Free Simple Faith by Anna Schmidt

if …” Peter was asleep before the man could complete the sentence.
    Morning came too soon, and Peter’s first thought was about his family back home. They would be gathered around the Christmas tree, opening presents. Later they would go to church and then gather for the dinner his mom had worked so hard to make. Peter squinted into the light streaming through a double casement window at the top of the eave. Just before he pulled the quilt over his eyes and fell back asleep, he had the thought that at least this window would be easier to shimmy through and make his escape if the need arose.
    “Peter?”
    A woman’s voice—not Anja’s. An American. He opened his eyes, forcing himself to focus on her.
    “Well, good morning and a Merry Christmas Day to you,” she said with a bright smile as she set a tray on a side table. “I am Lisbeth Buchermann.” She extended her hand, and he shook it, noticing that she was several months pregnant.
    “Merry Christmas,” he replied, releasing her hand to hold the covers up to his chin. Then he realized that he was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when they rescued him from the shed. The same clothes that reeked of horse and hay and dung. He blushed and scrambled out of the bed with its pristine linens which, as he’d fallen asleep the night before, he’d registered smelled of soap and fresh air.
    She laid a pile of clothing at the foot of the bed along with a stack of clean towels. “Are you able to manage a sponge bath? I’m afraid it’s the best we can offer for now.”
    Behind her through the open door he realized was another room—more of a closet, but he could see a toilet and a sink. “Any bath would be heavenly,” he admitted.
    “The water will be lukewarm at best and no more than a trickle, but if you think that will work, I’ll just put these fresh clothes next to the sink there along with the towels and leave you to it. First, though, have your breakfast while I make sure everything is within reach for you.” She moved the breakfast tray onto the bed next to him and then, with a smile and a little wave, went across the hall.
    The breakfast was a feast: eggs, warm pastries that practically melted in his mouth, and tea—weak but as good as any he’d had back in London. He ate his fill as he registered his new surroundings. The room was small but a palace compared to the cramped attic space in the farmhouse. He could stand tall in this room. In addition to the narrow bed, there was a straight chair and a stack of books … in English! He ran his finger over the titles as he examined each one—
For Whom the Bell Tolls, Mrs. Miniver, The Grapes of Wrath, The Keys of the Kingdom
—and that was just half of them. He would read them all one by one—even the ones he had read already.
    “This is quite a step up from where I was staying before,” he said.
    “Don’t get too comfortable,” Lisbeth warned. “We never know when we will need to make room for others. At one time last year, we had eleven evaders staying here for several days.”
    “Eleven?” Peter scanned the room. “Where did they sleep?”
    “We took out the cot and set up bedrolls on the floor, and then some stayed in other parts of the house. We made do.” She shrugged as if hiding eleven Allied airmen was no big deal. As she placed towels in the small anteroom near a pedestal sink, she hummed to herself. She turned on the water, and the pipes clanked in protest. Peter made his way across the hall and stood in the doorway.
    “What shall I do with these clothes?”
    “Leave them on the floor, and I’ll see to them,” she replied as she edged past him and returned to collect the breakfast tray. “My, you were hungry, I see. Did you have enough?” It was the first time since she’d wakened him that she seemed the least bit uncertain of herself.
    “I had plenty,” he assured her. “Thank you. On the other hand, I would not refuse one more of those incredible