Page 51 of Winter's End
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She was stopped, along with a young man who held two young children in tow, at a German check point that had suddenly appeared near the intersection near the now-shuttered schoolhouse. She held her breath, assuring herself the guards had no way of knowing about her encounters with German officers – and to her relief, the guard who checked her identification papers looked her up and down quickly and waved her off without comment.
She pedaled off, wondering with a mix of hopelessness and relief if she would ever begin to look her age.
But the stop made her cautious, and more than once, she looked over her shoulder to be sure she was not being followed. But she stayed on course until she came in sight of the well- hidden Beekhof driveway.
The shepherd, Otto, met her halfway up the driveway and flanked her, barking until she got off the bicycle and reached to scratch him behind the ears. Then he followed her, tail wagging, to the door.
She knocked vigorously, but no one answered. Evi stood back, surveying the house and grounds. A patch of garden to one side of the house had recently been plowed over, perhaps, she thought, inanticipation of a spring planting once the frost lifted. The very prospect of spring vegetables made her stomach growl.
To the other side of the house, a couple of empty wheelbarrows and a small plow stood in front of a few mostly bare trees, small patches of blue-grey sky peeking through their scraggly branches.
In the stillness, Evi thought she detected the low thrum of voices. She moved closer to the sound, Otto trotting beside her, and turned an ear to the side of the yellow plow to listen. It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard the sounds again. Perhaps they were out in the field.
She squeezed behind the plow and discovered to her surprise that the scrawny trees were not trees at all, but hefty boughs bound together, obscuring a gate that was nearly hidden behind a screen of ivy.
She hesitated, listening again. Now it was almost eerily quiet. When she pushed at the gate, it swung open and she found herself looking into the barrel of a rifle.
She jumped back, trying to find her voice.
“Wait!” Her voice was a squeak.
The rifle was lowered and a pair of angry, amber eyes bored into her. “Are you kidding me, girl? You could have been killed!”
Evi blinked, backing away. “I am sorry, Jacob, I was -”
“What?”
“I was just looking to find you.”
Jacob lowered the rifle to his side. “A word of advice, Evi Strobel. Don’t poke around in strange places. We live in a dangerous world.”
She worked to attune her ear to his American accent, glad for all the hours she had spent studying English in school. “Yes, it is dangerous,” she began, raising her chin, “and that is exactly why I wanted to find you.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed.
“I want you to teach me to shoot.”
Now the American seemed to swallow a smile. “You want me to teach you to shoot.”
Evi nodded. “Yes. I want to be able to protect myself.”
“From drunken Nazis who want to bed you.”
She felt her face redden. “Yes, if it comes to that. But also, at other times. I want to do more to defeat the Germans than dispose of one Nazi at a time.”
The American looked distinctly amused.
Evi flushed and straightened. “I have made a request from Resistance leaders for my own weapon and for shooting lessons. But there could be an issue because of my age, and so I am coming to you.”
Jacob Reese seemed to take her measure. “You’re serious,” he said at last.
“I am.”
“You are seventeen.”
Evi sighed. “I will be seventeen in February.”
