Daisies Are Forever Read Online Free PDF

with the bedraggled hair and the screaming baby towered over two soldiers. “You dirty Brit, you killed my husband in Normandy. You are those men the SS was looking for last night.”
    “Nein, nein. We are German officers.” The one man’s hand shook as he drew it through his dark, wavy hair.
    The woman, however, was right. She could tell it in his speech. He was British.
    A friend.
    An ally to an American such as herself.
    She scanned the crowd. The woman’s outburst had awoken and captured the attention of many. They knew the truth. Such a mob would be all over him in a matter of minutes. And they would do away with him.
    Her legs moved forward of their own volition and her mouth formed the words she hadn’t bothered to check. “Leave them alone. This one”—she pointed to the dark-haired one—“he ismy husband. He fought bravely for the Fatherland.” She stepped beside him.
    He gave her a tepid smile, doubt and confusion in his fabulous brown eyes.
    The woman shifted her weight and jutted out her right hip. “If so, then who is he?” She motioned toward the fair-skinned man with a shock of bright red hair sticking out from under his hat.
    Her heart pounded, the full impact of what she was doing dawning on her. “My brother-in-law.”
    “Why are they here?”
    Very good question. Very, very good question. She hugged herself to still her trembling. If she had thought through her actions, she would have a ready answer. She turned to her supposed husband who lifted his shoulders in an almost-imperceptible shrug.
    Her mind refused to conjure up a reason.
    The woman tapped her foot.
    “They were shot.”
    “Sure. Millions of our boys have been shot. If they don’t die like my husband did, they keep fighting.”
    The man beside her tapped her arm, then his chest.
    “My husband was shot near the heart. Ja, the bullet just missed his heart. They were unable to remove it.”
    “I thought he was a POW guard.”
    The man could have told her that. Or he could have answered the question. “Ja, after he was shot, he went to be a guard. He can no longer handle the rigors of marching and fighting. It could kill him. He served our homeland.”
    “And your brother-in-law?”
    “He is carrying a special message for the Führer.”
    “The Führer?”
    Both men gazed at her, as did the woman shaking her head. With her stomach dancing in her abdomen, Gisela nodded.
    The woman gave them all a look as hard as stone, then turned away.
    Gisela released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
    “Brunhilda.” The man touched her hand.
    Warmth spread through her despite the frigid temperatures. “Pardon me?”
    His eyes widened when he heard her speak in English. He replied in that tongue. “That’s what I’m calling that old bird. Rather appropriate, don’t you think?”
    “I think you’re lucky she didn’t turn you in.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “American?”
    She nodded.
    “Now I understand why you helped us. You’re a swell gal.”
    “It would be best if you didn’t speak at all. Your German is poor and your English is dangerous. I’m Gisela Cramer.”
    “Mitch Edwards.”
    “Xavier McDonald.”
    Gisela pointed at the tall, thin man, Xavier. “You are Siegfried Munchen.” She pointed at his friend who stood three or four inches shorter. “And you are Josep Cramer. You are supposed to be German and I am supposed to be your wife. Too many people heard that little exchange, so we will have to continue the charade for a while longer. Where did you come from?”
    “Stalag XX-A.” Xavier cracked his knuckles.
    “A POW camp.”
    He nodded.
    Great. Not only were they English, but they were escaped prisoners of war. Her headache got worse. “Are you going to wait here for the Soviets?”
    Mitch leaned forward, his eyes darkening, intensifying. “Toomuch of a risk. We’ve heard that oftentimes the Russians treat other Allied soldiers no better than their German prisoners.