When We Meet Again by Dean Hughes

Author:Dean Hughes [Hughes, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9781590385883
Google: qy3CAAAACAAJ
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2006-06-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Peter Stoltz was placing chunks of seed potato in the ground—working his way along a little furrow that he had dug, always being careful that the potato eye was facing up. He had never gardened before and didn’t know much about it, but he was learning. Frau Schaller taught him what she knew, and much he figured out for himself. He didn’t dare to say much to neighbors. If he talked to them, it might be hard to keep his deception alive, that he was a refugee from Poland.

Peter had never known such a spring. The willow trees along the stream at the back of Frau Schaller’s property had blossomed, brilliant in yellow-green. He wasn’t sure he had ever noticed that before, or all the birds. He didn’t like some things—the mud, the lack of confidence in his own knowledge—but the world itself pleased him more than ever before. He would notice the warmth of the afternoon sun on his back and accept that little pleasure as though it were a new discovery. He had died during the winter, and now he was alive, feeling stronger and healthier all the time. It was all a gift, and he had not owned it long enough to be ungrateful. In the night he would awaken from horrifying, wild dreams, all chaos and noise, and he would breathe frantically for a time, just trying to convince himself that he wasn’t in a foxhole but in a bed. And then for a time he would look about—on some nights watch the flow of angling moonlight through the dormer window in the attic—and remind himself that he was safe and well. He would nestle under those warm blankets and tell himself that he had escaped hell, that he would never be ungrateful for that. And he would pray.

Prayer had come as a wonderful discovery. He had prayed as a boy, and then for so long, during his time in the German army, he had lived with hopelessness. When he had finally prayed again, it had been nothing but pleading and desperation, but now it was a chance to feel a closeness to a presence he had once given up on. What he felt was that he was loved, even though, for a time, he had come to believe that could never happen again.

Peter also knew that he was loved in this house. Frau Schaller wasn’t really old enough to be his mother, but she treated him as though she were. And Katrina, who was fifteen, had fallen in love with him. He knew that and thought it was a little funny. She was such a skinny, awkward kid, and her attachment to him was so obvious it embarrassed both of them. But she was funny, and always happy—and great entertainment. She had not seen war in the way that he had, but she had suffered plenty. Frau Schaller had lost her husband, Katrina her father—which was sacrifice enough—but the Schallers had also struggled to scrounge enough food to stay alive.

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