The Darkest Hour Read online

  The Darkest Hour

  Roberta Kagan

  Jean Grainger

  Marion Kummerow

  Ellie Midwood

  Alexa Kang

  Mary D. Brooks

  Deborah Swift

  Kathryn Gauci

  John R. McKay

  Ryan Armstrong

  Copyright © 2018 All stories are copyright of their respective authors.

  The contributing authors have asserted their rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the authors of their work. All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  * * *

  PLEASE NOTE: Our authors hail from around the globe so the stories in the collection were written using either US English or British English. Differences in spelling and punctuation reflect this.

  Also, several stories include strong language, which some readers may find offensive.

  * * *

  ISBN: 9781791516420

  Cover design by StunningBookCovers.com

  Cover photo: Bundesarchiv, Bild 102-11265/CC-BY-SA

  Contents

  Foreword

  Bubbe’s Nightingale by Roberta Kagan

  Catriona’s War by Jean Grainger

  Reluctant Informer by Marion Kummerow

  Killing the Hangman by Ellie Midwood

  The Moon Chaser by Alexa Kang

  Enemy at the Gate by Mary D. Brooks

  The Occupation by Deborah Swift

  Code Name Camille by Kathryn Gauci

  V for Victory by John R McKay

  Sound of Resistance by Ryan Armstrong

  Foreword

  There’s no doubt that World War II fiction is enjoying a huge popularity surge. Kristin Hannah’s “The Nightingale” published with critical acclaim, and Anthony Doerr’s “All The Light We Cannot See” swept the coveted Pulitzer Prize. This popularity is evidenced in television as well, with popular shows such as Bletchley Circle, Foyle’s War, and The Man in the High Castle. Why this surge in popularity, especially in the US market? Why do these stories that encapsulate a series of events that should have never happened intrigue us so? What do we hope to gain by reading stories about this war and the tyranny and horrors that accompanied it?

  This question in itself presents a moral dilemma. Readers of fiction latch onto stories with a successful protagonist. We covet stories of resistance, courage, and survival. World War II provides an excellent launching pad for stories of reckless bravery by ordinary people. Those of us who root for the underdog seek out stories wherein the humble displaced citizen is able to make a difference. While this ethos is entertaining from a fiction standpoint, it is important to note the American experience of the Second World War’s heroics may not jibe with the global perspective. Many survivors of Nazi brutality came to America after the war and turned their stories into those of American pluck and heroism. It’s important to remember that these stories of successful heroes – at least in the context of World War II – are the exception and not the rule.

  Given these divisive times and the current global political climate, it is my hope – and the hope of those who contributed to this anthology – that this trend in the popularity of World War II fiction will lead to curiosity, action, and prevention. For if you show an interest in this time in history and the stories that result from it, how can you not be curious and concerned about the events taking place now? The questions of how and why must be underscored with a resounding never again!

  Some of the authors bring stories of resistance directly from their family history, all bring a unique perspective in the form of tight storytelling that will keep you intrigued from page one. This project for a good cause has morphed into a project of the heart. The passion of these writers is woven through the tapestry of their stories. It is important that the horrors of World War II are documented and remembered. World War II fiction gives us a story – with a protagonist and villain that entertain – that allows us to learn about history and garner a literary knowledge of the past. I believe these stories will invoke an emotional response that will keep the suffering and the sacrifice in our memories. While it is crucial – especially given our current political climate – that we never forget, it is even more important that we actively remember, and that we undertake to prevent the horrors of the Nazi regime before they happen again.

  * * *

  Terry Lynn Thomas

  November 2018

  Bubbe’s Nightingale by Roberta Kagan

  Synopsis

  Bubbe’s Nightingale

  A young woman learns a valuable lesson about love, life and loss, from her grandmother who participated in the uprising in the Warsaw Ghetto

  * * *

  Love is eternal.

  When Shayna Bender, a young Jewish woman visits her grandmother in the nursing home, she learns far more than she expected. Shayna’s marriage troubles inspire her grandmother to tell the story of her younger days, of a love that still burns brightly.

  Shayna learns of her grandmother’s experiences in the Warsaw Ghetto, where countless Jewish citizens awaited death at the cruel hands of the Nazis. In her younger days, her grandmother was raised in an orthodox Jewish family. But her transition to becoming a full-fledged Zionist was sparked by meeting her future husband, a proud Zionist who stood up to the Nazi scourge. As the story unfolds, Shayna slowly realizes the capacity for evil – and the power of love.

  In her grandmother’s warm eyes, Shayna sees a lifetime of hardship, but one that survived against all odds. And as the story of her grandmother blooms in her mind, she discovers that love makes life worth living… because it’s all that we have.

  Chapter 1

  2007 Downtown Chicago

  Shayna Bender stood at the shampoo sink in the back of the beauty salon she owned with her best friend and business partner Linda McGowan. She mindlessly washed out a color bowl and brush. Linda called out to her from the front, “I closed out the drawer and the shop is clean. Anything else we need to do?”

  “No, you’re done, but I’m still cleaning up the back. Can you come back here before you leave, please?” Shayna asked.

  “Sure, be right there.”

  Linda walked to the back of the salon.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “I just want to be sure you have all my information before I leave. Do you have the number of the hotel where I am staying?”

  “You’re staying at the Marriot in Boca Raton, Florida. Besides, I have your cell number. What else could I need?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just nervous about leaving. My parents have no idea that I am coming to Florida. It’s been years since I last saw them. And my mother recent
ly had to put my grandmother in a nursing home. She said that Bubbe Ruchel, that’s what we call my grandmother, has been showing signs of dementia. She started a fire in the microwave and my mother freaked out. Bubbe can’t live alone anymore and she refuses to move in with my parents. Mom is devastated.”

  “Wow, I can imagine. It has to be hard to watch someone you love disappear.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my mother says. Bubbe is a shadow of her former self. The last time I talked to my mom on the phone she mentioned that Bubbe has been asking for me. I know my grandmother has always wanted grandchildren and I guess I feel a little guilty.”

  “Stop doing this to yourself. You aren’t obligated to give up your career and have children. I’m not saying it’s wrong to have kids. But it has to be something you want. If you don’t want them, you shouldn’t have them, no matter what anyone else tells you.”

  “My refusal to have children is the reason Joel wants a divorce.”

  “Yeah, I know. But listen to me. You have been pushing yourself too hard. You need to take a few days off from thinking about the shop or Joel and your breakup. This trip to Florida will be good for you. Go and see your mother. Visit your grandmother. I know it’s intense but it will relieve a lot of guilt once she’s gone.”

  “It will be intense. But I want to see my Bubbe. I still have wonderful memories of her making mandelbrot and chicken soup.”

  Linda smiled. “Go . . . get some sun. Go out to a bar, have a few drinks. In other words, have some fun.”

  Shayna nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “Good girl. I have to get going now. Call if you need to talk.”

  “I will.”

  After Linda left, Shayna grabbed her designer leather suitcase from the back of the shop. She rolled it across the marble floor and turned to look at the large beauty salon.

  I built this from nothing, and now Joel wants me to give it all up to have kids. Kids? They ruin your figure. They take over your life. I just can’t. And yet . . . I can hear that clock, that damn biological clock, ticking.

  She locked the door and walked out to the street.

  With her shoulder-length blond hair, tall lanky figure, and charcoal-gray eyes she was a stunning sight. She effortlessly hailed a cab in minutes.

  “O’Hare Airport.”

  “What terminal?” asked the cabbie.

  His hair was greasy; an overabundance of cheap cologne filled the small space.

  “American,” she answered, opening her window to get some fresh air.

  The spring breeze felt good against her face as the taxi maneuvered through the heavy traffic and out of the city.

  Chapter 2

  Boca Raton, Florida 2007

  Shayna checked into the hotel in Boca Raton. She tipped the bellman then opened the thick drapes and looked outside. This place is really something. It seems like all of the stucco buildings are the same shade of Pepto Bismol pink. It looks like a flamingo threw up here.

  She smiled and thought, One thing about Florida . . . the blinding sunshine has a way of making all my problems seem less pressing. At least for the moment.

  Shayna booked the hotel for the first night of her stay so that she could surprise her mother, Anna, the following morning. But she knew that her mother would never let her stay in a hotel. Her parents would insist that she stay with them for the rest of her trip. After all, they’d been begging her to come and visit for years.

  It’s hard to believe that I’m thirty and this is the first time I’ve ever stayed in a hotel alone. I’m a little nervous. I kind of can’t wait until morning when I can go to my parents’ house. I’m starving. I would prefer to order room service but I guess I probably should take Linda’s advice and get out a little. I’ll be brave and go down to the hotel bar. I can have a quick bite and a couple of drinks. Hopefully, it will soothe my nerves about leaving the shop for a couple of days and about going through the divorce.

  Instead of retreating to the privacy of a table, Shayna forced herself to sit at the bar.

  I guess it makes me look more approachable. And I should want to meet someone, right?

  But she didn’t want to meet anyone. She felt awkward and very alone.

  “Hi, what can I get you?” A handsome bartender with dark hair and deep-set dark eyes asked.

  “Can I order food at the bar or just drinks?”

  “Anything you want, my dear,” he said smiling.

  “Great. I’ll have a chicken Caesar salad and a cosmopolitan.”

  “Coming right up.”

  He brought the drink first and Shayna sipped it through the straw. The alcohol warmed her throat and she began to feel a little calmer. She had been married for ten years and in those ten years, she could count on her fingers the number of times she’d eaten out alone. And it had never been dinner, only quick, on-the-go lunches. Now here she was in a strange city, at a bar no less, feeling empty, lost, and foolish.

  If I am honest with myself, I have to admit that I really don’t love being in business. It’s a lot of headaches. But what I do love is the money and security it gives me. But there goes that damn clock again, ticking. I’m afraid if I don’t have a child now, it will be too late. I have to admit that there is a part of me that would love to have a child of my own, a little baby to hold in my arms. When I see women with kids, I am envious. I just don’t know why I am so afraid to do it. Let’s face it, it could be because the beauty business is an image business. And that makes me worry about losing my figure. And I’m also afraid to lose my independence. But maybe Linda is right; there are options. Maybe I actually could work things out by working part-time. Joel and I could have the baby. I would hire a manager to make up the extra hours so Linda wouldn’t have to take it all on herself. And then sometimes, I wish I could just get over Joel. But I know him well and I know if I called him and asked him, he would say he still loved me. The worst part of it is, I love him too. Oh, I just don’t know what I want. If I could decide what I wanted and be confident in my choice, then I could go forward from there. Life was a lot simpler before I became so successful at the shop.

  Shayna sighed.

  I am just so damn confused. I don’t know what to do. God, please, give me a sign, she whispered, putting her head in her hands. Shayna was not a religious person. She was born to Jewish parents but she didn’t follow any religion. If anyone asked, she would say she was spiritual. She believed in God.

  “Hi.” It was a man’s voice.

  Shayna looked two seats to her left to see a tall, striking fellow. His skin was tanned to a golden hue. He looked healthy and strong with his blond hair and white shirt. He smiled at her and his sky-blue eyes twinkled.

  She cleared her throat. “Hi,” she answered. It had been a long time since she’d thought about any man in a romantic sense other than Joel. However, this tanned Floridian certainly was good-looking. And maybe Linda was right. Maybe she did need to get out more and have fun.

  “Hi, my name is Matt.”

  “Shayna.”

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  “I guess it is. It means beautiful in Yiddish.”

  “Well, you certainly are. Beautiful.”

  Shayna smiled.

  “Business or pleasure?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Are you here on business or pleasure?”

  “Oh, I’m here to visit my mother and grandmother. I live in Chicago.”

  “Chicago. Now that’s a cool city. What do you do in Chicago?”

  “I own a hair salon. You?”

  “I’m a financial consultant. I had a meeting with a client here at the bar, but he canceled.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. If he hadn’t canceled I would never have met you.”

  What do I do now? What do I say? I feel so awkward, Shayna thought.

  “Looks like your drink is getting low. Next one’s on me,” Matt said.

  “Thanks, but one is my limit.”
<
br />   “Come on, let loose. You’re on vacation.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said and ordered another drink. “Do you live here?” she asked.

  “Miami.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yeah, I like it. Boca is an older crowd. I live in South Beach. Have you ever been there?”

  “Me? No.”

  “It’s fun. You’d like it. Lots of bars and restaurants. Tons of nightlife.”

  “Sounds like downtown Chicago.”

  “Yeah, probably pretty similar.”

  They talked for a little over an hour, during which time Shayna had another drink. She was feeling relaxed and more confident. Matt was attentive and full of flattering compliments. It made her realize that Joel had been so busy with work that he had started taking her for granted. She couldn’t remember the last time Joel had hung on her every word.

  Ten years of marriage makes both people comfortable, I guess.

  However, Matt was anything but laid back. He acted as if he were in awe of her and that made Shayna feel special. Matt looked in her eyes when he spoke to her. He held her hand and massaged her palm.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back,” Shayna said.

  “Sure.”

  When Shayna got to the ladies’ room, she called Linda and told her everything.