Rhineland Inheritance by T. Davis Bunn Read Free Book Online Page B

been a major thoroughfare, now a broad strip of cracked and pitted pavement bordered on both sides by rubble. The surroundings were as gray as the sky.
    Not a single building was intact. As far as Jake could see,the world was filled with single walls jutting like crumbling fingers toward an uncaring sky. All open spaces were filled with bricks and mortar and the refuse of war. A thick layer of dust covered everything.
    The people they passed seldom looked their way. Attention was almost always focused downward, as though no one cared to see much of their world. There were a few bicycles, but most people straggled aimlessly by on foot. The only cars they passed bore military markings. On almost every street corner a man stood with a sign saying in German, “I must eat. I will do any work. Please help me.”
    At several crossings, gangs of street kids materialized from thin air and chased after them, calling out for candy, cigarettes, chocolate, or just calling. Jake had seen this kind of thing in the smaller village where he had been stationed before, but had never grown accustomed to it. Every child he saw appeared to be begging. And here there were so many of them. All skin and bones and ragged clothing. And eyes. Haunting eyes big as saucers and old as war itself.
    They stopped in front of what probably had been a prestigious apartment block, now a flattened heap with two intact walls and a free-standing chimney. Jake could see a few pictures, washed-out wallpaper, and water-stained curtains hanging from the interior of destroyed apartments.
    He parked as Sally directed and followed her down a set of stairs into what had previously been a neighborhood bomb shelter. The door of the low building was marked with a broad painted cross. From the interior rose the sound of children chattering and playing.
    On the bottom step Jake hesitated, his forehead creased in thought. Sally turned around. “What’s the matter, soldier? Afraid of a few kids?”
    Jake shook his head, unable to figure out what had surprised him so. He followed her into what appeared to be a crudely painted fairy tale kingdom. The walls were decorated with bright sketches of stories done with an amateur’shand—Jesus on the Mount, walking on the water, calming the storm, healing the leper, gathering the little children. In the far corner stood a makeshift communal kitchen. Beside it stretched a long table with benches. The ceiling was oppressively low. Without the wall murals the chambers would have been grim.
    â€œJake, I’d like you to meet Chaplain Buddy Fox.”
    â€œAny friend of Sally’s is a friend of mine, Captain.” The chaplain was a small man with sandy hair and a voice as gentle as his eyes. “Welcome to my little créche.”
    Jake snapped his fingers and declared, “Laughter.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œLaughter. I’ve been trying to figure out what it was about this place. It’s the first time I’ve heard laughter off the base since,” he tried to remember and was sobered by the realization. “Since I arrived in Germany.”
    â€œThat’s the chaplain’s doing,” Sally said quietly.
    â€œI’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of refreshments, Captain. The children devour everything just as fast as it arrives.”
    â€œCookie’s sent you some more supplies,” Sally said. “We’d better get them out of the jeep before somebody makes them disappear.”
    They went back upstairs and pulled out the sacks from the back of the jeep. Chaplain Fox peered into the first one and said, “Please tell Cookie how very grateful I am,” he said softly. “And the colonel, of course. Without them—”
    â€œThey know,” Sally said. “We all do.”
    â€œThis is a wonderful place,” Jake said as they returned to the shelter. Eager little hands reached out for the sacks, but not with the