"Please," he said to her. She led him to a padded chair with a very smooth red and white table, and placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. She called it "beeeen zoup." He briefly glanced at it,picked up the bowl and drank the broth down. It had small beans in it that barely needed chewing. The lady made an exclamation that sounded like "jeepers," and went to the counter, returning with several pieces of thin sweet bread that was white and soft. It was almost like eating air, it was so light. He sopped up the bowl with one of the pieces.

The old lady went to a large metal cabinet (when she opened it did a light emit from inside? He wasn't sure.) and pulled out an expensive looking gla.s.s pitcher, full of crystal clear water. The old lady put the gla.s.s of water in front of him. He stopped and looked at the water in the gla.s.s. And it was a gla.s.s, not a mug. The water was cleaner than he had seen in a long time. Crystal clean. He sniffed it. Only a faint odor. He felt the cold gla.s.s in his hands, and drank quickly, so quickly that he got a pain in his head from the cold liquid. He quaffed it all the way down, in spite of the pain. He was full. His stomach had shrunk so much. He shook his head to clear it of the fog of hunger, and sat still, staring out the window in front of the table. He was beginning to register where he was. He willed his stomach to be still. He had eaten much too fast. His breathing was shallow. He sat there, clenching his jaws together, stifling a retch.

His head and stomach both subsided, and he began to breathe normally. His hands started to shake. He was so tired. He started to feel sleepy, and suddenly he remembered. The children. In the trees. He sat bolt upright and looked at his hosts.

The old man had come into the kitchen and he now moved towards him. The old lady sat next to him. She asked him a question, obvious concern on her face. She looked puzzled. The old man came next to him on the other side, now with no weapon at all. It was hanging on the wall outside the kitchen door where he had placed it. He, too, looked concerned.

"Please, the children, they need food, water. Please, can they be fed? We will not harm you. Please, the children."

The old man said something to the old lady. They both turned towards him. He heard some spots of English, and his word for "children" repeated back to him. The old man faced him and was counting on his fingers. The young German held up three fingers. The old man nodded, this time with an emphatic yes.

He walked out the door and bid the German to follow. The old man pointed to the stand of trees with a question on his face. Heinrich nodded. The old man nodded, and the old lady nodded from her window in the kitchen. The old man again nodded to him, and he began to call. "Come down, it is all right. There is wonderful food here. Water. Come down, come down." He waved his hands in the air A first cautious head looked out from the small stand of trees. Then a second, and finally a third one.

Heinrich watched as they started to cross the large open area with no cover. Slowly at first, cautiously.

Finally they began to run. The littlest one couldn't keep up. The girl was the oldest, maybe ten or eleven.

Then the two boys, one seven or eight, another one maybe a year or two younger. The older children waited as the little one caught up.

They came closer. Heinrich looked at them. They were thin, but still able to move across the open area at a trot. They paused part way through, feeling exposed. He called to them again, and they began running again. As they began to draw up to Heinrich and the old man, they slowed to a walk, looking at Heinrich and then at the old man, from one to the other. Looking for a.s.surance from Heinrich. He kept nodding to them. Finally they stopped a few feet from the old man and Heinrich.

"These are good people, they have a wonderful home and food. You do not have to be afraid." They looked at him, and back to the large and fierce looking ancient man.

The old lady yelled at the old man when she saw the children. She said something about "scrubbing in the barn." The old man didn't look around. Perhaps he didn't hear her. Heinrich tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the window. She repeated her command. This time the old man nodded.

Heinrich saw that the children were not too sure of the situation. He turned to the old man, and quietly tried to get him to rea.s.sure the children. He spoke low, and with simple words and hoped the old man would understand his meaning. The old man told him to "speak up, louder" and put his finger to his ear. Then a high-pitched squealing emanated from the old man's head. The children scattered; the two boys disappeared around the shed, and the girl went the other way towards the barn, stopping near thecorner. Heinrich took a step back, astounded that a sound like that could come from a man. The old man began cursing and talking about "something not fitting." Then he mumbled to himself. He put his finger to his ear again.

Another squeal, and the girl disappeared behind the barn in a flash of dirty linen. When he straightened up, Heinrich was looking at him a little wide eyed, and the kids were nowhere to be seen.

The old man looked surprised. He said much too loudly something about "a hearing aid." Heinrich continued to look at him. "A hearing aid." The old man kept repeating. "It helps me to hear. You know, hear."

Heinrich burped long and loud at him.

An hour or so later, John sat back and watched as three damp, scrubbed and rosy-cheeked children sat eating at their kitchen table, pushing in food as fast as they were allowed. He had scrubbed them to within an inch of their lives with soap and a stream of very cold water. They were wrapped in towels while the tattered clothes they had were put though the wash. The German also watched them closely, and stopped them when they began to eat too fast. Their empty stomachs had to acclimate to the food.

The young man had placed the horse in the shade of the barn with water and some feed. Things were calming down. Millie was resting on the couch, looking spent. John was in the kitchen with the refugees.

That's what he decided to call them. Refugees. He thought back to when he had been ten or eleven years old, and his mother would give a meal to a traveling man out the back porch when they came asking. They always asked to perform whatever services they could, and she usually had something to do around the farm. Especially after his father had died. They would then move on, and a few days later another would show up. Those were hard times. But people looked out for each other back then; they were all in the same predicament. The men who came to the back porch to look for food could easily be a neighbor or a relation. "There but for the Grace of G.o.d, go I," his mother used to tell him. "There but for the Grace of G.o.d, go I."

John examined the four, and tried to figure out the relationship between them. The girl and the littlest one looked as if they were brother and sister. Both had stick straight blonde hair and round faces with bright blue eyes. The middle boy didn't look anything like the two of them. He had a darker complexion and was short and big boned. If he had any meat on him, thought John, he could grow up to be a defensive guard for a pro football team.

The senior German who had shepherded them looked altogether different. He was cleaner now, and he looked to be no more than twenty years old. Tall and lanky, with dark hair and dark green eyes, he carried himself with a youthful authority that showed a sense of command. He too, continued to nibble as he watched the children eat. All of the children would look at him, and then at John as if expecting them to suddenly make them stop eating. When he didn't, they would smile and nod, "Danke, Danke" they said, with much deference.

John looked at the German who had brought them, then stood up and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around rather abruptly and faced John. He was nearly as tall as John. They examined each other for a moment. John watched as the German looked at him, knowing he saw wrinkles and clear eyes.

John examined the German's prominent nose and thin mouth. He looked even more like a teenager than before.

"I'm John," he said. "John Trapanese. The lady on the couch over there is Millie, and she is my wife.

What is your name?" John spoke slowly and loudly, in hopes that his meaning would be clear. He tapped himself on the chest again. "John."

The German straightened up, and made a small bowing motion with his head. "Heinrich. Heinrich V .

. ." He hesitated, and then started over. "Heinrich Busse." He glanced back at the children at the table, who were watching him intently. "Heinrich Busse," he said again, while looking at them.

"Pleased to meet you, Heinrich, pleased to meet you. You don't speak any English do you? Sprakenze English?" John's war movie German was coming back to him.

Heinrich eyes narrowed. "English?" He seemed to John to go far away, as if remembering. "I speak, ummm, a small-little" he finally replied.

"Hey, Millie, he speaks English! Come here, woman. He speaks English. Hot d.a.m.n, this is a lot better." John's questions bubbled to the surface with a rush of words. "Where are you from, who are the kids, are they your bothers and sisters, how long has it been since you ate? How long have you been wandering around? As you can see, we're not from around here originally, we just moved here. Well, we were moved here, we didn't have a lot of say in the matter. Have you ever heard of America? That's where we're from. The great state of West Virginia."

Millie had by now gotten up to the archway that divided the kitchen from the living room, and was met by many dazed eyes, including Heinrich's. The eyes went to her, and then back to John, and back to her again "I think you might want to slow down a little bit there, John. I get the feeling that he doesn't speak English all that good."

Heinrich slowly nodded, and finally blinked. As did the children, who went back to their slowly disappearing meal.

"Sorry," murmured John.

"Heinrich, my name is Millie. Millie Trapanese. Glad to meet you." She extended her hand, and he once again bowed and took it in his. He avoided her eyes by looking down at the ground.

"Umm und umm happy is to meet to you, ya" he replied uncertainly.

The drier buzzed from the utility room. The children looked startled at the electronic buzzer, and looked to Heinrich for direction.

"Did you hear the dryer, John?" Millie asked.

"What?"

"Did you hear the dryer?"

"What about a fire?"

"The dryer," Millie shouted, and pointed down the hall. "The clothes are done."

"Oh, the dryer. Is it done? I'll get the kids clothing out. Heinrich, tell them I'm giving them their clothes back. C'mon there, kinders, let's get you dressed."

John got up, and waved for the kids to follow. He gave them their tattered but now clean and magically warm clothing fresh from the dryer. He smiled as the girl danced with her ragged dress to her face, spinning around and smelling the familiar cloth. Her face was beaming.

They were all clean, and contented for the moment. John watched as the littlest one fell fast asleep on the living room couch. The others curled up next to the first. Then Heinrich looked up.

"Sounds." He motioned toward the outside. "Sounds." John got up to look. A familiar car was approaching the house.

"Hallo, the house. John, Millie, are you all right in there?" It was Officer Onofrio again. "John? Millie?

Are you in there?"

"You sit tight there, young man. Folks is mighty nervous around here." His tone was friendly, but firm.

He made a stay gesture to Heinrich, like he would to a dog. Heinrich understood. He turned to the children and gave them a short command. They grew silent. The littlest one woke up, groggy with a touch of fear in his eyes.

John turned to the door and called, "h.e.l.lo yourself. What can I do for you Officer?" He pushed the screen door out and looked at the cruiser in front of the porch. Onofrio was out of the car and had put the car between him and the house. He had the twelve gauge out. Maureen was also out of the car with her sidearm drawn, held in a combat stance, but pointing towards the ground. "You okay, John?" asked Onofrio.

"h.e.l.l, yes. I got me some refugees, I think. Do any of you speak any German?"

"I've been picking up quite a bit," said Maureen. "Lots of refugees, lots of children especially. Lets give it a shot."

"C'mon out here, Heinrich. Some folks I would like you to meet. Heinrich speaks a little English, we've discovered."

They still hadn't completely put their guns away by the time Heinrich came out into the sunshine, squinting into the sun. John watched as Maureen holstered her .380, dusted off her hands on her jeans, and then put on her smile. Onofrio lowered the shotgun, but he didn't put it entirely away. His eyes were scanning the tree line as they began to speak.

"Heinrich," John said, "this is Officer Onofrio and Maureen Grady. They're part of the police force around here."

"Guten Nachmittag," said Heinrich, addressing Maureen first and then turning to Onofrio with a slight bow. "Guten Nachmittag ." He turned to Onofrio with a questioning look. Heinrich looked confused, as if he was wondering how they unhitched the horses so fast, and where they put them. John watched as he curled up his nose at the strange smell. He imagined it smelled vaguely like a blacksmiths shop and warm metal to Heinrich. Heinrich looked even more confused when Maureen began speaking.

"Guten Tag. Mein Name Ist Maureen. Was Ist Sie Haben Gerufen Bitte?"

Heinrich stared at her. The woman was addressing him, not the man in the dark clothes. He replied slowly, "I am called, umm, Heinrich."

"Sie sind Heinrich, ja?" confirmed Maureen in her newly minted German. Heinrich nodded in reply.

At that point the youngest, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and the one who looked like his sister timidly stuck their heads out the door to see what was up. They were shortly followed by the stocky one, all peering out around Millie and Heinrich.

"Und wer sind diese Kinder?" Maureen said with her smile firmly planted. She beamed at the kids.

They shrank away. John chuckled.

Heinrich spoke quietly to the children, and motioned to them that it was safe.

John watched as Maureen leaned forward with her hands on her knees and smiled again. "Von wo sind Sie?" The children looked at Heinrich for the answer. He simply nodded. "Magdeburg," they said.

Everyone stiffened. There was a dark gap in the conversation, and the sun even seemed to go away for a moment. John looked at the children and the young man, silently. Maureen recovered first.

"Magdeburg?" she said. "Were you there for the battle with Tilley's men?" Tilley's men had sacked the city, and murdered nearly everyone there. Thousands. There were few survivors. "Sie haben gelebt dort?"

Heinrich looked at the children gathered around his legs on the porch, and they looked up at him, waiting for the answer. He turned to Maureen, and answered in halting English, "I lived in the town, yes.

These children not have mother und pater . . . We go to my family so that we can live. The children are my Verantwortung, um, my family." He wasn't sure of the last word, so he had resorted to German. The children continued to look up at him from around his legs, almost expressionless.

"Are they orphans?" asked Maureen.

Heinrich paused. "They are my, how do you say, Verantwortung, charges?"

"Are you related to them in some way?"

"Nein, not relative. I am Beschutzer zu den Kindern. I, umm, help . . . protect them."

The children all nodded, a little wide-eyed.

Maureen continued to smile. John figured that she'd heard these stories from so many people in the last month, all of them were cautious in the telling. But her next question surprised him. She lookedsquare at Heinrich. "Sind sie ein Soldat, Heinrich?"

John watched as Heinrich turned and looked at the children, and back to Maureen, then to Millie next to him. She too was looking at him with questions in her eyes. John sensed that Onofrio tensed a little, he had noticed the sword on the porch.

"Nein, I am not Soldat, umm, soldier." He looked at the children again; they looked back.

"That's too bad, Heinrich. We're hiring many soldiers here. We need to defend ourselves, and we're working to do that. Since you speak some English, you'd be very valuable. Are you sure you have no military experience?"

"Nein." He said forcefully. "Nein. Not Soldat." The children were still staring at him, not moving a muscle. Maureen looked at him, and then back at the children.

"If you are not a soldier, then you must be willing to work with us. You should report to the refugee center. They will feed you there, and arrange for a place to stay. I a.s.sume that you will want to stay here in Grantville. It's safe, at least for right now. We can protect you."

Heinrich turned and spoke to the children. "Wir werden sicher hier sein. Wir werden bleiben."

The children all broke into smiles. He turned to Maureen. "Where is refugee center?"

Maureen smiled again. "Just follow this road down to the bottom of the hill, and turn left. You will find a very good road. Follow that down the hill, you will see some men there. They will tell you what to do and where to go."

The expression on Heinrich's face was hard to cla.s.sify. He seemed happy, relieved and sad all at the same time. As the various emotions flooded across his face, Millie stepped forward.

"Maureen," she said. "If they need somewhere to live, they can live with us. We have room in the shed and the barn, and there's a room here in the house."

John coughed and his finger instinctively went to his hearing aid. "What did you say, Millie?"

"I said they can stay with us if they like. We can use the help." He looked at her, and she returned his gaze with "The Look." "The Look" said "Just shut up for now, I know what I'm doing, just go along."

John said the only thing he could say after "The Look" had been put into play. "Yes, dear."

"Well, thank you," said Maureen. "That's very kind of you. Are you sure you can handle this?" John looked a Millie with a questioning look on his face.

"When this young man came to our door this afternoon, John here almost shot him. Just cause he was askin' for food. He speaks English, sorta. He can talk to any others that wander in. You said that most all of them have been pretty harmless since Dan was shot. We could use a boarder to help around the house and farm. "Besides," she added. We're not leaving. Did you come out here to ask us that again?"

"Can we go back inside and talk?" asked Maureen. "Where we can discuss this." There was a awkward pause. The children looked anxious. "Please?" Maureen asked once again, putting her work smile back on. "We've brought you a few things we thought you might need. But we don't know how often we'll be able to come out here like this." Maureen looked straight at Millie.

"Thank you, young lady. But there was no need for you to come out here with anything. We have plenty of canned vegetables. I've a very full root cellar from the last couple of years in the garden. And the rhubarb is almost ready for pies. Flour, sugar too. Plenty to eat. Reminds me of when I was a girl.

And now we got some help now, too."

"Can we please come in?" asked Maureen again.

"John, why don't you get them settled in the barn for now?" Millie said. "We'll work out the details later." She gave him a little softer version of "the look."

The children saw "The Look" this time, and they took a collective step back.

John grinned. Children are perceptive. This old lady was used to being listened to. He waved ahand and Heinrich and the children followed him to the barn.