Long Way Home(122)

At last, the ship was secured, the gangway put in place, the ship’s hatch opened. Passengers flooded from the ship into their families’ waiting arms. I barely felt the crowd buffeting me or heard the noise and babble of languages as I kept my gaze glued to the doorway. Would I even recognize Sam after so much time? My appearance certainly had changed in the past five years. And I was a different woman on the inside, as well. I had been sixteen years old and Sam had been eighteen when we’d met. Now we were adults. Everything we’d endured had transformed us into different people. Sam had fought a world war. I had survived Buchenwald.

But I needn’t have worried. I recognized Sam immediately, even from a distance. I knew him by his honey-gold hair and by the way he moved as he strode forward. I drew a sharp breath and held it at the sight of him, gazing at him in joy and wonder. In my darkest moments, I had thought I would never see him again. Tears filled my eyes. Sam seemed to pause and slow his steps, scanning the huge crowd for me. I released my uncle’s arm and pushed my way toward him, calling, “Sam! Sam, I’m here!” I knew he couldn’t possibly hear my voice above the noise, but I shouted anyway. “Sam!”

But he did hear me. He turned his head in my direction. “Gisela!” he shouted.

For a glorious moment our gazes locked. Then we began running toward each other, elbowing people aside. At last! At last, we were in each other’s arms, clinging tightly to each other, kissing and weeping for joy. Sam was the same. We were the same. We were two people in love who were meant to be one. We had been cruelly torn apart, and now we were together once again. A song of praise to God rose up in my heart as I thanked Him for this moment. For Sam. For my life.

*





Peggy


JUNE 1947

This beautiful June day was going to be the happiest one of my life. Today I would marry the man I loved and become Mrs. Paul Dixon. But I wanted to begin the morning the way Jimmy and I usually did—fastening leashes to Lucky and Buster to take them for their morning walk.

“How do you feel, Peggety?” Jimmy asked as the dogs tugged us down the road. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I’m excited! You’ve seen the trainer’s cottage on Blue Fence Farms, haven’t you? I can hardly believe that Paul and I and Buster get to live there. I’ll wake up to my favorite view of the mountains every day and see the long-legged thoroughbreds and their foals grazing in the pasture right outside my window. Best of all, I get to wake up with the man I love.”

“I’m happy for both of you. Paul is a fine man.”

“And I get to keep working with you and your father, too.”

“You’re very good at your job, Peggety.”

Jimmy strolled along with one hand in his pocket, and I was reminded of something I had long been curious about. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve always wondered. What was written on that paper Chaplain Bill gave you to carry in your pocket? I remember that he told you to use it like a splint for your broken spirit.”

Jimmy stopped walking and reached into his shirt pocket, then handed me the wrinkled, tattered page. “I still carry it and read it every day.”

I unfolded it and read the words Chaplain Bill had printed:

I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:38-39

I smiled as I handed it back. Jimmy smiled, too. He had been taking things slowly for the past ten months, working with his father and me part of the time, and finishing his Bachelor of Science degree, a few courses at a time, at the nearby state college in New Paltz.

“It’s so good of Chaplain Bill to drive all the way here today to perform the ceremony for Paul and me,” I said. “Especially since his own church has been growing so fast. He’s a very busy man these days.”

“And a very good friend.” We had reached the bridge, and the dogs pulled us forward again, eager to trot down the footpath to the river. We took off their leashes and let them run.

Paul and I would be married in our little white church in town today, the one with the arched windows and towering steeple that pointed to heaven. We would serve cake and punch for our guests on the church lawn after the simple ceremony. The spring day promised to be a beautiful one.

“I didn’t know much about love growing up,” I told Jimmy. “The most important lessons I ever learned about it came from you.”

“From me?”

“Yes. From your friendship and acceptance and all the loving things you did for me—like the time you brought your girlfriend over to cut my hair and donate her used clothes. You also pointed me to the source of love. I think I would have grown up to be a very different person if you and your parents hadn’t been part of my life. I wouldn’t have been able to return Paul’s love. And I wouldn’t have known God’s love. I owe you a huge debt.”

“Well, if that’s true, then you’ve paid it back many times over, Peggety. I was in a very dark place a year ago, and you came along with your little candle and kept shining it into my darkness. You got all my friends to shine their lights, too. And you found Gisela for me. The shadows still haunt me some days, but the way forward is getting brighter all the time. Thank you for not giving up on me, Peggety.”