is pretty old. Do you know if Edward is still involved with this?”
“Sure he is. He doesn’t bring them home anymore; otherwise I’d have a more recent copy. I follow him sometimes, but I always lose him.”
She folded the paper and handed it back to him. “I’m afraid you should burn this. It’s dangerous for you to have.”
“I keep it hidden.”
“But if it’s found, you could be arrested, you and your mother and Viole and Albert. Edward, too.”
He took the paper without looking at her.
“Does Albert know you have this?”
“No! And he won’t find out, either. You promised.”
She shook her head. “No, I won’t tell him, and I won’t tell anyone else. But what are you going to do? Keep it and worry you might get everyone into trouble, or get rid of it and sleep easy at night?”
“But I’ve already had it this long. It’s never been found so far.”
“I’d say you’ve been keeping the angels around you busy then, and maybe it’s time to give them a rest. Please, Jonah? You must have it memorized by now if you’ve had it so long. Why keep it?”
He started to speak, held back. His face splotched with red. “Because I want to be part of it, like Edward. Everybody says the ones who print this paper are the saints of Belgium. Heroes.”
She was sure of that.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you and I take a walk to the edge of the park? I saw they’re growing potatoes there now, right here in the city. If we can get close enough to a bush or tree, where people would never think to grow something, we can dig without attracting too much attention. Then, when the Germans are gone for good, you can go and retrieve it as the keepsake you want it to be. But if it’s found, it won’t cause trouble for anyone in particular.”
“I guess I could, if I had something to keep it in, to keep the squirrels from getting at it, and the rain. I’ll go find something and we can do it right away, before Mother or Edward get home.”
Isa waited in the parlor while Jonah went in search for something to protect his treasure. Myriad thoughts coursed through her mind. If Edward was still involved in an illegal newspaper—something that had been circulating for at least a year—he was in greater danger than she thought.
“I’m ready!” Jonah held the folded paper in one hand, a small metal tin in the other. “My father gave this to me when I was little. It’s a bank, but it’s been empty a long time now. I’ve wanted to bury this ever since the Germans came through once looking for tin and metal. I’ve stuffed cloth in the slot. See? To protect my paper.”
“Well done,” she said as they walked out the door. “One day all the coins you used to help your family will be replaced—and doubled. God has a way of doing that sort of thing when we use what we have to help others.”
“Think so?”
“Oh, Jonah,” she said, catching his eye, “I know so.”
6
We must, therefore, be silent as seeds, fiercely united and longing for that day when from our homeland soil grows our own true voice once again.
La Libre Belgique
----
“I tell you, I was followed.”
“Lower your voice.” Edward scanned the park. His unease was mirrored in the trembling young courier at his side, only Edward was better at hiding it. “Sit on the bench. Breathe easy. Look ahead.”
Beyond stretched one of the few parklands not entirely overtaken by German army officers, one given to the people to grow potatoes in the hope of keeping their hunger at bay. A few civilians did what people used to do before the war—“taking the air” after their midday meal—but Edward doubted many were Belgian. Civilian clothes didn’t mean they were Belgian.
“All right,” Edward said, once they were seated. “Can you talk slowly now? Don’t look at me. We’re just enjoying a bit of sun, remember?”
Peripherally Edward saw the young man turn stiffly to face the potato beds. He breathed deeply, twice. There couldn’t
“Sure he is. He doesn’t bring them home anymore; otherwise I’d have a more recent copy. I follow him sometimes, but I always lose him.”
She folded the paper and handed it back to him. “I’m afraid you should burn this. It’s dangerous for you to have.”
“I keep it hidden.”
“But if it’s found, you could be arrested, you and your mother and Viole and Albert. Edward, too.”
He took the paper without looking at her.
“Does Albert know you have this?”
“No! And he won’t find out, either. You promised.”
She shook her head. “No, I won’t tell him, and I won’t tell anyone else. But what are you going to do? Keep it and worry you might get everyone into trouble, or get rid of it and sleep easy at night?”
“But I’ve already had it this long. It’s never been found so far.”
“I’d say you’ve been keeping the angels around you busy then, and maybe it’s time to give them a rest. Please, Jonah? You must have it memorized by now if you’ve had it so long. Why keep it?”
He started to speak, held back. His face splotched with red. “Because I want to be part of it, like Edward. Everybody says the ones who print this paper are the saints of Belgium. Heroes.”
She was sure of that.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you and I take a walk to the edge of the park? I saw they’re growing potatoes there now, right here in the city. If we can get close enough to a bush or tree, where people would never think to grow something, we can dig without attracting too much attention. Then, when the Germans are gone for good, you can go and retrieve it as the keepsake you want it to be. But if it’s found, it won’t cause trouble for anyone in particular.”
“I guess I could, if I had something to keep it in, to keep the squirrels from getting at it, and the rain. I’ll go find something and we can do it right away, before Mother or Edward get home.”
Isa waited in the parlor while Jonah went in search for something to protect his treasure. Myriad thoughts coursed through her mind. If Edward was still involved in an illegal newspaper—something that had been circulating for at least a year—he was in greater danger than she thought.
“I’m ready!” Jonah held the folded paper in one hand, a small metal tin in the other. “My father gave this to me when I was little. It’s a bank, but it’s been empty a long time now. I’ve wanted to bury this ever since the Germans came through once looking for tin and metal. I’ve stuffed cloth in the slot. See? To protect my paper.”
“Well done,” she said as they walked out the door. “One day all the coins you used to help your family will be replaced—and doubled. God has a way of doing that sort of thing when we use what we have to help others.”
“Think so?”
“Oh, Jonah,” she said, catching his eye, “I know so.”
6
We must, therefore, be silent as seeds, fiercely united and longing for that day when from our homeland soil grows our own true voice once again.
La Libre Belgique
----
“I tell you, I was followed.”
“Lower your voice.” Edward scanned the park. His unease was mirrored in the trembling young courier at his side, only Edward was better at hiding it. “Sit on the bench. Breathe easy. Look ahead.”
Beyond stretched one of the few parklands not entirely overtaken by German army officers, one given to the people to grow potatoes in the hope of keeping their hunger at bay. A few civilians did what people used to do before the war—“taking the air” after their midday meal—but Edward doubted many were Belgian. Civilian clothes didn’t mean they were Belgian.
“All right,” Edward said, once they were seated. “Can you talk slowly now? Don’t look at me. We’re just enjoying a bit of sun, remember?”
Peripherally Edward saw the young man turn stiffly to face the potato beds. He breathed deeply, twice. There couldn’t
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