The Watcher by Joan Hiatt Harlow Page A

Strohkirch, who seemed to know everything about me. What had he said about my father? I closed my eyes and tried to recall his words . . . a kind, gentle man. He was not the man you think he was. That certainly turned out to be the truth!
    Herr Strohkirch had said he would be there when I was ready to listen. Well, I am ready, and the only place I knew to reach him is in the park. Therefore, I must go to the park today and hope that he or Barret will be there, I decided.
    After dressing I went to the kitchen where Frieda had made oatmeal. Watcher came out from his bed under the table to greet me, his tail wagging.
    â€œWe’re going for a walk,” I told him, “right after breakfast.” I filled his dish with a can of horse meat, which he gobbled up eagerly. Then he went to the door and looked back at me, as if to ask, Shall we go?
    I let him out into the fenced-in yard. Then I ate my breakfast while Frieda sat opposite me, sipping on coffee and reading the morning newspaper. She was shaking her head at the headlines. I had no idea what was going on with the war, but from Frieda’s expression, the news was not good. Of course, that would depend on whose side you were on. I wasn’t on any side. I was neutral, like Johanna.
    Frieda spoke to me in little German phrases, and I was able to answer her. I could tell she was proud that I had learned so many words, as well as the expressions she had taught me. Now I was finding that words came without my even trying. Still, I could not come up with the total language yet; it was hard to understand Frieda, or anyone, when they spoke German rapidly.
    After breakfast I called “Ich gehe!” to Frieda to let her know Watcher and I were taking a walk, and then we headed out to the park. I tucked the photograph of the man I believed to be my father deep into the pocket of mysweater. Would Barret and his grandfather be there?
    When I entered the park, I noticed how empty and still it was. The birds were silent. As Watcher and I walked through each vacant pathway, our footsteps clicked noisily on the pavement. There was no one there but us.
    If only I had made a definite arrangement to meet them! However, at the time, I couldn’t really be certain of what Herr Strohkirch was trying to tell me.
    Disappointed, I sat on the bench by the fountain, still hoping that Herr Strohkirch and Barret would show up. Since I had not slept the night before, the warm sun made me drowsy. Watcher had already stretched out, his head on his paws, his eyes closed.
    Then . . . there they were! Barret leaned on his grandfather’s arm as they walked slowly into the park. In his other hand, instead of holding Heidi’s leash, Barret carried a white cane.
    I jumped up as they came through the gate. “Thank goodness, you’re here. I have so much to tell you.”
    Barret did not have his dark glasses on, and I noticed how he looked toward my voice. His eyes were a deep blue. “Wendy?”
    â€œYes, it’s me, Wendy,” I said. “How did you know I’d be here?”
    â€œWe didn’t know, but we have walked here every day wondering if we would ever see you again,” Herr Strohkirch said as he led Barret to my bench. Barret felt for the seat with his hand, and then we sat together.
    â€œWhere’s Heidi?” I asked.
    Barret’s face saddened. “The SS took Heidi away from me and gave her to a soldier who lost his sight in combat. The SS officer who took Heidi said, ‘A brave soldier has given his sight for the Reich. The least you can do is give him your dog.’ He was right, of course.”
    â€œOh, Barret, I’m so sorry. What will you do?” I reached for his hand.
    â€œI don’t know. I feel useless without her. She was my best friend.”
    â€œWatcher and I are your friends,” I said, feeling his sadness. I snapped my fingers, and Watcher sat up and put his chin on Barret’s