For the love of my enemy, p.22
For the Love of My Enemy, page 22
Why, indeed. How could she be so all-consumed with herself? Always, it had been her past, her mother’s death, her father and what he did or didn’t do. Why did Jeanie go away, yet she stayed behind? Why was she the one who stayed to care for her father and take care of his patients, his clinic? Childish, that’s what she was. Here Daniel knelt, in the waves and wet sand, in anguish over the memory of his brother. Max, shot to death in cold blood right before his eyes, while he could do nothing to save him. All the while, back here, in the comfort and safety of her small town, she was behaving like a selfish child.
And then, Daniel came. Her German prisoner. She’d done more, given more, and taken more risks for Daniel Christensen than for anyone else in her life, even her own father. It was Daniel. He was the answer to why.
She turned to him, cupping his face with both her hands. “Look at me, Daniel,” she said, her eyes deepening with the ache of love in her heart. “I know you regret not being able to save them. How could you? Those beasts had their guns pointed at you. Had you moved you would have been shot. Don’t you understand, Daniel? You couldn’t save them. But you came here…and you saved me.”
He shook his head. “Saved you? I don’t understand.”
She smiled, hesitantly. “I know it sounds silly, maybe even a little selfish. But just think about it with me. What are the chances? You were brutally forced to leave your home, forced to fight in a war at the demand of an evil dictator. You were then captured, a prisoner of the United States military, transported across the globe to not just any camp in the US but here, to my small, insignificant town in Northern California.” She looked out over the water and the misty clouds above it, searching for the words to help him understand. “The day you first saw me, at the back fence.” She paused.
He turned toward her, pulling her to him. “Tell me, Leibe. Tell me about that day.”
Swallowing hard, she looked in his eyes. “I was dying inside, Daniel. Every day seemed like a never-ending uphill climb. Ever since my mother’s death I’ve worked for my father’s approval, for his affection. But at the end of the day, I always seemed to come up short. So, when Jeanie begged me to join the WACs and serve in this stupid war, I thought, why not? I wouldn’t even tell my father. I’d just go away.” Again, she stopped to take in his face, his eyes, his mouth that tugged a bit to the left when he talked. Everything about him gave her courage and hope. “But then, you walked up to the fence line. You were smiling at me.” She looked down at the water and the sand.
He tipped her chin up, searching her eyes. “And?”
“My heart started beating,” she whispered, moving closer to him. “Maybe for the very first time.”
The sea rushed in around them in waves of foamy gray and blue. Daniel pulled Adina into his arms, pressing his lips to hers. She gave herself completely to the force and honesty of his kiss, holding on to him with every ounce of her strength, feeling as though she couldn’t get close enough. Daniel had awakened a desire within her she never knew existed. With every caress of his hand to her back, every rake of his fingers through her hair, the hunger inside her grew. She pressed her body to him, returning his kisses, willing him to know she belonged to him.
__________________________
Prisoner Missing
Back at Camp Windsor, dinner was in full swing. Once again, the mess tent teemed with tired, hungry men, eagerly anticipating a delicious meal. The lineup at the food service tables was a boisterous clamor of men discussing their work day and bantering over encounters they had in town. Everything seemed to be in order, nothing amiss, except for the fact that one prisoner was not to be seen.
Heimee scanned the tables for an open seat. He carried two plates of food, one in each hand. The larger of the two was piled high with meatloaf and mashed potatoes, gravy dribbling off the side of the plate and onto his grubby fingers. The other plate had two slices of buttered white bread and a generous portion of Brown Betty for dessert. Freddie followed close behind. The two found seats at the far left of the tent alongside a small, chatty group of men.
“What’s new, Damen?” Heimee plopped down in a chair, bumping into the table and sloshing gravy off his plate. It puddled onto the table. Heimee was well liked around camp, and the men laughed, finding amusement in his clumsy arrival.
Klaus Schneider, who happened to be sitting at the opposite end of the table, was not the least bit impressed. He glared over the top of his coffee cup at both Heimee and Freddie.
The prisoner sitting next to Heimee gave him a hard punch in his upper arm. “Who are you calling Damen?” he said.
“That would be you, Freund,” Heimee replied with a wink. Laughing, he shoved a healthy scoop of potatoes and gravy into his mouth. He then caught sight of Schneider, which made him choke. Potatoes and gravy sputtered out of his mouth and onto his shirt, as well as onto the man sitting next to him.
“Dummkopf, Schmelz-Heimer! Watch yourself.” The young man abruptly stood, brushing flecks of potato from his pants.
“Sorry, Freund,” Heimee said, shooting a side-eye glance at Schneider. He then looked nervously at Freddie. “Schneider,” he whispered, pointing his eyes toward the end of the table.
Freddie nodded.
Heimee remained calm and resumed his meal, taking care not to overstuff his mouth again. He made light conversation with the men, telling crude jokes between bites and stealing an occasional glance at Schneider.
Coolheaded, Schneider sat casually taking bites of food, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and sipping his coffee. He said an occasional word or two to the man sitting next to him, but other than that, his manner gave Heimee no need for concern. Over the remainder of his meal, Heimee seemed to forget that Schneider was ever sitting at the end of the same table as him.
As the evening meal wound down and cleanup began, Heimee scraped the last smear of Brown Betty from his plate. “Mmm, das war lecker,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Shoving his chair back, he stood. “Let’s go, Freddie.” He turned to the shock of seeing Klaus Schneider standing behind him.
“Hallo, Schmeltz-Heimer. A moment of your time, if you will?” His lip curled to one side.
Though surprised, Heimee managed to suppress his nerves. “Why of course, Herr Schneider.” He smiled and rubbed his fingers over the sticky hairs of his mustache. “What can I do for you?”
Petrified, Freddie stood statuesque, eyes wide and darting between the two men.
Schneider stepped face to face with Heimee, chin high and nose to the air. Looking down at the stout, pudgy man, he stalled his question, a common technique he used to assert his assumed power.
“I am wondering,” he finally began, “do you know what has happened to Soldat Christensen?”
Heimee, allowing the question to mellow, retrieved his half-smoked cigar from his pocket, sniffed it, then inserted it between his brown teeth. “And what makes you think I would know where Soldat Christensen would be?” he responded, fumbling through his pockets for a match.
Schneider tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. Answering a direct question with a question was not an acceptable response from a Soldat to his Oberscharführer. Schneider would not take it lightly. Still, he smirked as he examined the underside of his fingernails on his left hand. “We did not see him at the midday meal. And here again, he is not at the evening meal. You must think that is very odd, ja? After all, you are a friend of his. You bunk in the same tent, this is true?” Schneider’s Aryan physique towered inches above Heimee, making his downward stare effective, yet the view up into his nostrils quite distasteful.
“There are many men at this camp, Herr Schneider,” Heimee responded. “It is easy to become lost in a crowd, ja?” Wanting the questioning to end, he did his best to skirt past the man, though with little success.
“I see, so you are saying he is lost? That would be tragic indeed.” Schneider turned to Freddie. “Wouldn’t you agree, Soldat Becker?”
Freddie froze. “Well, um, I…yes, that would be. I mean, if he were lost it would—”
“Come to think of it,” Heimee interjected, “Soldat Christensen did not look well earlier today.” He nervously tumbled the unlit cigar over his teeth and tongue. “He’s probably been sleeping in the tent this whole time.” He grinned at Schneider, patting him on the arm. “I’ll go there now and check on him. Maybe I should bring him a nice cup of tea, ja?”
Schneider looked down at his arm with disdain, brushing it off with his hand. “You do that,” he said. “And when you find him, you will report his condition directly to me. Is that quite understood? After all, if Christensen is not well, as you say, he may need immediate medical attention.”
Relief swept over Heimee’s face. “Ja, ja, Herr Schneider,” he said with a half salute. He then motioned to Freddie. “Come, Freddie. Let’s go.”
“Not so fast. Soldat Becker will remain here with me,” Schneider said with a look of satisfaction.
Freddie looked at Heimee, eyes wide.
“Very well. I will go now,” Heimee conceded, walking around Schneider and toward the tent exit.
“Soldat Schmeltz-Heimer,” Schnieder called out.
Heimee stopped. “Ja, Herr Schneider?”
Schneider’s eyes pierced across the room. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
29
Plans for the Future
Adina and Daniel sat snuggled together against a large drift log. He wrapped her in his warm wool coat, pulling her close to his chest. She listened quietly to his heart as the waves of the ocean ebbed and flowed out of sync with the beat.
Daniel gazed in wonder at the two monolith rock outcroppings protruding from the ocean. The closer of the two, a giant, gray, craggy box, was accessible from the beach by way of a rock jetty, leading all the way to the formation's base. He watched as an old man wearing knee-high, black rubber boots and a white bucket hat skillfully traversed the rocks. Occasionally, he would reach down to retrieve a shell or sea creature, carefully examining it to determine its value. If he deemed worth keeping, he placed his find in a netted sack hanging from his waist. All else was thrown back into the sea.
Yet it was the more distant of the two formations, the one to the left, that truly intrigued Daniel. It consisted of two mesa-like structures jutting out of the water, each connected by a rock bridge. Beneath the bridge was a circular opening, a sort of window to the vast sea beyond. Wave upon wave forced under the bridge and through the opening, catching the light of the setting sun, like pink and gold diamonds scattering onto the craggy rock.
“I don’t see a goat,” Daniel said, breaking the silence.
Adina giggled. “What is this you’re talking about? A goat?” She looked out at the two rocks.
“You called it Goat Rock. Is that correct?” He pulled his coat tighter, holding her firmly against himself. “Neither of the rocks looks like a goat.”
She gently touched the stubble on his chin. “Oh, that,” she said. “I think the name has something to do with where the goats would feed on the grassy cliffs behind us, not the rocks in the water.”
He looked down at her, a smile curving his lips. “Well now, that’s very deceptive,” he said and gently kissed her temple, then her lips.
She had never been kissed by a man the way that Daniel kissed her. It was as though his lips caressed every part of her being, tender, his breath warm and inviting. She loved the scent and the taste of him. When she kept her eyes closed, she became immersed in the magnificent sound of the pounding ocean waves and the intense longing to take him in deeper. And when she cracked open her eyes, she marveled at the length of his lashes and the shape of his freckle-pecked nose, and she would ache with love for him. She never wanted it to end.
Daniel’s kisses stopped as he looked out at the ocean. The sun was close to the horizon, turning the entire lower skyline a deep orange with pink, sapphire-lined clouds above. “I wish I had my journal,” he said. “I would sketch this memory. I would capture everything about it, especially the color. But I have no colored pencils or paint.” He helped her to sit up next to him. “We should be getting back, Adina. It will be dark soon.”
“Wait,” she protested. “I have something I need to tell you. I’ve put it off long enough.” She looked into his eyes, positive he could see her secrets. A wave of fear washed through her, stopping at her heart, intensifying its beat. Was she already doubting? Did she stop believing he loved her? Would he look at her the same way, desire her with the same passion if he knew the truth?
“What is it?” he said, his brows furrowing. He cupped her cheek. “There is nothing you cannot tell me.”
She took hold of his hand and drew in a deep breath of crisp sea air. “My family has lived a lie. Ever since my father and mother fled Lithuania, we’ve carried this lie with us.” She watched his face, his eyes, for signs of worry or shock. She saw none, only the same love that had been there all along. “Before my father left Lithuania, he was a Jew.”
“Ah, Juden,” he responded, patiently waiting for her to continue.
“Yes, you see, he denied it and changed our family name. My mother’s family rejected her for this. I have often wondered if I still have family in Lithuania. We’ve never had contact.”
“And your father, he made you lie about this as well?” Daniel asked.
“No, I had no idea. My childhood was wonderful. We lived like everyone else, even celebrated Christmas for gosh sake. Nobody ever questioned us. There was never a reason to give any answers, until—”
“Until what, Liebe?”
“The day my mother died, on my twelfth birthday. I walked into my father’s study when the door was closed—something I was told never to do. I saw him. He was praying in Hebrew. He spoke the prayers with such love and devotion.” Tears filled her eyes. “I had never seen my papa do anything like this before.”
“And what did your papa do? He must have seen you standing there, ja?”
The tears streamed down her cheeks. “He was so angry. He screamed for me to get out. I can still see the look on his face. I ran out as fast as I could and straight to my mama.” She paused as the pain and sadness of that day flooded back in.
“And did she confirm what you saw?” he asked, waiting for her response.
Adina couldn’t answer. She shut her eyes tight, the grief of the memory overwhelming her.
With one swift motion, Daniel took her into his arms and held her tight. “Oh, Liebe, meine Liebe. I’m so sorry.”
Adina wept, holding him tightly. She wept out her fear and her doubt. She wept away the years of trying to achieve and attain acceptance. She cried until the tears were spent and all she could do was look in his eyes.
He swept the hair from her forehead and tears from her eyes.
“Daniel…I’m a Jew,” she said.
“Ja, Liebe, you are,” he said, not a trace of shock in his expression. Only the same spark in his eyes and soft smile on his lips.
“Maybe I’m not being clear in what I’m saying,” she persisted. “My father denied his Jewish heritage. I didn’t know this. How could I now deny something I knew nothing about? It was his decision, not mine. Ever since that day, I’ve wanted to learn more about who I am. I just haven’t known how to go about it, especially without my father finding out.”
“I do understand, Adina,” he said. “Of course you would want to know and pursue the truth. This is who you are. I love you for this.” He caressed her cheek.
Her eyebrows knit as she fought back the doubt. “But if we stay together? You are a German. I’m a Jew. How would that work? You would want a family, wouldn’t you? Children?”
“Lots of them,” he said. “With you.” He kissed her lips with such sweet tenderness. “My sweet Adina,” he whispered.
The sun was sinking beneath the blue horizon of the Pacific Ocean, leaving the sky glowing a deep purple.
“Come now,” Daniel said. “We will have plenty of time to make plans.” He helped her to her feet as she brushed away the caked sand from her still-wet slacks, her shoes, a swampy mess. He held tightly to her hand, and she watched his face as they walked.
“Daniel,” she said.
“Shhh. All will be well, Liebe. The war is ending. We’ll be together.” He smiled, walking her briskly up the hill.
__________________________
Schneider’s Discovery
Klaus Schneider had no intention of waiting for Heimee to report back to him on Daniel’s whereabouts. He was a man who prided himself on his sly techniques on the battlefield. His tactics fiercely motivated his subordinates to march for days without rest, then fight on the front lines, though weakened and ill equipped. For him, his capture and subsequent transfer to Camp Windsor was nothing more than an inconvenience to be patiently endured while waiting to return to his homeland. He would be certain his men were obediently ready to follow him when that time came.
With the evening meal finished, the men gathered in the recreation tent for cards and dominos, while others bantered and smoked outside.
Schneider strutted with determination with Freddie following sheepishly behind, struggling to keep up. He ripped back the flap of Daniel’s tent and walked inside. The air was rife with the scent of damp canvas and sweat, and the lack of light made it difficult to see. He stomped to the back of the tent, stopping at Daniel’s cot.
“Ah,” he said, triumphant. “There is no sick prisoner to be found, ja, Soldat Becker?”
“Herr Schneider,” Frederick pleaded, “is this necessary? It isn’t right.”
Schneider’s icy eyes narrowed. His arms stiffened at his sides and zeroed in on Freddie.
“Not right, Soldat?” he said, his face just inches away. Even in the dimness, Schneider’s face flashed angry and red. “A prisoner has gone missing, Soldat Becker.” He reigned in his temper, attempting to appear calm and in control. “I believe you know something about this, ja? And if you are not willing to cooperate and tell me what you know, then I will be forced to find the answer on my own.”
