Captive dreams, p.1
Captive Dreams, page 1
CAPTIVE DREAMS
A WWII HOMEFRONT ROMANCE
CARA PUTMAN
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
A Promise Forged Sneak Peek
Shadowed By Grace Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also by Cara Putman
To my mother, Jolene Catlett. Mom, did you have any idea all those days you homeschooled us and drilled grammar into me that someday all that diagramming would pay off in the books I write? Thank you for choosing to invest in us on a daily basis when you could have done any number of other things. I’m a stronger—and smarter—person because of you.
1
May 5, 1944
“Papa, who on earth are those men in the fields?”
Anna Goodman swiped her hair from inside her jacket collar as she stared past her father’s age sloped shoulders as he hunched in his chair next to the kitchen window. She hated the feeling the burden for the farm outside Holdrege, Nebraska, had transferred to her, an encumberance she’d never expected to bear at twenty-one. The men working the fields reclaimed her thoughts. She didn’t like the hardness they bore. Nor did she like the idea that German soldiers were the only option. Her spine stiffened until she stood as rigid as a fencepost. No matter that the time had come to plant the corn and the fields around Holdrege hummed with activity. Surely Papa hadn’t hired prisoners of war.
Papa buried his head deeper behind the newspaper, huddled in his worn chair in front of the stone fireplace. Anna’s heart tightened. She’d been gone only five days, yet he’d aged at least ten years.
“Papa. Look at me. Please.” Her words whined until she tightened her lips against more.
The paper rustled, and Anna longed to rip the shield from him. Force him to look at her. Instead, she sighed. His hair might look grayer where it peeked over the paper, but he remained as stubborn as Betsy, the mule he refused to give away.
Mama’s red-and-white checked curtains didn’t bring a smile to her face this time. They were the only cheery thing left in the house now that Mama danced in heaven after a short battle against pneumonia two years earlier. The inside of the house could only be called a shambles, dirty dishes stacked all over the table and old papers strewn beside his chair, where Papa dropped them. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of stale sausage and spoiled food. Papa hadn’t even scraped it into the slop pan.
Even Anna’s brother, Brent, couldn’t fill Papa’s silence with his off-the-wall jokes since the draft board called his number. There was no escaping that the farm didn’t feel like home but had morphed into her personal prison.
“Have it your way. I’ll find out what they’re up to on my own.” Anna pulled her jacket around her and stomped out of the kitchen.
Anna stepped outside and wished for the freedom to leave Papa behind his impenetrable wall. He acted like he didn’t need her. Reality shouted a different tune in her ears. The wind stung Anna’s cheeks and sucked the air out of her lungs.
The home wasn’t the only thing that needed attention. The closer she got to the fields, the more evident it became they needed care. The rows angled across the field in erratic lines. Weeds sprouted everywhere and, if left unchecked, would choke out the corn as it grew. If only the men in the field did not have Ps and Ws painted on their clothes. Even if Papa had requested the prisoners, she couldn’t imagine the prisoners of war working her land when she came home after a long week at the Kearney airfield.
Her land. Her steps slowed as the thoughts ricocheted around her mind. It had never felt like her land. Indeed, most days it seemed more a ball and chain than blessing. Yet as the words rolled through, a steady peace filled her chest.
If it was her land, it was high time she treated it that way.
Time to take ownership of it.
If only Papa would.
As her thoughts returned to her papa hiding in the kitchen, she inhaled through her teeth in a whistle. A rush of emotions clamored into the spot peace had filled.
What are we going to do, Papa? I don’t have the energy to shoulder this alone. And you don’t have the will. Anna picked up speed and crossed the yard toward the barn.
Beyond that building a fence covered in peeling paint and missing boards protected fields of corn from something, though she’d never known what exactly. Deer could leap over it with ease to nibble the developing corn plants. It would take weeks, but all too soon the stalks would grow until their tassels touched the sky. Then the hard work started. Anna’s shoulders ached thinking about the hours and days she’d spend walking the rows, separating the tassels from the corn. That job made even her sedentary job packing parachutes at the Kearney airfield endurable.
Anna lifted her face and released a slow breath. The sun kissed her skin with its warmth, and the weariness drained from her. Resolve cloaked her. Whatever the men were doing on the farm, she’d clear it up and get them on their way. She couldn’t handle one more challenge at the moment.
She reached the fence and hesitated before climbing the bottom two wooden planks to get a better view of the action in the field. From her perch, she saw eight men walking among the rows. Her brow crinkled. The movements of most were unchoreographed and confused. One man strode among the others, pointing and appearing to give instructions as he went. He spoke to each man in turn and carried an air of assurance. By his uniform she could tell he was a guard sent with the men, probably a specialist. Yet he acted unlike the other guard who lounged against a truck.
A prisoner bent toward the ground and ran his fingers through the soil, crumbling it into smaller pieces. He lifted it and inhaled. A smile parted his face from ear to ear and then he patted the earth back into place and reached with energy for the seed resting at his feet. Then the seed corn flew through his grasp.
“No.” She clenched her teeth as he seemed unable or unwilling to treat the precious seed with care. She’d worked long hours to pay for that corn. “Somebody stop him.”
She jumped over the fence and marched toward the man that leaned against the government issue truck. His uniform hung on him in a rumpled mess. He didn’t even glance her way, though he had to hear her. She splashed through leftover spring puddles, yet he still ignored her.
“Hey! What are you doing in our fields? They don’t know what they are doing. There’s seed everywhere.” Her anger pushed her voice up an octave, and she struggled to rein in her temper.
The man turned to her. His hat was shoved on top of unruly brown hair that curled slightly around his collar. His shoulders were broad, and she almost stood nose to nose with him.
She stewed as his gaze swept over her body. He leered at her and stood taller. “Calm down, dame.”
“I’ll calm down when you get these men off my farm. Now.”
The young woman’s shriek stopped the prisoners mid-action. Specialist Sid Chance stood from instructing the PW and arched his back. Even though he was only twenty-five, he felt the effects of all those hard hits he’d taken during high school football games. He hurried his steps as Pete pushed away from the half-track he’d lazed against.
“Hey, Pete. What’s the problem?”
“Just a broad who don’t think we belong here.” Pete’s Jersey manners and words didn’t seem to play well with the woman. Red flamed her tanned cheeks.
Sid shook his head. The little guy seemed to think he stood taller when he ordered everyone around. Only problem was he couldn’t see the exact opposite occurred.
“Ma’am, I’m Specialist Sid Chance, and this lump of hot air is Private Peter Gurland. What’s wrong?”
Her jaw tightened until he wanted to rub his own, ease the tension. “What’s wrong is you. These men. Get off our land now.”
Sid turned as Luka, one of the prisoners who enjoyed the outdoor work, approached the group with halting steps.
“Sir, I hate to bother, but men are unsure what to do.”
“You certainly are.” The woman stepped closer. “You get these men, these prisoners, off now, before I do something I won’t regret.”
“Pete, why don’t you round them up? Ma’am, how will you plant the corn?”
“I … I don’t know yet, but I’ll come up with something. You must be trespassing since Papa would never allow them here.”
“Mr. Goodman signed a contract for the men, like the other farmers.” He took a half-step closer to her and cocked his head. “He decided, like most, that the farm needed the extra labor to get the seed in. We can be done for now, but you really need help to get all the corn planted. I’ll check back in the next week or so.”
“Ya coming, windbag?” Pete’s nasally voice jarred his ears.
“Please, don’t bother. There’s been a mistake. We’ve always handled the farm on our own. We’ll do it again.” She lowered her gaze and kicked at a clod of dirt. “We can’t pay their wag es.”
“Where else are you going to get farm help? Many men are in the military, and everyone else works in industry.” He took in her rumpled coveralls. “Like you. We’ll work here at your father’s request. Until he informs the camp commander or county agent differently, we’ll be back. I always see a job to completion. And you might be surprised about the wages. They aren’t as burdensome as you think.”
“I think it’s ridiculous to make us pay our enemies’ wages.”
“Ridiculous or not, it’s what your dad signed up for.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. What had he said? He shuffled his feet in the dirt as he reviewed the words. He couldn’t think of anything that should generate moisture. The horn blared behind him, and Sid turned and waved at Pete, for the first time relieved to have Pete interrupt him.
“Ma’am? You all right?”
She tipped her chin in the air and blinked rapidly. “Yes. And quit calling me ma’am. Anna will do.”
Sid grinned as she stalked toward the house. She overflowed with spunk much like his kid sister, Pattie, had before she married that good-for-nothing Arthur Tucker, who tried to yell the life out of her. He shook his head and climbed into the truck. He’d make sure he made it back to check on things. He hadn’t seen her the other times he’d come to the farm. She must work in Grand Island or one of the other larger towns.
He’d try to coordinate one of his trips to a time she’d be here. He had a feeling Anna was worth getting to know.
2
May 5, 1944
Anna’s pulse pounded in her ears as she stormed up the weathered stairs to the house. They screeched at her heavy steps. One more thing to add to the long list of items that needed attention. Maybe she should stop caring since Papa had. He used to take such pride in the appearance of the farm. Or maybe it was Mama who did.
She flung open the door and let the screen slam against the frame. Papa didn’t even shift. She wanted to race to him and scream questions. Why allow the very Germans her brother fought to work here? The sons of the Germans who had held Papa captive?
He couldn’t have invited them. Things weren’t that desperate. He gave every indication he remained too proud, because a Goodman always cares for things on his own. Least that’s what he’d always said. Before.
And where would she find the money to pay the wages?
Guilt nibbled at the edges of Anna’s thoughts. Her father had ordered her to stay home and abandon her job in Kearney. Yet they needed the cash from her job. The Depression had stripped the family of all but the barest holdings, and the bank accounts had long sat empty of all but the smallest amounts.
The fight left her as she hung up her jacket. She longed to sink to the floor at Papa’s feet, place her head in his lap, and feel him stroke her hair like he used to. Instead, she turned on her heel and opened the worn cabinets. Somewhere in here she’d find ingredients for supper.
“Papa, did you collect the eggs today?”
He grunted without getting out of his chair or turning toward her.
“I’ll take that as a no. Fine. I’ll be back.”
Anna yanked her jacket from its hook by the door and pulled it on. She peeked out the window and felt a pebble lift from her shoulders. The government truck had disappeared, taking the men with it. She slipped out the door and hiked the short distance across the yard to the chicken house. The small wooden structure sagged beneath the weight of its tin roof. The chicken wire kept the chickens in and most of the predators at bay.
“Evening, ladies.” Anna waited as the hens clucked and ruffled their feathers. “I hate to intrude, but I need some eggs if you don’t mind.” Mama always hummed to the hens to calm them. The more Anna talked to them, the more they danced with jerks. Yet the couple of times she remained silent, the chickens had attacked her. One nip at her fingers, and she’d decided to talk when she neared the door.
She cracked the door and slipped into the small space before letting the door close behind her. Her lungs filled with the dust of chicken feed, feathers, and waste. She coughed to clear the air, only inhaling more of the rank odor. Better make this quick. She stepped toward the stacked boxes. Reaching under one feathered rump after another, she scooped up the eggs. In less than a minute she’d filled the bottom of her basket with brown speckled eggs and slid back outside. “See you in the morning.”
Indignant cackles were the only reply.
Anna turned away from the door and stopped. She leaned against the building and stared at the display in the sky. Stripes of rich color bled across the creeping darkness. Midnight blue topped lavender that sat on coral. The sun blazed orange as it touched the horizon. Awe filled her at the sight.
“Why do You do it, Lord?” War raged around the globe, yet He took the time to paint the sky each night. She shook her head. Switching the basket to the other hand, she continued to the house.
Silence dominated the dinner of biscuits and scrambled eggs. Her thoughts turned to the soldier, Specialist Chance, and his sympathy. How did he see into places she’d hoped to bury beyond anyone’s reach? There short interaction left her unsettled and unveiled. With a grunt, Papa shuffled to his room as soon as he’d wiped his plate clean and shoved the last piece of biscuit in his mouth.
“Thank you for the wholesome meal, Anna. So glad you’re home,” Anna muttered, then threw her napkin on the table and stood. She busied herself cleaning the kitchen and trying not to wish she’d stayed in Kearney. At least there her friends wanted to spend time with her.
Reality dictated she didn’t have a choice—each week Papa failed. The scent of alcohol followed him around the house, and his shoulders bowed more, she was sure of it. His eyes seemed a duller blue. They’d practically faded to gray. Soon, she feared, they’d turn translucent.
He’d stopped living. Somehow she’d carry on for both of them.
She flipped on the tabletop radio to fill the silence as she brought order to the chaos in the kitchen.
By Sunday Anna couldn’t wait to return to Kearney and her life. Her days might consist of work at the airfield and sleep at the Wisdoms’ home, but at least she had a purpose greater than gathering eggs, humoring a cantankerous old man, and milking the cow. She couldn’t fight the entrapment that chased her from chore to chore.
That night, Anna planted a kiss on Papa’s cheek, relieved her obligations had ended for the week. In an hour, she’d be back in her room, ready to return to her job at the airfield. A horn blared outside. Anna startled and grabbed her overnight bag. “See you on Friday, Papa. Don’t forget to grab the eggs this week, okay?”
Dottie stood waiting beside her car when Anna skipped down the stairs.
“Way to keep a lady bored.” A large smile creased Dottie’s round face. “Let’s fly.”
Anna opened the passenger door and threw her bag in the footwell. “I’m ready to head back to sanity.”
“I don’t know that I’d call the Wisdoms’ home full of sanity. Those kids could drive a girl batty, but we’ll get you away from your vow of silence here at the farm.”
Anna chuckled. “You have no idea. He seems to get worse each week. It’s time to get some of his friends involved before he completely disappears.”
“Next weekend, darling. Tonight we sail away to a new world. One filled with soldiers, many of them eligible bachelors.”
“This whole thing is just about finding you a husband, isn’t it?”
“Well, if that gets thrown into the mix, I won’t complain. I think it’s time I use the base chapel for a wedding, don’t you?”
“I want more than a wedding.”
Dottie turned and stared, pulling the car with her before correcting the steering. “Haven’t you noticed all the eligible men are in uniform? You can work for whatever reason you want. Escaping the farm, your father, whatever. I’m here to find a man who’ll take care of me. I won’t share a room with you forever.”
