Whisper on the Wind (42 page)

And so did Edward; so did everyone else on that deck.

The wire disappeared below the line of the prow. Edward closed his eyes, preparing at the very least for a jolting shock.

But it didn’t come.

The wire struck the boat and acted like nothing more than a rope holding back the powerful little tug. The engine raced and the boat slowed. It raced again and the wire pulled them to one side—to the left, away from the suddenly erupting bullet fire—but suddenly it didn’t seem to matter. They hit a shallow spot and scraped the river’s bottom. For one breath-catching moment, Edward thought they were lost in spite of the inadequate electric line. They were stuck in icy muck like a soldier caught in the mud of no-man’s-land.

He saw a pair of soldiers run to the box from which the wire emerged. They must have been as surprised as those aboard to see the wire hit and do no damage.

But the tug still floundered, listing to the side. The engine chugged as the tug tried to reverse while the muck held fast. Then the tug reeled and they were wondrously free—headed into the line of German fire. The boat’s pilot steered starboard, headed to Holland, the harmless wire caught beneath the tug’s prow.

Edward looked back at the pair of soldiers bending over the voltage box. If they found the sabotage of the voltage box and repaired it before the boat pulled free of the wire, that would be it. He spotted the wire cutters: metal from tip to grip. The voltage might be too low to conduct through the damp wood of the prow, but he wasn’t sure a direct hit with metal would be as ineffective. Yet, if that would save them . . .

The tug engine still churned, struggling against the taut wire. He started toward the prow, but just as he picked up one of the wire cutters, something else caught his eye. The pole holding the wire tottered in its place, and the two soldiers below were already looking up. The tug kept swaying against the wire attached to that shivering beam and in a moment it crashed down, barely missing the two soldiers below.

The suddenly unconfined wire sprang upward in a mad dance across the river, away from the prow. Abruptly the engine of the tug roared with freedom, with one last burst and a rapid pitch forward.

Then the clink of bullets hit the smokestack again and everyone plunged to the deck. But it ceased in seconds.

Dutch guns protecting their side of the border covered them now.

“Full speed ahead!” Never had a captain’s yell been so heady, so full of gusto.

Unabashed cheering rose from every corner of the ship, then from Edward himself—and the Major. Only when they burst into song did Max grow quiet beside him, perhaps not knowing the words of the Belgian patriot hymn “La Brabançonne.” Still he smiled, leaning against the rail.

The deck flocked with people; men’s strong voices lifted the song ever higher. Edward sang but his eager gaze sought just one face.

First he saw his mother, smiling and crying. But even as she waved at him, he saw her gaze drawn to the Major as he stepped forward, using the Allied rifle now as a crutch.

At last Edward spotted Isa and fought his way through the celebrating passengers to grab her to him, holding her tighter than he’d ever held her before.

“Come with me,” he said but knew she could barely hear him over the joyous singing echoing from every direction.

He took her hand and led her to his mother’s side and, without a word, directed both of them portside of the small tug. The Major followed.

Hands still joined with Isa’s and his mother’s, his mother holding the Major’s, Edward dropped to his knees. Needing no further invitation, they sank to worship beside him. With the victory songs accompanying their prayers, the four paid homage to the God who had saved them.

Edward barely noticed the songs fade away. At last he opened his eyes and looked to see the other refugees aboard.

Each one on their knees.

44

On this day, the 27th of January, Germany celebrated the birthday of His Imperial Majesty, the Kaiser. In their newspapers, German propagandists proposed the reason there was not a single shot fired in Tir National this morning to be the sympathy and affection the Kaiser holds for the Belgian people. Even for those Belgians who, like errant children, have yet to learn not to test German leadership.

But
La Libre Belgique
has it on reputable authority that it was Belgian ingenuity and bravery that stopped the executions this morning. Perhaps this very newssheet will be held in the hands of at least one of the formerly condemned, who escaped yet another of the injustices the German army attempted to perpetrate.

La Libre Belgique

Land had never felt so good, although Max hadn’t made enough voyages to give him the means for comparison.

Holland.

Neutral ground. Neither Allied nor Central.

His gaze shifted southward, where a while ago occupied Belgium had disappeared. Around him refugees hugged and cried, and some still sang.

Edward had taken Isa ashore ahead of him, and Genny was with them now. The three of them clutched one another, unashamed of their tears. Dampness clung to his own eyes, too.

But as glad as he was for them, something else pulled at his heart.

“Max,” Genny said, holding out her arm to invite him into the group embrace.

He joined them but kept both hands on the wooden handle of the rifle at his side.

“There are soldiers there,” Edward said, shading his eyes from the sun. He pointed to a tent, outside of which sat a table and Dutch soldiers, obviously taking information from those who had just disembarked from the tug.

“Go,” Max said.

“They’ll help,” Edward said. “All of us.” He started to lead their little group forward, and Max watched them take the first steps.

Max stayed where he was.

Isa turned to him. “You—you’re not coming with us?”

She was shocked, he could tell, but even with only a peripheral glance, Max could see that Genny was not. She knew him better than he knew himself.

“I will see you again, all of you. Someday, God willing.”

“But where will you go now? You’ll need help! You need us!”

He smiled at Isa, at this young woman whose roof he’d shared, who because of his army had suffered so much. Max touched the hand she extended, one he was sure she would have used to pull him along if he’d let her. “No. I’ll say good-bye now.”

“But—”

Instead of joining her protest, Edward touched her arm. Max had been sure in the last few days that he’d earned the young man’s acceptance. Perhaps he’d believed what Max had said about the difficulty of good-byes and didn’t want to extend the argument or the good-bye. Max himself had only suspected the truth before; now the reality sliced through him.

“You’re a brave girl, Isa Lassone. A brave young woman, I should say. Edward is fortunate to have your love.”

Edward stepped closer. “That’s certainly true.”

Then she had her arms around Max’s neck. “I would have liked to know you better, Major. And now I’m afraid I won’t have that opportunity.”

He patted her back and pulled away. “Maybe someday. I hope so. Finding the Lassone family in Belgium will be easy enough, if Belgium is ever free again.” He stole a glance toward Genny, and he was sure he saw her nod. “And if . . . if Belgium is annexed by Germany, then I will look for the Lassone family in America, should I ever travel so far.”

“Baltimore, Major. The Lassone family of Baltimore. You won’t forget?”

“No, I won’t forget. Baltimore.”

Edward stepped forward, extending a hand. Max grasped it.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Max.”

“No need. I did what I had to do.”

But Edward shook his head. “No, you did more than that, and I’m grateful. I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life.”

Then he put his arm around Isa again and started to lead her away.

Though he barely let himself a moment ago, Max looked at Genny fully now and couldn’t take his eyes from her. If Edward spoke again, or if Isa made a last farewell, he did not hear them.

“Genny.”

“Max.”

“I cannot go with you; you know that.”

“But you can’t go back. You mustn’t.”

“No, not yet. But when I can. Somehow.”

“And in the meantime?”

He once again looked toward the distant border. “I’m a traitor, Genny. A traitor to Germany.”

“But you aren’t! You fought against injustice. You did what you thought was right.”

He stiffened. “I shot at men wearing my own uniform.”

“Yes! To save us—all of us! How could you have done anything else?”

“I could have stayed. I should have.”

“And been arrested yourself.”

He would have admitted that was what he deserved but knew she would only challenge that, too.

“It won’t be easy, going off on your own,” Genny said. Somehow he knew she wasn’t referring just to facing the German army again, but to all the rest. To Käethe. To his own disappointment over all he’d once served and believed in.

“I’m not sure life is supposed to be easy, Genny. After a life of ease, one might be surprised to find God’s there at all.”

She nodded, tears catching light in the corners of her eyes, a tremulous, brave smile on her lips. She’d never been lovelier.

“Genny,” he whispered, “there is much left unsaid between us. But it must be this way. I shall have to return home eventually. Or send for Käethe. I don’t know which, subject to what charges I may face.” He attempted a smile but felt only half his mouth obey. “I suppose that depends on who wins, doesn’t it?” He touched Genny’s chin with his thumb, looking at her intently. “I admire you greatly. I hold you dear. I’ll not say more because I’m not free to do so. I ask only one thing.”

She said nothing, gazing at him.

“That if I am ever free, I have your permission to find you.”

She offered a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, nodding her consent. “Max, I won’t ever forgive you if you don’t find me. Promise me that you will.”

He nodded, then placed a kiss on her forehead, not daring anything more.

He knew he would have to walk away because it was he who couldn’t have her, he who wasn’t free. He who needed to settle and mourn not only this, but the death of his allegiance to the country of his birth. Time alone could resolve all of that.

He took one step back, then offered a smile. He’d never had a confident smile, and this one wasn’t any different.

But it was all he had to give just then, and he preferred her memory of him to be that and not the sorrow that made such a smile so difficult. Leaning upon the makeshift crutch, he turned and walked steadily away.

He could not look back.

* * *

This war reveals the utter failure of such a notion as armed peace. Man has yet to discover a way to prevent war.

La Libre Belgique

Epilogue

Armistice Signed, End of the War! November 11, 1918

Isa Kirkland sat in the front parlor of her parents’ grand home, amid the noise of an end-of-the-war party. Celebrations had erupted all over Baltimore but none more festive than her mother’s. Perhaps few participants elsewhere had as much to be grateful for as Isa and her family.

But that wasn’t the only reason this was one party Isa welcomed. Her parents had spent more time in the last year with Isa and Charles than away from them, ignoring countless social obligations. Even now, with guests still pouring in and filling the many rooms of their elegant home, the family stayed intact here, in the smallest parlor of the house.

Across the room were her brother, Charles, and his wife, Julitte, Charles in concentrated discussion with Edward. Genny and Jonah were here too. Jonah was nearly as tall as Isa these days. And the newest addition to their family, a son recently born to Charles and Julitte, gurgled and giggled on a blanket in the center of the room.

Isa could barely tear her eyes from the child, knowing in a few months’ time his cousin would be born. Even animated talk about the armistice couldn’t command her attention.

“You look like you have a secret,” Genny whispered, next to her on the plush brocade sofa.

Isa felt the warmth of a blush. “Maybe I do.”

“You’ve never been a tease, so you must want to tell me.”

“I do. I will—we will. I was just waiting for a lull in the noise.”

Isa’s gaze landed on her husband, whom she’d loved nearly all her life. He laughed over something Charles said but caught Isa’s eye and sent her a wink. Edward and her brother had become as close as brothers themselves, much to Edward’s surprise—and to Isa’s glee. In the year and a half since they’d joined forces to create one of the most popular newspapers on the East Coast, the two had spent nearly as much time with each other as they had with their wives.

Isa glanced at her friend, her mentor, her mother-in-law, all in one. “Genny, I know it hasn’t been easy for you these months since we’ve moved here. But I’m hoping if we surround you with enough family, you’ll think of this as home.”

Genny brushed Isa’s cheek. “I once told you that where you are—and Edward and Jonah—that’s where I’ll call home. I haven’t been unhappy here.”

“But not really happy, either. So far from your memories with Edward’s father . . . and Max.”

Genny looked away as she always did when Isa whispered his name. How long would Genny wait for him? It had been nearly two years without a word.

“I’m happy, Isa.” But the sparkle of a tear in the corner of one eye belied Genny’s words. “The war is over; Jonah will not be called to service. The world is safer than it was just yesterday. And you, I suspect, are about to give me another reason to be thankful. What more could I ask for?”

Isa wanted to say Max’s name but feared the single tear in Genny’s eye might be joined by others if she did.

“Come now,” Genny whispered. “Catch the eye of that husband of yours again and have out with this announcement. I have a hug just waiting to be shared.”

* * *

“Are you sure this is it?”

Max von Bürkel did not move from the motorcar, one he’d hired with its driver at the Baltimore dock. The importance of the question made him forget, for the moment, to be proud of having learned the English language, though he imagined his accent must be heavy.