Whisper on the Wind (28 page)

“You were well matched in the faith, I think.”

“Yes. But it was Jonathan who encouraged me to read the Bible, because he’d been reading it all his life and had learned so much. It was perhaps the greatest gift he gave to me. You seem to know the Bible as well, Major. And yet . . .”

“The men I call my friends—Herr Lutz, the Hauptmann—are not exactly similar in faith?”

She nodded, glad he’d finished what she’d been reluctant to say.

“Let me first say, only Herr Lutz could be called a friend. The other, by circumstance, has been a comrade. One I trust implicitly . . . on the field. As for Herr Lutz, he is a good man who cannot see past his own preconceived notions. He used to complain that some students could not be taught the truth because they wouldn’t let go of their old way of thinking. Herr Lutz is this way himself now. I understand only because I used to hold similar beliefs.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” He looked up for the barest moment as if to calculate. “A matter of months, I’m afraid, although I once knew the Bible quite well, as a child with a child’s faith. Before my friends—and the German army—taught me to think otherwise.”

“But the music . . . you knew the hymns.”

“I was raised in a proper German Lutheran church. I received fine training and knowledge, but unfortunately, not until the prospect of facing heaven or hell did any of it mean anything personally. When I came here, God reminded me of Himself through the Bible that was left in the room upstairs. I began reading it almost from the day I arrived.

“And then,” the Major added, his voice low, nearly a whisper, “you came. With your faith so strong and real.” He cleared his throat, then looked at the floor. “You have been a powerful example to me in your kindness despite what you feel about the German army.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Until today.”

“No, today is no different from any other day. You’re living through this war in a way that holds firm to your faith. You lost your husband tragically and clung to that faith. And today you are concerned for someone else whom you love, yet your faith remains strong. I’ve seen some lose their faith altogether. Or so it seems.”

He frowned, and barely aware of what she was doing, Genny touched his shoulder, letting her hand rest there gently. In a moment he placed his hand, the one not leaning on his cane, over hers.

Just then Genny heard a noise, but she’d imagined so many today coming from the front door, she was reluctant to see if someone might be there. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch, so long since she felt a kinship with someone her own age, so long since she felt anything but grief and worry and hunger. . . .

“Genny. I’m back.”

The quiet voice didn’t penetrate at first, but Genny saw the shadows out of the corner of her eye. And there was Isa, disheveled and staring as if confused. Just behind her stood Edward.

Genny rushed to Isa’s side, scooping her into an embrace and blotting out all the thoughts as to why Edward might scowl or why Isa looked so perplexed. It didn’t matter. “Isa! Oh, I’m so relieved.”

Isa laughed and hugged her closer. “It’s over, the whole awful mess.”

Edward stepped around the women to stand before the Major. “Yes, and it is no thanks to you for having invited your friends, is it, Major?”

The Major stiffened. He said nothing.

“I trust we all understand that von Eckhart is no longer welcome here?”

“Of course,” the Major said.

Genny neared her son, grateful the Major was the amiable type. No one used such tones with German soldiers, not even to one of lesser rank than he. “Perhaps we should have tea and welcome Isa home.” She looked at the Major. “You’ll excuse us for a little while? We’ll go into the kitchen and be out of your way. Can I have Clara bring some here to you?”

The Major shook his head. “No. I was thinking of going outside this afternoon.”

Genny led the way to the kitchen, where she immediately turned to Edward. “You were not only rude, your words were on the edge of foolish. He may not own this house, but the German army thinks it owns this city, and we cannot very well give any one of them orders, now can we?”

“I don’t care,” he shot back. “His recuperation is about finished, I’d say. Why doesn’t he go live at the Kommandantur with the rest of his cronies? Or back to the front for all I care.”

“Many houses have soldiers billeted in them. He isn’t going anywhere.”

“And why is that, Mother?” Edward’s tone was pure bite.

Genny’s pulse raced, but she didn’t look away. She would not be cowed by her son. “Is there something you wish to say, Edward?”

“Yes, and God forgive me for saying it with anger. Do you know why some of the families of the boys taken to St. Gilles won’t let their sons see Jonah anymore?”

Caught by surprise, Genny shook her head.

“Because you came with
him
to see Jonah.” He cocked his head toward the parlor, as if aiming at the Major himself. “Because it was obviously your influence with a German officer that obtained their freedom. And just now when we came into the room, you hardly noticed us. I thought you were worried about Isa. Yet when she finally came home, you barely looked up.”

Genny shook her head, thoughts swirling so fast she could make no sense of them. Pain shot through her temples and she rubbed them, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she saw that Isa had come to her side and that Henri and Clara had unobtrusively left the room. She took comfort in Isa standing beside her, but it was small comfort.

She took Isa’s hand. “You know I worried about Isa. As for those at Jonah’s school, I cannot be responsible for the malicious thoughts of others. I will talk to Jonah, assure him—”

“I’ve done that already, Mother.”

“Then how can you speak to me in this tone of voice? The Major saw I was worried. He was a friend to me today, and I’ll not apologize for that.”

“A friend? One of
them
? A German occupier? Not to mention that he sat at that dinner table and let his friends say all they could against the faith you hold dear. He’s one of them.”

“No, Edward. He is a Christian, same as you and I. You’ll see him in eternity, so you had better learn to look at his face without sinning.”

Her words had some effect; she saw it in the softening of his brows, the look in his eyes. He turned to Isa, who had watched silently, as if waiting for her opinion or confirmation from her own observations of the man.

“I’ve been around the Major so rarely,” Isa said, “but he’s been nothing but a gentleman. If your mother says he’s a man of faith, I see no reason to doubt it.”

“Might I remind you that it was his note to Herr Lutz that quickened Isa’s trial? We owe him thanks, Edward, not hostility. He is not the embodiment of the German army. He is a man with loyalty to his country, same as we have to our own.”

“Yes, and which is stronger? Loyalty to God or to his beloved fatherland? I’m not sure a German can be completely loyal to both.”

“Maybe they’re saying the same in Germany about us. Aren’t we killing their sons, the same as they’re killing ours?”

She saw in the sag of his shoulders that he wrestled with whatever anger wanted to linger. At last he looked at her again, his gaze softened. “I’m sorry I spoke in anger.” Then he looked at Isa. “And I’m sorry I spoiled your homecoming. You’re probably hungry, and I’ve scared Clara away. Let’s get something for you to eat.”

Genny and Edward served Isa, who ate heartily, describing in detail the noxious meal at the Kommandantur.

When she finished, Isa turned to Edward. “You must want to work on the press, after the time you lost waiting for me.”

His brows drew together. “I hoped you’d rethink this whole idea. All I’ve done these last two days is realize how dangerous it is for you, for everyone in this household. So I’ve decided we cannot possibly use it. All I have to do now is find a way to get it back to the printer who sold it to us.”

Isa was shaking her head before he’d uttered his last word. “Those hours I spent in prison and at the tribunal made me more certain than ever. The German police
look
like real police, meant to protect, but they can arrest people for no reason. And their courts—they look like real courts, but there is no justice there. It reminds me of what we read in their propaganda newspapers. On the surface it all looks reasonable.
La Belgique
and
La Bruxellois
look like real newspapers, but each article, each word, is carefully chosen to push their agenda. It’s all a sham.”

“Of course it is, but you realize, don’t you, that your experience proves the Germans already suspect you because of your return? that they’ll somehow be watching you and this house? No doubt the Major you both seem to think trustworthy is telling them your whereabouts on a regular basis.”

“And so we’ll be careful.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “God chose when each of us would be born and how we’ll make a difference in the world. Our chance is here and now.”

Genny watched her son stare at Isa, willing him to convince her that he was right. Since Isa’s arrest, having the press in the cellar frightened her more than ever.

“You seem more determined now than you were before,” her son said softly.

Those were not the words to change Isa’s mind.

“I’m willing to take the risk, whatever it is. To the end.”

Edward lifted a brow. “The end? If we’re caught, you know what end that will be, don’t you?”

Isa nodded.

Edward put his other hand over Isa’s, and hers disappeared beneath. “To the end, then.”

Genny watched the two of them as they exchanged the pact. And shivered.

Part Two

December 1916

26

Germany Seeks Negotiated Peace

In a note from Berlin, Germany says to neutral governments that their war aims are won, but they, the Central Powers, “have no desire to enter into a discussion regarding the origin of this world war. History will judge upon whom the immense guilt of the war shall fall. History’s verdict will as little pass over the encircling policy of England, the revengeful policy of France, and the endeavor of Russia to gain Constantinople as over the instigation of the Serbian assassination in Sarajevo and the complete mobilization of Russia, which meant war against Germany. Germany and her allies, who had to take up arms for defense of their liberty and their existence, consider this, their aim of war, as obtained.”

London remains skeptical about the sincerity of any call for negotiated peace.

La Libre Belgique

“Did you read the copy on the peace emblems yet?” Edward asked Isa as she pulled out the boards to fill with block letters from the typesetting box.

“So the Germans want us to abandon the rest of the Allies and wear emblems in support of a separate peace?”

“‘Let the prosperity of peace return,’” Edward quoted from memory. “No doubt they want us to believe King Albert would bend to the will of his people and, from the corner of Belgium he still controls, arrange for a surrender from us all. As if any of us could be fooled by the German plan. Peace . . . at what price?”

“A German-run future, of course. Isn’t that what Germany plans?”

Edward held up the paper upon which the next issue would be printed. “Exactly why this paper must go out. And quickly, before I see a single Belgian wearing one of those patches.”

“Isn’t it interesting,” Isa said as she took a letter from the upper case, “that the Germans writing
La Bruxellois
these days are bantering back and forth with this paper, which, at least officially and legally, they refuse to acknowledge exists?”

Edward laughed as he readied to clean the cylinders. “How much paper do we have?” he asked.

“I picked up more from Jan at the de la Quarrere flat. It’s there.” She pointed to the crate behind him, where another ream of paper awaited. “Only the paper variance and text type have hinted at all the trouble you and the others have had keeping this paper going since the start of the war.”

He caught the smile she sent his way, along with a look of admiration. It was a look Edward had grown to savor over these last two months of having her working at his side, a look that made him want to take her in his arms, especially knowing she’d accept him.

He’d grown far too familiar with this battle but so far had not lost it. Instead he cleared his throat, the collar on his priest’s vestments suddenly too high, too close. “Which reminds me. I can get more money from Father Clemenceau, but I doubt he’ll be able to replace what we used from your fund last week to pay for the ink. Again. It seems we’ve done nothing but use the money you brought along. How much do you have left?”

She shrugged, turning back to the typesetting box.

“Tell me, Isa. What is left?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

Taking the compartmentalized box of letters from her, he gently turned her around and tilted her face toward his. “You do know, Isa. Tell me.”

“I have two of the gold nuggets, one of the jewels.”

“And the cash?”

“Gone.”

He’d known that would be her answer. It meant only one thing: they were likely stuck in Belgium, unless they could depend on the connections they had at the paper to help with an escape, if needed. But how could the financiers behind the paper help—whoever they were? Funds were always a problem.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“That I didn’t bring more. My parents have so much, and we could use it.”

He laughed. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you missed your parents’ money.”

She gasped and started what surely would have been a protest except he laughed again to convince her he’d only been teasing.

They returned to their work and continued into the night, until Edward heard Isa yawn again. Without a word, he went to the light switch. At the end of each day, they waited for the all-clear signal from his mother, who spent most of her time keeping track of the Major, distracting him when necessary.

The light was on. All clear.

As they went upstairs, Edward couldn’t help but think of the hours his mother was forced to spend with the German. It rankled him, and that she didn’t complain only made it more irksome.