Page 79 of Winter’s End

“And the bullet –”

“From an untraceable pistol now resting in the depths of the Spaarne.” He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “For now, we are patient. We wait.”

EVI

Eventually, the road gave way to broken cobblestones, but by the time the first outbuildings came into view, her worn black shoes were dusty brown with dirt and she was numb, weary, and hungry.

She hung back, peering at her bleak surroundings with suspicion, trying to formulate how she might ask for help.

If she managed to find a police station, how could she know where their allegiance lay?

Anyone could be a Nazi sympathizer – or a friend to the Resistance.MevreowBeekhof’s words came back to her in a rush;Be careful what you say to strangers, Evi, even to me…

How was she to know who to trust?

Worse yet, she had leapt from the barge with nothing but her bookbag and the clothes she was wearing. She had no money bag, only her identification papers…and the weighty reassurance of the Colt.

Shivering, she passed a deserted farmhouse and forced herself to continue walking.

...

She must have looked as cold, bedraggled, and miserable as she felt, because the old woman who spied her loitering at the edge of the market square peered at her with narrowed eyes. But after a moment, she bustled over, threw a grey woolen shawl around Evi’s shoulders, and led her wordlessly to a small wooden stool.

Evi sat, gazing vacantly at her steely gray-haired benefactor, piercing blue eyes in a lined face under a dark blue kerchief. Her expression was questioning, but Evi was too tired, too listless, too empty inside to make the attempt to speak.

The woman watched her for a moment, bustled off, and returned with a tin cup of water. When Evi nodded her thanks but said nothing, she ambled off toward rough-hewn wooden handcart that displayed a few potatoes and cabbages.

Evi gulped water until she began to choke, then sipped the rest slowly, feeling every drop begin to saturate the empty space inside her. She pulled the grey shawl close around her, watched the old woman tend to a customer, and glanced around at what appeared to be a small village marketplace.

No more than a clearing in a wooded area, it held a few worn wooden tables and handcarts, several rusting bicycles leaning against ashed, and four or five vendors selling produce, fresh and dried fish, and sewing goods from their carts to a small but steady stream of buyers.

The briny smell of the fresh fish roiled her empty stomach, threatening to bring up the water she had gulped. Evi swallowed hard, trembling under the woolen shawl, aware the old woman was watching her.

After a while, the woman came toward her again, bearing a small, green apple. “Eat it slowly,” she warned.

Evi rolled the apple in her hands, sniffed it and took a cautious bite. It was at once sour and sweet, and she felt her mouth fill with liquid.

“Dankuvel,” she managed when she had swallowed.

The woman nodded. “So, you can speak.”.

Evi looked around. “Please, where is this place?”

The old woman squinted. “This isVlaardingen,” she said. “It is not far from Rotterdam. My name is Alettte.”

Evi wailed, a small, thin sound, hardly recognizing the sound of her own voice.

The woman persisted. “How did you come here?”

Tears came. Evi swiped at them. “From the sea. I jumped from a barge.”

“From a barge...” The woman’s eyes narrowed.

Evi pointed vaguely toward the coast. “Somewhere down there. The Germans came. I jumped from a barge. My Mam told me to jump ashore…”

Tears from a place deeper than she knew escaped and blurred her vision. “They killed her…They murdered my Mam…The Nazi bastard raise his rifle and shot her. I saw her fall into the sea…”

“Lieve god…” the woman called Alette winced, sinking down on one knee to Evi’s level. “What is your name,kleintje? Where do you come from?”