and shelved, she and Lisbeth climbed the stairs to the living quarters, where Josef and Peter waited to share a late supper. And all the while as she helped Lisbeth in the café, she was aware that above her Peter was waiting so that after supper they could take their nightly walk.
If the weather was nasty, they would take a longer walk because they were unlikely to be stopped if it was pouring rain or sleet or snow. Even when the weather was good and the streets were busy with people doing last-minute shopping before hurrying home to beat the enforced curfew, they would walk, always alert for a signal from Mikel or another member of the escape line that danger was near. In those cases, they returned to the café and Peter’s hiding place, where she would quiz him on his German and set up situations where he might get caught if he made the slightest mistake.
But it was the way he could make her laugh with his gentle teasing and the small animal figures he carved during the long hours of the day for her to give to Daniel that touched her most. There was also a set of wooden buttons for her grandmother to sew on her grandfather’s winter coat and an intricately carved wooden spoon for her grandmother. These small gestures of appreciation endeared him to her. Counting the time he had spent at the farm, Peter had already been with them far longer than any of their charges, and she was well aware that for his safety and theirs, he would soon need to be moved to the next stop on the escape line. It surprised her to realize how she dreaded that day.
“When do I leave?” he asked one night shortly after the start of the new year as they walked arm in arm through the icy, pelting rain. It was as if he’d read her mind, or perhaps he was simply anxious to move on.
“Soon.” They spoke in German as he had insisted they do whenever they were away from the café.
He chuckled. “You have been saying the same since Christmas. When?”
“When they have lifted the checkpoints set up when your plane crashed—when the time is right,” she replied, unable to keep the annoyance at his insistence from her voice.
Are you so anxious to leave me?
She found herself wanting to hurl the question at him, yet she knew the answer. It had nothing to do with her. He was anxious to be free again, back with his buddies, back with his unit to fight another day. “I hate this war,” she muttered. They walked a block in silence.
“What do you think you’ll do—you and Daniel—once the war ends?”
“Will it ever end? Back in Munich we were all so excited to learn that America was fighting with us. We all believed that it would all be over in a matter of months—weeks even.”
“We will come out on top in this thing, Anja. It may take a little longer, but we will win.”
“No one wins in something like this,” she said. After they had walked another block in silence, she finally addressed his original question. “Daniel dreams of the day when he can leave the orphanage. The nuns have been kind to him and wonderful to me, but he misses being with me and his great-grandparents. He misses his sister … and his father. His father most of all.”
“You loved your husband very much.” It was a statement, not a question.
“We were speaking of Daniel,” she reminded him.
“
You
were speaking of Daniel. I asked what you plan to do after the war. You’ll go home, I expect.”
“I don’t even know where home is anymore. I was raised in Denmark, but then Benjamin and I lived for years in Germany. We both attended university there, met there, married, and had our children there, and in time …” Her voice trailed off.
He tightened his hold on her hand as he shielded her with the umbrella. It was a gesture of understanding.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I suppose that I’ll go home, at least for a while. I owe it to my parents to spend time with them and let them adjust to the idea that I made it—if I make it.”
She
If the weather was nasty, they would take a longer walk because they were unlikely to be stopped if it was pouring rain or sleet or snow. Even when the weather was good and the streets were busy with people doing last-minute shopping before hurrying home to beat the enforced curfew, they would walk, always alert for a signal from Mikel or another member of the escape line that danger was near. In those cases, they returned to the café and Peter’s hiding place, where she would quiz him on his German and set up situations where he might get caught if he made the slightest mistake.
But it was the way he could make her laugh with his gentle teasing and the small animal figures he carved during the long hours of the day for her to give to Daniel that touched her most. There was also a set of wooden buttons for her grandmother to sew on her grandfather’s winter coat and an intricately carved wooden spoon for her grandmother. These small gestures of appreciation endeared him to her. Counting the time he had spent at the farm, Peter had already been with them far longer than any of their charges, and she was well aware that for his safety and theirs, he would soon need to be moved to the next stop on the escape line. It surprised her to realize how she dreaded that day.
“When do I leave?” he asked one night shortly after the start of the new year as they walked arm in arm through the icy, pelting rain. It was as if he’d read her mind, or perhaps he was simply anxious to move on.
“Soon.” They spoke in German as he had insisted they do whenever they were away from the café.
He chuckled. “You have been saying the same since Christmas. When?”
“When they have lifted the checkpoints set up when your plane crashed—when the time is right,” she replied, unable to keep the annoyance at his insistence from her voice.
Are you so anxious to leave me?
She found herself wanting to hurl the question at him, yet she knew the answer. It had nothing to do with her. He was anxious to be free again, back with his buddies, back with his unit to fight another day. “I hate this war,” she muttered. They walked a block in silence.
“What do you think you’ll do—you and Daniel—once the war ends?”
“Will it ever end? Back in Munich we were all so excited to learn that America was fighting with us. We all believed that it would all be over in a matter of months—weeks even.”
“We will come out on top in this thing, Anja. It may take a little longer, but we will win.”
“No one wins in something like this,” she said. After they had walked another block in silence, she finally addressed his original question. “Daniel dreams of the day when he can leave the orphanage. The nuns have been kind to him and wonderful to me, but he misses being with me and his great-grandparents. He misses his sister … and his father. His father most of all.”
“You loved your husband very much.” It was a statement, not a question.
“We were speaking of Daniel,” she reminded him.
“
You
were speaking of Daniel. I asked what you plan to do after the war. You’ll go home, I expect.”
“I don’t even know where home is anymore. I was raised in Denmark, but then Benjamin and I lived for years in Germany. We both attended university there, met there, married, and had our children there, and in time …” Her voice trailed off.
He tightened his hold on her hand as he shielded her with the umbrella. It was a gesture of understanding.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I suppose that I’ll go home, at least for a while. I owe it to my parents to spend time with them and let them adjust to the idea that I made it—if I make it.”
She
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