Page 67 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Northern Moravia, 1942

Fred, Hedvika, and Jakob ran through the forest. Branches and underbrush lashed against them, their lungs burning with exhaustion. Fred had lost his sense of direction a while back but would not say that out loud. Hedvika’s face was smeared with tears. Jakob’s burning red cheeks rubbed raw. Fred knew that if they followed the river upstream, they would get to the top of the mountain. Aside from that, the rushing water drowned out the sound of their footsteps. Or so he hoped. The higher they climbed, the more difficult it would be for the Nazis to catch them.

“Fred,” Hedvika gasped. “We need to slow down. Jakob can’t keep up.”

“We can’t stop until we confirm they are not after us.” The echoes of the gunshots still rang in Fred’s ears. He wouldn’t let them get her. He would rather die himself. “I’ll carry him.” He reached for the boy.

Fred hoisted the boy up on his back. Not much heavier than a sack of grain. He prayed under his breath that Hedvika would be strong enough to keep up. There was no way he could carry them both. If he were to think of one good thing in this horrific situation, it would be that she no longer wore her fancy clothes. His sister’s old dress hung loosely on her, but the shoes seemed to fit. The sturdy boots were ugly in comparison with the polished leather ones she wore this morning, but she could run in them.

“Are you good to go?”

Hedvika nodded.

“I’m thirsty,” the boy whined into Fred’s ear.

“We’ll find some clean water soon. You can’t drink from the river,” he said.

“Where are you taking us?”

The unshed tears he saw in her eyes broke his heart all over again.

“There is an old shepherd’s hut up in the mountains. I have been there once with a friend.”

Of course, he wouldn’t tell her that the friend was Mark Sokol, his cousin on Mother’s side, a poor relative, who was hired every spring to help drive the sheep into the high pasture lands. Fred was allowed to help him. Once. He had not forgotten the experience of sleeping under the open skies. But no one was chasing after them at that time. If the hut was still there, they might stand a chance unless Fritz decided to send dogs after them. How did he not think about this earlier? He turned his ears to the sounds of the forest, trying to ignore the rushing water. Was that a distant bark?

“We need to cross the river,” Fred said breathlessly.

Hedvika stopped. She was panting for breath. Her eyes grew wide with fear as she looked at the white water rushing over sharp boulders.

“Why?”

“To throw the dogs off our scent.”

“What dogs?”

“You have seen their German Shepherds.”

Hedvika’s hand shot up to her chapped lips.

“They will track us down unless we cross.”

“We will drown.”

“No, we won’t.”

“The water is so rough. I—” The words caught in her throat.

Fred reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Jakob can’t swim.”

“No one can swim in this water.”

“But—”

He set Jakob down.

“Stay put!” he hissed at the boy.

Fred drew her into a tight embrace. Hedvika felt so small in his arms. Fragile. Broken. She sobbed against his chest, and he couldn’t help but run his rough hands down the length of her tangled hair. How he hated them all, his father, Fritz, the Nazis chasing after them. They took her home and her family, but Fred wouldn’t let them take her future. He lowered his head and kissed the top of hers. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and Fred’s heart found the strength to beat even faster. Thudding in his chest, he silently promised it to her.

“There is no other way,” he whispered. Fred let go of the embrace, and when her watery eyes met his, he gently gripped her shoulders. “You will have to trust me.” What was he saying? He had no idea how they would get across the wild river, and now he was asking her for trust. What if one of them fell into the torrent? And if they got all wet, how would they keep warm through the night and not end up with pneumonia, which would surely kill them? God, please, give me strength.

“Let’s look for a possible crossing.” He reached for her hand. She was so beautiful, his voice caught.

“Fred—” Her eyes pleaded with him.

But he knew there was no other choice. Crossing the wild water was their only chance.

“My cousin and I went this way once. There are five boulders somewhere up the stream that serve as a bridge. He was able to guide his sheep across there.”

The fear in her eyes was almost palpable.

“We won’t drown,” he said as he reached for Jakob. He held them both close to him. “Dear God, please help us. Please guide us across this river. Please show us the right place and keep us from drowning. Amen.”

An image of an angel hovering over two kids crossing a river, much like this one, popped up in his mind. It used to hang in his room when he was a child until Father smashed it against a wall. Fred let out a pent-up breath. Focus.

Then Jakob started whispering words that Fred didn’t understand. He glanced at Hedvika, his eyebrows lifting.

“He is praying, too,” she whispered. “Just like Papa taught him.” She reached for her brother’s hand. “Let’s go. With Hashem’s help, we will be safe.”

“Hashem’s?”

“That is what we call our God.”

Father always said that Jews were strange, aside from many other things that Fred wouldn’t permit himself to think now. These two were not Yude, as Father would pronounce with disgust. This was Hedvika, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and her little brother, both scared for their lives.

“Let’s go.” He stepped closer to the riverbank, searching for rocks that would lead them to the other side. If he found Mark’s boulders, he would know they were on the right track. One other thing he wouldn’t share with her was his worry about accidentally crossing the Polish border, for he heard terrible stories of what had been done there to Hedvika’s people.

“Here,” he said, the distant barking getting closer. “We will cross here.”

She gripped his arm. “Are you sure?”

He wasn’t. The rocks looked all the same under the white froth rushing down the slope. But as another bark cut through the noise of the wild water, Fred knew their time was running out fast.

“We must. Before they see us.”

Fred searched the rushing river. The sound was overwhelming, yet it failed to drown out the excited barking of the Germans’ dogs. They had caught their trail. His heart pumped so hard that the pulsing veins in his temples throbbed. Thunder clapped somewhere in the distance. If it started to rain, the river would swell up, making it impossible to cross.

“Let’s go.” He hoisted her brother on his back, then reached for her arm. “This is as good a place as any.”

Not bothering to take off their shoes, they stepped onto the first boulder. Fast water rushed over their feet as Fred gripped Hedvika’s hand.

“I won’t let go.”

She squeezed his fingers in answer. Fred shifted the boy on his back, then searched for the next rock to step on.

“Ready?” He glanced at her.

She nodded.

Fred’s foot reached a reddish flat stone. It was fully submerged but looked sturdy enough to support their weight. It wobbled. He sucked in a breath but kept his balance. Standing on two rocks, he felt secure, yet he needed to take the next step. Fred clenched his jaw.

Lord, please .

Jakob tightened his hold on him. Fred started to choke.

“Let go,” he pushed the words through his teeth. “Just a little.” He shook his shoulders to let the scared boy know he needed to breathe.

And then Jakob did let go. The splash felt like a thousand daggers stabbing at Fred at once.

“Hedvika!” The boy called out to his sister as the current carried him away. She screamed.

Fred let go of her hand and jumped in after Jakob. As he struggled to reach him, he looked back at her. Hedvika’s eyes were wide with terror.

“Get to the other side. We’ll find you,” he called out. The stream carried him so fast that he wasn’t sure she heard him. Fred looked ahead but didn’t see the boy.

“Ja—” Water filled his mouth. Then he saw the boulder in the middle of the raging water. He flailed his arms, hoping to lessen the impact. Water flooded his mouth. He coughed. The river mercilessly pushed him onto the ancient piece of granite. The lancing pain was so sharp that everything went dark for a second. Fred swallowed the river water.

Jesus!

This was not the way he wanted his life to end. He had to save Jakob, take Hedvika into the mountains, hide in the shepherd’s hut, and think of a plan to get them to safety. Dying in the frigid water wasn’t what he prayed for.

“God!” Fred called out as he gasped for breath, pinned against the boulder by the white-water current. Then, something grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up.

Did they find us? Fred’s mind fired . But if they did, they would just shoot, not pull me out. But before he could turn around and see whose strong arms had dragged him out of the current, the world turned black.