Page 65 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

CHAPTER TEN

Northern Moravia, 1942

Dr. Weiss was surprisingly strong and proved to be of great help to them. The mill was running, yet Father still looked at the dentist with disdain.

“How long do you want to stay?” he asked with resentment.

“We are waiting for the contact.”

“I can’t keep you here. You know who my daughter is married to. They come for a visit, here and there, most often unannounced.”

Dr. Weiss looked to the floor.

“Who is your contact?”

“I don’t have a name, just a password.”

“What is that?”

Dr. Weiss looked up. “I swore not to say.”

Father scoffed. “Fine. But if Fritz gets his hands on you, you will sing like a canary, trust me.”

“Please, help me save my family.” Dr. Weiss looked up. His eyes filled with tears.

“How much money do you have?”

“Enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“To buy passage to America.”

“You are crazy.” Father laughed out loud. “And how are you planning to get there? There is nowhere for you to go.”

“We have to hope.”

“Crazy Jew.” Father spat on the floor.

“Others left.”

“Yeah, on a cattle train,” he cackled.

“Father!” Fred cut him off.

The man turned to him, familiar darkness in his eyes.

Fear instantly constricted Fred’s chest. But this angry man was talking about Hedvika and her family. Fred lifted his chin and met the murderous glare head-on. “We can hide them until their contact comes. And pray that they make it.”

“Shut up, you idiot.” He raised his arm, ready to strike, but when Fred didn’t cower, he lowered it again and turned his attention to Dr. Weiss. “Do you have gold?” He looked the dentist in the eyes.

The man nodded.

“How much?”

Fred took a step forward as if wanting to stand between the two men, perhaps to shield Dr. Weiss from his father’s palpable greed.

“Some. Not a whole lot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Dr. Weiss shrugged. “Can I buy some food from you? Bread, perhaps an egg for the boys.”

“An egg?” Father glared at him. “For a dentist, you are pretty dumb. Do you think that the Germans let us keep our eggs? And if we manage to set aside a few, I’m sure not going to give them to you.”

“Sell,” Dr. Weiss said and reached into his pocket. “I’m not asking for a handout.” He pulled out two golden rings. “This is for the food for today and tomorrow. I want some eggs for the children.” The man held Father’s gaze. “Please.”

Father reached for the rings and grabbed them with such greed that Fred felt the heat of embarrassment throughout his entire body.

“Okay, bread and two eggs.”

“And a bit of cheese,” Dr. Weiss added.

Father glared at him.

“Those are rubies.” The dentist pointed to Father’s clenched fist.

A curt nod sealed the agreement.

“But I want you to be gone the day after tomorrow.”

Dr. Weiss looked into the distance. The sorrow in his eyes made Fred bite his cheek. He wouldn’t show weakness in front of Father, but he would do his utmost to help this family—to help Hedvika.

“Now get out of here before anyone sees you, and we all end up on that cattle train.” Father dismissed the man. “And the only reason I do this,” he hollered after the dentist, “is because of what you did for Fred. Your people have no place here, so don’t get any ideas about telling your Jewish friends about my barn. If anyone else shows up here, I’m going to ride to town and get Fritz’s men.”

The door creaked behind Dr. Weiss.

Fred glowered at his father.

“Why—”

A slap across his face cut his question short.

“Now tell Mother to pack what I promised. But nothing more.”

Fred ran his palm over his stinging cheek. Anger boiled in his veins. He could take the old man; he was sure of it. But if he did, what would Father do? Would he really ride to town and get Fritz? Or stop bribing his son-in-law and ensure that Fred would be sent to the front lines? At times, he wondered if gunfire would be easier to handle than his hateful old man. But he would have to fight for the Nazis, and Fred had decided long ago he would not kill for them. A single bullet would be all he would need. Fred clenched his fists and then mustered the courage to look his father straight in the eyes.

“Good.”

He strode away from the man who was not to be trusted. The worry for Hedvika squeezing the very breath out of his lungs. Gleaning from what Father said to Dr. Weiss, Fred was convinced that the old man already hatched a plan. Mentioning Fritz several times this morning meant he had been thinking about how much the commander would appreciate if he supplied important information. And that was not good.

Fred stepped into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread made his mouth water. Starving, he inhaled the aroma and sniffed once more. Stew. Mother was making his favorite meal. Of course, it wouldn’t be anything like she used to make before the Germans took over their country and started to issue ration books, but Mother knew how to make a meal practically out of nothing.

“It smells so good,” he said appreciatively.

“Why do you anger him so?” Mother was kneading another batch of bread dough while a pot of stew bubbled on the stove.

“Me?”

“Yes, you provoke him. That is why he hits us.”

“How?”

She covered the bowl with a cloth and set it closer to the stove to rise. “You have to ask that?”

“You mean by bringing them here?”

“Yes.”

“He was beating up on us long before Dr. Weiss’s family hid in our barn. None of this is about them.”

“You rile him.” She gripped the spoon and stirred the pot. “That’s dangerous.”

Fred closed his eyes and prayed for God to give him strength. He had no desire to quarrel with Mother.

“Now go and take care of your chores. Don’t give him another reason to get angry.”

“He said you should pack food for the family.”

Mother looked at him, disbelief in her eyes.

“Dr. Weiss paid him. Two ruby rings.”

She nodded.

“I will finish cooking the stew, then get everything ready.”

“He said to pack bread, four cooked eggs, cheese, and anything else you can spare from the pantry.” Fred silently prayed for God to forgive him for this lie.

Mother’s eyes grew wide.

“How does he think I have all that to give away.”

“I guess he likes the gold better than cheese.” Fred shrugged.

“Be gone.” she swatted a dish rag at him.

Fred rushed to the yard and got to work. He fed the hens, then went to the barn to muck the stalls, hoping Hedvika wouldn’t see him shoveling the manure. When he walked into the barn and stopped. Blesk was gone.

“Dr. Weiss?” he whispered.

The dentist peered down from the loft.

“Where is the horse?”

“Your father took him. Close to an hour ago.”

Fred’s blood turned to ice. He dropped the shovel and ran to the house. Mother would know where Father went. Not wanting to frighten her, he slowed just before he entered the mill, then calmly walked in. His heart was still in his throat when he entered the kitchen.

“Is the stew ready?”

“Take a bowl,” Mother motioned to the kitchen hatch. “But keep in mind, this is all there is for today and tomorrow. There is a fresh loaf of bread on the table, so cut yourself a piece.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you know where Father is?” He struggled to keep his voice calm.

“He will storm through the door any minute. His stomach is better than a cuckoo’s clock.” Her voice was so casual that Fred wondered if he had overreacted. He ladled a small serving of thin stew into a chipped dish. Perhaps he could sneak a bit to Hedvika later.

Living this far from town had its benefits. They kept livestock that the Germans didn’t know about, and having Fritz in the family prevented the searches so common in town. Food was getting scarce, and the rations had not been sufficient to keep the pantry stocked for all the days of the month. Having to share with five more people would be a burden. He understood Mother’s worry. Yet this was no act of charity on Father’s part.

The door flew open, and Father marched in.

“Is lunch ready?” he hollered and sat at the kitchen table. Would he check the bundle Mother was preparing in the pantry?

Fred quickly added another ladle to the bowl he was holding over the stove.

“Here you go, Father.” He set the stew in front of the demanding man. “Mother baked fresh bread.” He reached for the knife and passed it to him. “It should be cool enough.”

“Where is she?”

Fred swallowed hard. “Packing the stuff for them.”

“Hmm,” Father grunted and sunk his spoon into the stew. “She better not be too generous. The reward the Germans pay for escaped Jews is not that much.”

Fred’s hand stopped mid-air. His throat threatened to close. Had he been right to suspect that Father planned to report the family to Fritz?

The pantry door shut.

“Oh, you are already here?” Mother said. “Should I make you a plate?”

“Fred did.”

Mother looked at the two of them, unspoken question in her eyes. Fred shook his head, then strode over to her and grabbed the bundle.

“I’ll be right back.”

“You better keep your mouth shut!” Father hollered after him.

Fred’s mind was spinning. Was he serious? But how would he have alerted the Nazis to the family being in the barn? He had not been to the village in days, and the ride to town took two hours. He had not been gone that long. Regardless, the family was not safe. He must warn them. No matter what Father would do to him after. He must get them out of here.

Fred rushed to the barn. The horses whinnied their greetings as he burst into the building.

“Dr. Weiss!” He climbed up the ladder. “Here.” He passed him the bundle of food. “You must go.”

“Go?” Mrs. Weiss looked at Fred.

“Now!”

“Are we in danger?” Hedvika stared at him with those beautiful eyes. Fred’s world spun. If she left now, he might never see her again. If she got caught, her life would be over.

“I know of a place in the forest,” he whispered, in case Father had followed him out to the barn and was listening. “It’s a large deer feeder. The warden stores hay there for the winter, but it should be empty now. There could be some hay left to sleep on.”

Dr. Weiss and his wife exchanged looks. Had they known about it?

“What are you not telling me?” the dentist asked Fred.

“I don’t trust my father,” he said under his breath. “My brother left as soon as the Germans rolled into the village, and so did Marta’s fiancé. Father made friends with the Nazis, so I could stay and help him run the mill. My sister was part of the bargain. She is in love with Karel and despises Fritz. If he didn’t spare her, he won’t spare you.”

Mrs. Weiss sobbed into her silk handkerchief and reached for her boy. Hedvika passed the baby to her, then wrapped her arms around Jakob.

“Alright,” the dentist said, “we’ll go.”

“I will guide you to the feeder. But how will your contact know where to find you?”

“We can leave a message for him,” Dr. Weiss said, “with you.” His eyes bored into Fred’s.

He nodded, climbed down the ladder, and held still. The sound of male voices startled him. He crept to the barn door and peered through the crack near the front of the barn. Fritz stood in front of the mill, his high boots gleaming in the morning sun. He tapped his leather gloves against his palm, grinning at Father.

The pain in Fred’s chest was so strong that he thought he would die. When did Fritz get here? How did Fred miss the sound of his Kubelwagen’s engine? Had the commander walked to the mill? Fred’s pulse thundered in his ears. What should he do? Hedvika was looking down at him, a sweet smile on her face.

“Fritz is here. They will be coming for you,” he called out in a hushed tone to Hedvika. “You have to go. There are two loose planks at the back of the barn. My brother fixed them up so we would be able to get out when Father locked us here. Go. Now. I’ll find you.”

“But no one is ready.”

The family needed more time. Fred picked up an empty pail, pushed his shoulders back, and walked into the sunshine. He strode to the pump as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. If he could catch what Father and Fritz talked about—perhaps there was nothing to panic about. He set the bucket down and pulled on the handle. The water gushed into the pail. Both men looked his way.

“ Hallo Fred, my friend.” Fritz hollered. “You need some help, my boy?”

Fred looked up and waved at his brother-in-law. He even attempted to smile, but the rumble of two engines startled him. He stumbled over the bucket.

“Leave it to the idiot to kill himself over a pail of water,” Father laughed. Fritz joined him.

Fred set the bucket upright, pushed down on the pump handle, and prayed that his knees wouldn’t buckle. Another gush of water. He picked up the half-empty bucket and hurried toward the barn. A Kubelwagen drove into the clearing, followed by a truck with swastikas painted on the doors.

Fred dropped the bucket.

“They are here!” Fred yelled as he pushed the barn door open, knowing perfectly well they no longer had a reason to whisper. He pulled at the door handles, shut the doors behind, and slid the wooden beam across to lock it. He knew that this wouldn’t keep them out. All he was hoping for were a few extra minutes of head start.

Jakob sat on the ground next to a piece of luggage. Hedvika, wearing Marta’s old clothes, was helping Dr. Weiss as he passed their suitcases down from the loft. Mrs. Weiss stood at the top of the ladder, clutching the bundled-up baby against her chest.

The truck engine cut off.

Fred’s face blanched of color.

Fritz shouted orders. Boots hit the ground.

“Is there another way out?” Dr. Weiss stared at him.

Fred nodded and pointed toward a dark corner. “At the back. The two loose planks.”

Dr. Weiss reached up for the baby. He passed Isaac to Hedvika.

“Take the boys and run.”

“No!” Mrs. Weiss grabbed for the infant as her feet touched the dirt floor. Her voice was filled with so much grief Fred’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“He is too feeble.” She sank to the ground and gripped her husband’s legs. “We won’t leave you.”

“The children,” he said, his voice angry. “Get up! There is no time.” He looked at Fred as shouts of men and the pounding of fists echoed through the barn. His eyes grew wild with fear.

“Take Hedvika and Jakob. Run!”

“Papa?” Hedvika looked at her father.

He nodded firmly. “Go! Now!”

“Mama!” Hedvika’s voice, full of agony, broke.

“Come.” Fred reached for her hand. The sound of splintering wood was all around them.

“Jakob!” She grasped for her brother’s arm.

The confused child looked at his father.

“Go, boy!” Dr. Weiss ordered, tears streaming down his face. “The code is: It’s dark at midnight. He looked Fred straight in the eyes. “You will reply: But the sun rises in the east . Now go! Never forget how much we love you!”

The barn door creaked as soldiers pried it open. Fred’s heart threatened to explode in his chest. He shoved Hedvika and Jakob through the small gap between loose planks at the back of the old barn.

“Take my hand,” he reached Jakob. “Hold onto your sister with the other one, and don’t let go. We must run really fast.”

The confused boy started to cry, then tried to pull out of Fred’s grip.

“Hush! Papa said we have to go.” Hedvika picked him up.

Loud voices echoed behind them. More commands were shouted from inside the barn. Mrs. Weiss screamed, and Fred wished he could shut off all that sound and focus on the trail in front of them.

Hedvika looked back. She tripped and almost fell while holding her brother in her arms. Had Fred not reached for her, this could have been a disaster. The kid was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Give him to me,” he said, his voice strained with the weight of his decision. The boy fought against him. Fred gripped Jakob with all his strength and held the boy’s face close to his chest, hoping to muffle the sounds of the distraught child. Twigs cracked under their heavy footsteps, and Fred prayed that God would cause a miracle and make them invisible. If they were caught, their lives would be over, right here, in the deep forest. It would be left to his parents to dig shallow graves and cover their dead bodies with dirt. Fred was only sixteen, but he had seen his share of the Nazis’ justice .

Hedvika’s dress caught on a branch.

“Help,” she called out in a loud whisper, panting for breath. Fred stopped. Her face was streaked with tears, but she no longer cried. The hair he always so admired resembled a squirrel’s nest. His heart broke, seeing the sorrow in her eyes.

Fred sat sniffling Jakob down into the dry needles of the forest floor. He knelt at Hedvika’s feet and untangled the torn hem from a thorny shrub. After carefully picking up all the threads so no one could track them, he got up and wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders.

A gunshot cut through the air. A shriek of untold grief followed. A second gun fired. Then, the third. Hedvika stared at him, her eyes wide with horror, a silent plea for reassurance. He couldn’t find a word to say. They both knew. Fred gently pulled her face into his chest and felt her silent scream.

Jakob bolted in the direction of the mill.

“Mama!”

Fred raced after him, gripped the boy with all his strength, and covered his mouth. Jakob bit him.

“Stop!” Fred grunted.

Hedvika took Jakob’s wet cheeks in her hands.

“Papa said we have to run.” Her face was distorted with grief, but they couldn’t stay a moment longer.

“We have to go,” Fred urgently whispered into the mess of her hair. He stared into her vacant gaze. The anguish was unbearable. Shifting Jakob into his left arm, he reached for Hedvika’s hand. “Come!”

Her chin quivered.

“We have to save him,” Fred said firmly.

The girl bit her lip. A trickle of blood oozed down her chin. She gripped the offered hand. They ran uphill, past the deer feeder, deep into the forest. The trees would hide them, or so Fred prayed.