The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) (25 page)

             
Karlijna came into the kitchen as John fiddled with the dials, “What is it?”

             
“Sig said they are talking about the Soviets freeing a prison camp.”

             
The radio crackled and John found a clear voice,

             
“The Red Army has liberated a prison camp near Oswiecim, Poland, approximately 37 miles west of Krakow. It is estimated there were five thousand prisoners there, including women and children.  The camp is in ruins; the majority of the prisoners near death. The prisoners have told the soldiers that the Germans are forcing the able prisoners to walk to Germany.”

             
Karlijna sat heavily, “Only five thousand.”

             
Louisa shut off the stove to sit next to her friend, “That seems like a lot.”

             
“No. Trainloads came every day. Thousands on the trains. The death chambers could not keep up with the people – they could not be killed fast enough.”

             
“Why would the Germans take the prisoners with them? Why not just leave them at the prison? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Is there any sense to what they have been doing so far?” Karlijna’s brows furrowed in anger.

John laid a hand on Karlijna’s shoulder, “Perhaps the Soviets will find them and bring the prisoners to safety.”

The young woman shook her head, “Do you believe still that the Soviets are friends to the Jews? To the United States?”

“They are out allies,” Louisa argued.

“Why do suppose there are so many Jews in Poland? It is because the
Soviet Union forced them from their land. The Red Army may be as harsh in their dealings as the Nazis have been.”

Louisa looked up at the chicken, “I suppose nobody is hungry now.”

             
John's stomach took that opportunity to growl.

             
Karlijna attempted a laugh, “I guess we'd better eat then.”

             
The phone rang as they finished supper.

             
Ellie’s enthusiasm wasn’t dampened by the phone line, “Karlijna, did you hear?  That was where you were, isn't it?”

             
Karlijna affirmed Ellie’s statement and then excused herself from the call.

             
“Do you mind if I go to bed, Louisa?  I'm not feeling too well.”

             
Louisa looked oddly at her, but she didn’t ask what was wrong, “Goodnight, Karlijna.”

Karlijna was able to fall asleep, but her dreams were fill
ed with the camp and soldiers. She tossed and turned and, consequently, awoke the next morning feeling as though she had fought a major battle.

Dear Michael,  
January 29, 1945

We heard yeste
rday that Auschwitz was freed. I should feel joy at the announcement, but I am so saddened by the pointless loss of life. The thing that makes all of this so much worse is that the majority of those killed were not believers. They did not understand the saving grace of Christ.  They went to their deaths with no hope of eternity.  Thousands of people died and are not saved.

I didn't spend eno
ugh time trying to explain it. I gave them what material things I could, but I did not tell them about Jesus. Why was I more concerned for their body than their soul? How many could be sitting with the Father now if I had been thinking of that?

I must get out to the barn.

Please pray for me.

Karlijna

              A week later, Louisa ran out to the barn, “John,” she cried, “Karlijna, where are you?”

             
John looked startled when he came from the feed room, “What's wrong, Louisa?”

             
Louisa's eyes betrayed fear, “Where is Karlijna?”

             
John took hold of his wife, “What is wrong, Louisa?”

             
Louisa was not able to answer. She ran from the barn, calling for Karlijna. John followed. He stopped dead when he saw a car parked in the drive, the young man who carried telegrams standing beside it.

             
“Louisa,” Karlijna came from around the opposite side of the barn, “what is it?”

             
She stopped running for a moment when she saw the car. She looked to her friends, “Michael?”

             
They didn't answer, so she walked slowly toward the vehicle.

             
“Mrs. Gunderson,” Eddy held out the telegram.

             
Karlijna took it, but couldn't open it. This was the news. She had been waiting for the news and here it was. 

             
“Thank you for bringing it out here, Eddy.”

             
“It's my job, ma'am.”

             
He didn't leave, and she still couldn't make herself break the seal.

             
“Is it always bad news?” she stared at the offending article.

             
He cleared his throat, “Mike was a friend of mine. I would have liked to go, but I couldn't.”

             
Karlijna slit the top with a finger, “Thank you, Eddy.”

             
Louisa and John arrived beside her. She handed the paper to John.

             
“I can't,” she admitted. “I just can't.”

             
John looked like he wasn't sure he could either, but he took it and opened it. 

             
All eyes were on him as he read the first line. John looked up, tears in his eyes, then back down.  He began to speak, but couldn't find his voice. Sobs shook his frame.

             
Karlijna felt the world spin.

             
“Not Michael,” she whispered.

             
Louisa tore the sheet away from her husband, looked at it, and grabbed at Karlijna's coat sleeve, “Karlijna,” she rasped. “He’s. . .he’s alive.”

             
Karlijna ripped the telegram from Louisa’s wooden fingers and read it herself as Louisa threw herself into John's arms.

             
Captain M. Gunderson found STOP Alive STOP Recovering in London Hospital STOP

             
Karlijna looked at Eddy, “He's alive, Eddy!  He's alive!”  she gave the young man a quick hug.

             
Eddy smiled and then laughed, “I don't get many hugs from delivering telegrams.”

             
Karlijna laughed and hugged him again, “Are you heading back into Red Wing now?”

             
He nodded.

             
“Could I hitch a ride?  It won't take me more than five minutes to get ready.”

             
Louisa and John watched her run to the house.

             
“I can't believe it,” Louisa spoke through her tears.  “I really thought. . .”

             
John hugged her tighter, “Me too.”

             
Karlijna was out within two minutes, “Bye,” she called as she climbed into the passenger side, “I'll come back after I tell Sig and Will.”

             
“We'll call Ellie and Sara,” Lou offered.

             
“Call everyone,” the girl laughed, “but I want to tell Will and Sig.”

             
Karlijna asked Eddy to drop her off at the high school, “Thank you so much,” she smiled as jumped from the car.

             
The young lady ran to the office and was told by his secretary he was teaching a class and would be done in thirty minutes.

             
“You may wait here, though.”

             
Karlijna couldn't wait, “Is he teaching Biology?” she asked.

             
The lady looked sternly at her, “Yes, but don’t you go bothering Mr. Gunderson while he is teaching, Miss Bergstrom.”

             
“Actually,” Karlijna smiled as she began backing out of the room, “It is Mrs. Gunderson, and I am going to go tell Will that my husband is alive.”

             
The secretary did not try to stop her.

             
Karlijna found the science room and knocked on the door. A student came to answer it.

             
“Hi, Karli,” the girl greeted her.  “What are you doing here?”

             
“Would you please give this to Mr. Gunderson?”

             
“Sure.”

             
Karlijna waited outside the door and was not disappointed.

             
Karlijna heard a loud shout and then the door tore open.

             
“You just got this?” he enveloped her in his arms.

             
“And then I had Eddy bring me in.”

             
“Does Sig know?” he asked as he released her.

             
“I'm going there next.”

             
“I'll go with you,” he said, beginning to walk away.

             
“Your class,” she laughed and pointed to the door.

             
“Oh, yes,” he opened the door.  “Class, you are to head to study hall immediately. Sharon, go tell the office that I have taken the afternoon off.” 

             
He started to walk away, but turned back to his class, “My son has been found – alive!”

             
Sig was surprised to see her husband arrive in the middle of the day, more so because Karlijna was with him.

             
“Is everything alright?”

             
“Michael is alive,” Will spoke first.

             
“He's in Britain,” Karlijna added.

             
Sig shook her head, not able to absorb the news, “I've been here all day. I haven't gotten any news.”

             
“It came to me on the farm,” Karlijna held out the telegram.

             
Sig took it and read it. She looked up and read it again.

             
“I don't know why I'm trying to read this,” she sniffled, “I can't see a thing,”

             
Will grabbed his wife into a hug and danced around the kitchen with her in his arms. She laughed while he spun her. Karlijna laughed to see them.

             
They looked at her and Sig smiled sheepishly, “I'm sure you think we've taken leave of our senses.”

             
“Not at all,” she denied it, “I feel like dancing down the streets myself.”

             
Will looked as though he was about to suggest it when the phone rang.

             
“Hello?” Sig got to it first. “Yes, I've heard. I know. I love you too, Ellie.  Bye.”

             
Sara called next, then Louisa to find out if Karlijna needed a ride back to the farm. In the end, Will and Sig drove her out and had supper at the farm.

Dear Michael,
     February 6, 1945

Today we
have heard that you are alive. There could be nothing on earth that would give me greater joy.  I tried always to believe that you could not be dead, but I must admit there were moments and days when I struggled to trust.

We are seeing every day t
hat the war will soon be over. Nearly every morning we get a report of the victories won – both in Europe and in the Pacific. We have so much to be thankful for.

God is so good. He will bring you back to us.
There are so many men who will not be returning to their loved ones. There are so many who will come home, but will be bitter because of what they have seen and experienced.

I am praying that your heart will continue to be soft, that you will never become accustomed to the death and the horrors around you.

Karlijna

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Mike,” Sam urged him, “you've got to do it. Just push a little harder.”

             
“Why bother,” Michael didn't sound angry, just resigned.

             
Sam took out the picture he was holding and held it in front of Michael's face, “Because she is expecting you to come back the same man she fell in love with.”

             
Michael shoved the picture aside, “I'm not the same man. I'm a cripple.”

             
Sam slammed his hand down on the table, “Your attitude makes you crippled, not your body, you idiot.”

             
Michael looked away from his friend.

             
“She's not in love with your body – it's you she loves.”

             
Sam opened the bedside drawer and withdrew a stack of envelopes and lay them on his friend's lap.

             
“At least show her the courtesy of reading what she wrote.”

             
Michael was tempted, but his pride got in the way and he shoved them back into the drawer.

Zumbrota, MN

              If Louisa and John loved Karlijna before, their hearts now overflowed with their affection for her.  She was still the energetic worker and kind person she had always been, but she was nearly bursting with joy. They often came upon her singing praises while she worked. Whether the animals enjoyed her off-key, German rendition of the songs, nobody could say, but the Porters loved it.

For the rest of the month, Karlijna expected a lette
r from Michael, but none came. As they entered into March, Karlijna began to lose hope.

             
“Do you think he is able to write, Louisa?”

             
Louisa slid an arm around the girl's shoulder, “I think you're forgetting how slow the mail can be.  You know it is sometimes a month.”

             
Karlijna did not feel comforted.

By the middle of March, Karlijna had still not gotten a letter from Michael, but she was surprised to get one from Sam.

Dear Karlijna,    February 27, 1945

I hope I do not offend you by writing to you or by addressing you by your first name. If so, I apologize. I know Mike has not written to you so I must take on the responsibility of it myself.

He is not well. I do not mean to say he has any life-threatening illnesses, but he is poor in his spirit. Due to a leg injury, he has determined life is not worth living. He is not suicidal, but he doesn't take care of himself and he is angry at those around him. He refuses to do any therapy. I am sorry to say, he also has stopped reading your letters – the thing that would likely do him the most good.

I ask you to be patient, pray, and continue writing.

Sam Dixon

             
“Louisa,” Karlijna looked up from the table, “I need to send a telegram.”

London

              “Captain Gunderson,” the nurse came in and stood beside his bed, “it is time for your therapy.”

             
The patient barely looked up, “I'm going to skip it today, thanks.”

             
The nurse pursed her lips before turning on her heel and marching from the ward. Michael didn't have time to feel bad about it. She was back in with the doctor just moments later.

             
“I hear you think you are entitled to time off, Captain.”

             
“Yes, sir,” Michael responded to the Colonel in front of him.

             
“Well you're not,” the man barked, “so get off your butt and do as you're told. Penrose,” he spoke to the Brit in the next bed, “You get up too.”

             
“Yes, sir,” Penrose stood up and grabbed his cane.

             
Colonel Harris reached into Michael's top drawer and pulled out Karlijna's letters.

             
“With all due respect,” Michael spoke as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, “those letters are personal and private.”

             
The doctor handed them to Penrose, “We have reason to believe you have been corresponding with the enemy. Since we don't have any of your letters, we'll have to read the one from your contact.”

             
“Sir,” Michael allowed himself to be helped into a wheelchair, “you have no reason to suspect me of such a thing.”

             
“Do not raise your voice to me, Captain.  Penrose will read a letter and we will determine if there is reason to read more.”

             
The nurse wheeled Michael down the hall while the doctor and Penrose followed. Sam found them just as they were turning into therapy.

             
“Good,” he greeted his friend with a slap on the shoulder, “you're up.”

             
Michael glared at the man, “You were behind this.”

Michael was standing up, sweat pouring down his face from the exertion of it, trying not to listen as Penrose spoke
the words Karlijna had written. The letter had apparently not been chosen from the top nor the bottom.

             
“This is dated January twenty-sixth.  ‘Dear Michael,’” Penrose spoke loudly, “’We heard yesterday that Auschwitz was freed. I should feel joy at the announcement, but I am so saddened by the pointless loss of life. The thing that makes all of this so much worse is that the majority of those killed did not understand the saving grace of Christ. They went to their deaths with no hope of eternity.  Thousands of people died and are not saved.’”

             
“Stop!” the colonel ordered.

             
Michael nearly fell over.

             
“Not you, Captain,” he grunted, “you may continue. While you're walking to me, you can try to explain why this person is writing about military operations.”             

             
Michael put one foot in front of the other and spoke through gritted teeth, “I'm sure she heard it on the radio, sir.”

             
“What does she know about the loss of life there?” the doctor was facing him, just a few feet away.

             
Michael moved his crutches forward a little, “She knows plenty.”

             
“So you admit you were giving out information?” the doctor moved back a little.

             
Michael grunted.

             
Sam was leaning against a wall. He could see Michael was still not putting his heart into it. The man could only pray Karlijna would receive his letter soon.

             
“Captain,” the colonel stood straighter and glared at the man struggling for balance, “when I ask you a question, you will answer.”

             
“Sir,” Michael stood still and looked at the doctor, “she was there. She was at the camp.”

             
Sam knew what those words had cost Michael. He did not easily talk of Karlijna – especially her time in prison.

             
The doctor's eyebrows rose then his face filled with sympathy.

             
Michael leaned heavily on the crutches, “I know you are trying to make me want to do this, but if you knew her, you would see that she deserves better than a lame husband.”

             
“How did she respond when you told her about your leg?”

             
“I didn't sir.”

             
A young nurse came into the room as Michael was speaking, “Captain Gunderson,” she approached the group, “I have a telegram for you.”

             
The doctor took it and looked at Michael, “Come get it.”

             
Michael shook his head, “It won't matter.”

             
“You'd rather she had a completely crippled husband than one who walks with a limp.”

             
“Have you seen my leg, sir?  It looks like it went through a meat grinder. We're not talking about a limp.”

             
The colonel glanced down at the telegram then up at Michael, “Penrose,” he handed the telegram over, “read this instead.”

             
Penrose hesitated.

             
“I have reason to believe it may be from his contact.”

             
Michael's head shot up.

             
Penrose began to read, “I am angry. STOP. Read letters. STOP. Do therapy. STOP. Love you. STOP.  Still Praying.”

             
Michael hung his head, “She can't know. I never told her.”

             
Sam could hardly believe his actions had so swiftly produced results, “I did it.”

             
“You had no right.”

             
Sam went and took the doctor's place, “Ellie says she waits for the mail every day and then has to cover her tears so nobody will know she's been crying. Louisa told Ellie Karlijna was better off when she didn't know where you were than now because you're alive and you don't want her.”

             
Michael looked up at his friend, pain in his eyes, “She knows? About my leg?”

             
“Obviously.”

             
The doctor indicated that the nurse should bring the chair for Michael to sit in.  He took the stack of letters from Penrose and handed them to Michael.

             
“Take some time to read these, son. If she loves you like Captain Dixon claims, it’ll give you the strength to get up and do as she asks.”

             
Michael went to the lounge to do as he was told. Unlike Penrose, he started from the earliest date.  By the time he got to December he was more convinced than ever that Karlijna should have someone better than him.

             
The doctor came in and sat next to him, “You have quite a stack.”

             
Michael held up the unread letters, “She writes once or twice a week.”

             
“Has it helped?”

             
“Not at all,” Michael rubbed his aching head. “I want her more and deserve her even less than I thought.”

             
The doctor laughed, “So she should marry someone else? Would that make you happy?”

             
Michael laughed wryly, “Yeah, right.”

             
“I suppose if you asked her for a divorce she'd be willing to give it to you?”

             
“She'd be crushed,” Michael could see where this was going, “but she would get over it.”

             
“She's gotten over worse things than that, I gather.”

             
Michael winced.

             
“I don't think you have any options, Captain. You'll break her heart if you don't come back or if you come back angry. You can choose to do your best to get on your feet again or you can choose to feel sorry for yourself the rest of your life.”

             
“I know,” Michael tucked the papers in beside him.

             
The doctor held open the door, “You heading down to therapy?”

             
“I have a letter to write first.  Then I'll go see when they can fit me in.”

             
Dear Karlijna,    March 15, 1945

I've been an idiot. I am so sorry for my behavior.
I lost trust in God and in you.  I was put through one test and I failed. Please forgive me.

I was s
hot at while flying one night. It wasn't the first time, but they got in a better hit and the plane went down. Thankfully, I got out before it crashed or I would have been dead for sure. I wasn't sure where I was, but since I had been close to the border when I went down, I figured the safest thing I could do was start heading south. 

I managed to travel undetected fo
r a week before I was spotted. I was captured by a small unit of Finnish soldiers out on patrol. They treated me as well as can be expected. They were more interested in fending off the German army than they were in me.

Thankfully, some of the men spoke Swedish or I would have
gone crazy from the isolation. They knew I was American and considered sending me back to Sweden since they aren't at war with the U.S. However, one of the officers decided I might be valuable to them as they are at war with Britain and the Soviets. 

As their battle intensified, they decided I should b
e put to work to help them out. I never thought I would end up fighting with the Finnish Army. I was assigned to cooking, digging, hauling, and other labor jobs. When the Germans stopped pressing in, half the company was told to mobilize toward the Soviet armies. In January, I was told to go with them, but I said I could not. God was with me because, instead of forcing me to go, they released me. Their reasoning was that they were not at war with my country, so they would not keep me.