Take Me Home (9781455552078) (26 page)

“Dad!” she tried to shout, but what came out sounded more like a wheeze.

Olivia grew more frightened. She strained to hear some sound, a sign that her father was nearby, but she couldn't make out anything over the fire. The smoke was so thick that she wasn't even certain what direction she faced.

She was so beside herself with worry that when a pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders, she screamed.

Spinning around, she was shocked to find her mother kneeling beside her. Elizabeth's face was still streaked with sweat and grime, but there was something else there, too, an expression that Olivia had trouble recognizing; it was a look of genuine relief.

“We need to get out of here,” her mother insisted.

“But…but Dad…” Olivia struggled to explain. “I don't know where he—”

“He's safe,” Elizabeth cut her off. “Now, come on.”

Taking her mother's hand, Olivia followed as Elizabeth led the way out of the burning house. As she ducked through the front doorway, the flames felt so close that she feared her hair would catch fire. They stumbled down the steps and onto the grass. Almost immediately, blankets were wrapped around her; Olivia looked up to see a few of their neighbors, woken from their slumber, each face wearing a look of sympathy. Down the darkened street, the fire truck rounded a corner and raced toward the house, its siren screaming high and loud.

Though Olivia knew she should've felt some relief, there was none.

“We have to help Dad…” she insisted, trying to rise, but her mother placed a hand on her chest and held her down.

“I told you he's fine,” Elizabeth answered.

Olivia followed her mother's eyes and saw her father lying on the grass. He was rolled over on his side, hacking and coughing, his whole body shaking. His nightclothes were filthy, his whole body soaked through with sweat. Billy knelt beside him. Suddenly, she understood; he must've grown worried and entered the house with her mother. Fortunately, they had stumbled upon her and her father when they needed them most. Billy must have carried John to safety.

When their eyes met, Olivia's filled with tears. In that moment, she couldn't have told Billy how sorry she was for hurting him the way that she had, nor could she have expressed how thankful she was for what he'd done. Because of their lifelong friendship, she hoped that he already knew.

But while Olivia was happy and relieved to know that her father had been carried to safety, fear still held her tight. Peter and Grace remained in grave danger. Struggling against her mother, ignoring her protests, Olivia managed to get back to her feet, intent on rushing back into the burning building. Billy did the same; she wondered if he could sense what she was about to do. But before either of them could move, fate intervened.

Before their eyes, the house began to crumble. With a groan, the roof fell in and sent a cloud of smoke and sparks billowing high into the night sky. Like a domino, the roof's collapse caused a wall on the upper floor to give way, tumbling inside to cause another deafening crash, and then yet another. Gasps rose from the gathered crowd.

Olivia was too horrified to scream. This wasn't a bad dream; it was real. No one could have survived what had just happened.

Peter and her sister were dead.

P
ETER STRUGGLED TO REMAIN CALM
. Back in the barn, when debris had fallen, blocking the doors, there'd still been space to move around, to search for a way out, but inside Grace's small bedroom, it felt as if the walls were closing in. Broken and burning beams filled the doorway, leaving far too little room to try to squeeze through. Besides, if he were to push against the blockage, it might only cause a bigger collapse. They would need to find another way out.

But first, he needed to tend to Grace.

Ever since they had become trapped, Olivia's sister hadn't stopped screaming. Tears streaked through the dark soot and grime that dirtied her cheeks. She was beside herself with fear.

“Listen to me, Grace,” Peter said firmly. He grabbed the girl and pulled her to him. Try as he might to hold her eyes, she kept moving them away, avoiding him. “Hold it together,” he told her. “It's the only way we're going to get out of here.”

Instead, Grace shivered so badly one might've thought she was freezing cold.

Leaving her, Peter began to search for another exit.

Opposite the impassable doorway was a pair of windows. The intense heat from the fire had cracked one of them; Peter kicked it out. Carefully sticking his head through the broken pane, he looked down. Silently, he cursed. The drop went all the way to the ground. A fall from that height could break both of their necks; he'd take the chance to avoid being burned alive, but only as a last resort.

Come on! There has to be something else!

Looking around the girl's room, he finally found it. There, above Grace's bed, was a smaller, crescent-shaped window. It wasn't big, but he thought that it'd be large enough for them to squeeze through. Peter jumped onto the bed and yanked it open. Pulling himself up, he glanced over the ledge. His heart jumped. There, about ten feet down, was the lower roof of the kitchen. They had a chance; now they had to take it.

Jumping down, Peter went to Grace. Olivia's sister was still sobbing; the look on her face said she'd given up.

“Grace!” he shouted. “Grace! Look at me!”

Reluctantly, the girl did as he said.

“Do you want to live?” he asked. When she didn't answer, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Answer me!”

Shakily, Grace nodded.

“Tell me! Say that you want to survive this!”

“I…I…do…” she stuttered through tears.

Satisfied, Peter pulled her up onto the bed and to the window. Understanding what was about to happen, Grace slowed down, fighting against the current, but Peter pushed her on; since she'd come this far, it was too late for second thoughts. He lifted himself up and through the window, found some purchase on the short window frame, and leaned back inside, extending his hand toward Grace, who looked at it, unsure.

“Now!” he shouted.

Grace reacted as if he'd broken a trance and urgently grabbed hold. Effortlessly, he lifted her up and out. His intention had been to pause, get their bearings, and then jump when they were ready. Instead, Grace's wiggling knocked them off balance and before Peter knew it, they were plummeting toward the lower roof. Grace screamed the whole way down. When they landed, Peter hit hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. Beside him, Grace moaned in pain; he was elated that she was still alive.

But then he heard a sound that filled him with dread. It spread low, grumbling to life above them, back where they'd just been. Instantly, Peter understood that the roof was giving way. For all he knew, the whole house was going to collapse. They were still in danger.

Scrambling to his feet, Peter grabbed Grace's arm and yanked her up.

“Hold on tight!” he shouted.

Taking a couple of steps, they jumped off the roof. They hit the ground hard, tumbling in the dewy grass. When Peter finally stopped moving, he looked back at the Marstens' home. The back of the second floor, where Grace's bedroom was, gave way, dropping down onto the lower roof, smashing through and into the house. If they had been either place, they would be dead.

Instead, somehow, they were alive.

Olivia cried. Through a haze of tears, she stared at the wreckage of her family's home, unable to turn away. Everything had been reduced to a pile of still-burning rubble. It was all gone: the way the banister felt beneath her bare hand; the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen windows in the morning; the view from her favorite chair in the parlor. While the memories would remain, they could never be experienced again. New ones would be made.

But what could never be replaced were the lives of those she loved. Hours earlier, she'd made love to Peter, giving him her body and heart. Hearing his bombshell of a confession had muddied things between them, had caused her to run away in fear and confusion. But once he had caught up to her and further explained himself, she'd come to believe that they could find a solution. But now, just like that, he had been taken from her.

Peter and Grace were gone. Forever.

“Olivia.” Billy had come to stand behind her. Gently, he placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged herself away.

There was nothing for her to say.

But then, as Olivia started to wonder how she'd ever put the pieces of her life back together again, she saw something. There was a stirring at the edge of the crowd. People parted. Someone shouted.

The next thing Olivia knew, she was running. Weaving between her neighbors, she had to push a few of them out of her way. When she saw what it was that had attracted all of the attention, she could only stop and stare.

It was Peter and Grace.

They looked terrible, covered in sweat and soot. Her sister leaned heavily against Peter; she limped as she walked beside him. When Grace saw Olivia, she smiled weakly.

“I don't believe it!” Olivia shouted. “You're alive!”

Olivia took her sister in her arms. She held Grace close as they both sobbed, thankful to be together again. Eventually, someone pulled them apart; surprisingly, it was their mother. Elizabeth had tears in her eyes when she grabbed her younger daughter, with whom she'd argued more times than Olivia could count.

“Oh, my poor little girl,” she soothed, stroking Grace's hair. “I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you.”

“I…I…I was so scared…” her daughter cried.

“Hush now. It's all over. You're safe.”

When Elizabeth led Grace away, Olivia turned to Peter. He stared back. Neither of them said a word. But then, the powerful emotions Olivia had been struggling to hold back burst through and she threw herself at him. Over and over, she kissed him; his mouth, his cheeks, and even the tip of his chin. It didn't matter that people were watching; she no longer cared whether her neighbors or Billy approved, so great was her relief that Peter was alive.

“I thought you were dead,” Olivia said through her tears. “When the roof fell in, I thought that you and Grace were still inside…”

“You can't get rid of me that easily,” he replied with a weary smile. “Besides, I promised you that I'd get them out, and I'm nothing if not a man of my word. Is your father all right?”

She nodded.

“Where is he?”

Olivia felt a growing sense of unease. “He's with Billy…”

“I need to talk to him.”

She looked up at Peter; from his expression, Olivia could tell what he intended to do.

He was going to tell her father who he really was.

“You can't do that,” Olivia said.

“I have to,” Peter answered. He paused for a long moment. “This fire wasn't an accident.”

Olivia gasped. “What?” she blurted. “It…it was set on purpose?”

He nodded. “I'm sure of it,” Peter explained. “I know who did it. It's the man who escaped with me from the prison train. A man who hates America and everything it stands for. He's out for revenge. I'm certain that he's the one responsible for the other fires, too. He won't stop, not until he's dead. For that reason, I can't just stand by and do nothing. He has to be stopped.”

Olivia's mind reeled. “But if you tell my father the truth, you'll be taken away.”

“If that's the price I have to pay, then so be it. This is about more than me now. Someone could have died here tonight. If I do nothing, if I stand by and someone is hurt, I won't be able to live with myself.”

“And I can't live without you.”

Peter stared hard at her; what she'd said had touched him. Olivia knew that her words weren't just talk; they were the truth. Peter might be an escaped German prisoner of war, but he wasn't her enemy. She'd been wrong to assume that all Germans were the same as Hitler, that every soldier was like the ones she'd seen in the newsreels. Peter had risked his life to save her father and sister; if it wasn't for him, odds were high that both of them would now be dead.

“I love you, Olivia,” he finally said, “but I can't stay silent. I have to tell your father who I really am.”

“I don't want to lose you…”

“You won't. Not forever.” Peter took her hands in his, quieting their trembling. “No matter what happens, I will find a way back to you. Nothing will stand in my way.”

“You…you promise…?”

Peter gave her a thin smile. “Trust me.”

Olivia knew she didn't have a choice. Though it was hard, in the end she agreed. But she wouldn't let him go alone.

They would tell her father together.

“Is this your idea of a joke?”

John sat wearily on a chair in front of his workbench in the garage. Fortunately, the fire hadn't spread to the detached building; it was now the only thing the Marsten family had left that hadn't been destroyed. Outside the closed double doors, the fire still smoldered.

Olivia's father stared at Peter, while she and Billy stood off to the side, watching; her mother had taken Grace next door to Ruth Pollack's home to try to get some rest. It was an uncomfortable gathering; Olivia had hoped that Billy wouldn't try to tag along, but he had insisted. In the end, she'd relented; soon enough, her former fiancé, as well as everyone else in town, would likely know everything Peter intended to reveal.

And that was just what he'd done.

Peter shook his head. “I know this isn't easy to hear,” he said. “That it sounds unbelievable, but I assure you it's the truth.”

“But…but if you're German…how do you speak English…?”

“My father was born and raised in Pennsylvania, just like I told you. He went to fight in France, but unlike you, decided to stay behind. He moved to Germany and soon met my mother. He was the one who taught me.”

John turned to look at his daughter. “Did you know?”

“Not until tonight,” she admitted.

“I knew it!” Billy suddenly exclaimed, his voice full of anger and disgust. Until that moment, he had been stone silent. Now his face was creased by an angry snarl. “I knew something wasn't right with him, but I never would have guessed that he was a Nazi!”

“No, he isn't!” Olivia shouted.

“He's a German soldier. He's the enemy!”

“Peter just saved my father and my sister's lives! If he was the villain you claim him to be, why would he bother?”

While Olivia and Billy bickered, neither Peter nor John said a word. The sheriff watched the former prisoner intently. In the short time that they had known each other, a bond had formed between the two men. Olivia's father had always considered himself to be a strong judge of character. Because he'd believed Peter to be a good man, he had gone out of his way to help him, especially with the apartment. He struggled to think that it had been based on a lie.

“This is why you said what you did about the war, isn't it?” John asked. “You weren't in a rush to fight because you already knew what it meant.”

“Yes, sir.”

John frowned as he rubbed his temples. “If this isn't the damndest problem I've ever faced, I sure as hell don't know what is.”

“It was never my intention to hide this from you. When I first came to town, I was on my way to see you, to admit to who I was and what I had done, to surrender,” Peter explained. “But then I met Olivia…”

“And Sylvester Eddings hit you with his truck,” the sheriff finished.

Peter nodded.

“That still doesn't explain why he didn't fess up when he came to,” Billy interjected. “What's your excuse for that?”

“He fell in love with me.”

Everyone turned to look at Olivia. She had spoken without thinking; maybe she should have been embarrassed to say the truth so bluntly, but she wasn't. Listening to Billy digging at Peter, clinging to the notion that he was their enemy, infuriated her. The result was that she'd hurt him yet again; Billy held her eyes for only an instant before quickly looking away.

“Is that what happened?” John asked.

“It is,” Peter answered. “My feelings for Olivia made me behave selfishly. I started to wonder if I couldn't just go on living the lie I'd created. I considered being Peter Baird for the rest of my life.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “But now, after all of you nearly dying, I realize that I no longer have a choice. I have to face up to who I am.”

“Why? What do the fires have to do with it?”

Peter glanced at Olivia; she took a deep breath. “They were set on purpose,” he replied. “And I know who did it.”

In detail, Peter explained exactly the sort of man Otto Speer was. He recounted his excesses on the battlefield. He told of how he'd taken pleasure in antagonizing their guards. He spoke of the vengeance the Nazi swore to inflict upon Americans. He even admitted that he'd thought his fellow escapee had moved on until he'd made the grim discovery of his broken cuffs up at the cabin.