dropping to a hushed whisper. “My father fought in the Great War, and he has no warmth toward Germans. And my sister, well, she lost her fiancé, Jimmy, last year, on a battlefield in France.”
A knot formed in Peter’s stomach. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“As am I. He was a nice boy, and Louise loved him. But now, well—” Margaret paused. “Now she holds all Germans responsible.”
Peter nodded. On some level, he understood this and grieved for Louise. “She hates us.” He had seen Louise a handful of times and had already guessed she was Margaret’s sister. They had the same brown waves, the same tall, slender frames. But where Margaret’s green eyes twinkled and her full mouth always seemed a moment away from curving into a smile, Louise’s eyes were cold and empty, and her mouth was set in a thin, hard line. On the days when the prisoners worked near the edge of their farm, Louise often came to the front porch with a shotgun and just stood there, staring. It made Peter uneasy.
“Yes,” Margaret said simply. “But one day she will understand that Jimmy died in a war, and that the strings were being pulled by people in power. It was not you who shot him, nor any of the men here. And if Jimmy hadn’t been shot, he would have shot others. There is death in war. It’s part of the bargain.”
Peter thought of Otto and how losing his friend was a bargain he never intended, a bargain he’d regret forever. “War is a terrible thing,” he said softly. “It turns us all into something lesser, no matter which side we’re on.” He paused and added, “Even those who aren’t on the battlefield are hardened by it, aren’t they? Look at the way the town views us, just for being German.”
Although the people of Belle Creek were warming slightly to the prisoners—who were, for the most part, polite and hardworking—Peter knew it was easier to see them as a hated class of people rather than as individuals who were just as trapped by circumstance as they were.
“It’s a small town, and in small towns, one often finds small minds,” Margaret said softly.
Peter smiled. “The same is true of large cities. Small minds aren’t dictated by geography.”
“I suppose not.” She paused. “I’ve never been to a city, Peter. Will you take me to one someday?”
He stared at her. “I would love to take you anywhere, even to a restaurant for a simple meal. But it is impossible now.”
She reached out to touch his arm, and he felt a surge of warmth through his whole body. “It won’t always be this way.”
“You are so hopeful, Margaret,” Peter said. “It is one of the things I love about you.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said, and he could feel his cheeks burning. But he wouldn’t take it back, because it was the truth. He loved so many things about this girl from the other side of the world. He held his breath while he awaited her reply.
She, too, turned pink. “There are many things, Peter, that make you different from anyone I’ve ever known.” She hesitated. “I feel more for you now than I ever have for anyone before. How is that possible? We hardly know each other, and yet, I feel like you’re already a permanent piece of my soul.”
“Sometimes, things are simply meant to be,” Peter replied. He longed to kiss her, but the guards were too close, and he could be shot for such an offense. It was almost worth the risk, but instead, he held her gaze for a long while and imagined a life with her, a future with her. As she stared back, he wondered if she was picturing the same beautiful vision.
Some days, they talked of history and world affairs. Other days, Peter would make her laugh with a joke he’d rehearsed the night before or charm her with a tidbit about his hometown. He loved it when she gazed off to the eastern horizon, as if she could see the Germany he was describing. He knew she understood why he loved his homeland despite what was happening there
A knot formed in Peter’s stomach. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“As am I. He was a nice boy, and Louise loved him. But now, well—” Margaret paused. “Now she holds all Germans responsible.”
Peter nodded. On some level, he understood this and grieved for Louise. “She hates us.” He had seen Louise a handful of times and had already guessed she was Margaret’s sister. They had the same brown waves, the same tall, slender frames. But where Margaret’s green eyes twinkled and her full mouth always seemed a moment away from curving into a smile, Louise’s eyes were cold and empty, and her mouth was set in a thin, hard line. On the days when the prisoners worked near the edge of their farm, Louise often came to the front porch with a shotgun and just stood there, staring. It made Peter uneasy.
“Yes,” Margaret said simply. “But one day she will understand that Jimmy died in a war, and that the strings were being pulled by people in power. It was not you who shot him, nor any of the men here. And if Jimmy hadn’t been shot, he would have shot others. There is death in war. It’s part of the bargain.”
Peter thought of Otto and how losing his friend was a bargain he never intended, a bargain he’d regret forever. “War is a terrible thing,” he said softly. “It turns us all into something lesser, no matter which side we’re on.” He paused and added, “Even those who aren’t on the battlefield are hardened by it, aren’t they? Look at the way the town views us, just for being German.”
Although the people of Belle Creek were warming slightly to the prisoners—who were, for the most part, polite and hardworking—Peter knew it was easier to see them as a hated class of people rather than as individuals who were just as trapped by circumstance as they were.
“It’s a small town, and in small towns, one often finds small minds,” Margaret said softly.
Peter smiled. “The same is true of large cities. Small minds aren’t dictated by geography.”
“I suppose not.” She paused. “I’ve never been to a city, Peter. Will you take me to one someday?”
He stared at her. “I would love to take you anywhere, even to a restaurant for a simple meal. But it is impossible now.”
She reached out to touch his arm, and he felt a surge of warmth through his whole body. “It won’t always be this way.”
“You are so hopeful, Margaret,” Peter said. “It is one of the things I love about you.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said, and he could feel his cheeks burning. But he wouldn’t take it back, because it was the truth. He loved so many things about this girl from the other side of the world. He held his breath while he awaited her reply.
She, too, turned pink. “There are many things, Peter, that make you different from anyone I’ve ever known.” She hesitated. “I feel more for you now than I ever have for anyone before. How is that possible? We hardly know each other, and yet, I feel like you’re already a permanent piece of my soul.”
“Sometimes, things are simply meant to be,” Peter replied. He longed to kiss her, but the guards were too close, and he could be shot for such an offense. It was almost worth the risk, but instead, he held her gaze for a long while and imagined a life with her, a future with her. As she stared back, he wondered if she was picturing the same beautiful vision.
Some days, they talked of history and world affairs. Other days, Peter would make her laugh with a joke he’d rehearsed the night before or charm her with a tidbit about his hometown. He loved it when she gazed off to the eastern horizon, as if she could see the Germany he was describing. He knew she understood why he loved his homeland despite what was happening there
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