Another Place in Time: A Collection of Historical Short Stories by Tamara Allen & Joanna Chambers & KJ Charles & Kaje Harper & Jordan L. Hawk & Aleksandr Voinov

Author:Tamara Allen & Joanna Chambers & KJ Charles & Kaje Harper & Jordan L. Hawk & Aleksandr Voinov [Allen, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780993859823
Published: 2014-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

He was woken by the steady thud of a hammer. The angle of the sun said it was mid-morning, so he had no real cause for complaint. When he stretched, stood, and went to his window to pull back the curtain, he found even less cause. His mother’s neighbor stood in his own back yard, sleeves rolled up, cutting and nailing some boards together. After a moment’s stunned admiration for the lean muscles showing through the sweat-damp shirt, Warren realized the man was probably making a panel to cover the broken window. Which was really a job better done by two people . . .

He dressed fast, choosing rougher clothes for working in. As he hurried downstairs, he saw no sign of his mother. It was Sunday, and she’d be at church, he realized. He was stunned that she hadn’t woken him for it.

In the entry, he quickly laced his shoes: the normal one, and the other with its thickened sole. He had a moment’s qualm, as always when meeting someone new. He hated the look of pity that always met his limping steps. But there was no way around that, except past it. He straightened his shoulders and let himself out the front door.

Next door, the swastika had been cleaned off imperfectly, a hint of pink still visible. The window glass still gaped. As Warren rounded the hedge and made his way down the side of Koehler’s house, the sounds of hammering from the back ceased. He reached the corner and almost bumped into Koehler, who was coming the other way carrying the large, cobbled-together sheet of wood. Koehler startled and staggered. Warren quickly grabbed a corner of the board to steady it. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Koehler lowered the board, looking at him coolly, all surprise schooled out of his expression. “That’s quite all right, Mr. . . .?”

“Burch. Warren Burch. That’s my mother’s house next door.”

“Ah.” Koehler’s eyes warmed slightly. “Of course. You must be Charlie’s brother, then.” He froze at his own words and added carefully. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Warren hesitated, unsure whether to offer to shake hands. The slab of wood between them was a clumsy obstacle. Instead he reached a hand to the nearest corner. “Can I help you with this?”

“I can manage.”

“It’d go easier with two, though.” He gave his best smile.

Koehler didn’t return it, but he did say, “That is true. Thank you.”

Warren bent and lifted his end, wishing silently that he’d thought of gloves for handling the rough boards. As he backed up, carefully guiding his end, he said, “I saw the broken window last night.”

“Ah. Yes.” Koehler’s voice was crisp and clear, but there was an undeniable accent, the Swiss indistinguishable to Warren’s ears from German. He could see why there might be trouble, however wrong-headed it was.

“They’re idiots. Troublemakers,” he said.

“They are afraid, and angry.”

“That’s a generous way to put it.”

“It is only truth.” They reached the front and together lowered the board to the grass in front of the window.

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