Leah Moyes is from Arizona but experienced many parts of the world in thanks to a career in the airlines. Now most of her time, aside from writing, is spent with her family, reading Historical Fiction novels or studying ancient cultures as a student of Archaeology.
She always believed she was born in the wrong time period, but since she doesn’t have access to a time machine she must write and read intriguing stories of the past.
Stay or flee? Life or family? An impossible choice.
Nationale Volksarmee soldiers roll barbed wire across the war-torn city to create the first Berlin Wall.
Families are separated, livelihoods destroyed, death comes easily as crippling fear paralyzes the occupants on both sides of the wall. Fifteen-year-old Ella is faced with an agonizing decision. Does she risk crossing the wall and possible death to reach her family? Or does she embrace her new life and blossoming love that could be wrenched from her at any moment? West Germany and possible freedom or East Germany and controlled chaos?
Ensnare, the first book in the “Berlin Butterfly” series, is a story of life, love, survival and the struggle of living through the dark early years of the Berlin Wall. Readers will be captivated with Ella’s strength, determination, and vulnerability as she opens her heart amidst a dangerous and terrifying journey.”
“I wonder what happened here?” I inquired curiously as I brushed some of the garbage aside.
“It was a fight,” Anton said so matter-of-fact. “A husband and wife fought, and she shot him . . . dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why was she the one who shot him? Maybe he was a spy and discovered a secret . . . then he shot her!” I noticed a small stack of linens. I picked up the first one and shook the layered dust off it.
“He couldn’t have hurt her—” Anton constructed the crime, “— she was the love of his life, but she betrayed him.” He turned over a book with a broken spine. The soiled leather pouch appeared under a brittle newspaper.
My fingers brushed over fine lace that bordered a light-blue handkerchief. I was mesmerized. I’d never beheld anything quite so beautiful.
“They were childhood sweethearts—” I continued the story, “— She didn’t betray him; he went to war and left her behind.” I moved over to the small candle, which flickered on the stool and held the linen to the light. In one corner, two small symbols had been embroidered in white,
“Maybe her name was Anna—” I wondered what the stitches meant.
“—And her husband’s name was Dietrich,” Anton said, as he untied the small strap and emptied the contents into his hand.
“He smoked,” Anton added as a pipe and small tobacco can rolled out. I went to his side with the satin material still gripped in my fingers. I watched as he inspected the last two contents of the bag, a small photograph of a pretty woman and a crumpled piece of yellow fabric.
I peered at the photograph and whispered, “He was in love.” I fought a smile. I wanted to laugh out loud; this had been a fun game.
“He was a Jew.” Anton’s voice was flat. I looked at his hands as he held the now-open, yellow fabric. It was a star with black lettering. It spelled “Jude”.
Anton dropped everything instantly. His reaction startled me, and I dropped the linen as well. We looked at each other with a simultaneous realization. This room had been a hideaway for a Jew!