tell us.” Lane stood up and stretched, then climbed to the
upper bunk. “Apparently it’s a bit of cloak and dagger, so they’ll tell us only
when we need to know. They have a team that does this regularly. Sure hope they
know what they’re doing.”

“A
team?”

“A guy
and some girl I haven’t met yet.”

Of
course. Eduard had told him Anya often helped run the pilot lines.

“Danny?”

“Yes?”

“You
got awfully quiet. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,
buddy, I haven’t slept in two days. I’m beat, so I think I’ll—”

“Goodnight,
Lane. Glad you made it here safe, buddy.”

A
freight train roared from the top bunk in response. Danny smiled, then climbed
under the covers. He socked both pillows, trying to get comfortable. His foot
was bothering him and the dull headache wasn’t so dull anymore. When he finally
settled in, he felt a troubled wave wash over him. It had nothing to do with
his physical ailments.

Anya
was leaving in the morning—with Lane and those RAF guys, who all happened to be
shaking the rafters with their snores at the moment. Danny turned on his side
to face the wall, jamming one of the pillows over his head to muffle the roar.

But no
matter what he did, Danny couldn’t push the image of Anya’s face from his mind.
The sadness in her eyes made his heart literally ache in his chest. But it was
more than that. What worried him most was the wall he sensed going up between
them again.

And you
have no one to blame but yourself.