November 29, 1945

Jenkinsville, Arkansas

I quickly skim through his writings trying to find a clue. After a good chunk of time, I angrily flip to the back. Then, I find the note.

PB,

There are no words that can describe what you have come to mean for me. If you ever find this, you'll now. If you ever know, you'll find this.

-A

The train in the distance calls me to me, and it's like a flashback to that night. I should've followed him. I should've.

I grab everything up in my arms and practically throw myself out of the hideout. Running towards the train, I make a plan of how best to accomplish a jump like that. But realization stops me soon enough. This isn't the plan. Stick to the plan, Patty.

So I make my way over to the depot to catch the last passenger train out.

November 30, 1945

I leave the day after tomorrow, and I'm the only one who knows I won't be coming back. Well, me and Ruth. I know Charlene will be on board once I propose to her what I have so skillfully created in my own mind. Like she said, nobody turns down a job out of Boston. But nobody turns down two, willing journalists going overseas and digging up the dirt.

With all of my outfits laid out on the bed and ready to be packed, I still feel unprepared. I return to reading Anton's writings. He apparently had a lot of free-time in prison and of course when he was staying in the hideout. I've re-read this twice now. I've barely slept, and Grandmother probably thinks I'm some sort of nut staying up in my room all day and flitting around like a tornado.

In my chest, in my heart, I know whatever is coming is not good. It's like walking straight into an EF-5 tornado without the guarantee of shelter. And what if Charlene turns me down? I'll be on my own probably stuffed like a sardine into a crate headed to France. I shake this thought and my claustrophobia from my head.

One passage of Anton's sticks out in my mind from the others. It's the closest to saying he's in love with me without actually saying it. If I'm not being too audacious.

It reads:

"If there ever was a soul so brave and so kind, it was that of my PB. I watch her and cannot help feeling as if a missing piece of the world was put back into place and back into my heart. Of all the things I've seen and done and seen and not done, I shall remember forever that there is good in the bad and bad in the good. And if there ever was a star that shined as bright as she, the whole constellation would be in glory for having such a leader.

What I admire most of her, she will never know for I shall burn these writings so humankind will never be disgraced with such threats to its race. I do not say this in a spiteful way toward her. I say it because, she, alone, is stronger than all of Hitler's army. She is one of the few who have put their fears aside and embraced love's valor. Love is what will destroy the human race because the human race does not want to be happy. It is people like Hitler who pull the hatred out of people's hearts and bring it to the center of the mind.

But, no. She will be the brightest star of this constellation of my life. There have been other stars, but she will make them appear like mere lightbulbs in her essence."

The only thing I could say to myself after reading that the first time was: Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

I certainly don't see myself that way, but he always saw the very best in everybody. That is what is so admirable. The fact that he saw what I couldn't. I kiss the ring once more on the chain around my neck.

Where are you? Where are you, Anton? How will I ever find you in a world as big as this?
Ich leibe dich

December 1

Boston, Massachusetts

Charlene is waiting for me on the platform looking super business-like. She has that annoyed curl in her lip which makes me wonder what I'm about to walk into.

"Patty!" She exclaims, assessing me and turning me around in a circle before finally hugging me.

"Charlene." I say trying not to breathe in the fur around the neck of her coat.

"How are you?" She asks, looping her arm through mine and guiding me through the crowd.

"I'm quite swell," I reply, taking in Boston.

"You're just going to love the apartment. It's a bit small, but for you and me, it will be perfect! You have to meet Charles first, the boss. But after, we'll have lunch and do a little sight-seeing." I almost want to yell at her that I don't have time for sight-seeing, but she doesn't know about the plan yet.

Charles is a man in his early thirties, and I can tell by the way Charles watches her, he's completely smitten. But if she notices, she doesn't give him any attention. It's almost like she's the boss, and he just lets her do whatever which works in my favor.

"Ah, Patty." He extends his hand. "I've heard so much about you. I'm Charles."

I pull out my best business-like smile as I shake his hand. "Well, hello Charles."

Charlene giggles, "Isn't she a charm?"

I blush and take my hand back.

"Well, shall we go to lunch?" Charlene doesn't wait for an answer but just simply grabs her coat and bag and is back out the door.

Charles lets out a low whistle and chuckles. "We'll talk more about your position at lunch."

"Agreed," I say, and we follow Charlene out the door.

Lunch is an eventful meal with the waiters and waitresses cooing over my accent. I turn as red as the tomato soup and want to hide under the table, but I know that wouldn't be professional. I try to ignore this unwanted attention and enjoy the meal, but I feel so nervous with Charles watching my every move.

"So, Patty," Charles says, "What do you like most about journalism?"

I have my answer ready. "Discovery."

"Oh really," he takes a sip of his coffee, "Discovery of what?"

"The truth."

He puts his coffee cup down and stares at me very seriously.

I decide to elaborate. "Everyone's just so blind all of the time. They walk around like chickens with their heads cut off. Heck, I would be one of those chickens, too, if I hadn't met Charlene."

A smile plays across his face. "I like you, Patty." He lights up a cigar and leans back in his chair.

"Thank you, sir," I say, rather pleased with myself.

"None of that sir business. I'm not your father." Well, thank God for that...

"I just want to thank you for this opportunity, sir- Charles."

"The pleasure is all mine. I've read over your work. You're quite talented." He puffs on his cigar then coughs. "Stuff will kill you, ya know," he comments.

"Thank you. I'm just a very curious person, and once I know things, I just have to announce it to the world." I shrug my shoulders and have another bite of soup.

"Curiosity killed the cat."

I give him a funny look. "Pardon?"

He sighs. "I'm just trying to say that this can be a dangerous job. A lot of times, people don't want the truth to come out. You would be surprised what the government keeps hidden."

Charlene interjects, "Don't scare her."

He ignores her and continues. "People will do many things to keep the truth from surfacing."

"Charles…"

"Millions of people have died already. No one would give a second thought about killing a little girl like you. You would be like a fly, an annoying, pesky thing."

"With all due respect, if I have to be a fly, I won't be dumb enough to pester the guy with the rolled-up newspaper." I hear the annoyance in my own voice.

"Well, good," he says, putting out his cigar and standing up. "You ladies enjoy the afternoon. By the way, Charlene, she'll be perfect." He's out the door before either of us can say good-bye.

I turn to Charlene expecting an explanation.

"Well," she says, "He's good at what he does. He's the youngest in his position in Boston."

"He may be good, but he's…" I'm lost for words.

"He's a bit forward, but that's just how he get what he wants." She drains her coffee cup. "You'll see. This is a step in the right direction." She winks at me and signals for the check.

Right direction? I wonder about that as she drags me throughout the city, pulling me into shops and insisting that she buy me scarves and hats.

"Trust me, darling, you'll want these." She says each time I resist.

When we get back to her apartment, I feel like an ice sickle.

It's not big, like she said, but it's homey with a little fire place in the den which she immediately lights.

"You wouldn't believe how cold it gets at night. You can sleep on the sofa if you would like. I have a heater in my room, but the one in the guest room broke a few weeks ago. And well, the bed in there is cluttered. It's kind of my writing room." She puts a tea pot on the stove and warms her hands over the heat coming off the burner.

I sit down on the sofa and look around the room. It's tidy but in the way that seems unnatural like she hurried around the house this morning shoving things under beds and in cupboards.

When she comes back she has two mugs of tea and a writing tablet.

I take mine and lean back trying to figure out where I need to begin.

"Charlene…" I say.

She's lost in a newspaper article.

"Charlene?" I try again.

"Mmmm?"

"Charlene, it's time that I found Anton." I say my voice ringing throughout the apartment.

This doesn't seem to surprise her. She doesn't even look up from what she's writing. "And?"

I'm flabbergasted. "And?" I repeat. "And?"

"Yes, Patty. What about it? What are you going to do? What's your plan? I feel for you, I really do, but there are so many people and places in this world. Where do you think he could possibly be?" She looks me square in the eye. "You're looking for a man who was a fugitive and who was proposed dead."

I'm silent. "He's in Germany."

"Where's the evidence? The last people he was seen by were the FBI. The government. If he isn't dead, then, they don't want you to find him. They've probably tortured information out of him. When the information is out, they kill him."

"What about a deal?" I cry out. "He wouldn't give them information for nothing."

"He's the enemy, Patty. They don't have to give him anything. He talks, they kill him." She lights a cigarette.

"Am I just supposed to give up like that?" Tears run down my face, embarrassing me.

"Don't you think if he wanted to see you, he would've come to you by now?"

"I have clues. I have his writings. There were six tablets! He left two. Where are the other four?" I'm standing up now waving my hands around like a mad woman.

"What are you talking about?" She asks slowly.

I pull his tablets out and hand them to her. She flips through them.

I take a deep breath. "If we find the tablets, we find him."