Page 26 of Winter's End
EVI
It was cold in the barge, as always. Evi pulled a green sweater close around her, examined her handiwork, and lit another match. There were enough bits of leftover candlewax to fashion into a new candle, and just enough of a length of wick. Mam would be pleased. “Waste not, want not,” she had admonished so often that Evi heard it in her dreams.
She looked at the finished candle, reasonably rounded and sleek, marbled with the soft colors of candles past, and she remembered something. She ran to her sleeping quarters, rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a length of red grosgrain ribbon. Perfect!
She tied the ribbon around the base of the candle, wrapped it carefully in tissue. It would make a perfect Christmas gift for Mam.
She sucked in her breath, feeling tears ready to spring, as they so often did these days. She blinked them way, threw her hands over her eyes. It was hard enough to keep hunger at bay, never mind worrying over Christmas.
Still, the holiday was on her mind, and it was something to focus on besides that night in the woods with the SS officer.
She had been scared nearly out of her mind by the time they left the smoky tavern. She thanked God the German had been too drunk to notice how badly she was trembling. Then the gun shot in the darkness, the burly body of the drunk SS officer crumpling to the ground, nearly on top of her, literally before he knew what hit him.
She had no pity for the dead Nazi. He and his like deserved to die – and she tried not to picture him being stripped of his uniform, pistol and papers, or his body tossed into the waiting ditch as Mila led her away.
But the boldness of the mission – the sheer daring, and her own part in making it happen, had left her breathless. What if the German had been just sober enough to realize he was being tricked? What if the Resistance shooter had misjudged the rendezvous point? What ifshehad misjudged it?
She still was not sure how she had felt when it was over…Fear? Pride? Recklessness?
But after three days of thinking it through, she had mostly been able to put her doubts aside. She was ready and willing to do it again if she was asked.
Mam would be against it. She had been reluctant from the beginning, and although Evi had shared with her as little as possible, she knew Mam was anxious for her, protective, as though she were still a child.
Evi moved to the mirror above the bathroom sink, studied her serious face. She was not a child. Not anymore. Not after what she had done in the name of justice and what she hoped she could do again. She was still two months shy of her seventeenth birthday, but she was not a child anymore.
...
At four o’clock, it was nearing dark, and Evi began to worry. Mam had left this morning to work a shift in one of the only pharmacies still operating in Haarlem. But the pharmacy closed at three. Where was she?
Perhaps she had been needed to be at the Dans Hal – or she’d gotten word of new rations. They were living mostly on bread and potatoes, so anything new would be welcome.
The thought of food made her mouth water. Evi went back to her book, but she could not focus. Anything could happen in these dangerous days. Anyone could be stopped and harassed by German interrogators for no reason at all – and Mam took chances every day.
By the time she heard footsteps descending from the wharf, she was nearly frantic.
“Mam – are you alright?”
“Ja, lieveling, I am fine.” Mam threw off her heavy wool cape, stepped out of her shoes. “I am sorry. I knew you would worry. Daan Mulder summoned me to the Dans Hal. It seems a major tulip grower outside of Den Helder has plowed up all the bulbs on his land and is giving them away for food. I will take the barge tomorrow, while you are in school. There will be food to share, Evi. Think of it!”
Evi felt her muscles go slack, knowing Mam was all right. But Den Helder… the air base…the bombings…it was a dangerous destination,
“But, Mam…”
“Never fear, lieveling, I will be careful. I will make the run in the early daylight, and be back here well before curfew.”
Tulip bulbs…Evi wanted to protest. What if Mam was seen – and stopped? But people were starving, and the prospect of food – even starchy tubers – made it difficult to argue.
...
She was rinsing their soup bowls, daydreaming of sausages and fresh eggs, when she heard a light tapping at the door.
“Hallo? It is Mila.”
“Mila!” She let her into the barge. “Come in.”
Mila hugged her, but the look in her eyes when she pulled back was questioning.
“I am fine, Mila, truly,” Evi gestured to the small sofa.
