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Abounding Hope

By Cindy Kay Stewart

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Prologue

November 30, 1938—Schwerin Warthe, Germany, near the Polish Border

Not a sliver of moonlight lit their path to the riverbank. It was better this way. Irena Simmons shivered for more reasons than the cold wind blowing through the leafless trees. What a miserable night. The three little boys in her care thought they were on a secret mission and slipped through the woods on tiptoe so no one would hear them. If only they were playing a game on her grandparents’ farm in New York.

There they would have been safe.

The trees gave way to tall grass, which their young Polish guide stomped down allowing them to pass through behind him. Gone were the noises from crickets and katydids—the first freeze had killed them—but the unmistakable sound of running water indicated they’d reached their destination. Moisture and the smell of cold, damp earth filled Irena’s nostrils.

Occasional barking had interrupted their trek, but now more insistent howling and yapping echoed in the night. It raised the hair on Irena’s neck despite her heavy coat. The search dogs had located a scent. They were on the hunt.

Their guide flashed his light three times over the dark mass of the rippling water. A faint light flickered back in response, but it wasn’t close. Wading into the water at this time of year would kill them all—if they didn’t drown first. After a few minutes, water sloshed, and their leader raised his light toward the sound.

There. Right along the bank. A rowboat swayed. But it didn’t appear large enough to stay afloat with four adults and three children in its belly.

A tremble shook her body. Their escort handed his flashlight to Irena, and she aimed it in his path. His tall rubber boots allowed him to slip part way into the river. He lifted Wilhelm and passed him to one of the rowers. The boat tipped but righted itself, and Irena let out the breath she’d been holding.
The dogs drew closer, their barking more frantic. Irena swallowed—or tried to, but the lump in her throat made it impossible. Their guide grabbed Hans and tossed him in the boat. Hans yelped but soon his head popped up. He appeared unharmed. Dieter was heavier, and when he was transferred, the boat tilted dangerously low in the water.

How would she climb in without dumping them all in the river?

Their trailblazer beckoned to Irena, and she moved near him. He lifted her in his arms and handed her to an oarsman, who gently deposited her inside. The boys grabbed her coat and hung on. Their fearless guide swung onboard, dumping frigid water on Irena’s wool socks. She shuddered. The rowers propelled their skiff down river.

Lights appeared at the edge of the woods behind them, accompanied by barking and snarling.

Would they escape before the Germans spotted them and began shooting?

Had Irena’s efforts and those of her friends been for nothing? The boys’ parents had sent their children out of Germany, planning to follow later. Would they succeed? She hoped so. One of the fathers, a scientist involved in top-secret work, wanted out. Another, a brave pastor, certain to be arrested again. And the third, a dear grandmother in poor health, raising her grandson all alone.

None wanted the children to fall into the hands of the Nazi state.

The boat increased speed, caught in the strong current. Soon the men on board slapped each other on the back and shared the good news. They’d crossed into Poland! The Germans couldn’t touch them now. Irena exhaled a burst of air between her stiff lips and bowed her head. Thank You, Father, for holding us in the palm of Your hand. Protected. Loved.

She gripped the wooden plank upon which she sat and looked over her shoulder. Their pursuers stood on the riverbank, restraining the dogs from entering the water and casting a beam that didn’t reach far enough to illuminate their prey. Too late. At least for the Nazis. But right on time for Irena and her charges.


Chapter 1

Late August, 1939—Lvov, Southeastern Poland

The ache in the pit of her stomach grew to a full-fledged throb, propelling Irena down the sidewalk of the wide cobblestone boulevard, close behind the boys. She’d felt this way once before—when smuggling the children out of Germany.

Taking three energetic little boys on an outing in the busy city always challenged her, but today they darted in different directions, in and out of the crowds like foxes pursued by hounds. Did they, too, sense someone watching them? She called, but the clanging from a passing trolley car muffled her voice.

Irena glanced over her shoulder and locked gazes with the reptilian eyes on a face she knew. Her heart sprinted, urging her feet to move faster, but she turned her head back a moment too late. An automobile raced out of the alley in front of her, plowing through puddles and dousing her in muck. She slipped on the slick pavement, and her back and head slammed against the unforgiving stones.

Irena couldn’t move. Couldn’t open her eyes. Couldn’t resist the pull into darkness … until a voice she recognized spoke in her ear and frightened her back to consciousness. A foul smell wafted over her. The breath of evil. She lay immobile.

“You can’t hide from us, fräulein. … The children … will be ours … again … soon.”

Inspector Krepps.

Father, he’s after the boys. Please protect them!

“Panna, Miss, Simmons, Panna Simmons.”

The desperate young voices penetrated her thoughts, replacing the hostility from the moment before. Small hands tugged on her arms, pulled on her sore shoulders.

“Get up. Why are you lying on the ground?”

Irena forced her eyes open. People surrounded her, peering down, and three little boys hovered over her, their gazes intense. She loved these precious children. Rescuing them had been worth the danger, and she would protect them from this new Nazi threat.

“Do you hurt, Panna Simmons?” Hans’s wide eyes studied her.

Irena tried to summon a sensible reply, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She needed to focus, stand up, and move out of the way of the people passing by. She reached out, grasped the boys’ hands, and sat up. Her head pounded and she sucked in a deep breath, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Home was only a few kilometers down the road, but right now it seemed millions away.

Irena glanced into the faces of strangers and saw kindness. No one resembled the puffed-up Gestapo agent she’d first encountered in Germany last fall. The one who had chased them until they’d escaped across the border. What was he doing in Poland, issuing new threats? Didn’t he know kidnapping would lead to his arrest? Most likely the snake had slithered away, waiting for a more appropriate opportunity. With a Polish police officer on every corner, accosting the boys would be risky.

“Can we help you to a bench?” A stout woman stood over Irena with her hand out. She elbowed the young man next to her and motioned for him to assist her.

“Thank you.” Irena forced the words through trembling lips but couldn’t keep her voice from wobbling like a frightened child’s. She accepted the strangers’ help and stood. Straightening her shoulders, she took timid steps. The crowd of onlookers parted, opening a path to one of many wooden benches planted under the shade of large elm trees lining the boulevard. The boys skipped ahead, and the man and woman guided her to a seat facing away from the road.

Irena inhaled. “I appreciate your kindness.” She spoke with less of a tremor, her mouth firm, despite the pain coursing through her body.

The woman laid a gentle hand on Irena’s shoulder. “Can we get someone to help you?”

Irena shook her head. “I’ll be better in a moment.” She bit her lip to keep from groaning.

Her two new acquaintances didn’t appear convinced. They walked away but glanced back, and Irena waved to them.

A putrid smell turned her stomach, the odor so strong she tasted it. Peering down, she discovered the source—her muck-coated clothing. Horse droppings had mixed in with the water puddled from the recent rain. Irena gagged. She moved to the edge of the bench, and a fresh wave of dizziness spread over her. She shivered, despite the heat of the summer day.

“Are you better, Panna Simmons?”

Irena squeezed Hans’s shoulder. “I’m going to rest a bit, and then we’ll go home.” She nodded at Wilhelm and Dieter. “Stay near me and watch out for each other.” She didn’t say more. It was best not to scare them.

Hans searched Irena’s face for a moment before joining the other boys marching around a tree trunk. They’d been so afraid in Germany but had blossomed since coming to Poland. She needed to take them home right away but couldn’t muster the strength to move. She scrutinized everyone in the vicinity, especially those around the Grand Hotel, directly in front of her. A tall, dark-haired young man held the lobby door open for an elderly woman and then stepped out of the shadows.

Irena gasped. “Jonathan?” Her lips moved, but her voice was only a whisper.

Was she hallucinating?

He turned his head and met her gaze. And froze. He tipped his head to the side, studying her. His forehead crinkled and his eyes brightened. He strode toward the bench but stopped two feet away. “I was on my way to find you, and here you are, waiting for me. It’s good to see you, Little Katastrofa.” His mouth curved up at both ends. “But … it looks like I’m a little late.” The touch of humor in his voice almost made her smile.

Little Katastrofa…Catastrophe. Only Jonathan used that nickname for her. This was no hallucination. How like him to arrive after she’d slipped and fallen and her dress smelled like manure. During their boarding school days at L’ecole International in Paris, he’d rescued her from one mishap after another. Oh, they’d been quite a pair. She hadn’t seen him since she’d brought the children out of Germany last fall, when he’d met them on the Polish side of the border and taken them to Warsaw. His latest letter had been short. His family’s American shipping company kept him busy traveling all over Europe.

“May I?” He gestured toward the empty seat beside her and cocked his head.

Irena gawked at him. Her body jolted as if she were waking from a strange dream. She leaned toward him. “Jonathan? What are you doing here?”

He remained standing in front of her, but he nodded at Hans, who’d abandoned his mates, and didn’t speak.

Craning his neck, the child examined Jonathan. Did he notice the fedora tipped at a slight angle, his impeccable navy-blue suit, and his polished wingtip shoes?

“Hans, it’s okay. He’s a friend.”

The boy crossed his arms and watched Irena.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t seem convinced.

Hans backed up a millimeter at a time, and Irena scanned the immediate area.

“One, two, three.” All the boys were accounted for. She exhaled. Surely the danger had passed with Jonathan standing over them, but she would be vigilant, nonetheless.

Jonathan turned to Irena. “I’ve come to close our Warsaw office and escort you out of Poland.” His voice was firm but his eyes warm. “We’re all worried about you. During your escapades in Germany, you made enemies.”

He glanced around, and Irena followed his gaze. People of all ages scooted by in both directions, filling the nearby sidewalk. The benches and trees provided an oasis between the foot traffic on one side and the street traffic on the other.

Jonathan resumed his address. “With Hitler ready to invade Poland, we’re afraid you’re in danger, afraid you’ll wait too long, afraid you’ll be trapped.” He paused a moment and searched her eyes. “You need to leave now.” His voice held no compromise.

Irena bristled. The very idea that she would drop everything and flee. So, her friends in the Circle of Hope feared for her? Enough that they’d sent Jonathan to drag her out, knowing she wouldn’t leave on her own? They knew her well. Drawn together by their common American citizenship, she and her classmates had developed deep relationships during their four years of boarding school. At graduation, they’d pledged to assist each other whenever and wherever needed. Irena loved them all, but she didn’t need to be rescued.

At least not yet.

Summoning her strength, she grasped Jonathan’s arm and rose on wobbly legs. “I can’t leave. The school year is about to start. Who will teach my students? Who will help with the boys? Who will care for my sister and her family?”

Irena was eager for the new school year to begin, ready to implement new methods for teaching English and French to her students at their church school. And she loved ministering to the ladies in their congregation. Not to mention nurturing the needy little German boys starved for attention.

Leave them all behind?

Unthinkable.

Irena bit her upper lip. “If Hitler’s foolish enough to invade, the Polish Army will stop him, and England and France have promised their support. They—”

“But the Germans are better equipped than the Poles, and I don’t trust the French or the British to be of much support. Their leaders have no backbone.” Jonathan shook his head, as if dismissing any other conclusion. “To stay here is foolish.”

Irena turned away and caught another whiff of her soiled clothing. She swiveled back and found Jonathan had moved closer. His nose twitched and his eyes widened. A giggle bubbled up and escaped her throat, ending in a snort.

Jonathan inspected her from head to toe, holding his nose. “What happened to you?”

Irena splayed her arms, her smile still in place. “Why, my feet slipped out from under me.”

His concerned expression changed into a knowing grin, the same grin he’d flashed many times before, in a different time and a different place.

“Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what?” Jonathan folded his arms and tapped one foot, his wicked gleam frozen in place.

Irena pinched her lips and straightened to her full height, stifling a groan because she only stood eye level with the dimple on his chin. She inhaled and opened her mouth, but little-boy laughter drew her attention away. The children chased each other as if they had no fears. She smiled inside at their antics. Keeping them in view, she eyed Jonathan, but he stared elsewhere. With his arms crossed and his mouth curved down, he glared at two men—strangers to her—standing near the entrance of the hotel.

“Hitler has eyes in this place.” Jonathan spoke in a near-whisper. “Spies sent in advance of the invasion.” His voice grew in intensity. “It’s not safe in Poland, even if the German troops are on the other side of the border. You need to get out—return to France or go back to the States. Don’t count on your American passport for protection.” Jonathan faced her, his countenance softer than the ominous tone of his words.

Was this why Inspector Krepps was here? Had his Gestapo bosses sent him? Surely not. Krepps had come on his own, intent to redeem his reputation after she’d slipped away from him with the children. But she would keep the recent encounter to herself. Jonathan would only use it to prove his point.

Irena laid her hand on his arm. “I know you mean well, and it’s so good to see you. But I can’t leave now. It’s just not possible.” An automobile horn bellowed in her ears, and a horse whinnied its displeasure, causing her shoulders to jerk.

“Will you risk the Nazis getting their hands on the boys? After you worked so hard to rescue them? And your sister and brother-in-law? If he stays, they’ll arrest him. An evangelical pastor with Jewish blood in his veins? He won’t stand a chance. And your niece? We need to find a way for all of you to leave.”

Irena stomped her foot. The situation couldn’t be so grave. No. The air-raid drills and first-aid training required by the government were just precautions. Weren’t they? President Mościcki had assured the country that an invasion of Poland would not succeed. But what if it did, and the Germans conquered the country? The Nazis would come after her and the boys. Irena’s stomach clenched.

No, Jonathan was wrong. He had to be. It was best for the boys to stay in Poland. Their parents might arrive from Germany at any time. They were safe here.

“You must leave before it’s too late.” Jonathan held her gaze, demanding more than she was willing to give.

She turned away, then took a deep breath and faced him. “Even if I agreed with you … and I don’t, Piotr won’t leave our congregation. What pastor flees when his people need him most? He also won’t risk moving Teresa before the baby’s born, and I can’t abandon them.”

“She opens her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.” Convicted by a verse from Proverbs, a verse she would never forget, Irena bit her lip. Okay, Lord, I’m listening, but my patience is already stretched mighty thin.

Jonathan should understand. She’d dedicated her life to serving God, and He’d called her to this place four years ago. How could she leave the ministry she’d grown to love?

She would stay.

Forcing her shoulder muscles to relax, she lowered her voice. “How long will you be in town?”

“Until tomorrow night. But I can return in a few days to help you pack.” His trademark grin reappeared.

Irena propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You still don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Jonathan’s eyes softened. “You’re so cute when you get riled up. Some things never change.”

Irena swatted him, but the sudden movement made her head spin. She grasped the arm she’d smacked and attempted to stay upright.

Jonathan leaned close, his brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” Please, Lord, let that be true. “But I must take the boys home and finish preparing dinner. Piotr and Teresa have moved to the children’s home, and they expect us back soon.” She lightened her tone. “If you behave yourself, I might add a place at the table for you.”

Jonathan ducked his head, examining his shoes. Raising his chin a smidgen, his contrite-little-boy look melted Irena’s heart. He hadn’t sprung this tactic on her in a long time, and she tightened her lips, trapping the chuckle attempting to escape. She could never be mad at him for long.

Dieter hollered—Wilhelm had trapped him in a chokehold. Irena sighed. “Wilhelm, Dieter, Hans!” She winced. Raising her voice had been a mistake. A drummer tapped a lively beat inside her head, causing the pain to return in full force.

The children scampered to her but focused on Jonathan.

“Boys, meet Pan Huntwell. We went to the same school in France.”

The children studied him, and Wilhelm’s big blue eyes narrowed. “Have you been naughty?”

“Not today.” Jonathan spoke in a deep, serious voice, but amusement glimmered in his eyes.

Irena tapped Wilhelm on the shoulder. “Why would you say such a thing?”

He turned to her, his wavy, blond hair sticking out in places, sweat glistening on his forehead. “You made that face.” His chin bumped up and down.

“What face?”

“The face you make when I’m a bad boy.”

Irena stifled a chuckle and peeked at Jonathan.

Attempting to keep a straight face, he glanced at the boys. “Which one of you young men knows where we can buy ice cream?”

“I do!” All three boys shouted in unison, waving their arms.

Irena fumed. How dare he offer ice cream without checking with her first? She stared at Jonathan, but he didn’t glance her way. He seemed determined to do as he pleased and ruin their appetites.

“Okay. All of you can show me—as long as we go to the same place. You see, I have money in my pocket, and it’s itching to be spent.”

“How can money itch?” Dieter’s forehead wrinkled.

“Is your pocket scratchy?” Hans asked.

“Pan Huntwell, if you buy us ice cream, your money will feel better. It won’t itch anymore.” Wilhelm stood on the balls of his feet.

Jonathan glanced in Irena’s direction, one eyebrow raised as if seeking her permission now that it was too late.

She shrugged and broke eye contact with him.

Jonathan swept his hand out like an usher at the opera house. “You boys lead the way. Panna Simmons and I will follow.” After the children hurried by, he offered his arm to Irena, but she slipped past him and followed the boys––until her ankle twisted on the uneven pavement.

Jonathan grabbed her elbow.

“Oh!” She winced.

“I’m sorry, Little Katastrofa. Are your injuries serious?” His eyebrows rose.

“I’ll live.” Maybe.

After he offered his arm again, Irena accepted, but she would only rely on his support for the short walk to buy ice cream and then catch the trolley car home.

***
Inspector Krepps peered over the top of his newspaper, careful to keep most of his face hidden. Good. She was fool enough to think she’d escaped him. But these boys belonged to the Reich. His blood boiled. Did she think she would get away with stealing them? Not on his watch. He’d worked too hard to earn his position. And if he didn’t return to Germany with the boys soon, he’d lose more than his job. His captain had ordered the return of these kinder to the Reich. Something about ensuring their fathers’ cooperation?

If his strong-armed companions had been along today, they could have nabbed the boys while Fräulein Simmons lay sprawled on the cobblestones, although it would’ve been tricky with all the witnesses around. Since he didn’t plan to hear about the German invasion from inside a Polish jail, he would wait. Soon Poland would no longer exist, and the master race would rule this backward land.

He would enjoy arresting the Simmons woman. Tormenting her. Showing her who was in control. And after he finished? She wouldn’t prance around like she usually did. No, she’d fall at his feet, begging for mercy, but wouldn’t receive any.

Not after she’d defied him.

The tall man talking to Fräulein Simmons seemed to be a friend, but Krepps had followed her for several days and hadn’t seen this fellow before. Who was he? Another teacher? Someone more than a friend?

The objects of his scrutiny moved down the street, and Krepps followed, careful to mingle with other pedestrians. He kept his fedora angled low. His targets entered the drug store, and he strutted by, gazing in the window. As if sensing his presence, the fräulein glanced over her shoulder. She peered closer and turned as white as a bleached sheet. Ah ha! She’d seen him. Good. Let the fear make her sweat.

He shifted his gaze forward and walked on without so much as a blink.

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