Free Songbird Under a German Moon by Tricia Goyer

my contract, he about blew his top. My agent toldme he didn’t invest so much in me for me to walk away. But I’m not concerned anymore with what he thinks.” Kat sighed. “I’m ready to be with Edward, to live like a family for once. I couldn’t have been happier when I heard the war ended. To me it meant Edward was going to make it through. And that, to me, is better than any applause or seeing my name in lights—guaranteed.” Kat’s voice began to fade. “Still, you shouldn’t jump into things too hastily. You’re young, give yourself time. If I were you I wouldn’t even consider dating until my job with the USO was up. Enjoy what you have. Enjoy the music.”
    â€œYeah.” Betty snuggled down in her blankets. “You’re right—I’ll wait. I’ll give myself time.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

    â€œSo, where now, Bub?” the driver asked when Frank got back to the jeep.
    â€œWell…” Frank took off his cap, ran a hand through his hair, and then returned it. “I’m supposed to room with my friend Art Spotts. He’s a photographer like me. But I don’t have much more info than that.”
    The driver nodded as the German woman snuggled closer under his arm.
    â€œAh, yes, I think I know where to start. There’s a house where all the artsy types hang out. If they don’t know who your Spotts friend is, I don’t know what to tell you.”
    The driver took them into the town of Bayreuth, and for the first time Frank understood the magnitude of the war’s destruction. Half of the buildings, at least, lay in rubble. The other half looked as if they were damaged in some way. It was strange, seeing up close what he’d photographed from above. He’d seen the bombs they’d dropped and their explosions, and he was more surprised by what still stood than by what had crumbled.
    They turned onto a side street, and as the jeep’s headlights swung around the corner, the light reflected off the eyes of a smallgroup of people—men, women, and children—huddled under a makeshift tent in the middle of the rubble in what appeared to be the shopping district. A little bit down the road, another group slept inside a building in which the front had crumbled away—most likely from a near-miss by an American bomb.
    â€œWhat’s going on? Who are these people? Why are they sleeping outside?” Frank asked, even though he knew the answer. He’d seen many displaced persons all over Europe. He also knew, though, that one of the best ways to get information about any area is to play dumb tourist. People often liked sharing what they knew. He’d gotten more than one bad guy to spill key information in his or her role as tour guide. Not that he thought his driver had anything to hide—Frank was just warming up. Getting ready for the assignment he still didn’t understand completely.
    Surely there has to be more to this thing than just shooting photos of pretty girls.
They wouldn’t have brought him in if there weren’t.
    â€œWho are they?” The driver shook his head. “‘Who aren’t they’ would be an easier question. Some are Germans who’ve been kicked out of their homes to make room for the American troops. Some are families who lost their homes in the bombing. There are former prisoners from Hitler’s concentration camps—those are the saddest cases. There are also Germans from the Sudetenland—the ones who poured into Czechoslovakia after Hitler invaded and then were kicked out again.”
    â€œThings were similar in Paris. I hung out there the last few months, but it was nothing like this.” Frank sighed. “It’s been months now, and these people are still out of their homes. It just doesn’t seemright to me. I wonder what will happen next. I hope the government does something before winter sets in.”
    The jeep