Simple Faith (19 page)

The place was crawling with Germans—soldiers, Gestapo, local French police loyal to the new regime. Peter kept his eye on the newsboy as a couple of men bought newspapers from him, but either their suit was not tweed or the hat was wrong. Somewhere a church bell chimed the noon hour. Peter wondered what Gisele would tell Anja. He wondered if perhaps Mikel would get her to safety and then realized that Mikel had deliberately sent for her to come to him so that Gisele could get Peter out of the house and on down the line as they liked to say.

Another man approached the newsboy. This one was wearing brown tweed with a gray hat that had a blue band. He bought a paper, placed it under his right arm, and headed for the train. When Peter looked back toward the station, the kid was gone. He saw his new guide board the train, waited a beat, and then boarded the same car. The train was packed with people, and Peter had trouble finding any place he could sit, but finally an old man and his wife made room on their seat for him. He almost thanked them, then remembered that he was not to speak and nodded instead.

He wrapped his wool scarf around his neck and coughed to hopefully deliver the message that he was suffering from laryngitis. The woman nodded sympathetically and seemed to be telling him about some home remedy that he should try. He pretended interest and smiled.

As soon as the train rocked into motion, the old man went to sleep and the woman stared out the window. Peter bowed his head and watched the man with the newspaper under the veil of dozing. He knew the trip to Bordeaux was nine hours barring any delays. It would be dark when they arrived. He wondered where he would sleep tonight. And he wondered where Anja was.

Mikel walked very fast away from the address Gisele had given Anja, and she struggled to keep up with his long strides. He had been waiting for her, and the minute he saw her crossing the street, he left the doorway and started walking down a narrow side street. She knew better than to call out to him, and she quickened her steps to catch up.

“What’s happened?” she whispered when he finally paused at a corner, checking the street to be sure they weren’t being followed or observed. She was really beginning to wonder why he was acting so strangely.

“Just trust me,” he replied and set off again, winding his way through narrow streets and alleys until they came to a rotted gate. Mikel opened it, waved her through, and then secured it behind them.

“What is this place?” Several rusted metal café chairs and filigreed tables lined the space between two buildings. Everything was covered in snow. She picked her way carefully around the chairs and tables, trying not to slip in the icy ruts that filled in the spaces between the cobblestones.

“Hurry,” Mikel urged as he started up a fire escape.

He waited for her to follow him until they reached a landing, and then he pulled the last section of the fire escape up away from the ground. He pointed to a window. “In here,” he said as he inched the window open.

“Mama,” a voice whispered.

“Daniel?” She thought she must be hallucinating. Beyond the grime of the window, she was certain she saw her son’s face—heard his voice. Impossible. She shook her head, convinced that she was suffering the effects of the cold and Mikel’s mysterious trek through back streets.

“Mama.” The boy started to cry, but they were tears of relief as he reached for her while she climbed through the window.

“Daniel,” she whispered, gathering him into her arms. “What are you doing here?” She held him away from her without releasing him so that she could examine him. Was he hurt? What was he wearing? Was he thinner than the last time she’d seen him?

She closed her eyes and pulled him to her again, savoring the smell of him as she remembered that horrid day when she’d gone to the school to tell him she had to take a trip.

“Were you with the airman I found?” He had taken pride in what Peter had assured him was an act that had saved his life.

“Yes. He needs to find his way back home.”

“I am glad he will be safe.”

His selflessness had broken her heart. He had been through so much in his short life. How much more would he be asked to endure? “Why is he here?” she asked Mikel after sending Daniel to get her a glass of water from the tiny dirty kitchen she could see beyond a ragged curtain.

The lighting was bad, but she could tell that Mikel was staring at her, perhaps trying to decide what to tell her. “Your grandfather was questioned and released. Both your grandparents are safe for now, as are Lisbeth and Josef. But with them all released, you and I both know who Schwarz would have turned to next.”

She gasped.

Mikel pressed on with his news—his eyes flicking from her face to the boy at the sink. “I didn’t know what else to do. Schwarz had his men watching the convent practically round the clock, and he went there once himself. What was I supposed to do?”

“What about Josef and Lisbeth?”

“They were taken separately for questioning and released, but Schwarz also has people watching the café, and someone follows Lisbeth and Josef wherever they go.”

“Peter and I are to leave Paris for Bordeaux as soon as civilian trains start running again.”

“The trains are running, and Peter is already gone.”

She felt as if someone had suddenly hit her with brute force. She actually wrapped her arms around herself. She had known this would be how things would end between them, but it was too soon. She had thought they would have at least today. “When did he go?” she managed as she accepted the glass of water from Daniel. But she knew that it had to have been within the last half hour while she was following Mikel.

Mikel shrugged. “All I know is that Schwarz is in Paris. He and his men were on their way to Gisele’s. We had to act fast.”

We?

“You planned this with Gisele? Without discussing it with us?”

“What do you want from me, Anja? I have done what I thought was best for you and for Daniel.”

“And for Peter?”

“Peter? You call him by his given name? Always before any airman we have helped has been simply ‘evader’ or ‘him.’ Is this man so special to you?”

Yes
. But she knew that it went against everything those working the escape line believed when it came to getting these men to safety. No personal feelings, no contact once the evader left her care, no knowledge of him beyond that point.

“You’re right, of course. About the evader, that is, but bringing Daniel here?”

“Would you have risked going back knowing that Schwarz would be waiting? Knowing he might have taken Daniel himself as insurance for getting you to come back?”

“But now you say that Schwarz is here.”

“Yes, he has followed you because he knows that where you are so will be the American.”

“And you thought bringing Daniel here was the right thing to do, knowing the danger?”

Mikel sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. “If you will trust me, I can get you both to safety. You are in serious danger, Anja, and the nuns can no longer protect Daniel at the orphanage. I knew you would not leave without your son, so I brought him here so that you could go together.”

She sat down heavily on an overturned wooden crate and drank the water that Daniel had given her. Her son was watching her warily, his eyes darting from her to Mikel and back again, seeking answers—seeking assurance that she could not offer.

“Hey,” she said, setting the glass on the floor and holding out her arms to her son. He came to her at once, and while he was too big to sit on her lap, he sat on the floor close to her, his head resting against her leg. Anja stroked his hair, hoping he might sleep so that he would not have to hear more of her discussion with Mikel. “Has he eaten?” she asked.

Mikel nodded. “I made sure of that. No one knows he’s here, Anja—only the nuns and me.”

“And Gisele?”

“No. She doesn’t know.” He went into the room where Daniel had gotten the water and returned with a piece of bread and some cheese. He offered both to her.

“Put them in your rucksack,” she said. “We’ll need food for the journey.”

Daniel sat up. “Are we going away, Mama?”

Mikel knelt and ruffled the boy’s hair. He was smiling. “Did I not promise that your Mama and you would be off on a grand adventure with me?” He paused and held open the rucksack. “What else shall we pack?”

Instantly, Daniel was on his feet, calling out supplies they would need for the trip and gathering his few belongings. Anja had to admit that Mikel had always been wonderful with her son. Daniel trusted this Basque man as he had once trusted his father to know the right thing to do. She should trust him as well, for she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mikel would never intentionally do anything that would place Daniel—or her—in unnecessary danger. If Mikel thought it was time for them to go, then she would go.

While Mikel and Daniel continued to pack for the trip, Anja closed her eyes and shut out everything but thoughts of her grandparents. She prayed for them to be safe so that once this horrid war ended she could come back for them and they could all return to the island off Denmark and live free and normal lives again. She opened her eyes after several long moments of silence and saw Mikel watching her, his eyes reflecting his devotion to her. How she wished she might find it in her heart to love him as she had loved Daniel’s father—as she loved Peter Trent.

Following the instructions he’d been given, Peter kept a watch on the man with the newspaper as the train rumbled along. Each time they came to a stop in some small village, his guide would walk out to the connecting platform between cars and light a cigarette. He would stay there until the train was in motion again and then return to his seat or take another seat if a boarding passenger had taken the one he’d vacated.

Josef had taught Peter what to watch for in the way of signals. If a guide like this one resumed reading his paper, then either soldiers or Gestapo had boarded the train. If he folded his arms, slumped in his seat, and closed his eyes, there was no cause for concern. Thankfully most of the time he did the latter, and Peter relaxed until he felt the train roll to its next stop.

The sun—what there had been of it on the gloomy day—was setting, and the train had stopped and started so many times that Peter simply assumed the man would feign sleep when he returned to his seat. Instead, he made a show of opening the newspaper and folding it and refolding it as if to gain Peter’s attention. And when Peter glanced toward the door connecting the cars, he saw exactly why his guide had behaved as he had. Not only had three Gestapo agents boarded the train, but they were coming into the car where Peter sat.

Automatically, he placed his hand over the inside jacket pocket where his fake identity papers were. In doing that, he jostled his seat companion. The elderly couple had left the train after the second stop and been replaced by a burly, scowling man carrying a large valise that he plopped down on the seat as if it were a passenger. Now the man grumbled at him and shoved him with his elbow. An apology—in English—was on the tip of Peter’s tongue, and he caught himself only in the nick of time. Instead of speaking, he moved an inch away from the man and folded his arms tightly across his chest, his head lowered but his eyes on the Gestapo trio. He saw the man with the newspaper moving into the next car now that the Nazis had passed him by.

Should he follow? But why call attention to himself by standing?

His seatmate nudged him. Peter ignored him.

Another shot of the elbow, and Peter glanced at the man. He could not deal with this right now. The agents were coming closer, checking papers as they worked their way through the car. His seatmate produced a flask, unscrewed the cap, and made as if to take a drink. Instead, his hand shook and the potent liquid splashed all over Peter’s shirt and pants. He started to say something as he tried without success to clean himself up. But instead of helping or apologizing, the man simply tucked the flask into Peter’s jacket pocket and then curled against the window, feigning sleep. But just before he turned away, he glanced toward the agents and then made a gesture as if drinking from the flask.