The Gypsy Moon (23 page)

“Yes, you can. All over the world, people are having to stand persecution of all kinds. We must trust only in God in times like this.”

****

Erik stood in the courtyard and watched grimly as the four prisoners were led to the wall. The woman stumbled, and the largest man put his arm around her to support her. A bitter taste came to his mouth as Erik heard the man say something comforting. He glanced over at General Rahn, whose face seemed frozen. He showed no emotion whatsoever, and Erik flashed back to his argument with the man no more than an hour ago. Erik had dared to speak rashly to the general, saying, “It’s wrong to shoot these people! They may be innocent!” But Rahn had silenced him with a shout. “The Fatherland must protect itself! I will hear no more of this! Your father would be ashamed.”

Now the light had begun to break in the east, and the soft cooing of doves on the wall provided a contrast to the harsh scene. Erik turned his head away but heard the sound of the boots of the firing squad. When they stopped, he looked up and saw that eight men were lined up with rifles, and the prisoners were backed up against the wall. A sergeant was going along putting blindfolds over the eyes of the condemned, but when he came to the big man, the man shook his head and smiled at the sergeant.

How can he smile when he’s about to die?
Erik wondered.
The thought tormented him, and suddenly he said, “Sir, it’s not too late. Give me a few days.”

“Be quiet, Colonel! You’re turning into a woman!”

Erik gritted his teeth and braced himself for the scene before him. The prisoners, only three wearing blindfolds, were motionless, and the lieutenant in charge of the squad looked at the general. Rahn nodded his head, and the officer cried, “Ready!” The rifles snapped up to firing position, and after what seemed a long time, the officer gave the second command, “Aim!”

The huge old man lifted his voice and said, “Forgive these men, Lord. Show them your glory!”

The officer in charge of the squad seemed shaken, and it was General Rahn who cried out, “Fire! Fire!”

The rifles exploded, and the four prisoners were driven back against the wall. They fell to the ground, and one of the men kicked violently for a moment before gradually stopping.

Erik immediately turned and walked away. The lieutenant followed him and said, “You see what a fool religion can make of a man?”

Erik stopped. “You don’t believe in God, Mueller?”

“No!”

“Then you’re a fool!” Erik growled, his voice grating. He whirled and strode away, unable to face his office but eager to be alone. He felt empty, almost shredded inside, and he could not help but wonder what the future held for a man such as himself.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I’m No Angel”

The early morning light was a tawny glow in the east that filtered slowly through Dai’s window and struck the pages of the small notebook he was writing in. He stopped writing to enjoy the peace of what he called the cobwebby time of the day. He had slept soundly, and before leaving his room, he had decided to scribble a few notes in a journal. He knew better than to leave anything in writing that could possibly be used against him, but he had found that keeping a journal was a great stress reliever. If he wrote anything of any importance, he would burn it immediately. If the enemy ever did find the entries he saved, they could make little sense of them. They were merely random, rambling thoughts of an ordinary man—nothing about wars and battles and covert cells and secret operations.

He looked at the date he had written—August 10, 1940.
What if I keep this and my grandchildren read it fifty years from now? What will they make of it? How will they feel about all this horror that’s going on? Will they forget?
He shook his head and wrote carefully:

It was terrible in a way that his mind could not accept.
That human beings would line other human beings up against a wall and blow the life out of them was unthinkable. He continued writing with his stubby pencil.

He took his pocketknife out of his pocket and carved the tip of his pencil into a sharp point. As he worked methodically, the difficulty of his mission weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he would get only one chance, and he didn’t want
to fail. He tested the needle-sharp tip of lead on his index finger and nodded with satisfaction.

“I can’t believe I’m writing this drivel!” He ripped the sheet out, took a match from his pocket, and quickly burned it. As the paper curled up, he thought of what he had written—that men want what they can’t have—and suddenly he remembered something that had happened years ago in Wales. He had been passing a candy shop when he noticed a boy of five or six with his nose pressed against the window and his hands
on the glass. The longing in his posture was irresistible. Dai had gone inside and purchased a bagful of various kinds of candy. He went outside and offered it to the boy, who could not believe what he was seeing. He remembered laughing and saying, “Go ahead, son. It may be the last time anybody gives you what you really want.”

Dai smiled as he remembered how the boy had plunged his hand into the sack and stuffed his mouth full as fast as he could.

Getting up abruptly, he laughed shortly at his own foolishness. “Enough of that! Time to face the real world, old man!”

****

Gabby carefully removed the neat stitches from what had been a gaping wound. “Now, you see, Berg, you’re going to be fine,” she said brightly.

The patient, a young man who had ripped his arm open by falling into some farm machinery, grinned up at Gabby. “Good for you, Doctor. My own mother couldn’t have made those stitches any neater.”

“You just be careful. Next time you might get your head caught in that machine.”

Berg’s blue eyes danced. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” he said as he put his shirt on. “I’ll be going off to fight.”

“How are you going to do that, Berg?”

“I’m gonna join the army in England or maybe in France.”

Gabby glanced around and lowered her voice. “You need to be careful about who you say that to,” she said urgently. “Do you have a way?”

“Yes.”

Gabby put her hand on his and squeezed it. “God go with you, Berg.”

“Thank you, Doc. I’ll remember you.”

Gabby walked down the corridor thinking how this war had disrupted every level of life. Even the children thought now in terms of soldiers and danger, tanks and planes overhead.
This young man would be going out to lay down his life, but he was as cheerful as if he were going to a dance.

As she passed a window, Gabby glanced out and saw Dai edging the grass and remembered that she needed to talk to him. She went outside and approached him, greeting him as she would any hospital employee.

“Good morning, Dr. Winslow,” he said as he continued working with his hand clipper.

“I’m taking some of the children from the orphanage out on a field trip this afternoon, and I need you to drive. We’re going to the Goldmans’ house so the children can play in the woods and enjoy a day out in the fresh air.”

“The Goldmans? Who are they?”

“They’re close friends of my aunt and uncle. They’re best friends, as a matter of fact.”

“The name sounds Jewish.”

“They are Jewish.”

“I wonder why they haven’t been taken.”

“I don’t know. I suspect Uncle Dalton had something to do with it. Perhaps he spoke of his friendship.”

Dai shook his head and looked down at the ground. “I wonder how long that will last. The way Rahn is snapping up Jews, no one is safe.”

“I know, but Professor Goldman is a very important scientist at the university. Maybe they’re trying to get him to go to Germany too.”

“Would he go, do you think?”

“No, never. He hates the Germans, and his wife hates them too.” She bent over to pick a weed that had bloomed in the grass. “Anyway, we’ll plan to leave this afternoon at one o’clock.”

“I’ll be ready.”

****

The children piled off the truck squealing and shouting, glad to be out of the orphanage on a nice day. Dai peered at
them from under the bill of his cap and grinned. “We were once like that, weren’t we?”

“I suppose we were. All children love to play outside. Oh, here come the Goldmans. You’d better keep doing your act.”

“Sometimes I think it’s not an act,” Dai said dryly. He went to the truck as the couple approached.

“Dear, we’re so glad to see you!” Sarah Goldman exclaimed. The small, thin woman always looked ill, even though she was an extremely talented woman and a fine artist. She practically worshiped her husband, Jacob Goldman, a tall man with dark hair and a pronounced hooknose. He was as untidy as was Dalton Burke.
Maybe it goes with being a professor,
Gabby thought.

“How are you, my dear doctor?” he said as he kissed Gabby’s cheek.

“I’m fine, Professor. How generous of you to let us use your home for a field trip for the children.”

“It’s a welcome relief,” Sarah Goldman said. “Make yourself at home. Go ahead and let the children roam about, and when they get tired, bring them in. I’ve made cakes and cookies and lemonade by the gallon.”

“Fine! They turn into wild urchins when they get loose like this. It will do them good to get rid of some energy. They spend too much time inside at the orphanage.”

“It’s all right, my dear,” Sarah said. “We love children.”

Gabby called the children over so she could review the rules before letting them go off into the woods. For the next two hours the children ran wild, playing hide-and-seek, climbing trees, and collecting wild flowers.

While the children played, Gabby and Dai talked comfortably and let the time slide by in the shade of a tall elm tree. He was wearing his usual dirty garb, but his eyes were bright under the peak of his cap. His black hair had grown longer and now showed beneath the edge of the cap, and he had not shaved for several days. She couldn’t help wondering
what he would look like if he shaved and dressed in some fashionable clothes.

“They’ve got more energy than a dynamo,” Dai commented.

“Yes, they do.” The sun was hot, and she brushed her hair back from her forehead. The sound of the children’s laughter fell on both of them like a balm. “When you’re in a woods that’s so peaceful, it’s hard to believe there’s a horrible war going on.”

Dai nodded. “Wordsworth once said, ‘The passions of man are incorporated with the beautiful and permanent forms of nature.’ Nature is definitely prettier than a smoky building or a neighborhood, and a grove of trees is better than a neighborhood.”

“I agree completely,” Gabby said. “Tell me about yourself, Dai—about your boyhood.”

“My father was a pastor,” Dai said slowly. “He died of cancer five years ago. My mother still lives in Wales. I go there as often as I can.”

“I’d love to see Wales. I’ve never been there.”

“It’s very beautiful in places, but the coal mines are bad. A lot of Welshmen have died working in the mines. I worked in one when I was a young man.”

They watched as a pair of children raced by.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Gabby?”

“You’re a spy,” she said, smiling. “I guess you know how to find out about people.”

“It’s about the colonel.”

“Colonel Raeder?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?” Gabby grew suddenly nervous. She began plucking at the material of her blouse, a pale ivory with lace around the neckline and the cuffs of the short sleeves.

“You told me once that you had made mistakes with men twice. Was he one of them?”

“You have a perceptive mind.”

“I’m just nosy maybe.”

Gabby was distracted by the sun that was brightening the surface of his eyes and deepening the ruddy coloring of his skin. He appeared to have a sort of lazy indifference, yet even now she could sense the quickness and vitality that she knew lay beneath this. She sensed he was studying her as well, perhaps even comparing her to other women he had known. She forced her thoughts back to his question and decided to be completely honest.