Page 26 of The Lies We Leave Behind

26

The crossing of the border from France to Germany was daunting, my entire body on alert as we left one country for a much more dangerous one.

“You okay?” Lee asked, his voice soft.

It was the first time since we started out on this mission that he’d been quiet. Up until now, he’d kept conversations flowing in our hours in the car and during our many meals together. Like my uncle, he was a skilled conversationalist. His silence stoked the fire of my fears.

I glanced at him, watching him watch the road, his eyes seeming to take in every inch of the small town we were driving toward and the short line of cars idling at a checkpoint littered with armed guards.

I glanced at Lee, considering his question, my hands gripping my purse as I prepared to present my identification at the checkpoint.

“Yeah,” I said.

He nodded, pulling to a stop behind two other cars. When it was our turn, a guard stepped up to the driver’s side window and held out a hand for our papers as a tank rumbled by on the passenger side, shaking the car...and my nerves.

The guard handed back our IDs and paperwork and waved us through. As we drove through a small town that looked like so many of the previous towns we’d passed, Lee pulled out a small square of paper from his pocket and handed it to me.

“Commit this to memory and then give it back,” he said.

“What is it?” I asked, unfolding the small square and reading the name and address written on it.

“If for some reason we get separated before Hamburg, that’s my contact there. She can hide you if need be, provide information, or help you escape.”

“How will she know to trust me?”

“You’ll give her my name.”

“Lee Baker?” I asked and he shook his head.

“Maximillian Brunner,” he said, giving me a sidelong look. “Or just Max.”

“Is that...”

“That’s my name here. That’s the name that will let her know you mean her no harm and are in need of assistance. It will also mean she’ll do whatever she can to help you. Even risk her own life.”

“But—” I stared at him, but his eyes were once again on the road.

I hated the idea that yet another person might have to risk their life for me. What I was doing was dangerous, selfish, and downright stupid. The only reason I was okay with Lee taking me was that he was apparently going this way anyways. Though I of course realized the addition of someone with no experience at moving through countries at war was a terrible imposition.

As the car rolled quietly through the streets, I looked out the window silently, staring up at buildings hollowed by fire, ash catching the sunlight and swirling, resting on the surface of the vehicle as we pressed on to a destination I hadn’t been told about.

At a tall, stark building we stopped. But as I reached for the handle, Lee stopped me.

“Stay here. I’ll be but a moment.”

I nodded and sank back into the seat, making sure both doors were locked after he exited. Despite the fact that we were in friendly territory, and had been for days, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t safe at all. Maybe because of the forged documents hiding in the lining of my valise. Maybe because I was terrified someone would take one look at my pale hair and eyes and assume I was the enemy.

Maybe it was just because we were in Germany, the root of the evil that had spawned dangerous arms and a viselike grip on so many, causing me to question almost daily if they were so weak-minded that they were easily convinced.

Or had they always been that way? Evil, waiting for the okay.

I jumped at the sound of Lee trying to get in the car. Seeing him through the window, I reached over and unlocked his door.

“I’m told there’s a post office with a staff not far from here,” he said, getting into the car. “Shall we?”

“Yes, please,” I said, hugging my purse to me.

I’d taken to writing William every day. Sometimes twice a day. Some were long and meandering letters, others short bursts of thought, opinions, and ideas. I missed him. Missed hearing his thoughtful responses. His laughter. The feel of his skin on mine. I hated that I hadn’t been able to send him my words. He must be so worried. And not knowing how he was drove me mad.

The post office was indeed close by and I smiled a little, my chest lifting with a breath of happiness as we pulled in and parked.

“I’ll only be a minute,” I said, opening the door.

It felt strange. Almost normal. To be walking up the steps to the post office, my purse strap over my shoulder, a hopeful spring in my step. Just a young woman mailing letters to her love. I smiled and glanced at my reflection in the window as I strode toward the front door, grimacing a little as I noticed the wrinkled state of my blouse and trousers. Hours in a car in clothes that had been hand-washed, wrung out, and hung to dry over a radiator time and time again these past several days hadn’t been kind to my clothing. But as I stood in line behind several others, I saw I had nothing to worry about. I didn’t stand out. We all looked worn and wrinkled.

“How can I help you?” a friendly young woman who looked to be my age asked in heavily accented German.

I placed the stack of letters I’d written before her.

“I’d like to mail these, please.”

She nodded, checking the address on each, then gave me a price. As I dug the money from my wallet I asked, “Do you know how long until they’ll arrive at their destination?” To which she laughed.

“Could be next week. Could be next year. One never knows these days with the train system an absolute mess.”

My heart sank as I handed over the correct change.

“Well, thanks,” I said, staring longingly after the letters as she turned and dropped them in a bin. Part of me wanted to tell her to stop. To please give them back. I’d send them from another location. But in an instant they were out of sight and she was looking past me, her voiced raised a little as she said, “Next!”

I ate dinner alone that night, Lee having plans to dine elsewhere.

“I won’t be too late,” he’d said from the doorway of my room where he’d stood after his usual abrupt knocking that nearly always sent my heart racing in fear. “I’ll have the front desk ring you when I return.”

I’d nodded. It was usual for him to have me rung by the concierge after he’d returned from one of his briefings, knowing it made me feel safer to have him nearby. Despite being in friendly territory, there was still cause to be on alert, he’d informed me time and time again.

“The Germans could regain footing and push back,” he’d told me.

I was always on alert.

As usual, when left to my own devices for a meal, I headed to the hotel restaurant and asked to be sat in a far corner away from the rest of the diners, then pulled out a book in hopes of warding off any single men who might consider the sight of a young woman eating alone to be an invitation for company. The book was to show I was perfectly content in my aloneness. It often worked, but sometimes...

“Excuse me.”

Steeling myself, I looked up.

The soldier standing across from me, his hand on the back of the chair I’d forgotten to ask the waiter to take away, reminded me a bit of William with his blue eyes and dark hair. But the look in his eyes was one that concerned me. One I was very familiar with. I’d seen it hundreds of times as I’d transferred injured men from the front. It was the look of a man in distress.

The invisible armor I’d encased myself in melted away and I set down my book and leaned forward.

“How can I help you?” I asked, my voice low and soft. It was my “nurse” voice. The one I reserved for those in pain.

“Are you using this chair?” he asked.

I smiled and shook my head, watching him carefully, taking in the wear on his face and the haunted look in his eyes.

“I’m not,” I said. “You can take it.”

“Thank you, miss,” he said, ducking his head and sliding the chair from the table.

“Are you—” I stopped as his eyes met mine again. I slid my hand across the table toward him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes moved across my face as if unsure where a safe space to land was, my own gaze too knowing for him to meet it again. He shifted his gaze to the table and nodded, then tightened his grip on the chair, mumbled “thank you” again, and went back to the group he was with, a boisterous lot of young men in American uniforms.

A couple glanced my way as their comrade returned to them, clapping him on the back as if he’d accomplished something grand. Perhaps they’d sent him over. Maybe they’d been trying to bolster his spirits by having him talk to the pretty girl in the corner. Maybe they saw it too. That look of loss in his eyes. The sign of having seen too much, the heart and soul and mind churning through images of human life being taken over and over again while plastering on a fake smile in the aftermath and downing a beer in hopes of drowning out the screams, the sights, and eventually, maybe even his own life?

Or maybe they didn’t see it at all, and he’d be just one more eventual casualty to this war, the toll of all he’d been through too much to bear, the nightmares claiming his mind for their own.

I turned my book back over and stared down at the pages. But the words blurred as my thoughts turned to William.

“How do you do it?” I’d asked him one night as we’d lain curled around one another in the bed of our rented room.

“How do I do what, my love?” he’d asked, nuzzling my neck.

When I didn’t immediately answer, he’d pulled back and met my gaze.

“Ah,” he’d said. “That. How do I kill another human being?”

I’d closed my eyes for a moment. That wasn’t exactly the question.

“Not how do you do it,” I’d said. “Just...are you affected by it?”

He’d kissed my head then and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Of course I’m affected. It’s a terrible feeling to take a life, even as I know I’m not only saving my own, but my men’s lives, those of the country we’re fighting in, and everyone back home. And yet, there is never a part of me that feels like it’s right. I always wish there were another way. And as time goes on, it sickens me how numb I become to it. It makes me mad. No one should become numb to taking a life. But I think it must be the way the brain protects itself. Which unfortunately, as we’ve both seen, isn’t the case for everyone.”

His voice had caught at the end and when I’d looked up, I’d seen a tear tracing a path down the side of his face to the pillow beneath his head.

“I’m sorry,” I’d whispered, and then slid my body on top of his and tried to help him forget.

The waiter brought the check and I paid for my dinner, gathered my book and purse and got to my feet. As I moved through the restaurant toward the front door, something pulled at me and I found myself walking toward the group of men and the young soldier who had asked for the chair.

He turned at the touch of my hand on his arm and again I was reminded of William, though a little less so now as I saw his gaze was now swimming in the effects of alcohol, shoving some of the earlier pain I’d seen aside.

“Take care of yourself,” I said.

For a moment he sobered, taking in my words and nodding. But a second later he turned back to his comrades, the noise of the table luring him back under its spell.

I moved toward the exit, smiling at the concierge as I stepped out of the restaurant and into the hotel.

“Good night,” I said, heading for the staircase.

“Miss?” the concierge said.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Baker is waiting for you in the bar.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning. I hadn’t expected him back so soon. “Thank you.”

“How was your meal?” Lee asked after I’d reentered the restaurant and took a seat at the bar beside him, eyeing his half-empty drink. He’d been here at least a little while and I wasn’t sure if it should worry me that his meeting had ended quickly or not.

“It was fine,” I said, waiting for him to tell me why we were meeting. “Is... Are we...” I wasn’t sure what my question was.

“We leave tonight,” he said and then reached across the table and tapped a finger on my engagement ring. “Hide this.”

Now I had several questions, but I knew asking them was useless. I nodded and got to my feet.

“I’ll go pack.”