April 1945
Johan’s feet flew over the damp farm fields, his klompen collecting mud until they were almost too heavy to lift. He had run for a very long time and, unable to draw a deep breath, his chest heaving, he allowed himself to slow.
All around him fell silent. Good, he must have outrun those Nazis. He tried not to think about the sounds he heard as he fled—the zing of bullets and the thunk of deadweight.
A grinding of gears alerted him to trucks on the road. German military trucks. Many of them. All, he assumed, searching for him. He spun around, assessing his situation, standing in the middle of a flat farm field, no cover to be found.
A few sheep grazed at his feet and about five meters from him, a heavily pregnant ewe lay in a furrow. While he would have preferred the cover of trees or his own hiding place in Corrie’s house, he didn’t have any other options. He curled up behind the sheep, thankful for his lean build. Not wanting the Huns to get a good shot, he lowered his head against the sheep’s side, burrowing against her, breathing in dirt and damp wool. What seemed like a few short minutes later, he heard the soldiers’ throaty voices.
“We can’t go back to headquarters empty-handed. We killed the one, but I know I saw two escape. They don’t have that many places to hide. We have to find at least one of them.” As he spoke, the man’s voice grew louder. He approached.
Johan thought he might wet himself. He couldn’t control the trembling in his legs. The odor of damp wool made him want to vomit.
He sure had wanted adventure, but Corrie would be right in calling him foolish and headstrong. This wasn’t adventure. This was life and death.
He lay there behind the sheep, quivering like a plucked string. Father, deliver me, I beseech You. Send Your angels to watch over me and protect me. Turn those soldiers away from me, I beg You.
The dominee had been right when he told the group of uninterested teens in his catechism class that someday they would be grateful for his instruction. Johan clung to those precious truths now—that God was sovereign and He had everything in His control.
The ewe stirred. For half a second, he thought she would move and he would lie exposed. His heart stopped beating and his breathing ceased. Lord, keep me from harm. The sheep settled into the same spot.
A few moments later the soldiers’ voices quieted as they moved away.
“No one here. I don’t know where they have gone, but we won’t give up. Come, let’s go a little farther.”
Johan’s tears mixed with the mud. God gave Abraham a ram and Johan a ewe.
CORNELIA STOOD and arched her back, lavishing in the sun streaming on her face. She pushed her red paisley kerchief farther back on her hair. April had arrived two weeks ago in all its glory. She had neglected to care for the flower bed in front of Frou de Bruin’s house for too long, and now the weeds threatened to take over. She hadn’t done much but already her knees and shoulders ached.
A bird twittered in the bush at the corner of the house, but German trucks rumbling down the road almost drowned out its song. Allied planes buzzed overhead, the noise so constant she had learned to block out the hum.
With all the kinks out of her shoulders, she returned to her job, working carefully around the leaves poking their heads above the ground. Frou de Bruin wouldn’t be pleased if she pulled out a wanted plant by accident.
Tulip buds rested in the cup of leaves, their showy colors ready to burst. She touched one of the blossoms. She couldn’t wait for their riotous display.
“Oh, there you are.”
Cornelia startled, then turned to the voice. Gerrit stood in the doorway of the house, handsome as ever. “Don’t you hear the trucks? Don’t get reckless.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Long enough to know you are the most beautiful woman I ever met.”
“‘Beauty is but dross if honesty be lost.’ The German traffic here has been heavy the past few days, you know. You shouldn’t be in the open.” She waved her hand shovel at him.
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Fine. I will sit on the threshold, with the door ajar just enough to see you and speak to you.” He plopped down most of the way inside, only his feet peeking out. If Frou de Bruin caught him with the door open, she would scold him for letting in the cold air and the bugs. If the Germans caught him, they would make the old woman look softhearted. “As soon as we see those trucks coming anywhere near at all, I will close the door.”
His dimples appeared and she wanted to break into song. He sat without saying a word for a few minutes while she tugged a stubborn weed from the dirt, watching him from the corner of her eye.
He inhaled deeply and let his breath trickle out. “I can almost taste spring.”
She rubbed her gloved hand across her mouth. “I can taste it.”
“And you have it smeared on your cheek. Come here.”
Shovel still in hand, she obeyed, crouching in front of him. With his palm, he wiped the dirt away. The brush of his skin against hers awakened a long-forgotten passion, her mouth aching for his. More brazen than she had been even with Hans, she placed her lips over his. He returned her ardor and cupped her face in his hands, pulling her closer.
Light and warmth washed over her. Time didn’t matter anymore—not the past nor the future, only this precious moment with the man she loved. The spring flowers would fade, but she would always have this memory.
From behind Gerrit, someone cleared his throat. Gerrit released his hold on her and she tottered, landing on her backside.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
Cornelia glared at her brother. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to spy on us?”
He held up his hands and smiled—something that had been missing the past couple of weeks. “I wasn’t snooping. It is getting chilly in here and I came to close the door. Never did I think I would find the two of you out here kissing like a couple of teenagers.”
Gerrit stood, brushing dust from his creased pants, grinning like a child who had gotten away with raiding the cookie jar. “If that is how teenagers kiss, I want to be eighteen forever.”
“Go back where you came from, Johan. Why don’t you muck out the cow’s stall?” The heat in her face had not a thing to do with sunburn.
Trucks thundered as they approached. The glow of the moment fled. “You both need to get inside the house. Now.”
“Come on, Johan. We will see if we can get Frou de Bruin to part with some of her precious tea.”
Frou de Bruin picked that very moment to appear. Today she sported a jaunty red velvet hat with a large diamond-looking pin and a red feather. “Do we always sit and have coffee in the doorway? Be sensible and come inside.” The trucks approached as the drone of planes increased. “Gracious, you are letting the heat escape and we will all catch cold. Have you finished weeding the flower bed?”
Cornelia shook her head. “I will be done here in a few minutes and then I’ll start dinner.”
“See that you don’t dillydally anymore. I hate it when my dinner is late. It upsets my schedule for the entire day.” The old woman shooed the men inside and shut the door.
Just before it clicked, Gerrit turned, smiled, and winked.
She told her heart to slow its furious beating.
CORNELIA COMPLETED HER day’s work. She wished she could stay at the de Bruin farm for the duration. Allied planes shot at anything that moved along the road, not wanting the Germans to retreat and regroup or to escape the country with the loot they gathered. Yesterday they had come so close to her, she could see the shadow of the pilot in the cockpit. Frou de Bruin, however, hadn’t made the offer and she hadn’t asked. Tonight she would cut through the fields, feeling safer. Hopefully the bombers kept their eyes trained on the roads and railroads and not on farm fields.
Before she left, she wanted to see Gerrit one last time. No matter how often she looked at him, it wasn’t enough to satisfy her longing.
Last she saw, he had gone to the deel, so she looked for him there, the smell of fresh hay welcoming her. The rafters creaked from the heating of the day, and not another sound reached her ears. Not wanting to disturb the peace, she didn’t call to Gerrit but walked farther back searching for him.
Most of the stalls stood vacant, their tenants confiscated by the Germans years ago. She went a little way until she heard the low drone of men’s voices.
Urgency laced Gerrit’s words. “I will do it, but I was followed again, a few weeks ago.”
Cornelia leaned against the wooden post. He hadn’t told her.
“And you waited until now to tell me? Did they follow you out here?” She recognized Maarten’s voice. He hadn’t come through the main part of the house, which made her wonder how many other times he and Gerrit had held meetings in the deel.
“Nee, in town.”
“For Piet’s funeral.” Frustration edged Maarten’s voice.
“I had to be there for her.”
Maarten sighed. “With the Canadians now in Friesland, the Nazis are getting desperate.”
“So I have heard.”
Maarten’s voice sounded muffled, as if he covered his mouth. “Two or three days ago I got the feeling of being followed too. I never saw the man, but it took me awhile to shake whoever tailed me.”
“Exactly the same in my case.”
The Gestapo or NSB must have discovered Gerrit’s Resistance network. In a matter of hours, they may well be arrested.
“Even if liberation comes in the next few days, these people are going to need these cards. Food isn’t going to appear on the market shelves by magic just because of surrender.”
She imagined Gerrit nodding at this. “I understand. I will make sure these cards get delivered. I have taken risks before, and this is no different.”
“We don’t have much choice. With the way Johan botched the rail-line operation, I don’t trust him at all.”
“I will go.”
She had to keep Gerrit from making these deliveries—especially if the alternative meant Johan would be exposed. She didn’t understand what Maarten referred to with the rail-line operation, though she meant to find out.
“We don’t have an alternative.”
Nee, Gerrit could be followed again and perhaps arrested this time. She couldn’t let him take this risk. Not with their freedom so close. Not when mere days from now they could go about their work in the open. Not when he had survived for five years.
She closed her eyes and willed her legs to stop shaking, then rounded the corner and stood in front of them. “I will make the deliveries.”
GERRIT BLINKED SEVERAL times, not sure Cornelia had truly appeared in front of him. He clapped his ear, convinced he hadn’t heard her say she would deliver the ration cards. “Where did you come from?”
A sparkle lit her eyes, but she swallowed hard. “If you want to have clandestine meetings, you need to pick a better place. Here people snoop too much.”
He shifted on the little milking stool and rubbed his chin. “I don’t want you to.”
She squared her shoulders but her hands shook. “When you first came, you wanted me to contact the local Resistance cell for you. Even at Piet’s memorial service, you didn’t like it when I talked about waiting for freedom.”
“Ja, I did. But things have changed.” His stomach flipped. He had fallen in love with her. The thought of her out there, in danger, perhaps never coming back . . .
In that moment, he understood. He understood why Maria’s husband refused to let him stay. He understood why Cornelia wouldn’t allow Johan to join the work.
Love meant you did whatever you had to do to protect those you loved. In his case, that meant working with the Resistance. In Maria’s husband’s case, it meant getting rid of him. In Cornelia’s case, it meant keeping Johan from the Underground.
She huffed. “The only difference between now and then is you’re in more danger than ever.”
“How much of our conversation did you hear?”
“Enough to know that Johan has been involved. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I can’t explain right now. And please, don’t speak to Johan about it. I’ll tell you later. Trust me when I say I had no involvement whatsoever.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you were followed after Piet’s service. The one I told you not to attend.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” He stood and turned to Maarten. “But this confuses me. Whoever followed me had plenty of opportunity to harm me. I can’t be sure, but I don’t think I am in any more danger than before.”
Maarten mussed his dark hair. “We can’t take unnecessary risks. Junior is dead, and I am being followed too, but we will find someone to deliver these.” He also rose.
Cornelia stood with her feet askance. “You don’t need to find anyone else, because I have volunteered.”
“You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to prove your courage to me or anyone else.” Gerrit went to her and held her. They both trembled as they nestled together. “Please, leafde, don’t do this.”
He breathed in her hair’s clean scent. “In the past I have pushed you to do things that frightened you, but now the thought of some awful thing happening to you terrifies me.”
She kissed his cheek and this simple gesture caused him to go cold all over. “Cornelia, please don’t go. I will do it.”
She pushed against his chest and took a step back. “Nee, I am not going to let you. And I am not doing it to show you or Johan or even myself how brave I am. I am not courageous at all. But you said courage is an action, not a feeling. There are people depending on these cards, aren’t there?”
Maarten stood beside him. “Ja, several families.”
He wanted to sock his friend. “But Maarten said he could find someone else.”
“Why should he when I am available?” She rubbed his upper arm. “I want to do this because people need these cards and I can deliver them. It is that simple. Because I am a woman, I can move around without raising suspicion. That is another reason to allow me to go. Tomorrow morning I will leave first thing and be home in time to make dinner. Gerrit, please understand.”
Why, why had he ever pushed her to work for him in the past? “It is dangerous on the roads.”
“The planes are in the air when I come and go from here. I will be careful. I promise.”
She gazed at him with her gorgeous hazel eyes and wore away his opposition. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
She stepped back into his arms where she belonged. “You will pray for me?”
“From now until you return.” Their hearts beat in unison. His life would be nothing without her.
Then Maarten handed her the cards she would deliver.