Wartime Brides Collection

Chapter Four

Chapter Four“I wish your father could see you. He would be so proud.” Noreen blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “You have grown to be men of great character. Strong and full of integrity. Your brides-to-be treat me with love and respect. You have chosen well.” She brushed a piece of lint from Manfred’s sleeve. “And you both look so handsome in your new gray suits.

Eighteen-year-old Manfred pulled her into an embrace. He tucked her head under his chin. “I miss him, too.”

Conrad frowned. “Sometimes I can’t remember what he looked like. Is that bad, Mutti?”

Noreen reached for her other son. “No, you were only seven when he died.”

“I don’t remember his face either, but I can still hear his voice. Deep and firm, at least until the end. He could barely speak at that point.” Manfred released Noreen and turned toward his brother. “You sound like him, Conrad.”

“And you both resemble him,” Noreen said. “Manfred, you have his nose and jet black hair. Conrad, you are tall like he was, with his broad shoulders.” A sheen of moisture obscured her view of her sons. “He may be gone, but he lives in our hearts, doesn’t he?”

Music from the church sanctuary seeped into the small room where the trio waited for the double wedding to begin. A knock on the door sounded before it opened. The boys’ best friend, Johann Biedermeyer, poked his head into the room. “It’s time to escort you down the aisle, Frau Hirsch.”

“I’ll be there straight away. First, I want to pray with my sons.”

“Ja, I’ll be right outside.”

The door closed with a quiet thump. Noreen linked her arms with the twins and bowed her head. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for today. Even though it is a bittersweet day because we wish Edmund was with us, we are joyful for this new chapter in the boys’ lives. Thank You for Rosa and Odelia who love my sons. Please bless their marriages. Draw them closer to You. We love You and praise You for all You do. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

“Amen.” Conrad and Manfred murmured in unison.

Noreen stood on her toes and kissed Manfred’s cheek, then Conrad’s. “I love you.” She walked to the door and slipped outside. Tucking her hand in the crook of Johann’s elbow, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready. Let’s get these boys of mine married. Then maybe we can find you a nice girl.”

As they walked through the hallway toward the narthex, Johann grinned, and his blue eyes shone. “Don’t tell anyone, Frau Hirsch, but I already found a fraulein.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Why the secret, Johann? You shouldn’t be ashamed of her.”

“That’s not it.” He reddened. “She is young. We must wait until her parents think she is old enough to be courted. Meanwhile, I do things for the family. Help out. And I get to see her. I am content with that.”

“Martina Schmidt? Is that your sweetheart?” Noreen chuckled and squeezed his arm. “Good for you. You have chosen well.”

Johann’s color deepened to the roots of his blond hair. “Shhh! You can’t tell anyone.”

Noreen made a zipping motion across her lips. “I won’t say a word. But I will pray for you both.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears. If he listens to anyone, it would be you, Frau Hirsch.”

“Shame on you, Johann. He listens to anyone who calls on his name.”

“He doesn’t seem to be listening to me.”

“Sometimes it is we who don’t listen. He might be saying to wait. Or no.” Noreen squinted over her glasses at the young man. “Look at me. I prayed that Edmund would get well, but God took him. It was a long time before I realized he healed my husband by taking him to heaven where he is no longer suffering.” She sniffled. “I miss him desperately, but I will see him again. And when I do, it will be for eternity. God doesn’t always give us the answer we expect.”

She patted his arm. “Enough lecturing. I am pleased you have a young lady. And I am very happy to be at my sons’ wedding. God is good!”

j

Berlin, Germany 1939

Noreen sat on the porch knitting with Rosa and Odelia. The orange fire from the setting sun glinted off the windowpanes. The autumn breeze lifted her hair, the graying strands tickling her face. She glanced at her daughters-in-law. “We’ll go out tomorrow to collect willow branches so I can teach you to make baskets. We’ve talked about the craft often during these three years you’ve been married to my boys, but it never seems to happen.”

Rosa stood and turned on the porch light. “It can’t be helped, Mutti Hirsch. There is always some chore to do. Even now, there are vegetables to be canned.”

Odelia wrinkled her nose. “I am thankful for the break. If I look at one more cabbage leaf, I’ll run screaming from the house.” She flushed. “I’m sorry, Mutti Hirsch. I shouldn’t complain. There were years you and your family barely had enough to eat.”

Noreen pulled a length from the red ball of yarn at her side then laid the unfinished scarf in her lap. “Those were long, hard times, but God saw us through. I know you didn’t mean anything by what you said.” She lowered her voice and winked at Odelia. “Besides, I agree with you. I, too, am quite tired of cabbage.”

Odelia giggled. “We’re like the Israelites who complained about the manna. They had plenty, but wanted something different, didn’t they?”

“Yes, and God gave them quail. Should we pray for some quail, girls?”

Rosa giggled and sat down. “We could. Or we could send our men out hunting.”

“That wouldn’t work. Your Conrad is too soft-hearted to kill.” Odelia said.

“True enough, but Manfred is the same. He just covers it up with his bluff and blather.”

Noreen glanced at the oblong, silver watch-face pinned to her sweater. “Speaking of the boys, they should be home from the railyard by now. I wonder what’s keeping them.”

Rosa’s smile froze. “Could there have been an incident? Hitler’s Brown Shirts have been busy the last few nights.”

“They’ve been focusing on the Jews. Surely with Conrad’s Aryan appearance, our husbands would be left alone.”

Rosa crossed her arms. “We’ve made it no secret we disagree with their methods. The Brauns aren’t Jewish, and you saw what happened to them. Mr. Braun was flogged, and their son, Wilhem, was taken. No one knows where he is.”

Noreen tucked her knitting into the bag at her feet. She stared at the blackening sky. “Germany is struggling, girls. We must pray for the country’s leaders. The Treaty at Versailles left many people bitter and disillusioned. And inflation is so very high. A wheelbarrow of Deutschmarks will barely by a loaf of bread. Many think Hitler has the answer to making Germany a great nation once again.”

“Except for his persecution of the Jewish people.”

“And others. Hitler targets anyone he doesn’t think measures up to his standards. Martina Biedermeyer told me about a group of Romany gypsies who were beaten up and arrested.” Rosa shook her head. “What did they do to deserve such treatment?”

Odelia gestured to the couple sauntering past on the sidewalk. “Hush! Do you want to be overheard?”

From down the street footsteps clattered, and the three women peered toward the sound. Johann Biedermeyer emerged from the murky darkness. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, his blue railroad uniform torn in several places. Pain radiated from his eyes as he met Noreen’s gaze.

Lips trembling, he said, “There’s been an accident.”

Berlin, Germany, 1940