Olivia and the Catholic priest overheard the oncoming vehicles and waited until they came to a full stop before investigating. The old milk cows and the petite woman's two plow horses stirred in the field while the roar of the engines sent a chill down the female's spine. She had heard horror stories from neighboring villages how people had been accused of harboring Jews and dragged horrendously from their own residence whether or not they were guilty. Briefly, the short-statured brunette began thinking the bank had become desperate and falsely accused her but shook her head of any ill-thought. Now wasn't the time, the American reminded herself.
Through a white, kitchen curtain, the priest saw Johan standing there. "Vhy are d'ey here," he inquired in English with a thick German accent rolling from his tongue. Both were clueless as to why the German army had arrived. It was in the afternoon and Father Grün had stopped by to make the final arrangements for Olivia's grandmother, who was upstairs still lying on her bed. It had been two days since the woman passed and Olivia was just sorting out the paperwork, of course, with the help of Father Grün since the American born German didn't know any German other than some common words. The Catholic priest had volunteered to translate the essential documents for the young woman on good faith and trust since the banks were seething at the chance to take over the vast property.
Olivia was born in Salem Oregon and spoke only a few words in German. She didn't know which lawyer to hire, let alone which one she could trust. The young woman went to the only place she knew she could completely confide in, the Parish, whose priests were fluent in both English and German. The Catholic father walked over to the long-haired brunette and patted her firmly on the shoulder. His thin aged lips gave her a gentle smile, assuring her God always had a plan; she was going to be ok. The salt and peppered haired priest straightened himself out before giving her some unfortunate news; he would have to return to the church. "D'eir presence must also be in die city as vell. Many people vell be vorried. I must go."
The young female nodded, knowing full well she would be left alone with the soldiers in the front of her house. "If anything..., sign language and pointing works", she tried to jest in good humor. He chuckled at her light attempt to make a joke. Olivia pulled her grandmother's grey shawl around her shoulders from the coat rack that had been mounted on the wall next to the door. Despite her petite figure, she was a little top-heavy. It made her a bit self-conscious and often found herself hiding her assets, as her grandmother would blatantly put it. The knitted shawl was a perfect guise due to the crisp chill outside. Though her undistinguished brown dress with a frilly white apron draped in front was enough to fight it, she could always use the excuse that she wasn't quite used to the weather yet. A trick she had already used plenty of times.
An eerie feeling filled the air as the two stepped outside in the fresh autumn air. Olivia took in a deep nervous breath as she had realized how tall the captain was at first sight. He was still standing past her height from a slight distance while she, herself, was standing on the deck that led down four steps to the ground. 'That puts him roughly, two hundred centimeters', she thought quietly to herself.
The first thing Johan had noticed, and anyone else standing in the area, was her tiny bare feet. She was so bold as not to wear any stockings?! He nearly sneered when his deep blue eyes dropped to take in such an odd sight. It was autumn and he could even see his own breath. 'Was she not right in the head', the blonde asked himself as he couldn't take his eyes off the shorter woman's bare bubble toes that displayed dirt under the toenails. His mind just couldn't fathom the idea of a barefooted adult woman during the autumn time; let alone the dirt she must have tracked in. There was his opinion on what filthy was, reaching to the forefront of his thoughts. A shiver traveled down the man's spine. It was going to be a long time before he could get the disgusting idea of her dirty toes out of his mind.
Johan watched the priest take her hands and kissed the top of them delicately before waving a gentle goodbye towards the soldiers. A milk boy of maybe six years old came barreling out towards the direction of the two. It seemed he had been doing some sort of chores in the barn and was startled by the sudden appearance of Johan and his men. The small lad was dressed like a typical village boy would be for this time of year. He sported a black buttoned collared shirt, probably made from cheap cotton with unsavory dark brown trousers. Even with short disheveled bark colored curly locks and dirty cheeks, the boy made time to adjust his black suspenders and copper dyed cap before reaching the two adults. 'At least he cared about his appearance more than that woman did,' the captain continued to think as he watched the events unfold before him.
The child took off his hat and pointed towards the soldiers behind him before waving and saluting the officer. Johan only tipped his grey and black officer's cap to him, which caused the young one to develop a beaming smile. The young woman nodded kindly to the youth before laying a tender peck upon his brightly pink dusted cheeks. The priest placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, guiding him away from the house. The two walked back towards the field, opening the old cow gate and made their way through.
Olivia stood there eyeing the much taller Captain silently. Her nimble fingers rolled over fringed tips of the shawl. Her deep emerald eyes held no expression but only reflected curiosity as to why the German Commander was there. She observed the man as he began his trek towards her while the cold air had picked up in a swift, chilling breeze. One thing the officer had noticed was her long hair caught by the wind. The man's blue orbs followed the woman's long locks, which fluttered across delicate ivory features like a flag made of ringlets the color of walnuts. This much smaller woman had crossed arms over her endowed chest to keep herself warm. The air had seemingly brushed the back of her neck as his attentive ocean stained orbs picked the small dots across her pale flesh.
Milky shins against the darker dyed fabric also forced his eyes to gaze her over once more. The shorter brunette slightly shifted under his visions. Olivia suddenly felt cold but it wasn't the chilly air. It was from the man himself. His gaze seemed dark like a shadow looming her over on a snowy day. The American couldn't help but shiver but she didn't divert her eyes; unknowingly, the officer was appeased. She wasn't a timid fraulein.
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