Daisies Are Forever (16 page)

As they made their way to the train, Audra sidled up to him, Bettina and Katya trudging ahead of them. “What are you thinking about so hard?”

Kurt nodded in the imposter’s direction. “Him. Something isn’t right. I am convinced he is not German.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Did you hear him shouting before? That was not German shooting from his mouth.”

Audra shook her head, her blond hair falling in waves from under her gray scarf. “I didn’t pay much attention. But you are sure he is foreign?”

“I would bet my vater’s house on it.”

She giggled. The sound produced a warm, comforting feeling in him. It just wasn’t the aria that Gisela’s laugh was.

She stopped mid-chuckle. “You don’t think he is Russian, do you?”

“Nein.”

They tramped through the snow for a while. Clouds scuttled across the sky and hid the moon for a moment.

Kurt tugged on her arm and halted. “Like I said, you need to talk to him. Imagine how famous you would be if you broke up a spy ring. Marlene Dietrich would have nothing on you.”

Gisela and Audra sat together on the worn red-velvet train seats. The carriage stunk of unwashed bodies. Gisela wanted to hold her nose and gag, even though the wind howled through the broken windows and chased away the worst of the odors.

The old sisters occupied the seat in front of them. Renate sat on Audra’s lap, clapping her hands and chattering away about the monkey in her book at home. Annelies snuggled against Gisela and dozed.

The men had gone out a while before to try to glean information about the engine. She wished they would return. Soon.

Audra bit her lip, then crossed and uncrossed her legs. “Josep
didn’t speak in German when the plane came. What language was that?”

Gisela shifted, Annelies’s bony backside digging into her thighs. Had he slipped and spoken English? “You’re mistaken. Perhaps you didn’t understand the dialect since he is from the west.”

“Really? Where?”

Once again, that speaking before thinking problem flared up. “Oh, um, Mannheim.” She would have to tell Mitch as soon as possible about his hometown, to keep their stories matching.

“Why aren’t you headed there?”

“We are. First we must stop in Berlin and get my mutti. With all the bombing going on there, I’m worried about her. My vater is off fighting with the
Volkssturm
.”

“Is Josep your husband?”

Audra asked too many questions. “Ja, of course. Why would you ask such a thing?” How many other people suspected the truth about Mitch? They would have to be more careful.

Renate patted Audra on the cheek. “Listen, Tante, listen.”

“I am listening, little one. Tell me another story.” Audra shifted her attention to the child and Gisela breathed a sigh of relief.

She stared out of the window, no dirty pane blocking her view of the groups gathered outside of the carriage. Those still too afraid of another attack to come in from the cold. At last Gisela must have dozed, because the shouts from outside startled her.

“The engine is here. Send word to the farm.”

Sure enough, the engineer blew a brief toot-toot from his horn and cheers erupted from the crowd. People scampered about, collecting items and family members. A mad dash ensued. Gisela was glad they had returned to the train when they did.

The engine from Danzig had been pushing them. This locomotive came from Stettin and would pull them the rest of the way
there. All that remained to be done was to unhook the damaged cars and couple the engine.

Women shoved their way inside, bumping against Gisela and Audra as they worked their way down the aisle. The few empty seats filled in short order, as did every available space in the carriage.

Audra stiffened. “I have to get out of here.”

Gisela gripped her wrist. “You need to stay. If you leave, you will never escape the Russians.”

The color fled her face like the German troops ahead of the Red Army.

“This is the way to go.”

“The only way?”

Gisela couldn’t let her get off. It would be like that American saying—throwing her to the wolves. “The only way.”

“I can’t. Breathing is hard. I need to go.”

“Tante Audra, you must be brave. That is what Mutti and Tante Gisela tell me.”

Audra kissed Annelies’s cheek. “You are right. These are times when we all must be brave.”

“And pray that God will take care of us too.”

“Ja, that too.”

Gisela worried at Audra’s continued pale countenance and uneven breathing. “How are you doing?”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Annelies gave you good advice.”

Audra nodded.

A woman with several young, coughing children stopped beside them, unable to go any farther. Lines of weariness emanated from her soft blue eyes. Gisela climbed over Audra and motioned for the woman to take the seat. “You need it more than I do.”

“Danke, danke. Come, children. We can sit this time.”

Audra, too, rose and they cleared the seats. Gisela would miss the luxury of the bench for the remainder of the trip. She hoisted Annelies and positioned her so she sat on the top of the back of the seat. Audra did the same with Renate on the seat in front of them.

Where could the men be? She hoped Mitch wouldn’t have to hang on to the outside of the train this time.

Bettina turned and kneeled on her seat, much the way a child would, and flashed a gap-toothed grin. “Dearies, this is such an adventure. What a wonderful trip we will have to the seaside. I hope you brought your parasols so you don’t get freckles.”

Annelies pointed to her own face. “I have freckles.”

“Then see, you should have stayed out of the sun.”

“But I don’t have a parasol.”

“Then your mutti should get you one. I am sure there is a shop in the village that sells them. You tell her, you hear?”

Annelies scrunched her eyebrows, her words hesitant. “I will.”

Though there were fewer passengers now on the train, there were also fewer cars. Nothing like being stuffed into a train carriage like meat into a sausage casing.

Two wounded German soldiers squeezed their way in and stood beside the women.

With a sudden lurch and a hoot of the whistle, the locomotive crawled forward, halting at first, then gaining momentum.

Where had the men gone?

Lord, let there be space for Mitch. Let him be inside with us.

They hadn’t gone more than a few kilometers before her legs grew tired. The sick children cried and coughed and sneezed. Audra swayed on her feet, and not in time with the train’s motion. She clutched the back of the bench, her knuckles white.

Gisela’s stomach grumbled in protest of the lack of food. Wriggling her sack from her back, she produced a little bread. She
broke off a chunk and handed it to Audra. “Here, you look like you could use this.”

Audra gave a weak smile and shook her head. “I am not hungry. You should eat.”

Gisela offered the bread to Bettina. “God bless you, dearie. I must not have packed a sandwich for us.” Katya, too, took the chunk Gisela offered to her. She broke pieces from the loaf for both of the girls and for herself.

She didn’t want to let the other members of their party know, but her food supplies had dwindled. The trip had taken longer than they had anticipated. She did have some cigarettes still sewn into the hem of her dress. If they could make it to Berlin, at home with Mutti, they would have plenty of rations.

After their exhausting ordeal, many of the car’s passengers slept, even those who stood. The soldier beside Gisela, a scar running the length of his face, shifted his weight and maneuvered closer to her. They stood shoulder to shoulder. He had said nothing for the short time they had been underway.

She couldn’t move far because she held Annelies, but she pressed closer against the seat. He rubbed his thigh against hers.

Her knees shook. What was he doing? She clutched her charge closer to her chest and pulled her coat tight.

He pressed his body to hers. Her hunk of bread sat hard in her stomach. The cold metal band around the back of the seat dug into her midsection.

His hand came around her.

SEVENTEEN

I
n the stillness of the night, the train’s wheels clacked along the track. The soldier’s hand moved below Gisela’s waist. She stiffened, then a tremor passed through her.

Thwack.
Without a thought, she smacked the soldier in the cheek, hard. He winced.

“Dearie, what did you do that for?”

Stunned, Gisela stared at Bettina. “He was trying to assault me.” She grew warm.

Beside her, Audra stiffened.

The soldier now grasped her arm, twisting it.

She turned and spit on the man. Words eeked out between her clenched teeth. “You vile, filthy pig. Can’t you keep your hands to yourself? Nein, you are not a man. You are a beast, no better than those Soviet soldiers.”

Audra touched Gisela’s arm. She shook it off. “I will not calm down. We are putting our lives at risk to flee from men like you. And we have to endure this now? Don’t ever touch me or another woman again.”

Katya patted Gisela’s hand. “There, there, dearie, it can’t be as bad as that. This man fought for our country.”

“What is going on here?”

Kurt. Gisela’s muscles released some of the tension they held.

The crowd fell back as much as possible in the cramped conditions.

“I said, what is going on here?”

The soldier beside her moved away. “Nothing. This woman thinks I did something wrong. But in this crowd, who can move? How does she know it was me who touched her?”

“You are a disgrace. Leave this woman alone.” Kurt clasped his hand around the man’s neck. “Do you understand?”

Mitch threaded his way through the crowded car in time to witness Kurt’s hands around another soldier’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Gisela shrugged deeper into her coat. “That man had his hands on me.”

His vision narrowed so he saw nothing more than the man’s beady, cocky black eyes.

Mitch lunged forward, landing a fist on the side of the man’s head. Kurt released his grip and the man swung back. Mitch ducked, then, while still low, punched the perpetrator in the stomach. He came up and Mitch chopped him on the back of the neck.

“Josep, stop it. Josep.” Gisela’s words penetrated his fog.

Kurt kicked the man in the groin and he staggered backward.

Someone grabbed Mitch from behind and held his arms behind his back. He struggled to free himself. “Let me go. Let me have at him.”

“You have done enough damage.” Another wounded soldier held him fast.

The man who had assaulted Gisela melted back, holding his midsection with one hand and the side of his head with the other.

“What on earth did you do that for?” Gisela stroked Mitch’s tender knuckles.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Nein, I’m fine. He tried to, but I hit him and then spit in his face.”

“That’s the spirit. Like Xavier said, you are a plucky bird.” He rather liked this side of his “wife.”

“But why did you fight him?”

“You did.”

“I slapped him in order to stop him.”

“What’s the difference?”

“First of all, to start a brawl on a crowded train is the worst idea I have ever heard. Second of all, you spoke in English.”

Even though the compartment was warm, goose bumps rose on his arms. “I did? I was so angry.”

Gisela said no more. She didn’t have to. The stares of the entire car bore into him.

Kurt turned to face him. “You are British.”

Mitch’s heart pounded in his ears. Should he verify or deny it? He looked to Gisela.

“His mother was British, but his father is German and he grew up here. They spoke both languages in the home. When he becomes frightened or angry, he slips into English.”

He flashed her a grateful smile. He wished she didn’t have to lie on his behalf.

By Kurt’s slight lift of his eyebrows and narrowing of his eyes, Mitch knew he was dubious. Gisela was right. In order to continue this charade and have any chance of getting back to his regiment, Mitch would have to be terribly careful.

“There was no need for you to get involved, Cramer.” Kurt wasn’t going to let this die an easy death.

“She is my wife. Of course I fought.” He turned to Gisela and brushed a bruised finger over her cheek, pleased to watch the color wash over her face. “You are not leaving my sight.”

“Danke.” She spoke the word as a sigh. At least she didn’t protest.

The squeal of the train brakes preceded the jerking halt by mere seconds. Another plane?
Dear God, no. We’ve had our share of them.

All of the passengers held their breath. Whatever conversations there had been ceased. Mitch strained his ears but didn’t hear the whine of a plane. The skies remained silent. Off in the distance, a dog howled.

Beside him, Gisela trembled. “What is it? Why did we stop?” A general din rose in the carriage.

“I don’t know. I don’t hear any planes. I’m not sure if it would be better to stay put or to get off.” His thoughts bounced back and forth in his mind like a tennis ball at Wimbledon.

“What should we do?”

A weight pressed against his chest. He took a deep breath. “Stay put. For now.”
Lord, I hope I’m not making another mistake.

A buzz stirred the air of the compartment. A few left the train. Most didn’t. At least the majority reached the same decision.

The children on the seat next to him coughed and moaned. Renate began to cry and Annelies whimpered in her sleep. Mitch reached out and rubbed the child’s back.

They sat without moving for about ten minutes before the hulking beast lurched forward once more. “It must have been an animal on the tracks.” He tried to soothe himself as much as Gisela.

She rested her head on his shoulder.

He wanted to do more for her, so much more. He wanted to whisk her away to the British countryside, to hear the peaceful
lowing of cattle on the green hills, to see the riot of color in a cottage garden in the summer.

He wanted to take her in his arms and cradle her, protect her. His hand throbbed. “When this is over . . .”