Daisies Are Forever

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Authors: Liz Tolsma

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BOOK: Daisies Are Forever
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ADVANCE ACCLAIM FOR
SNOW ON THE TULIPS

“A splendid debut novel! With a tender romance, a gripping plot, and a well-researched setting,
Snow on the Tulips
drew me in to the harrowing uncertainty of life in the Netherlands under Nazi rule. Liz Tolsma’s beautiful story kept me up at night—not just wondering what would happen to her endearing characters, but wondering what I would do in similar circumstances. Do not miss this book!”

—S
ARAH
S
UNDIN
,
AWARD
-
WINNING AUTHOR OF
W
ITH
E
VERY
L
ETTER

“Being widowed at a young age, I once again felt the pain and joy during those days as Cornelia fights her own feelings for Gerrit. The guilt of loving again, the desire to be wanted, set against the backdrop of the Nazi-infested Netherlands brings joy and heartache to the reader. New author Liz Tolsma brings her fresh writing to a tragic time in history. Her use of engaging characters and description should not be missed.”

—D
IANA
L
ESIRE
B
RANDMEYER
,
AUTHOR OF
M
IND OF
H
ER
O
WN
AND
W
E

RE
N
OT
B
LENDED
, W
E

RE
P
UREED
: A S
URVIVOR

S
G
UID TO
B
LENDED
F
AMILIES


Snow on the Tulips
is richly layered with courage, faith, and love. It reminded me of all the things I loved with Bodie Thoene’s Zion Covenant series: characters doing more than they thought possible, wrestling with how to live lives of faith in time of war, and history that comes to life on each page. It is a compelling story that will delight readers.”

—C
ARA
P
UTMAN
,
AWARD
-
WINNING AUTHOR OF
S
TARS IN THE
N
IGHT
AND
A W
EDDING
T
RANSPIRES ON
M
ACKINAC
I
SLAND

ALSO BY LIZ TOLSMA

Snow on the Tulips

Novella included in

A Log Cabin Christmas

© 2014 by Christine Cain

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version. Also quoted: Holy Bible: New International Version
®
.
NIV
© 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Tolsma, Liz.

Daisies are forever / by Liz Tolsma.

pages cm.

ISBN 978-1-4016-8912-4 (pbk.)

ISBN 978-1-4016-8913-1 (eBook)

1. World War, 1939-1945—Underground movements—Germany—Fiction. 2. Germany—History—1940-1945—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3620.O329D35 2014

813'.6—dc23
2013047198

Printed in the United States of America

14 15 16 17 18 19 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

To my aunt Lillian Tolsma, thank you for sharing your story. You are a courageous, godly woman and an inspiration to all you touch.

And to Ruth Lippert. This story is also yours. Your example of faith in difficult circumstances is an encouragement to many.

CONTENTS

GLOSSARY OF FOREIGN WORDS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

EPILOGUE

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

READING GROUP GUIDE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“Without remembrance, there can be no future.”

D
R
. T
HOMAS
K
LESTIL
,
PRESIDENT OF
A
USTRIA
,
AT THE
55
TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE LIBERATION OF THE
M
AUTHAUSEN
C
ONCENTRATION
C
AMP

“Oh merciful Lord . . . crown our effort with victory . . . and give us faith in the inevitable power of light over darkness, of justice over evil and brutal force . . . so be it. Amen.”

S
ERGEI
,
ARCHBISHOP OF
M
OSCOW
—27 N
OVEMBER
1941

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

J
OHN
16:33
NIV

“And he saved them from the hand of him that hated them, and redeemed them from the hand of the enemy.”

P
SALM
106:10

GLOSSARY OF FOREIGN WORDS

G
ERMAN

ACHTUNG
—caution

BAHNHOF
—railway station

BITTE
—please

DANKE
—thank you

D
ER
F
ÜHRER
—the leader

D
EUTSCSCHES
R
OTES
K
REUZ
(DRK)—German Red Cross

ESSEN KOMMEN
—come eat

FLUCHT
—escape

F
RAU
—Mrs.

FRÄULEIN
—miss

GUTEN MORGEN
—good morning

HALTEN SIE
—stop

HERR
—mister

JA
—yes

KINDER
—children

KOMMEN
—come

K
RISTALLNACHT
—series of attacks against the Jews throughout Nazi Germany

LUFTSCHUTZBUNKER
—air-raid shelter

MUTTI
—mother

NEIN
—no

OMA
—grandma

ONKEL
—uncle

OPA
—grandpa

REICHSMARK
(
S
)—German currency

SCHNELL
—quickly

S
TALINORGEL
—a rocket launcher nicknamed Stalin’s organ

STRASSE
—road

TANTE
—aunt

TIEFFLIEGER
—low-flying German aircraft

VATER
—father

V
OLKSEMPFÄNGER
—people’s radio

V
OLKSSTURM
—German national militia

Z
UM
Ö
FFENTLICHEN
L
UFTSCHUTZRAUM
—To Public Shelter

R
USSIAN

Ти
Φ
к
APA
нтин—Typhus Quarantine

NYET
—no

URI
—watches

ONE

H
EILIGENBEIL
, E
AST
P
RUSSIA

February 8, 1945

B
right red and orange explosions lit the dark, deep-winter evening. Gisela Cramer hugged herself to ward off the bitter chill. Her warm breath frosted the windowpane and with her fingernail she shaved a peephole. She didn’t know what she expected to see. Maybe the Russians surging over the hill.

An icy shudder racked her. She couldn’t block out the sights and the sounds of the last time the Russians found her.

Behind her Ella Reinhardt’s two small girls giggled as they played on the worn green-and-blue Persian rug that covered the hardwood floors. Gisela’s
opa
dozed in his sagging, overstuffed chair, his Bible open on his lap. His skin hung on his thin face. Every now and then he coughed and stirred, then settled back to sleep.

Each day her grandfather grew weaker. His condition worried Gisela, especially since he refused to see a doctor.

A Red Army mortar shell hit its target not far from them in town and rocked the earth beneath her feet. The vibrations almost buckled her legs. Her heart throbbed in her chest. How much longer could the German army hold off the Soviets? What would happen to them when they arrived?

Almost at the same instant, an urgent pounding began at the door, accompanied by Dietrich Holtzmann’s deep voice. “
Herr
Eberhart. Herr Eberhart.”

Not wanting Opa to have to get up, Gisela spun from the window, tiptoed over and around the children’s dolls and blocks, and answered the door.

The breathless older man stepped over the threshold. The wind had colored his cheeks. He pulled his red knit cap over his ears, gray hair sticking out of the bottom. “I had to warn you right away.”

Gisela held out her hands to take their neighbor’s coat, but he shook his head. “I can’t stay.”

“Let me get you something hot to drink at least. Some ersatz coffee maybe?”

“Have a game of checkers with me, Dietrich. We can talk as we play.” Opa sat straighter in his chair.

“I don’t have time. We’re leaving, Bettina and Katya and me. Tonight. Whoever is left in town is going west, as far and as fast as possible. By morning the Russians will pour in from the south. You need to come with us. All of you. Take the children and get out of here. It is too dangerous.”

Gisela had feared this moment for many days. Though she had pleaded with her family to leave, they delayed. Opa’s health was too poor.

Gisela peered at the girls, now clutching their dolls to their chests and staring at Herr Holtzmann with their big gray eyes. Another shudder ripped through her. She knew all too well the peril they would be in if they didn’t leave before the Red Army arrived.

Opa’s hands shook as he grasped the chair’s armrests to stand. “
Ja
, it is time to leave. We knew it would come, though we prayed it wouldn’t.”

Her cousin Ella stepped into the living room from the tiny kitchen, wiping her cracked hands on a faded blue dish towel, then tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

The cold wrapping itself around Gisela intensified. How would Opa make the trek? They had no car, no horse, only bicycles. “Are you sure they will be here by morning?”

Herr Holtzmann nodded. “If you wait for daylight, it will be too late. Pack whatever you can and get out of here. My sisters and I are leaving within the hour.”

Gisela rubbed her arms. “What about Opa?”

Her grandfather shook his head. She recognized the determination in the firm line of his mouth. He couldn’t be thinking about staying here. Surely not.

Herr Holtzmann pulled his red knit cap farther over his ears. “Go. Right now. Get out of this place and head west.”

Ella ushered their neighbor into the frigid night. “We will be ready in an hour.” She took a moment to lean against the door after she closed it, breathing in and out. Gisela followed her lead, willing her galloping heart to settle into a canter. Another nearby blast rocked the house, reverberating in her bones.

Closer. Closer. They were coming closer.

In her memory, she heard those soldiers kick in the door. Heard screams. Gunshots.

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