Hope at Dawn Read Free Page B

remarried, but in no time at all, Elsa had quietly and easily filled the absence his own mother’s death had left in his life. She and Friedrick’s father spoke little English, and never in their own home, though they’d made certain their American-born children had learned the language.
    “The sofa is for sitting, not wrestling.” She shook her finger at them.
    “I won, I won,” Harlan said, ignoring his mother and bouncing up and down on the sofa.
    “Not so fast.” Friedrick sat up and pulled the boy into a sitting position beside him. “Greta isn’t here yet.”
    Harlan’s brows scrunched in irritation at his little sister. “Aw, Greta,” he hollered. “You made us lose.”
    Greta came into the room, a miniature version of blond, blue-eyed Elsa, down to the hands resting on her waist. “I had to finish drying the plates, Harlan.” She sauntered to the sofa and snuggled in beside Friedrick.
    “In that case,” Friedrick said, playfully tugging one of Greta’s long braids, “we should give one point for thoroughness to Greta and one point to me for being done with evening chores first.”
    “What about me?” Harlan protested.
    Friedrick tousled his hair. “You get a point for speed.”
    “Then we all won tonight,” Greta said, beaming.
    “Good, good.” Elsa picked up her sewing basket and went to sit in her rocker by the fire. “Now get the Bible, Harlan. The English one.”
    “I’ll go get Papa.” Friedrick stood as Harlan hopped up and retrieved the Bible from a corner table.
    Elsa shook her head, the lines around her eyes appearing deeper in the light from the fire. “He said he is too tired this evening.”
    Friedrick frowned as he accepted the Bible his brother handed him and sat down again. He missed having their father join them in their nightly ritual of reading. Perhaps once the warmer weather arrived, Heinrich Wagner’s health would improve some.
    Opening the book, Friedrick removed the frayed piece of silk from the third chapter of Proverbs and began reading out loud.
    Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not onto thine own understanding.
    In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
    Harlan shifted restlessly next to him. “What does that mean?”
    “Well.” Friedrick searched for the right words to help his nine-year-old brother understand. “It means doing what God wants us to do, even though it might not make sense to us at the time. God’s saying if we trust Him enough to guide us, things will work out much better in the end.”
    “Like you not having to fight in the war, Friedrick.” Greta smiled up at him. “We prayed you wouldn’t have to and then you got that de…de-fer…”
    “Deferment,” he finished.
    “That’s it.”
    His sister’s grateful tone did nothing to ease the regret and unanswered questions any reference to the war dredged up inside him. If it was God’s will Friedrick stay home and run the farm, then why did he still feel so guilt-ridden every time he saw a war poster or passed a wounded soldier in town? Did God really have a purpose for keeping him here, or did He simply have little use for a twenty-six-year-old farmer in rural Iowa?
    His own doubts didn’t make answering others’ questions about why he wasn’t fighting in the war any easier either. He typically didn’t evade the question, though, at least not until last night.
    When the pretty girl with the large green eyes had asked him at the dance hall why he wasn’t fighting overseas, he’d decided not to answer. She struck him as sweet but spirited, too, and he hadn’t wanted to ruin their short time together by revealing he had a farm deferment because his German father was dying.
    Thankfully she dropped the subject and hadn’t pressed him for his name either. Inwardly he smiled at the memory of how she’d beaten him at his own game by not revealing her name either.
    “Children,” Elsa said, glancing up from her mending. “Let Friedrick read,