One by one, passengers stopped in front of one of the soldiers to show their identity cards and tickets. The men pored over each document then motioned the traveler forward.
With a wave, Merkel circumvented the queue and headed for the exit, Emily still on his arm.
The stockiest of the soldiers, reminiscent of the mastiff who lived next door to Emily’s family back home, stepped forward. “Hauptsturmführer, we need to process your…uh…companion.”
A chill swept over Emily.
Merkel frowned. “Nonsense. There is nothing you need to know about this woman save that she is with me, thereby giving her all the authorization she needs to visit this village. Concern yourself with the others.”
“Sir, I’ll have to report this incident.”
Raising to his full height, Merkel marched to the man, dragging Emily with him. He looked down his nose, his eyes slivers of blue ice. “With my rank being far above yours, I do not answer to you. There is no incident. Therefore, there is nothing to report. You’ve obviously been assigned to this puny, insignificant outpost for your incompetence. Don’t exacerbate your situation by questioning my actions. I’ve a mind to have you sent to the Eastern Front.”
The soldier seemed to shrink before Emily’s eyes. “That won’t be necessary, sir. My apologies for being overzealous with my task.”
Merkel sniffed. “Don’t let it happen again.” He turned on his heel and stalked to the exit.
“Yes, sir.” The man’s mumbled response barely met Emily’s ear.
Would she be subjected to Merkel’s withering anger? Was he truly protecting her, or did he prefer to handle her torture himself? She stumbled at the thought.
Her companion stopped. “Are you all right? Forgive my haste.”
“I’m fine. Just fatigued. As you said, it was a difficult journey. I’m just now getting feeling back in my legs.”
He nodded. “I will escort to your parent’s home. It is apparent by that dummkopf’s actions, you may not be safe alone.”
“There is no need. I will be stopping by the market, so I don’t arrive empty handed. And it might be awkward if I show up on the arm of an SS officer.” Her shoulders stiffened. Would she never rid herself of this man? Why didn’t he arrest her and get the torment over with? His solicitous behavior was nerve wracking.
A long moment passed as he studied her face.
She held his gaze, praying he would see no subterfuge.
He sighed then withdrew a card from his breast pocket. “If you experience any trouble at all, use this, and I will come to your aid.”
The thick ivory card was embossed with his name and rank. She frowned. What German soldier carried a calling card? She tucked it into her satchel. “Thank you. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I don’t understand why.”
A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Not everyone is as they seem, Frau Suard. Thank you for helping pass the time with this war-weary soldier.”
She stifled the urge to curtsy. Instead, she extended her arm.
His warm, calloused palm enveloped hers. He clicked his heels and bowed over their clasped hands. “Godspeed.”
Her eyebrows shot up, but she managed to stutter, “And to you as well.”
Without another word, he released her fingers and strode away, his tall figure soon swallowed up in the throng of people leaving the station.
Her heart jackhammered in her chest. Her breath ragged, she leaned against the square, yellow mailbox nearby. The cold metal seeped through her clothes, breaking her reverie. Thank You, God. She searched the sky for a spire that would indicate the village church and smiled. Spending the night on a hard pew might not be a comfortable choice, but if God continued to protect her as He had, the bench was her safest choice. Where was Gerard sleeping tonight?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rainbows of light flitted across the pew and into Emily’s half-open eyes. She squinted against the glare and groaned. Her muscles ached, protesting as she sat up on the hard wooden bench. The priest had not asked any questions, but instead prayed with her, then provided a small meal of bread and cheese before handing her a blanket. She rubbed her shoulder and fingered the scratchy wool. She didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but she’d give a month’s salary, maybe more, for one of her mother’s soft crocheted afghans.
She sat up and glanced at her watch. Last night’s exhaustion had caused her to sleep longer than expected. Only a few minutes remained before she could head to the fountain to meet Gerard. Her heart skittered, and her face warmed. Less than a day since she’d seen him, yet it felt like a week. She shook her head. Focus, Emily.
Her stomach gurgled. She’d stop by the market on the way to pick up something to eat. And enough for Gerard in case he hadn’t received hospitality as she had.
Footsteps shuffled across the stone floor. The elderly priest smiled as he approached. “I hope you slept well, mademoiselle.”
“Oui. Thank you for allowing me to stay. Are you sure I haven’t put you in danger?”
The man shrugged. “Only God knows, but until He tells me differently, I will shelter His children and provide sustenance.” He held out an apple and hunk of bread. “You must be tired of eating bread, but I’m afraid I haven’t much else to offer.”
“Merci. You are generous to share from what little you have.”
“I assume you will be moving on today.”
“Yes.” She dug into her pocket then pressed several coins into the priest’s hand. “Please use this to further your mission. I will pray for your safety.”
“Bless you, child.” He patted her arm then tilted his head. “You are meeting someone special? Underneath your fatigue and wariness, I see excitement and anticipation.”
Her face warmed, and she ducked her head. “I cannot—”
He chuckled. “There is no need for explanations, child. I’m glad you have found happiness in these dark times.” He made the sign of the cross over her then toddled away, his shoes scraping against the bare floor.
Emily bowed her head. “Thank You, God, for this man who has answered Your call to serve. Please keep him safe. Help me be as brave in the face of possible death. Please let Gerard be at the fountain, and lead us across the border without further incident.”
She looked up. Above her head, the stained-glass picture portraying Jesus and the little children shone in the rising sun. A warm shawl of peace settled over her. Whatever happened, God was in control.
With a nod to herself, she finger-combed her short tresses, then picked up her satchel and hefted it onto her shoulder. She pulled on the heavy wooden door and left the coolness of the sanctuary.
Puffy, white clouds scudded across the sky, and birdsong filled the trees. A soft breeze caressed her cheeks and lifted her hair. She raised her face to the sunlight, smiling as it heated her skin. For a moment, it was easy to forget there was a war raging.
She skirted two women pushing prams, nodding at them as they passed. Hunched over his cane, a gray-haired man hobbled along the sidewalk. A group of children gathered at the entrance to the square.