You are asking me to do what?” Gerrit gripped the edge of the well-polished kitchen table in the Resistance house. “I can’t do that.”
Bear rubbed his bald head. “If you can’t accept this assignment, we don’t have any work for you.”
He couldn’t sit in confinement anymore, couldn’t watch others working for the end of the war and the liberation of all of the Netherlands. But in his years of Resistance work, never had he been asked to do something like this. He had heard of others attempting such a brazen act. Most often it hadn’t ended well.
He fidgeted in the hard chair. What Bear asked of him bordered on the area where he vowed never to go. He had done plenty of illegal things in the past years, always convinced he stood on the side of right. But this . . .
He wiped his damp hands on his brown pleated trousers. Then he stood and walked to the back of the chair. Wrapping one hand around his stomach, he cupped his jaw in the other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
He had been raised in one of the strictest tsjerkes in all of the Netherlands and had been taught right from wrong at an early age. He knew the Ten Commandments. Theft was wrong. But if he didn’t complete this task, many people would die. What would his dominee say? What would God say?
He looked into the angular face of his friend with the strange code name. “What do you think?”
“The decision is yours; I have already made mine. What does your conscience tell you?”
Gerrit shook his head. Any sailor would be proud of all the knots in his gut. He shifted his weight again.
Lord, help me to do what is right.
Conviction filled his heart. This was the job his heavenly Father had for him. He took a deep breath. “I will steal the ration cards.”
Bear, Maarten, and Junior all nodded and smiled. Gerrit rejoined them at the table and together they worked out the details of the plan. Everything had to be precise and without flaw. Backup plans needed to be made in case of glitches. He concentrated on each word they said, committing it to memory. Writing it down posed too much risk to himself and the others if he got caught.
Hours later Gerrit’s eyes itched. He prayed his exhausted mind would retain all of this information. Bear scraped back his chair and stood. “You know the plan. If anything goes wrong, we can’t help you. You will be on your own.” He offered his paw-like hand. “Good luck.”
Maarten also stood. “God will watch over him and he will be fine.”
The man with a trunk like a tree showed Gerrit to the door. “In case of a raid, the fewer who are in this place at one time, the better, so I want you to go two houses down on the left. An elderly couple lives there. Tell them I sent you and the woman will give you a hot breakfast, a place to sleep, and the money to bribe the guard. You can leave from there tonight.”
Bear turned to go, but Gerrit touched his arm to stop him. “I can’t do that. I have to get back to Cornelia. She must be sick with worry by now. If I don’t show up until after supper, she will be in a state.”
“You can’t do a lot of things, can you? Distractions aren’t good. We can’t afford them. If you are involved with a woman, perhaps it would be best to find someone else to do the job.”
Gerrit needed to get back to work, but what about Cornelia? He couldn’t lose this opportunity. Perhaps he could slip by and see her later today, before he began his assignment. “Nee, I won’t be distracted.”
“Good, then you will go to Beppe and Pake’s house for a little rest.”
Gerrit relaxed a little with the thought that Cornelia did have Johan with her. He would occupy her time and keep her calm.
He hoped.
He said a prayer for Cornelia’s peace of mind before striding the short distance to the house of the people Bear referred to as Pake and Beppe. A shriveled little man cracked the door. These people weren’t Bear’s grandfather and grandmother. Even their identity must be protected.
He sent Bear’s greetings and the man opened the door wide. Gerrit stepped inside the cozy house, the large front window almost hidden behind houseplants. Sunshine streamed in and fed all those green leaves.
Beppe, a hunched gray-haired lady, took him by the arm and led him to the tiny kitchen. He could stretch his arms and reach from one wall to the opposite. “Come in and let me get you some breakfast. A little fried ham, maybe, would be good.”
His mouth watered as the delicious smells permeated the petite space. He watched the woman’s hands tremble as she prepared the meal.
He prayed for Cornelia, asked a blessing on the food, wolfed it down, then settled into the soft bed Beppe prepared for him.
Despite the weight of the job looming in front of him tonight, sleep claimed him in a matter of minutes.
CORNELIA PACED THE length of the front room, down the hall, around the kitchen, and back again. She didn’t care that she might wear a hole in her shoes and have to go barefoot the rest of the war. One thought possessed her.
Gerrit never came home last night.
She had waited for him. At first, she knitted a little, then tried to read the Bible, the passage he had recited to her earlier. The words grew hazy. She dozed on the big blue davenport, the one Gerrit occupied most often. Every little while she jerked awake, thinking she had heard the door open. The noise had only been the wind creaking in the rafters.
She paused her pacing and prayed for him, pleading with God to protect him.
Where could he be?
She remembered those long hours after Hans disappeared, how she paced their hotel room, waiting for him to march through the door and hold her again.
He never came.
Maybe the same fate awaited Gerrit.
Her body still tingled from where he touched her yesterday. She rubbed the spot on her shoulder where his fingers had rested. When she reached the window, she parted the curtains, hoping, wishing, praying for a glimpse of him.
Where could he be?
Johan came downstairs buttoning his red shirt, the thin material straining across his shoulders. “Where is breakfast?”
How could he be so calm when Gerrit was—where? She grasped her brother’s wrist. “Gerrit never came home last night.”
He glanced up at her, both eyebrows raised, blue eyes gleaming. “They must have put him to work right away. He is out on some grand mission, an adventure, working to save our country and our queen. Now that the southern part of the Netherlands is free, we have to do everything we can to help the Allies liberate the rest.”
“Anything could have happened to him. He might have been arrested. Or worse.” She shuddered.
Johan rubbed her arm. “What happened to Hans isn’t going to happen to Gerrit.”
“You don’t know that. He is not here.”
“He could have found another place to stay.”
“Nee. Yesterday we talked about it, right before he left. If we would allow him, he wanted to stay here.”
“Maybe it got late and he decided to wait until morning to come home.”
“None of this makes sense. Last night he went out after dark.
That wouldn’t keep him away.”
“Maybe his meeting went long, until daylight, and now he needs to wait until dark.”
She released his wrist and made another circuit around the kitchen. “Be serious. How long does it take to tell them you want to help and for them to give you ration cards? So often he has done this, he could do it in his sleep. Where could he be?”
“You are borrowing trouble, Corrie. He’s fine.”
That’s what she had thought about Hans.
Someone knocked at the door and she scampered to open it, sure she would find Gerrit on the other side. “There you are at last.”
Anki stood on the other side of the threshold. “I didn’t know I was late.”
Disappointment weighed down Cornelia’s shoulders. “I thought you were Gerrit.” She gave her sister a quick hug.
“Why would I be him? Where is he?”
Cornelia ran her hand through her already mussed hair, the pins holding her curls loose. “If we only knew. Last night he went to tell the Resistance he was ready to go back to work, but he didn’t come home.”
Johan joined his siblings in the front hall. “Tell her she is making windmills out of pinwheels. He is doing something for the cause and will sure have a grand tale to tell when he returns.”
Cornelia pulled Johan away from the door. “He would have stopped here to let us know. If he could, he would have gotten word to us.”
Johan headed toward the kitchen and the women followed. He cut a thin slice of bread for each of them. “Members of the Underground don’t keep regular hours. All times of the day and night they come and go.”
Anki and Johan sat at the table, but Cornelia couldn’t. Rubbing her hands together, she stood behind her sister.
Anki turned and placed her hand on top of Cornelia’s. “Do you think something bad has happened to him?”
Cornelia pulled away and rearranged the empty salt and pepper shakers on the counter. “My heart doesn’t feel the same cold absence it did when Hans died. Deep inside me, I knew it.” She tapped her chest. “But my mind insists on conjuring up the worst scenarios.”
Her sister brought her empty plate from the table. “So you care about him. As a man.” Anki turned Cornelia to face her, her touch gentle.
She leaned on the counter. “He is warm and tender and awakens my senses. Some of these emotions are familiar. Some are new and different. I don’t know what to think or what to feel.”
“Corrie, you more than care for him. You love him.”
Cornelia slammed the door in the face of that notion. She brushed past her sister to clear Johan’s plate.
He got up and handed it to her. “Anki’s right. For the past few weeks, I have seen the two of you together. I would have to be blind not to see how he looks at you. And how you look at him, following his every move. ‘Oh, Gerrit, let me help you with that.’ You are as taken with him as he is with you.”
“You two are crazy. Especially you, Johan. You are more starry eyed over Gerrit than I am.” She tipped her head. “‘Oh, Gerrit, you are so brave. Let me help you.’”
Johan gave her a little shove. She shoved him back.
Anki switched into big-sister mode. “That is enough from both of you. I guess I am the only one not smitten by Gerrit’s charms.”
She wrapped an auburn curl around her finger.
Now Johan gave Anki a playful push. “That is only because you are married.”
Shadows crossed Anki’s face. “I miss Piet terribly.”
Recollections assailed Cornelia. She and Hans gliding down the frozen canal on their skates, later sipping hot chocolate to warm their icy insides. Their long walks through the fields, jumping sloten, ditches filled with water, laughing when she didn’t quite make it over one and got soaked. Holding hands as they sat beside each other in tsjerke. Stolen kisses under the moonlight on the cobblestone street. One night of bliss as he made her his wife.
Though it ended in tragedy, their love had been amazing. She had been blessed to have him for the time she did. After all, it had been worth it. Even had she known the end, she wouldn’t have missed out on that happiness.
That kind of joy came along once in a lifetime. Nothing could compare.