Page 220 of Valor

“Judging by the small army out there, I think that it actually might. But if Grandpa had not found it, how would we? It had been lost for over eighty years, and maybe God meant for it to be hidden forever. “

God again?He had wondered about what she believed since the time she prayed over her desserts in the coffee shop but had not found an appropriate moment to ask about her faith. He looked around the cave. This wasn’t the place, he concluded and focused on her cute toes.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Northern Moravia, 1942

Fred was convincedthey would hit the trail before daybreak, but when the chirping of the birds woke him up, the sun was already high in the sky. How had he slept this long, and why had no one woken him? He looked around the hut. Mark and Honza were gone. Had they decided to leave him behind?

Panic rose in his chest. He scrambled to his feet and rushed out of the opening into the daylight. Only when the sun blinded him did he realize his error. The place could have been crawling with Germans, and he would have run straight into them. Relief swept over him when he noticed his brother sitting on a rock to his left. Mark was not in sight.

“Good afternoon,” Honza greeted him mockingly. “Hope you had a good sleep because we have a long hike ahead of us.”

“Where is Mark?”

Honza remained silent.

“Need to know?” Fred asked.

“Get your stuff. We got to get going.”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Check the hut. Mark left a sack for you.”

Fred obeyed his brother. He checked around the dark space and found a flour sack from Father’s mill. He eagerly opened it, hoping for something to eat. He thanked God for the chunk of Mother’s bread. But he also found a pair of knitted socks, a linen shirt, his old mitts, a hat that he had never seen before, and a small utility knife. Tears filled his eyes. Mother must have put this together for him, and Mark had to track back to the mill under the cover of the night to retrieve the sack. He looked at the items one more time as the realization sunk in. He would not be returning home anytime soon. Fred had no idea then that it would take not one but two brutal winters in the high mountains before he would see his family’s mill again.

He picked up the sheepskin coat Mark had left for him and swiped at his eyes. The young man cleared his throat and stepped through the opening into the sunlight. A brisk wind blew through his thin shirt. Fred shivered.

“You’ll get warm enough in no time,” his brother laughed. “We will cross the ridge today, and by tomorrow morning, we should be pastBeskydymountains.”

Fred’s eyes grew wide. Did Honza mean to walk all day and then all night? Fred had never been that far. Were they meeting some other people who were hiding in the same way as his brother and cousin? Fred shoved the sheepskin coat into the sack and hoisted the bundle over his shoulder. He needed to find out where Hedvika was but knew well if he asked his brother, he would get the same answer—need to know.

How could he explain that he had lost his heart to the girl, and it was vital for him to know she was safe?

“Try to keep up,” Honza chuckled and set the pace. Fred kept up with ease and wondered why they were not progressing faster, but by the time the evening sun kissed the horizon, he understood. Honza needed to ensure that Fred could make it to their destination. If he got exhausted or injured, it would become a life-threatening problem for them both. They climbed over rocks and followed a narrow trail leading east. The tops of the mountains were bare this far above the tree line. The brisk wind whipped at their faces. But when the clouds cleared, and the setting sun painted the sky in hues of red, the likes of which he had never seen before, the scenery took his breath away. God was here. From the vantage point of the high mountains, Fred could see no Nazis, no guns, no fear. At their second stop, he reached into his sack and pulled out the worn hat. These mountains knew nothing about summer. They continued into the night, the scenery lost in the darkness. As the ice-cold wind howled over the barren rock, the birds were silent. The only thing disrupting the calm was the sound of his brother’s shoes against the lichen-covered rocks. Full moon was illuminating the path ahead, and he wished Honza would stop and let him nap for an hour.

Fred no longer felt his feet. His sack grew so heavy that he contemplated leaving it behind. Honza marched on as if they were strolling in the park. How long had it been since he disappeared with his buddy? Fred wondered if he would see his brother’s friend Karel somewhere at the end of this arduous journey. Of course, he wouldn’t bother asking.Need to know.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Northern Moravia, 2025

“What happened to Hedvika?”Meghan’s question interrupted the silence. Oliver was definitely growing on her. She loved the way his hands tenderly continued to work on her feet, warming up her whole body. He had the touch. If only they had been sitting on a picnic blanket in a sunny meadow and not in a dark, damp cave.

“She joined the resistance and married a Polish Jew. After the formation of Israel, they moved to Jerusalem. Hedvika became a lawyer, and her husband was a prominent architect.”

“Did she ever come back to this region?”

“Once.” Oliver took out his phone. His screen lit up.

“When was that?” Her interest piqued. Perhaps there was a good ending to this terrible tale after all.

“She came to Jakob’s wedding.”

“Oh, so he survived too. That’s wonderful.”

“No one would call living in the mountains for three years wonderful,” Oliver’s tone carried a touch of hardness.

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