Chapter Sixteen #2
Sam licked his cracked lips, pulled his hat lower over his head and purposely crossed the path to the four-posted shelter.
A hasty glance around and he was soon pumping water into an empty barrel and dipping his bottles under its surface to fill them.
He put them in his rucksack and then drank hungrily from the barrel himself with his cupped hands.
As he drank he watched life in the village continue over the brim of his fingers.
A shallow stream provided a constant water supply for the village animals.
A gaggle of geese stood knee-deep in the water, drinking contently as a young boy, with a stick in his hand, watched over them.
Suddenly, the child hurried them out of the water and drove them forward, the geese honking like angry old men disgruntled with the world but not resisting.
A teacher guided her young charges across the low stone footbridge, offering caring words to encourage them to follow.
The scene reminded him of home, yet he could not ignore the foreign flavour which twisted the knife of homesickness just one more turn.
He heard a window open nearby. He stopped drinking and searched for it, his eyes eventually meeting those of a middle-aged woman.
She stood watching him, making it clear she knew he was a stranger in their village and possibly the only young man for miles.
It was time he left. He picked up his rucksack, bowed his head and walked quickly away, staring at the ground in case momentary eye contact with another would find him out and he would learn that these kindly villagers had hate in their hearts.
* * *
‘I have water and eggs.’ Sam rummaged in his rucksack as he entered the barn in his eagerness to show her.
‘We’ll have to eat them raw but dogs eat raw eggs if you let them so they can’t be too bad.
’ He opened his hand and rearranged the brown eggs in his palm ‘Although dogs eat lots of things so I’m not sure if that is a good recommendation.
’ He looked up, smiling. Klara was sitting quietly beside Elsa, with a resentful expression on her face.
Elsa had not moved. The shallow rise and fall of her breathing was barely visible.
He frowned and stepped forward on legs that felt unusually stiff.
‘Elsa?’
Her delicate fingers rested on her midriff and appeared almost translucent in the dim light. He dropped the bag, placed the eggs on the hay and crouched down to touch her cheek.
Klara suddenly stood up, ran over to him, and with eyes brimming with tears, pummelled him over and over on the shoulder with her fists.
He frowned and eased her away to arm’s length. ‘Klara! No!’ he said, not unkindly.
She pushed his arm away, launched herself at him again. He moved her more forcefully away by her shoulders and looked into her face. He saw clearly the abandonment and betrayal in her angry face and finally understood.
‘It’s all right, Klara. I’m back,’ he reassured her.
‘I just left to get some water.’ He lifted the water bottle.
Her face crumpled, her shoulders sagged and she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘It’s all right, my darling girl,’ he whispered into her young shoulder. ‘Everything is all right.’
He held her for some minutes, until he felt all remnants of despair drain out of her taut body.
She lay limply in his arms, soft and trusting in a way she had never been before.
This must be how a parent feels, he thought.
Elsa was very ill. Klara was his responsibility now.
He lifted his gaze over the child’s small dark head and saw Elsa’s eyes flutter open.
‘Elsa is awake,’ he said softly to Klara. ‘We must all eat and drink.’ On hearing Elsa’s name, Klara turned around and was reassured to see her looking at them. She silently slid from Sam’s lap.
‘I have brought you some more water,’ he said as he settled down beside Elsa.
He gave some to Klara and then tenderly offered Elsa a drink.
She drank a little but soon turned away.
A wave of nausea swept over him. ‘Elsa, you have to drink more and try to eat if you are going to get better.’ Supporting her by her shoulders, he lifted her again and attempted to brush a wet lock of hair away from her face.
It stubbornly clung to her skin. He was failing even at the simplest task.
‘Open your mouth.’ He heard his desperation in his voice and hoped she did not.
She murmured something. He bent to listen closer. ‘What did you say?’
She murmured again, but the syrup of words melded into one.
His heart began to race. ‘Drink, Elsa. Drink!’ He almost felt angry in his fear. How clammy her skin was. How cold. How sallow. ‘Elsa, wake up.’ Perhaps Klara had been right to be frightened that he had left them.
She opened her eyes and half smiled in reassurance. ‘I said I will drink later. I promise.’
He sat back, feeling foolish that he had panicked.
Hunger, neglect and weeks of travel could send rational thoughts in a twist. ‘I’m sorry.
’ He nodded forcefully. ‘Of course. You need to rest.’ He settled down beside her.
‘I’ll give you more later.’ He laid his hand on her back to reassure her he was near. ‘I’m here if you want me.’
She fell silent and for a moment he thought she had fallen asleep. He turned his head to look at her but her eyes were open.
‘Sam.’
‘Yes. What is it?’
‘Look after Klara for me.’
He half smiled. Of course he would look after her. ‘I’ll try my best,’ he teased, knowing he would give his life for her.
‘Don’t let them get her.’
‘The British won’t hurt her.’
‘You don’t understand.’
She was right, he didn’t.
‘Her real name is Miriam Sara Leske. She doesn’t know that name herself.’
He frowned. ‘Why call her something—’
‘She is a Jew.’
All the accusations and assumptions he’d made at the school came back to taunt him. He looked at the little girl grimacing as she ate a raw egg. ‘I didn’t realize.’
‘Remember her real name. Miriam Leske. Leske.’
Elsa’s need to tell him this had put fire in her veins. She appeared more determined, more alert than only a few moments ago. Yet . . . her lips were cracked and she looked so very ill.
‘Why are you telling me this, Elsa?’
‘Because I want you to find her family and tell them she is safe when the war is over.’
He looked at Klara. ‘She has you to do that.’
‘She won’t if I die.’
‘Don’t say such things.’
‘Sam, please promise me.’
Elsa looked exhausted and he wanted her to rest.
‘Please, Sam. I beg you.’
‘I promise.’
Elsa closed her eyes and sighed as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her soul.
His throat grew tight. She had taken the risk of hiding a Jewish child in plain sight, an act that was punishable by death or imprisonment.
He thought he knew her, but he did not until that moment.
However, if Klara had been her reason to fight the illness, she had now passed the responsibility to him and no longer had the same reason to fight it.
The realization he might lose her now terrified him.
He held her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘All those things I accused you of . . .’ He fell silent as her hand grew heavy and lifeless. She had slipped away from him and he feared she would slip so far out of reach he would never get her back.
He searched for a sign . . . and found it.
Her breathing was shallow but it was still there and feeding her with life.
He couldn’t lose her now, not like this.
It would be a pitiful end to a vivacious and courageous woman’s life.
She deserved a better death than in the middle of nowhere with no family to mourn her.
And what about Klara, who had come to trust them both?
* * *
The faded light was unsettling. Sam propped himself up on his elbows.
His mouth was dry as timber and both his mind and body felt sluggish as if he’d been dragged from a deep sleep.
His eyes widened. They had slept the day away!
While they had slept like babies, the daylight hours had passed like a speeding train.
He turned to Elsa and called her name. She did not stir, but Klara did.
They exchanged anxious glances. Any hopes they held that she would improve disappeared when they saw the colour of her cheeks.
‘Elsa! You have to drink. You aren’t well.’ He closed his eyes briefly, struggling with the desire to get her help yet knowing the act of mercy would expose him to his enemy. The struggle did not last long. He looked at Klara.
‘I have to take Elsa to a doctor. You stay here.’
Klara stared at him.
He frantically searched his mind for some German. ‘Elsa. Krank. Elsa ist krank. She needs a doctor. Medicine.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Medizin?’
‘Ja! Ja! Medizin! Ich—’ he mimed carrying something — ‘Elsa. I take Elsa. You stay here. Du bleibst . . . hier.’
‘Wirst du zurückkommen?’ She pointed to him and the space beside her.
He held her face in his hands. ‘Ja. I promise.’
He hugged Klara tight one last time and kissed her head. There were enough rations to last Klara for a few days. Hopefully Elsa would return when she was recovered, if he was captured. ‘Eat some more while I’m away.’ He placed some water and another egg in her lap and she nodded.
He turned to Elsa’s weakened body and lifted her up.
She needed medicine. She needed a doctor.
She needed someone better than him. He looked down at her in his arms. Her pale skin was almost translucent against his own.
How had he not done something before? He had let her down. If she were to die . . .