When Grace walked into the barn, she didn’t see him, but she heard his cheery whistling coming from the far stall. The sound made her smile; he was happy today.
She peered over the half wall, but his back was to her; all his attention was on her father’s old generator. He’d removed the spark plug and filed the point. Protected by the plug’s rubber cap, his fingers held the threads against the machine, then he gave the cord a good pull. She was as surprised as he was to see a strong spark.
“Ja. Der Vergaser,” he muttered to himself. “Das ist gut.”
She hadn’t heard him speak in pure German before. Something about how comfortable, how natural, he sounded uttering those words gave her an unexpected thrill. She kept quiet, admiring the broad shape of his back, then the line of his shoulder as he reached backwards, towards the door. Still focused on the machine, he groped along the flat top of the half wall with one grease-smeared hand, his fingers inches away from a wrench. Grace placed the tool in his hand, startling him.
“I didn’t know you were a mechanic, too,” she said. His golden hair was growing out; she liked the way it curled a little over his ears.
He grinned at her. “Yes,” he said. “We learn Mechanik in navy.”
The last time they’d seen each other, she’d been crying in his arms. He’d held her, soothed her, and she’d kissed his cheek. Now the memory of his touch sent adrenaline roaring through her. Did he remember it as she did?
He was watching her, waiting for some kind of response.
“Uh, so is it going to work?” she stammered.
He rubbed one cheek, leaving behind a patch of shiny black grease. “Engine is working. I think is only dirty carburetor. What is it for?”
“It used to power the fish plant before my father put in electricity. I guess it’s not for anything anymore. Are you going to fix it?”
“Is not broken.” He scratched the side of his nose, turning it black as well, and she tried not to laugh at the mess he was creating. “But I need things.”
Whether he’d meant to or not, his simple comment brought her into his project. She liked that. “If we have it at the store, I can get it.”
“Einige Schrauben, Benzin, eine Drahtbürste . . .” He saw her blank stare, then he held up an old bolt. “Einige Schrauben.”
“Bolts?”
“Ja. Bolzen.” He mimed something, as if he was scrubbing something hard. “Eine Drahtbürste.” He gestured towards the generator. “Is dirty.”
“A scrub brush? For cleaning?”
“Ja.”
“Ah. I’ll bring you a wire brush. And you said Benzine?”
“Gasoline?”
“Okay. I’ll ask Tommy to get me some gas.”
“Und das Papier for the—” He held up two pieces of metal, then showed her how the paper would fit between the two. “I do not know what is this. In German is Dichtung. Is making gas not come out . . .”
“Gasket paper!” she cried. How ridiculous did she sound? As if gasket paper was something truly exciting. “I know what that is. I’ve seen it on the shelves. Yes, I can get you that.”
His eyes seemed even brighter over the blackness on his cheek. “Good. I make it work for your father. Is thank you for him.”
“He’ll like that.” She pointed at the machine. “Are you finished for now?”
He stooped and grabbed a rag off the floor. “If you want talk to me, I am finished.”
She’d thought it over on the short walk here, wondering how she should approach him with the idea of meeting her brothers. She didn’t want him scared off by the fact that he would soon be surrounded by Canadian military men, so she figured she’d explain that the introduction was unavoidable. Especially now that Norman was home to stay.
“Um, I told you before that my brothers are all home.”
He closed the stall door behind him, listening while he wiped his hands relatively clean with the rag.
“I want you to meet them.”
The spell was broken. “Is not good idea. Your brothers not want me here.”
The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, she was taken aback. Of course he would assume they would hate him. Yes, he was German. Yes, he had been part of Hitler’s navy. But circumstances had brought him here, to her. He was a person, just like she was, and he deserved to be happy. She searched for the right words, wishing she could reassure him.
“My brothers are good men, Rudi, and they’ll listen to me. I want them to know you.” He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she stopped him. “I want them to know that I like you.”
The ice in his expression melted. “Okay.” Turning back, he laid the tarp over the machine, and she understood the generator was a secret. “We go say hello now.”
She loved how he trusted her. “One second.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “You’ve got a little something here,” she said, reaching for his cheek. He didn’t flinch when she wiped off the grease, simply watched her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. In a single, fleeting impulse she was tempted to lift onto her toes and kiss the spot she’d cleaned.
“I hope they not hating me, Grace, because I like you, too.”
Flustered, she drew away, but he pulled her gently back, wanting her full attention.
“Do not be afraid.” He softly touched her cheek, his calloused fingers warm against her skin. The strangest tingle spread through her, a warmth she’d never felt before. “Be happy, Grace,” he said. “When you smile, everything in my life is good.”
He made it so easy. So she did.
“All is good now,” he said, satisfied. “We can go.”
Nerves skittered along Grace’s neck as she stepped down the path with Rudi beside her. Was he as nervous as she was?
Harry and Eugene stood when they approached, questions written all over their faces.
“Ah, here he is,” their father said, rising as well. “Boys, this is the man I’ve been talking about. Rudi Weiss, these are my three sons: Harry, Eugene, and Norman. I’m sure Grace has talked your ear off about them.”
Grace knew Rudi wouldn’t understand that her father was joking, and she was tempted to translate, but Rudi stepped forwards and held out his hand.
“Is very good meeting you,” he said, clasping Eugene’s hand.
“Same,” Eugene said, watching him closely.
“I hear you’re good with a hammer.” Harry was always the gentler of the two, and Grace was so thankful for that.
Rudi relaxed a bit. “I like to work.”
Norman followed the activity, but he did not offer a smile or a hand, so Rudi went to him and gave a small bow.
“I am happy you are home, Norman. Grace is very happy.”
The Norman she knew would be the first to greet someone; he was the charmer, the instigator. But not now. She practically heard the scream trapped within him.
“Come and sit down,” her mother said. “Cocoa or tea?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Baker. Tea, please.”
“Rudi’s English has really improved since he first came here,” Audrey said, pouring for him.
“He reads too,” Grace interjected. “A lot. He likes—”
Her father eyed her.
“Sorry. Rudi, tell them yourself.”
Haltingly, Rudi admitted he’d been reluctant to learn English from his mother as a boy. “I am always busy with my father and other boys.” He told them how she’d won him over by introducing English newspapers, comics, even books to his studies. Ever since then he’d pushed himself to learn, using whatever he could find. “I do not understand most, but I learn a little every day.”
Eugene’s expression hadn’t softened throughout Rudi’s explanation. “I hear you like Canada.”
“Very much.”
“Except you were going to attack us.”
Grace’s heart sank. She had hoped this would go smoothly, but perhaps that had been too much to expect.
“You’ve never had to do that, Eugene?” her father asked, surprising her. “Attack on command? I’d say we’ve all had to do that at one point or another, wouldn’t you?”
“True enough,” Eugene allowed. “I apologize.”
Rudi shook his head. “I am not need apologize. I understand. I am enemy.” He looked at Danny, then at Grace. “But I am lucky. Your family is good to me.”
“You understand we are curious,” Harry said.
“Curious?”
“They have a lot of questions,” Grace explained.
“Of course.”
The same questions were asked, the same answers given, and Grace watched helplessly as Rudi was accused and judged. Norman hadn’t moved a muscle but seemed to be following the conversation. If only he could speak.
When Eugene had finished the interrogation, he faced their father. “What’s your plan, Dad? He’s a likable fellow, and I imagine he’s been a help around here—but you can’t keep him a secret forever.”
“He sticks out like a sore thumb,” Harry agreed, stating the obvious.
Everyone stared at Rudi.
“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Grace heard herself say. “We’re not going to turn Rudi in. He’s our friend now, whether you like it or not.”
Eugene held up his hands. “Hey, little sister, I’m not trying to upset the apple cart. It’s just the truth.”
Her father opened his mouth to say something, but her mother spoke first. “Rudi is welcome to stay with us as long as he wants.” She gave them the sweet but resolute smile they’d all seen so many times as children, and everyone understood this was simply how it was going to be. “We’ll figure it out along the way. We always have.”