Free Daisies Are Forever by Liz Tolsma Page B

recognize him when he got home. His dad might not accept him, a failure several times over. A stabbing pain sliced through his chest.
    Mitch stepped into the crowded room once again. The ownerof the sack had walked away for the moment. Mitch didn’t see her as he scanned the mob. Not saying a word, he crouched and loosened the drawstring.
    He avoided eye contact with those surrounding him and picked through the bag. Lord, let me find this liniment soon.
    A pair of black boots and legs encased in long black socks appeared in his line of sight. Ignoring them, he continued his search. Don’t let this be in vain.
    “What are you doing?” The husky voice of this rather large woman gave him shivers.
    He pointed to the SS on his collar, just as he had with Gisela. “I need this.” At that moment, his fingers closed around a bottle. With a flourish, he pulled it from the rucksack.
    He held a brown bottle of beer in his hand.
    “You are stealing.”
    “Nein. My wife must have this.” Again he pointed to his chest. Why wasn’t this working as well for him as it had for Kurt? And why did she carry a bottle of the liquor when most other refugees had dumped their unneeded supplies?
    The woman stood tall and puffed out her chest. “This man is stealing.” She called with enough volume for the entire room to hear her.
    Only a few took notice of the announcement. Stealing to survive had become commonplace.
    “What do you need it for?”
    “My wife’s foot.” Even to his own ears, his German sounded broken.
    The woman stood with both hand on her hips, her legs parted. “Why would you need beer for a foot?”
    He didn’t know the German word for blister . His brain sparked to life and he fumbled to find the correct words to answer the woman. “It is bleeding.” At least that’s what he thought he said.
    Yet again, he prayed the officer’s uniform would be enough to keep him out of trouble.

    Gisela watched Mitch walk across the gymnasium and heard the rotund woman’s accusation that he was stealing.
    He stood at such a distance that she couldn’t see what he held in his hand. He gestured at his chest. He had been foolish to think his uniform would do him any good.
    The sack’s owner hesitated for a moment before nodding. Mitch straightened his shoulders and tipped his head to the woman. Then he marched in Gisela’s direction.
    No sign of Kurt. Just as well.
    As he sat beside her, he produced a beer bottle. She took it from him. “What do you intend to do with this?”
    “Treat your blister. What else did you think I might do with it? The alcohol will kill any infection.” He smiled his rakish grin.
    “So I’ll get to smell like beer all the way to Berlin?”
    “There is running water here.”
    That was the best news she had heard in a long time. She hadn’t washed any part of her body since they left Frau Becker’s house.
    Herr Holtzmann had been with them then. They didn’t know what lay ahead of them. She drew in a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. If only they could go back to the way things used to be. Peaceful. Quiet. Loved ones around them. Like Opa. Gisela pinched the bridge of her nose.
    Mitch lifted her foot and turned it so he could see her heel. His touch was tender, careful. Though she hated how he had come by the remedy, she relaxed under his ministrations. For a little while, it was good to have someone take care of her. Good to know someone watched out for her.
    Like Mutti always had.
    A terrible wave of homesickness crashed over her. She so wanted to be home with Mutti, for them to be a family, for all of this to end. Surely it was a nightmare. Surely she would wake up soon.
    Just as Gisela relaxed a bit, the girls happily brushing Audra’s almost-white hair, Kurt returned, strips of cloth in his hands. “Move over, Cramer. I will bandage Gisela’s foot.”
    She stiffened at the casual way Kurt addressed her. Mitch did it and it didn’t grate on her nerves. Why, then, did it bother her