Tulips in Her Hand

Chapter Ten

"Everything will be okay, I promise."

These words came from the mouth of a girl who hadn't heard that in a long time. Celina wasn't even so sure if she was telling the truth. All she knew was that they had to get the pilot out of here, that they had to find a safe hiding place, and most of all they had to find her father. Or at least figure out this strange series of clues placed so strategically in his journal and in the home's of his associates. Celina smiled inwardly. She had found a clue lying within her father's words as to where they would travel next.

It all seemed to piece together. Yet at the same time, it all seemed to slowly unravel.

The American soldier gazed up at her, managing a half smile. His olive uniform was terribly soiled, tainted with mud and blood and bits of dried grass. Worst of all, it was a dead giveaway to his identity. A fugitive. Celina dug through the knapsack and placed a cotton gauze in Anka's hands. She winced as Anka tenderly dabbed the wound. It was strewn into a pile, soaked in red. Despite the growing dread within her, Celina's heart beamed with optimism. For once, she might know where they were going.

"That should do for now," Anka murmured, slipping off the yellowed, white satin gloves found in the master bedroom. The soldier nodding gratefully before smacking his dry lips in thirst.

Celina shook her head. Suddenly, Anka was a nurse, ten years older than her actually age, mature and graceful and bold. Yet Celina sensed the fear still lay deeper in her heart, duty the only thing burying it for now. "Ah, you're thirsty, I see?" Celina said, "We'll have Mariusz fetch you some water, but not before you tell us how you got here."

The soldier sighed. His stubbled, scarred cheek resting on a pile of canvas sheets. His hair, the color of early autumn leaves, lay strewn about his forehead indeed like a pile of leaves. His eyes were foggy, laced with horror Celina refused to even imagine. "If you must know," he said. His booming voice nearly knocked Celina backwards, contrary to the injured, parched voice she imagined, "I'll give you the basic facts, and nothing more. Our plane crashed. It was shot down by the enemy plane, you see, as we were much too careless and flow much too low, unable to see the danger lying above us.

"My companion suffered very little; only a few cuts and bruises and perhaps a broken bone. I, on the other hand, was unconscious and suffering a great loss of blood." At this his voice wavered. His eyes darted nervously back and forth. "Evidently he dragged me up to this abandoned mansion and situated me down here. He remained for a little while, however one morning when I awoke I found he'd vanished, presumably fearful of the Germans. And then I heard shuffling upstairs, and I assumed they were searching the mansion. Of course, it turned out to only be a Polish girl and her Jewish friends."

"Companions," Celina mumbled, "Jewish companions."

"Then the Nazi came, as I'm sure you are aware of, and I was terrified he would find me or the little girl," at this he gestured towards Celina, "would turn me in." At the end of his speech, the soldier's eyes fluttered dramatically. His hand was strewn out haphazardly on the floor as if someone had thrown it there.

Celina rolled her eyes, but not before haughtily raising her chin in defiance. "I am nearly sixteen," she murmured, "You're merely a boy; a foolish one, at that. Why, that uniform's too big for you." Celina clucked her tongue in pity, batting her eyelashes. "Didn't they tell you that they needed men to fight?"

Anka burst out into peals of laughter, her giggles swallowing the air with exuberance no one had felt in ages. Celina allowed a sly smile to curve on her lips. Even the soldier's eyes seemed to light up after he had finished glaring at her. Clutching the journal against her chest, Celina opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted.