Whisper on the Wind (8 page)

Edward eyed him. “And you find that funny?”

“He didn’t ask for them, did he?”

“He’s right about that,” Isa said with a grin. She winked at Jonah. “I thought you were going to give those angels a rest?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Edward asked.

“Only that I’ve been important to God lately,” Jonah said.

Isa tousled Jonah’s hair. “I couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

They reached the home they shared with Viole and her husband by noon, although Jonah left them before that. With so many school days interrupted for one reason or another—German raids, imprisoned teachers, lack of supplies—Jonah was one more Belgian with too much time on his hands. He disappeared when they passed a house he said belonged to a friend.

Noon was one o’clock German time, the clock having been changed shortly after the invaders arrived. Other than for the trams and trains, no Belgian seemed to pay attention to the change.

Genny and Viole sat on stools just outside Viole’s home, busy making lace. Isa watched, amazed as their fingers nimbly chased thread bobbins through a maze of pins protruding from a stiff, round pillow inset with a patterned cylinder in its center, each with a set on her lap.

“Genny! I didn’t know you made lace.”

She laughed. “I don’t, at least not well. Viole is the expert. She’s been trying to teach me for years.”

Viole looked up. “It’s the only way to make a bit of money these days now that your American ambassador’s wife arranged for lace makers like myself to make my own designs. We’ve had only this one grace since they came, those dirty Germans.”

“Go on in and have a bit to eat,” Genny said without looking up. “There’s fresh bread on the table.”

“
Fresh
bread?” Isa repeated.

“The CRB provides the flour to the baker,” Genny explained. “And he sells to those who can afford it or accepts the
bons
—you know, the tickets—of those who can’t.”

Isa shook her head. That the Committee for Relief in Belgium had set up a process to sell bread wasn’t what shocked her. “In England they’re only selling bread that’s at least twelve hours old. I came from America to England, and from there to Holland—”

Viole broke in. “We don’t want to hear about that,
mademoiselle
. Why do they sell old bread there, anyway?”

“Because fresh bread makes one eat more.”

The others laughed, loud and long, starting with Edward.

“Oh, Miss Genny,” Viole said after a moment, “I know you’ve blood as English as it comes running through your veins, but those Englanders you left behind can be a silly lot, can’t they?”

Isa was glad they seemed cheerful, although she wasn’t convinced the British were as silly as all that, especially when people were hungry there, too.

Edward led the way inside, and Isa followed him.

“You didn’t laugh,” Edward said once they were in the kitchen.

“I don’t find starvation funny.”

He faced her, and she felt her heart skip a beat at his sudden, unexpected attention. “We don’t either,” he said softly. “But if we can pretend we’re handling our hunger better than others, well, so much the better.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Edward? You’re a British citizen.”

“For all practical purposes, I’m as Belgian as they come, especially now.” Then he added, “Like you.”

Isa’s heart danced in her chest. This was the first friendly exchange they’d had since she’d returned.

Isa accepted the bread and cheese Edward cut, even though she wasn’t hungry anymore. Being alone with him always robbed her of her appetite.

“Don’t you have anywhere you must be?” she asked. “A . . . job?”

“The hotel is gone. Where would I work?”

“I don’t—”

He leaned forward. “The Germans control everything. Everything. And so we stand in the food lines rather than work for them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For me?”

She nodded. “I’ve never known you to be idle. It must be difficult for you, this forced unemployment.”

He didn’t reply, but she was unwilling to let the topic go. Surely he trusted her enough to let her know what he was involved in?

“You’ve always liked to work. How must you pass your days, then?”

His gaze lingered on hers. “Isa,” he said at last, “I wanted to tell you something I should have said this morning.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Please don’t scold me for going out alone.”

He shook his head. “No, not about that, although you should
not
. And I don’t consider Jonah an adequate escort, either. He didn’t even have his papers.”

“Well, I had mine, which clearly state I belong in Brussels. In fact, I’m not to travel outside of the city, so I must belong again, at last.”

“Blast it all, Isa, you make it sound like Brussels is paradise. Those soldiers think they can occupy every part of this city, own anything or anyone in it. I don’t want them to get a glance at you, or one of them might decide to try to own
you
.”

“Edward—”

“As a matter of fact, when you leave here, I want your promise that you’ll wear the hat you had on the other night. Yes.” The volume of his voice increased when she opened her mouth to speak. “That awful hat, that dark, dowdy, peasant cap. And a coat, and for heaven’s sake keep your eyes averted. Look at the ground instead of any soldier. Do you understand?”

She gave a slight nod, not looking at him. “Like this?” She kept her eyes down, and when he failed to respond to her exaggerated example, she laughed. “Oh, Edward, you’re so solemn when, at least for the moment, all is well. Is that what you wanted to say to me, to give me instructions for when I go out?”

“No.” He sighed. “What I wanted to say was thank you.”

“Why?”

He leaned into the table, bringing his face closer to hers and taking her hands in his. “You were childish, naive, downright foolhardy to come back. But,” he added when she tried to pull her hands away, “you were also brave. I’ve never wanted to admit that a little slip of a girl could be so brave, but I can’t deny it anymore. Thank you for wanting to bring my mother out of this place. I wish she would agree to go.”

Now she held tight to his hands. “We both know the way to get her to do that.”

“I haven’t given up trying to convince her, and neither should you.”

“We won’t leave you behind.”

“You’ve made that clear.”

Isa studied his hands—had he forgotten he still held hers?

“It’s generous of you to offer your jewels,” he said. “I’m sure they meant a lot to you.”

“Not so much,” she whispered.

“You said your father gave them to you.”

“They’re more useful here.”

His hands pressed more deeply into hers. “You confuse me, Isa. You always have. Why should you use your father’s gifts for us?”

Growing up with so many visits to Edward’s home, she’d only rarely been alone with him, and those occasions had been more rare as they grew older.

“Every year, my father presented me with one of those rings. An expensive item to pacify me.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Charles used to tell me the gifts were because our parents felt guilty about not spending time with us and we should take advantage of it. Bribes, of a sort. I suppose my brother received his own share.”

He let go of her hands and leaned back in his chair. Her fingers felt cold without the warmth of his. “Yes, well, all those engagements at the palace and the queen’s garden parties and endless dinners do have a way of taking one’s time. Your parents were busy.”

He said it with nearly as much scorn as she would have herself. “Exactly. Not like you, working so hard on your studies and going to the university so young. I’m sorry it burned. I know you wanted to be a professor there someday.”

“Who told you that?”

“Your mother.”

Edward didn’t deny it. “Even though she wanted me to take my father’s place. But it doesn’t matter anymore because the university is gone along with my father’s hotel. But you, Isa, now there’s a different story. You were born into your parents’ way of life, everything revolving around a social season that’s been honored for centuries. When the war ends, you’ll inherit such a life just as soon as you’re old enough.”

“Old enough!” Her hands lost the memory of how he’d held them so tenderly and clenched into fists. “First of all, Edward Kirkland, I already am
old enough
. I’m to be eighteen later this year, and that’s plenty old enough to participate in any of my family’s wretched parties, if I wanted to. Which brings me to my second point: I don’t want any such inheritance. I have no intention of being as self-satisfying, as silly, as shallow as my parents.”

“How
did
you get away from them?”

“I left. Perhaps they haven’t even missed me yet.”

Edward’s brows rose. “They don’t know where you are?”

“I left a note that I would be traveling and not to worry.”

“Not to worry over someone traveling to unknown places during an international war.” That he didn’t believe it was possible was all too obvious. “But your brother knows where you were headed.”

She shrugged. She wasn’t about to tell Edward how she’d manipulated, deceived, overpaid, and circumvented various government authorities to get where she was. How she’d deserted Charles in England when he demanded she return to America. That had been especially heartbreaking, considering he seemed so different from the last time she’d seen him, before the war.

Sometimes God’s ways weren’t so easy to explain. “I’m here, so God must want me right where I am.”

Edward laughed outright at that. “So whenever we find ourselves outside His will, we can say it must be His will after all? Even when we’ve broken the rules? Why were you
ever
sure God wanted you back here?”

“The goal was always clear; only the details were messy.”

“It doesn’t surprise me in the least that you misinterpreted what His will might be for you. He’s not often clear about that, and even when He is, it’s not always pleasant.”

“But He only wants what’s best for us.”

Edward stood, obviously wanting to end the conversation. Isa stood too, and he put his hands on her shoulders and smiled like an amused older brother might. “I can see you’re convinced of all this, but I hope you—and God—will forgive me if it takes a bit more to convince me that this is where you should be.”

Her voice abandoned her. He was so close she could breathe in the scent of the soap he used, mixed with something else, perhaps the glue that wrinkled his skin or the powder that grayed his hair. “The Lord loved His apostle enough to come back and offer His pierced hands to touch. He didn’t rebuke Thomas for his doubt; He gave him a way to believe. Maybe He’ll do something like that for you.”

“I’m beyond doubt.” He went to the door, avoiding further eye contact. “I have a few things to take care of before curfew later today. In fact, I probably won’t see you until tomorrow. Remember what I said about going out, all right?”

Then he left, closing the door behind him.

7

Allies Smash German Somme Front

The Allies delivered a severe stroke against the German front along a six-and-a-half-mile stretch of the front lines. Our troops gallantly swept away German forces and gained their objectives.

La Libre Belgique

Edward sat across the table from the two people who had come to know him better in the past year than those who had known him a lifetime. Trusting each other with their lives forged a strong bond.

“Did you see him?” Edward asked. He spoke English even though his companions were Flemish and he spoke that language as if he’d been born Belgian, too. But English was preferred. These days, everyone spoke a language the Germans would least expect.

Jan Krains nodded. The straight line of his brow and matching taut lips were the closest thing to a frown—or a smile, for that matter—that Jan ever mustered. “The man has the restraint of a two-year-old in a candy shop. He’s definitely watching the Tomsk place. He can hardly wait to pounce.”

“What are you going to do?” Rosalie looked at Edward the way she always did: intently, raptly. As if he had all the answers.

He let air out of his mouth slowly and eyed the room around him instead of them. It was cheerful, like Rosalie, with embroideries and small tapestries on the walls, light wood side tables and two chairs near a settee in front of a fireplace off to the side. Upon each chair was an embroidered cushion, featuring the design of an iris. Everything was sturdy and polished, neither sleek nor of costly design yet warm and comfortable. “We’ll follow the examples set before us. Get Tomsk out. As for those of us still here . . . that’s where we must be careful. Tomsk was cautious. How was he found out?”

None of them had an answer to that.

“If he were seen distributing, they would have arrested him on the spot, with or without more evidence.” Edward shook his head. “No, he must have been named or implicated by someone else, either a German spy with suspicions or someone held at the Kommandantur.”

He stood, preparing to leave. “Be careful,” he told them. “Each of us has been seen with Tomsk in the past month, so we may be under suspicion too.”

Rosalie’s brows rose. “Aren’t you staying?”

Edward shook his head. “I want to check the Tomsk home again. And I need to see someone about acquiring some paper, if I can get the money for it from my contact. Are you staying, Jan?”

He nodded. “I don’t take the risks you do.”

“I’m not going far.”

Rosalie followed Edward to the door. “Take care.” She put her hand on his arm. “Edward.”

He turned to her expectantly.

“I must ask. How is your young friend, now that she’s home?”

He put on his hat. “I wouldn’t say she’s exactly home, since she’s living in Quartier des Marolles and not Quartier Léopold, but I’d say she’s still foolish enough to be happy she’s back.”

“Are you happy she’s back?”

He put a hand on the doorknob again. “My mother is happy to have her here again.”

“And you?”

“Why do you ask? She means nothing to me either way.”