The Peacemakers Trilogy by Anna Schmidt

Author:Anna Schmidt [Schmidt, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63409-404-7
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2015-02-14T23:00:00+00:00

The convent was a small cluster of badly rundown buildings, and it appeared to be deserted. The bell outside the rusted gate hung lopsided from its metal hook that was missing at least one screw. The cobblestone walkway that led up to the gate was missing several stones, making walking over it that much more difficult.

“I don’t like this,” Mikel muttered as he peered in at the gate. “It’s too quiet.”

“It’s a convent,” Anja reminded him.

“It was once a convent,” he corrected her. “Now it could be anything but. It could be headquarters for the Nazis. It could be abandoned. It could—”

Daniel launched into a fit of coughing—gagging and twisting in Mikel’s strong arms as he struggled to get his breath. Anja reached up and rang the bell, then tugged on Mikel’s sleeve, leading him under an archway so that they were out of sight. Daniel settled back into a semi-sleep against Mikel’s shoulder. They waited so long that Anja thought the place must indeed be deserted, but just as she was about to step out from their hiding place, she heard the rustle of fabric and knew that one of the nuns had come at last.

She clung to Mikel’s forearm as they waited. After a moment, they heard a key turn in the lock of the gate, and a female voice murmured in French, “It is safe, and you are welcome.”

Anja glanced at Mikel and saw that he was still suspicious, but when Daniel shifted and moaned, she stepped forward. “Merci,” she said as she opened the gate and waited for Mikel to carry Daniel inside. A tiny figure in black stepped forward, locked the gate, and motioned for them to follow her. She glided slowly down an arched corridor past several closed doors until she reached the last one. She knocked softly, and a voice from inside called, “Entrez.”

The room was small and sparsely furnished, exactly what Anja would have expected. A woman dressed in what Anja recognized as the garb of the convent’s mother superior came forward to greet them. “The boy is ill?” she asked.

Anja nodded. “I am his mother and a nurse, but we have been—”

“Sister Marie Francine will show you to your quarters. You are the father?” she asked Mikel.

“He is our friend. My husband is dead. We are not of your faith,” she added, uncertain of why she felt that necessary.

“We are all children of one God, my child.” She turned to Sister Marie and gave instructions for two rooms, dry clothing, a hot bath for the boy first and then Anja and Mikel, trays prepared and delivered, and whatever medication Anja felt necessary to order. Finally, she placed her hand on Anja’s shoulder. “We also run a small hospital ward for treating the wounded. We will see to your needs. You have only to ask.”

Sister Marie brought a wheelchair that had seen decades of use for Daniel, and Anja let the tears of sheer relief and exhaustion flow freely as they followed the nun to their rooms.

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