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She drew down. “Twenty-seventh of May. Maybe months. The routes south are blocked.”

He scratched his head, ran his fingers through the stubble on his chin. “I heard the Germans are taking up new positions all the time, closing routes. Twelve men and two guides were shot crossing the Alps last week.”

Fabienne finished her drink. “Then the children will have to stay here until it’s safe.”

He flicked his cigarette, and ash tumbled to the floor. “That might not be until the end of the war.”

She turned her glass as it sat on the table. “Then, we had better hope that time comes sooner rather than later.”

He took a slug of beer. “Will they have new papers?”

Fabienne hoped they would arrive with new identity documents, but she couldn’t be sure of anything until she saw them. “If they don’t, we will have to get them.”

He shook his head and cursed under his breath. “It’s risky. We need to find families who can take them, and there will be no additional rations.”

She tapped her glass on the table. “You want another?”

He pushed his glass towards her. “I need one to help me think.”

She went to the bar and ordered another round of drinks. Three Frenchmen entered, workers from the dairy. They acknowledged each other with a nod of their head, and she went back to the table to talk through names of people they knew who might be willing to give a home to a child.

***

Gerhard had arrived home on time and in a reasonably good mood, though complaining of a slight headache. They had eaten in silence, and he had gone to his room early.

Johanna sat on her bed and stared at the letter on her bedside table he’d brought back for her. Her hand trembled as she picked it up. The handwriting wasn’t either her mother’s or her son’s, and she dreaded discovering the contents of the message. It could only be about her mother. If it had been anything to do with Ralf, Gerhard would have been informed before her.

She opened the envelope hesitantly, her fingers moving clumsily, and drew out the thin piece of paper. Her heart thundered and blood pulsed in her ears such that she couldn’t think and could barely focus on the words.

My Dearest Johanna,

I hope you are safe and well during this horrid time. Your mother is doing better now.

Johanna dropped the letter in her lap and cupped her mouth. Tears flooded her cheeks as she processed the good news. Thank God she was still alive, but what had happened such that she was doing better now? She took a deep breath and continued to read.

Aunty had a stroke just before Christmas, and this has affected her ability to write, though she is otherwise improving daily. She came to stay with me in Heilbronn and will be here until after the war since Berlin is unsafe, and in any event, she cannot be left on her own. My address is below, she would love to hear from you as would I.

Your loving cousin,

Gretta

Heilbronn wasn’t far from Stuttgart, and Stuttgart was close to Strasbourg. Mutter was about a three-hour drive away. Johanna had the urge to drive there to see her, and bring her back to the house. To do what? Even if she asked Gerhard to have her mother picked up, Johanna couldn’t be taking care of her here. Not now. Mutter was safer in Heilbronn than in Berlin, and given Johanna’s involvement with Fabienne’s Resistance activities, it was better that she stayed put until after the war. Then Mutter could come and stay with Johanna, wherever that may be.

She folded the letter, put it in her top drawer, and went to bed. She recalled the scene in the cellar, Fabienne not admitting that she loved Johanna, and she tossed and turned. Johanna had been with Gerhard long enough to know the difference in a kiss. No one kissed with such tenderness and passion unless their heart was in it.

Damn Fabienne for not saying the words.

25.

JOHANNA STIRRED IN THE darkness, aroused from her dream. She slid her hand between her legs and imagined Fabienne making love to her. Her body reacted to her touch, she came quickly, turned onto her side, and fell into a deep sleep.

The thud of the front door being slammed woke her. Gerhard had left for work. She got out of bed, washed, dressed and went downstairs, her body still aching for Fabienne’s touch.

“Frau Neumann, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Fabienne’s grandmother said, though she didn’t look saddened by whatever she had to say. Still, the words jolted Johanna out of her reverie.

“What is it?”

“I took breakfast to Herr Müller just a moment ago.” She held her hands in front of her and lowered her head. “I’m afraid he is dead. It must have happened in the night.”