The Pieces We Keep (38 page)

T
he once serene atmosphere was now a cauldron of vivacity.

Over the farm, afternoon sunlight poured through a fine dusting of clouds. Sounds of happy children drifted on the summer air. The voices of animals periodically interjected.

It was the perfect setting for the Fourth of July.

Arms resting on the fence, Audra stood beside Tess, enjoying the commotion. Sean had saddled the donkeys, one for Jack, the other for Isabella. When the idea first came to Audra—a mild alternative to riding a standard horse—she had called Sean right away. It had taken a little persuading for the girl’s mother to agree, but now the pure smiles on the riders’ faces clearly trumped all worries.

“Mija,
look over here!” the mother hollered. Isabella’s father pointed a camera toward the fenced-in area, where Carl was leading the donkeys by ropes attached to halters.

Carl was a kind man with snow-white hair and a short beard to match. Audra had barely spared him a glance during her last visit here, while she madly dashed from the hayloft to the car. A widower from down the road, he had evidently made a habit of lending a hand on the farm when needed.

“I think a certain gentleman might be looking for a date,” Audra had teased Luanne earlier, after he shot the elderly woman a wink. Cheeks awash in pink, Luanne tsked at the possibility of being courted by an eighty-two-year-old “youngster.”

“Gracie,” Tess called out, “don’t give him the whole bag!”

Kneeling in the field, Grace was feeding carrots to the goat. Orange bits flew from its voracious chomping. “But Aunt Lu told me I could!”

Tess groaned and turned to Audra. “I’m warning you now. When her teen years roll in, don’t be surprised if UPS suddenly delivers her to your house in Boston.”

“What, are you afraid she’ll grow up to be like her mother?”

“Are you kidding? That’s exactly what I’m terrified of.”

Just then, Isabella’s two brothers and Tess’s son, Cooper, broke into fits of laughter. Off by the barn, the boys were chasing the chickens in circles. The squawking birds flapped their wings, sending feathers airborne.

“Should we make them stop?” Tess asked.

Audra shrugged. “I don’t think Luanne would mind. Not for a few minutes anyway. It’ll wear the kids out.”

“Spoken like a true mother.”

Smiling, Audra returned her focus to Jack. It had been a week since he’d first slept through the night. In between, he’d suffered two separate nightmares, but they were brief and with only a fraction of his prior intensity.

“I still can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Tess said, her tone more serious now.

“I know,” Audra said. “But like I promised, I’ll send you lots and lots of beans.”

“Yeah, because that’s what our house needs.” Tess puffed a breath. “Speaking of food, I’m starving. Honey!” she yelled toward the deck, where Russ was cooking on the barbecue. “Are we getting close?”

“Ten more minutes,” he said, raising a grill spatula.

Luanne stepped through the sliding glass door and used her hands to create a megaphone. “Who out here wants some fresh-squeezed lemonade?”

The kids erupted with squeals and yells. Carl helped Jack and Isabella off their saddles, so they could join the others in a dash to the house. The group had just reached the deck when Judith appeared, wine bottle in hand. “We have chardonnay for the grown-ups,” she added.

“Now we’re talkin’,” Tess said to Audra. “You coming?”

Audra, glimpsing Sean on the far side of the barn, replied, “I think I’ll see how the setup’s going.”

It had been Sean’s suggestion to expand an hour of donkey rides into a holiday barbecue, complete with a private fireworks display—which, in Oregon, meant little more than knee-high sprays of colorful sparks, but fun all the same. Then come nightfall, she and Jack would meet her in-laws to watch a big show at a park.

“In that case,” Tess said, “take your time.” A smile curled her lips before she headed for the house.

Audra hadn’t decided how to deliver her message to Sean, as she’d barely had a chance to digest the idea herself. She made her way over, contemplating her words.

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

He turned to her. On one knee, he was arranging the mini-pyrotechnics on a large slat of plywood. “I think we’re just about set.”

Here, away from others’ ears and eyes, she sat down on one of the lawn chairs Sean had arranged for the audience. As he finished his task facing away from her, Audra’s gaze was drawn to the back of his T-shirt, his neck, the strong lines of his arms.

“So, you’re going on a trip this summer,” she said.

Twisting around, he smiled. “You heard already?”

“Luanne told me in the kitchen.”

He came to his feet, brushing dust from his hands. “My mom’s a little nervous. But I think it’ll be good.”

Audra was delighted he and Luanne would be accompanying Judith to Lucerne. Evidently Jakob, after his wife’s death, had revealed his past to his children, including the possibility of an American daughter. Luanne learned all of this a few days ago, when Judith worked up the nerve to contact them—perhaps encouraged by the necklace Sean had passed along, its inscription promoting great risks. As a result, Judith received an enthusiastic invitation to come meet her relatives across the sea.

The fact she had asked Luanne to join seemed a significant sign of Judith’s willingness to rebuild trust. Luanne must have recognized this, because she swiftly bought the plane tickets, paid for in part by a large tin of money that had been stored with Vivian’s belongings.
If you ask me,
Luanne had said to Audra,
this trip is exactly what she would’ve wanted her daughter to spend it on.

Although Audra had never met Vivian, she would dare to guess that was true.

Sean took a seat in the neighboring chair. “You know, I was thinking,” he said, “on the way back from Europe, maybe I could swing through Boston. Come see you and Jack for a couple days.”

And there it was: a lead-in to the impending subject.

“Um ... yeah . . . ,” she said, hedging. “That actually wouldn’t work out.”

His brow pinched for a second before relaxing, nonchalant. “Sure, okay,” he said.

“I only say that because we won’t be in Boston.”

Now he looked puzzled. “You mean, you’re not moving?” “No, no. We’re definitely moving,” she said. “Just not as far as I’d planned.”

“Oh,” he said. “So ... where are you going?”

“Well, I was thinking it was time to buy a house—once I get a job anyway—around the Portland area.”

He studied her face, cautious, then the corners of his mouth rose.

It was during the drive here, with the sun’s rays warming her face and Jack in the backseat humming softly to a song on the radio, when Audra realized the most rewarding destination was right where they were. Upon being asked for his opinion, Jack had heartily agreed. There was no guarantee of a job—unless maybe Cheyenne permanently banned shaving. Nor was there a school or neighborhood to target. But they would handle those details as they came.

“Just do me a favor,” she said to Sean, “and please don’t tell Tess yet.”

“Why’s that? Won’t she happy to hear it?”

“Overjoyed. But the lectures of
I told you so
won’t be far behind.”

He laughed. “My lips are sealed.”

At the reference, her attention moved exactly there, to the curves of his lips, and with little thought she leaned in and sealed them herself. The kiss was slow and tender, yet laced with a thrill of possibilities. When they finally drew apart, he ran his thumb down the slant of her face.

The world wasn’t perfect and neither were their lives. They, along with their families, had a great deal of growing and healing ahead. But in that moment, Audra knew that somehow, in the end, everything would be all right. Based not on statistics or provable facts, but a hunch she felt inside.

People have often commented about our eldest son being an “old soul.” Even during his newborn days, they claimed you could see it in his eyes: an aged depth that indicated “he had been here before.” Interestingly, I remember how during his toddler years he would, in fact, talk about “the grandma that used to take care of [him].” Whether it was a metaphysical reference or just the creative ramblings of a youngster, I couldn’t tell you for certain. What I do know is our son, for one reason or another, continues to possess wisdom and compassion far beyond his years.

It should be of no surprise, then, given my passion for WWII history, that a news story about a boy named James Leininger captured my interest. Evidently, at age two, James began to suffer from recurrent night terrors about dying in a plane crash during WWII. His additional knowledge regarding aspects of the era convinced his initially skeptical parents that in a past life James had been a pilot who perished during the war. (For the entire account, read
Soul Survivor: The Reincarnation of a WWII Fighter Pilot
by Bruce Leininger, Andrea Leininger, and Ken Gross.)

Although our family’s experiences bear very little resemblance, our oldest son did for some time also suffer from night terrors. As any parent familiar with the episodes can tell you, the task of soothing a screaming, panicked, wide-eyed child in the throes of such a nightmare is a daunting one. Thus, when I heard about the Leiningers’ story, the literary portion of my mind began to wonder how I personally would react if our son suddenly spouted details of historical instances that logic dictated he couldn’t yet know. What if those “memories” linked back to secrets various people had attempted to keep buried?

From there, a true account involving WWII Nazi spies provided just the inspiration I needed for the historical thread of my novel. Although Jakob Hemel is an entirely fictitious character, the story of the other eight German saboteurs sadly is not. From George Dasch’s surrender and FDR’s secret military tribunal to the electric chair executions and selective deportations, I am continually surprised that the occurrence is not more widely known. A thorough recount of the events can be found in a book titled
Betrayal: The True Story of J. Edgar Hoover and the Nazi Saboteurs Captured During WWII
by David Alan Johnson.

Readers of my previous novels are likely well aware of my penchant for including historical tidbits best described as stranger than fiction.
The Pieces We Keep
is certainly no exception. In this case, among those I found most intriguing were: Nazi contact lists printed on handkerchiefs in invisible ink, saboteurs being instructed to wear their German uniforms during the shore landings in America, riders of the Parachute Jump being deliberately stalled mid-air by its workers for sheer amusement, and transport aircrafts mysteriously disappearing without a trace over both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.

I was also fascinated to discover a coincidental connection to Fort Hamilton. It was while stationed there that Sidney Mashbir, as Coast Defense Intelligence Officer, led the investigations that uncovered the first German spy to be apprehended in the United States. As for my inclusion of Fort Hamilton, please note that for story purposes I did take a few liberties in the switchboard scenes, namely with the building layout and number of operators. I have the Harbor Defense Museum at Fort Hamilton to thank for providing me with remarkable photographs and information.

Among the many non-fiction books and articles I turned to for research, the following were particularly helpful:
Old Souls: Compelling Evidence from Children Who Remember Past Lives
by
Tom
Shroder;
Nella Last’s War: The Second World War Diaries of “Housewife, 49”
by Nella Last; and
Unspoken Abandonment: Sometimes the hardest part of going to war is coming home
by Bryan A. Wood.

I hope you enjoyed
The Pieces We Keep
and, perhaps, in the process, even learned a little more about a time in history so very rich in bravery, sacrifice, and honor. Thank you for reading!

Warm wishes,

 

 

 

The suggested questions are included
to enhance your group’s reading of
Kristina McMorris’s
The Pieces We Keep.