Page 227 of Valor

When he spotted the familiar hills on the horizon, the joy he had imagined for so many months never materialized. Fred had no idea what he would find at the bank of their river. And if anyone had survived, he would have to break their hearts all over again, delivering the message of Honza’s death.

The murder of crows circling in the sky awoke the familiar sense of foreboding. He had grown callous to seeing unburied bodies, but the sight of the birds above the roof of the mill twisted his gut. They were feasting on someone’s corpse.

Fred sped up, propelled by his dark thoughts. The smell of charred wood drowned out the scent of pine. The rushing river competed with the caws of the hungry birds. And when the burnt roof of the mill came into sight, Fred knew what he would find.

But before his eyes found what he was afraid to see, he stumbled upon four headstones. Fred’s throat almost closed as he read Mother’s name on one of them. The other three were smooth blocks of granite, the last one only half-size of the other two. No one bothered to pay the stone mason to carve out the names of the Weiss family on them. Fred sunk into the wet grass. So much death. A lonely crow perched on one of the stones and cawed. He picked a rock and chucked it at the bird. It flew away. The slight relief he felt was only because he had not found Marta’s grave among the others. She must have survived. He thanked God for that, although he understood he would never see his sister again. Married to a German, she would be deported like everyone else. But she was alive, or so he hoped.

Fred pushed himself up and walked to the barn. He picked up his old shovel and strode toward the forest. He would not bury the guilty next to the innocent.

That evening, Fred slept in the barn. The horses were gone and so was all the hay. He would go inside his burnt home tomorrow and see if there was anything left to salvage.

The years in the mountains taught him to survive with almost nothing, and Fred had no trouble falling asleep in the hayloft of the empty barn. The journey exhausted him, and his nineteen-year-old body needed the rest.

When birdsong woke him, he washed at the old pump, then climbed over the charred beams of the collapsed roof of the mill. There was nothing left of his former life.

Fred walked to town that day, hoping to find Mark, his cousin. But no one had heard of him for over three years.

The buildings looked the same, but as Fred marched through the familiar streets, he realized that most of the homes were empty. The deportation of Germans was complete; their homes were left vacant. An idea sparked in his tired mind. If Hedvika and Jakob survived, wouldn’t they return to their parents’ home? He sped up, but as soon as he reached Dr. Weiss’s dental office, he tensed up. The star was still painted on the front window. Fred gripped the handle, and when it clicked, he pushed the door open.

“Hedvika?” he called into the building, only to have his voice echo back. There was no one there.

He let himself in and looked around. Dark rectangles stared at him from where paintings once hung. Most of the furniture was gone. Fred walked into the kitchen. Broken glass crunched under his feet. A broom leaned against the wall. Fred picked it up and started to sweep. And at that moment, he knew what he was to do with the rest of his life. He would clean this place and set things right. And when Hedvika returned, he would tell her about those freezing winter nights and the reason he fought to survive.

By the time the government announced that those in need of housing could take possession of the vacant properties, he had lived in the dentist’s house for several weeks. Now, his name was written on the deed, and he was glad. No one could force him to leave Hedvika’s home now. He would take care of it and pray every day that she would find her way home.

As months went by, Fred’s hope started to dim. But when the loud bangs echoed through the house one rainy evening, his heart almost exploded in his chest.

He ran downstairs and yanked it open. It was Jakob. Soaked. Thin. Exhausted. His hollow eyes grew wide, and he lunged at Fred. But no words came out of his mouth. The thirteen-year-old boy collapsed in Fred’s arms.

Fred nursed him day and night, hoping that as soon as the boy regained some strength, he would tell him about his sister. But the only thing Jakob kept talking about was his father’s bag. Fred had no idea what happened to it. Days passed before Jakob spoke about Hedvika. When he finally did, Fred wished he had never asked.

Hedvika was married. Jakob told him of Ruben with a glint in his eyes. The Polish math teacher from Warsaw escaped from the ghetto before the Nazis starved most of the Jews and deported the rest. Ruben was a Zionist and often talked about the new state of Israel, and when he convinced Hedvika to move to Palestine, Jakob ran.

That night, Fred wept for the first time since the day he returned to the ruins of his home. But the following morning, he promised himself that he would honor Mother and Honza by living a productive life. He knew that Mother would want him to marry and raise a family. If Fred could find a woman who would love the broken man he had become, he would do just that. But his heart, which he had given to another, would never be hers.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

Northern Moravia, 2025

When she gotto the logging road, Meghan slowed down.

“Left or right?” She shouted over the engine.

“Right,” Oliver said into her ear.

She turned the ATV in the direction he indicated and roared toward the mill. When they neared the clearing, she sped up, eager to get this entire thing over and done with. But when Meghan cut the engine by the old barn, there was no backup in sight.

Had she been wrong to trust Oliver?

He was already off the ATV, his phone pressed to the ear.

“Okay,” he said curtly, then pocketed the device. “We need to take cover. Fallen trees blocked the road. The team is about five minutes?—”

Meghan screamed.

A gruff hand grabbed her from the back, a leather glove pressed against her mouth. She tried to wriggle out of the attacker’s grip.

Oliver whipped around. “Robert! Let her go!” He rushed toward her.

---