Take Me Home (9781455552078) (21 page)

What in the hell is going on?

His first instinct was to say something, to shout out to Becker and get his attention, but he quickly squelched that urge. Something had happened, some turn of events that he couldn't see just yet. Here was a German soldier, escaped from a wrecked prison train, walking down an American street as surely as if he'd spent his whole life there. It didn't add up.

Otto's second thought was to kill him in cold blood. All he had to do was follow him, wait for the right moment, and then bury his knife in the man's guts. This was an act of betrayal. Becker had turned his back on him, on his nation, on his Führer, and had surrendered. Now, he was working for the Amerikaners. What other explanation could there be for why he was free? Though it was difficult, Otto tamped down his craving for revenge. Instead, he followed the man.

Moving from shadow to shadow, he tailed Becker as he walked leisurely down the street. Otto was cautious, afraid to take too noticeable a step, suddenly fearful that his former ally was the bait, trying to lure him into a trap. But on and on Becker went, acting oblivious to being followed. Eventually, he mounted a flight of stairs affixed to the side of a barbershop, unlocked a door at the top, and went inside. Seconds later, a light was turned on.

Otto was dumbstruck.

Anger filled him. Becker was a traitor. He deserved something
worse
than death. Right then and there, Otto decided that he'd keep a close eye on his countryman, try to figure out what had happened; then he would inflict punishment. Becker would suffer along with all the rest, just like the enemy he was.

He swore it.

P
ETER WAS UNCOMFORTABLE
. He shifted in his seat in Goslee's Diner, feeling as if every eye in the room was on him. Olivia sat across from him. The night before, as he was getting ready to leave the Marstens' for his new apartment, they'd agreed to meet the next day for lunch. At first, he'd been excited; any reason to spend time with her was a good one. But the more he thought about it, the more ill at ease he was about being seen in public. Though he'd been among the people of Miller's Creek for a while now, he felt vulnerable, as if his lie was about to crumble at any moment.

Olivia didn't seem to notice. She talked animatedly about her day at the hardware store; he had wondered if she'd be self-conscious about being with him, especially when most people in town knew about her relationship with Billy, but if she was at all worried, it didn't show. To Peter, she was more beautiful than ever. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the restaurant's large windows, making her blond hair shine a brilliant gold. When she smiled, the room seemed to grow even brighter. She was like an angel. Peter knew that if their situation were different, if they'd met some other way, without any lies between them, he would have felt a tremendous sense of pride that a woman as wonderful and attractive as her would want to spend her time with him.

Instead, all he felt was nervous.

“He thinks highly of you.”

Peter startled. “What was that?” he asked; he was embarrassed to realize that he hadn't been paying attention.

“I said that my father must think highly of you to have arranged for that apartment,” she repeated.

“I still feel guilty for having accepted. It's too much.”

“Don't feel that way,” Olivia said. “That's just the kind of person he is. He goes out of his way to do things for people he holds in high regard. When I was a little girl, there was a man my father occasionally brought home for dinner. On holidays, that sort of thing,” she explained. “I can't remember his real name, but everyone called him ‘Bones' because he was so thin and frail. Later, I discovered that he was a veteran, that he'd fought in the
Spani
sh-​A
merica
n War, and that he didn't have any family left. My father thought he was a good man and that he shouldn't have to be alone, so he brought him into our family. In a way, I suppose you're a lot like Bones was to him; a good person without anyone else.”

Peter knew that Olivia's words were meant to warm him to the idea of accepting her father's charity, but they did the exact opposite. John had helped the old veteran because of his honorable service to his country. While the sheriff had a reason for helping
him
, his keeping his daughter from being badly hurt and rescuing the horses from the barn fire, it was still built upon mistruths. If Olivia's father knew who Peter really was, he never would have helped him; he would've drawn his gun and led him straight to the nearest jail cell.

He was nothing but a fraud.

And he felt like it was so obvious that everyone else knew it, too.

Try as he might to suppress it, Peter was acutely aware of the diner's other customers. Any glance his way felt as if it was a long stare, full of questions and accusations. A few of the looks from older women had a smile attached, as if they got some happiness from seeing a young couple sitting together. Others held frowns; he couldn't help but wonder if those people were friends of Billy or his family. Still other were quizzical; Peter assumed they were wondering who he was or why he wasn't in uniform.

Which was what drew him to the man sitting at the far end of the counter. He was young, right around Peter's age, and fit. He smiled as he dug into his plate, having a friendly conversation with the older man beside him. He was also a soldier, the first Peter had seen since he and Otto had escaped the wrecked prison train. His olive dress uniform was crisp and clean, the buttons shining as bright as Olivia's hair; Peter recognized it as the dress of the United States Army. Once, the soldier looked up and noticed Peter staring at him; he didn't seem to take any offense, nodding a greeting before returning his attention to his food.

What rattled Peter was that this man, in many ways, was his enemy. He knew that the odds were surely impossible, but he could have fought against that very soldier on the snowy battlefields of France. How many Americans had Peter fired his rifle at? How many had he wounded or even killed? The war disgusted him, but he'd fought in it nevertheless. He believed that if there was anyone in the diner who was capable of knowing the truth about him, it was the soldier.

When he turned his attention away from the man, he found Olivia looking at him. She glanced over at the soldier, then back.

“It must be hard for you,” she said.

“What is?” he asked.

“Seeing other men in their uniforms,” she said. “I've noticed some of the glances you've gotten. People questioning why a man your age isn't dressed like he should be. I just imagined that it'd be hard, especially since you're a part of the service, just not in the same public way.”

Right there, on the tip of Peter's tongue, was an answer.

There are plenty of times when I get to wear a uniform that looks an awful lot like that one.

It wasn't the truth, but it would work all the same. Peter took another look at the soldier. Right then and there, even though he was sitting in the middle of a crowded diner, he'd had enough. He was done lying, done pretending to be somebody he wasn't. He wouldn't, he
couldn't
, deceive Olivia any longer.

“Olivia,” he said. “I've tried to tell you—”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “I'm not supposed to ask about what it is that you do. It's all a big secret. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

“That's not it,” Peter replied, angry at himself. “I'm not talking about that.” Here he paused, steadying his nerves, trying to steel himself for whatever reaction she would give him. “Ever since we met,” he began, “there's something that I've wanted to tell you…something about me that might be hard for you to hear…”

Olivia's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“When I saw you, I told you that I'd come to town in order to speak with the sheriff…with your father…”

She nodded. “That's right.”

“It's…it's just that my reason…it wasn't the—”

But then, just as Peter was about to tell her that he'd come to Miller's Creek because he was an escaped German prisoner who wanted to give himself up, there arose such a commotion in the diner that it was impossible for him to continue.

“Quiet! Everyone quiet down!” a gruff voice shouted.

Peter looked and saw a man in a grease-speckled apron standing in the kitchen, waving one hand up and down to his customers while the other turned a knob on his radio. Silence fell across the diner as everyone strained to listen.

“…effective this afternoon,”
a man's voice explained through the slight hiss of static.
“Word from Washington is that President Truman has accepted. I repeat, the war in Europe has ended. Germany has unconditionally surrendered to the Allies and control of the nation will—”

Whatever else the newsman had to say was drowned out by the deafening shouts and cheers of everyone in the diner. People jumped out of their seats. A couple of women burst into tears, crying for joy. A couple of men slapped the soldier hard on the back, congratulating him as if he himself had been the one to make Hitler and his Nazis quit. For his part, Peter was speechless, unable to comprehend what he'd just heard.

The nation of his birth had surrendered.

The war was over. But he still had a battle to fight.

Olivia was breathless as she listened to the words coming from the radio. After Sam Goslee's shout, the diner had grown so quiet that she could have heard a pin drop. Now, the only sound was the newsman's voice. Though she heard what he said, it was so unbelievable that it took a moment for the words to sink in. But then, all at once, at exactly the same time as it happened to everyone around her, she understood.

The war was over!

The Germans had surrendered!

After more than five long years, the fighting in Europe had ended!

Half a heartbeat later, Olivia was up out of her seat, shouting at the top of her lungs, overcome with elation, relief, and many other emotions, more than she could count. The inside of the diner was chaotic, a scene of pandemonium. Everyone acted as if it was the happiest moment of their lives, which, for many, it probably was. Olivia had just turned around for a look, to try to take it all in, when she was embraced by Clyde Harrington, a blacksmith she'd known all her life; two of Clyde's sons had spent the last few years in Europe, chasing Hitler's army back toward Germany, so his joy was especially personal. The moment he let her go, Olivia fell into the arms of Marjorie Ennis, her old schoolteacher. Then it was someone else, all of them celebrating. Shouts rang out around the diner.

“I can't believe it's over!”

“—always said we was gonna show them Nazis a thing or two!”

“My son will be coming home! Oh, thank the Lord!”

Olivia felt relief of her own. For more than three years, her life had been turned on its head, sent down a path she never could have anticipated. Working at the hardware store. Dragging her wagon across town as she gathered material for the war effort. Planting the victory garden with her mother. Making do with less as one item after another was rationed.

But the hardest thing of all had been to watch the young men of Miller's Creek go off to fight. Jay Garrick had died in Italy, Herman McKinnley in France. When their bodies had come home to their devastated families, all of town had turned out for their funerals. Now, even though the war with Japan would rage on, Olivia felt that the clouds that had darkened all of their lives had finally begun to clear. Most relieving of all was that it might mean Billy remained safe. He'd struggled so long to join the military, to get past his rejections on account of his bad heart, that he would probably be disappointed he hadn't gotten a chance to fight. Olivia didn't care. Even if she had ended their engagement, she still wanted him to be safe.

And then there was Peter…

Olivia turned to look for him in the crowd, but was surprised to find him sitting in his seat. He was shaking hands with Lew Martin, a farmer whose grin showed a significant lack of teeth. Peter looked stunned, his eyes wide, his jaw hanging slack as his hand was furiously pumped up and down; he was probably just as shocked as everyone else. While she had no idea what it was he did for the military, Olivia was overjoyed that it would be coming to an end. It meant that he might not have to leave. It meant that he might be able to stay with her…

“It's over,” she said to him, beaming broadly.

“I…I can't believe it…” he answered; her smile must have been infectious, because one slowly spread across his face.

Even as the diner continued to celebrate, Olivia found herself wanting more. Reaching down, she grabbed Peter by the hand.

“Come on,” she exclaimed. “Let's go!”

Together they weaved their way through the crowd, receiving more congratulations. The uniformed soldier clapped Peter on the shoulder as they went by; Peter seemed startled by the man's touch, even a bit uncomfortable, but he recovered to say something Olivia couldn't hear over the din. Eventually, they made it to the door and stepped outside, basking in the sun and the moment.

The rest of Miller's Creek was as jubilant as the diner had been. Men and women spilled out into the streets. Most people were shouting or hugging. Several stood alone and stared up into the sky, smiling. To Olivia, it was like Christmas, the Fourth of July, and everyone's birthday, all rolled into one. She imagined that in every city and town in America, no matter how big or small, the very same thing was happening at that moment. She looked at the flags, their stars and stripes shining in the sun. She noticed the posters that expressed the resolve and might of her nation. From somewhere, either inside a shop or down a side street, she heard a lone voice singing “The Star Spangled Banner.” They had all worked and struggled together, doing whatever they could to keep the country going as they supported the troops fighting overseas. All of them had overcome tyranny, freeing the peoples of Europe from Hitler and his Nazis. Olivia remembered how she had felt those many years before, sitting beside her mother at the movies, watching as German soldiers marched men­ac­ingly across the screen. They had seemed so frightening, so fierce, that they had even invaded her dreams. But now those bogeymen were defeated, their leaders on the run, the people who brought them to power no longer the victors they supposed themselves to be. Today, the future could truly begin, born out of a day brighter than the one that had come before.

Olivia turned to try to tell all of this to Peter, to convey to him how she felt; when she did, he pulled her to him. At first, she assumed that it was like the diner; he wanted to celebrate the war's end. But this was more than that. Where minutes earlier, Peter had appeared stunned, his face was now serious. His eyes roamed hers as he held her tight; he gripped her as if he didn't want to let go, as if he would fight any attempt she made to escape, though there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Neither of them said a word. Slowly, intently, Peter pulled her even closer, their bodies pressed together tightly in the warm spring sun, the townspeople of Miller's Creek all around them as the revelry continued unabated. Olivia closed her eyes and let herself go, not caring if anyone saw. She welcomed his kiss and all that came with it.

Billy hurried down the crowded sidewalk, dodging a pair of women hugging each other and then an overly enthusiastic man who shouted as he jumped up and down. Ever since news of the war's end in Europe had reached the bank, he'd had one overpowering urge; to see Olivia. Even with all that had happened between them, with the hurt that came with the unexpected end to their engagement, Billy knew that a momentous occasion like this wouldn't be the same if he couldn't share it with her, the woman he loved.