Paul peered at Miriam, her face glowing in the waning moonlight. He glanced at the guard who scanned the prison’s perimeter. Should he follow the men and make sure they didn’t get into trouble? That would mean breaking the rules himself. Then again, it might be the best solution. He could keep watch on them without risking his well-being.
“So, are you going to do it?”
Miriam’s whispered question stirred his blood. His pulse pounded in his ears. That rush of adrenaline that hadn’t coursed through him since his capture. “The war has dimmed my sense of adventure.”
“This isn’t battle. It’s detective work. Completely different.”
A rustle in the bushes broke the stillness of the evening. The players were leaving. “Fine, let’s go.”
With a push on his chest, Miriam held him back. “Wait a minute. The guard is walking this way.” She hunkered behind the Syringa vulgaris.
He strolled away from the fence, toward the barracks, whistling a tune. “Good evening, Corporal Whitlock.”
The dark, curly haired soldier nodded. “Isn’t it a bit chilly for a turn around the park?”
“The crowded building gets stuffy. Smoky, you know.”
“Maybe you should join the men in the tents on the grounds.”
The POWs’ ranks had swelled over the weeks until no more room remained inside. The military pitched five tents that slept six men each. “I hear the heaters you installed keep them warm. Perhaps I should.” Especially if he was going to be in the habit of sneaking out.
Both men continued on their ways. After several paces, Paul spun and waited until Corporal Whitlock turned in the opposite direction. With as much speed as he could muster without drawing attention to himself, he raced to Miriam and hopped the fence.
She muffled a cry. “Let’s get going.”
He took her by the hand, and they sprinted around the trees, headed toward town. He squeezed her fingers. “It’s been a long time since I’ve held your hand. How soft it is.”
She brushed against him as they slowed to a walk. “This is wonderful, to be together. Close, like we were.”
Though the desire to kiss her tugged at him, he didn’t give in to it. They had to rebuild their relationship first. And find out what his fellow prisoners were doing. Up ahead, several shadows raced down the street. “Come on, we can’t lose them.”
“They’re turning the corner.” Miriam pointed to her right.
A brisk walk of several minutes brought them to the heart of the small downtown. The five men slipped into one of the local drinking establishments.
Miriam tugged on him. “I can’t go inside. My father would have my hide.”
“That’s fine.” He didn’t indulge in the libations they offered. “We can peer through the window. Sit outside and listen and make sure they aren’t wreaking havoc.”
Still holding hands, they tiptoed to the window and gazed inside. The prisoners, their long coats hiding the POW stamp on their clothes, dispersed among the young ladies at various tables. Not too long afterward, all five of them settled at a table with beers in their hands and wide grins on their faces.
Paul stepped away from the window. “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He pulled Miriam close and rubbed her arms. She still melded into him just right.
“Tell me about your time during the conflict.”
“There isn’t much to say. I served in North Africa, and the Allies captured me in France.”
“Is it as horrible as they say?”
He sucked in his breath. Scattered memories flitted through him. The ping of gunfire hitting their plane. The screams of dying men. And blood. So much blood. Everywhere. He shuddered. “It’s worse. No amount of training can prepare you for battle. Men hating other men so much they would kill them. Hitler feeds in more troops because he’s losing them at a terrific rate.”
She kissed the top of his hand. A shiver raced through him. “I’m so sorry for you.”
“But God was good. I haven’t suffered a single wound, not even a scratch. And now, I’m here as a captive, safe. Away from the fracas. You Americans treat your prisoners well. I cannot complain.”
“And I try not to. But teaching in a small school in a little town is going to drive me crazy. I want to be doing more for the war effort.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“I wanted to join the WACs, but Daddy wouldn’t hear of it. I’m his precious little girl, a china doll he doesn’t want shattered.”
“Can you blame him?” He kissed her strawberry-scented hair. “When you love someone, you don’t want to let them go.” If only this moment would last forever.
She snuggled closer. “When you put it that way, I do understand. Every night, I’ve prayed for your safety.”
“And I felt every one of those prayers.”
“Good.”
He pictured her smiling. “Do you want to fly again someday?”
“Do I ever.” She broke away from him and spun in a circle. “Away from this misery, up in the sky, among the birds and the clouds. That’s freedom. Like we had that summer. Cold, crisp air in the atmosphere. There is nothing better. And you never finished instructing me how to fly.”
He chuckled. “Your sense of adventure is alive and well. Teaching school must be very boring. With your spirit, you deserve to be high in the clouds. Besides, I always loved how you look in a flight suit.”
“I still have that leather jacket you gave me. I keep it hidden from Daddy. If he saw it, he would flip his wig. But it smells like you. Woodsy. Outdoors. Just a bit of fuel.”
“The scents every woman wants made into perfume.”
“Secretly I’ve been checking out library books about flying. So I’m ready for after the war. At some point, Daddy is going to have to let me go.”
“When I get home, I think I might like to try farming. Perhaps raise goats or sheep.”
She stepped backward. “Really? Can you see yourself doing that?”
“Sure. Feet on the ground. Dirt underneath my fingernails. That’s my dream.”
“Well, then…”
He pulled her close. “Of course not, you duck. I want to be in the cockpit. Maybe with you as my copilot.”
“Applesauce. I thought you were serious. But it should be the other way around. I’ll be the pilot, and you can be first mate.”
From inside the tavern, glass shattered. Men shouted. Ladies screeched. Paul released Miriam and dashed to the window. His stomach dove. Baum stood in the middle of the room, hands fisted as a brawny man plowed toward him. Baum swiped at the man’s head, sending him careening into a table, which tipped over.
Paul grasped Miriam by the wrist. “Let’s go. I have to tell the captain.” His heart pounded as fast as his feet as they flew over the frozen ground and back to the Schwartz. His mouth went dry as puffs of steamy air billowed in front of him.
They skidded to a halt in front of the fence. He pecked her on the cheek. “Thank you.” Without pausing, he jumped the fence, ignored the guard calling after him, and raced through the entrance, through the dining hall, and to the captain’s office. He pounded on the door.
“Come in, come in.” Captain Atkins stood as Paul burst through the door. “What is it?”
Paul bent over, huffing and puffing to get enough air to speak. “Five of the men from the soccer team, Baum the leader, have left the premises. They’re at a tavern not far away, and there is a fight. The men are in the middle of it.”
Captain Atkins pushed past Paul. “Which one?”
“I don’t know the name.” Paul followed the captain into the darkened dining hall. “The one on the main corner of town.”
“How do you know?”
Paul drew in a ragged breath. “I—”
“Never mind. We’ll talk when I’m finished dealing with Baum and his gang.” Captain Atkins rushed into the hall and called for some of the other guards to come with him. They streamed out the door. The place fell silent.
Paul leaned against the telephone booth situated between the ballroom’s two large doors. His hands shook, his breathing ragged.
Why had he gone out? He’d gotten himself in a heap of trouble.
But was it worth it to spend a few minutes with Miriam? To dream again?