It was raining and he tugged the cap tighter to his head, then walked down the narrow artery too fast for the caution he usually took after curfew. He slowed, blaming Isa for the lapse. He shouldn’t be thinking of her at all. She was here and there was nothing he could do about it. And while he was relieved neither one of them had been caught with the letters and newspapers she’d brought in, he was done worrying about her anymore. If she starved along with the rest of Belgium, so be it.
Suddenly he stopped. His thoughts had kept him from concentrating on his surroundings. He thought he heard something. Edward slunk into the shadows, waiting.
A cat shot by and he wondered if that was all it had been. He waited longer. In a moment he heard something else, the sound of German voices.
He understood what little he could hear, something about the cat and then a laugh and a joke about how everyone hadn’t minded eating the stray dogs and old horses the army hadn’t taken, but nobody wanted to try the cats. Another responded that they were too scrawny nowadays anyway, so why bother. When the sounds faded, Edward moved out of his hiding place. The church steeple was within sight. It was too late to speak to his contact tonight, but being at the church would put him in exactly the right spot to do business at first light.
Safely inside, Edward let the quiet of the sanctuary calm his nerves. He hadn’t visited church so often his entire life, not even in the days when he wanted to go.
He walked deeper into the sanctuary to lie on the hard wooden bench. It wouldn’t be the first time it had served as a bed, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.
* * *
Isa lay in the dark. Beside her, Genny slept. Isa dared not disturb her rest, though that’s exactly what she wanted to do. All evening Isa had shared Genny with Viole, Albert, or Jonah. While it was wonderful under any circumstance to be with this woman who for so long had been Isa’s mentor and friend, she’d wished for time alone and hoped tomorrow might be different.
She wasn’t sure at first, it was so quiet, but soon she realized Genny’s breathing no longer had the steady rhythm of sleep.
“Genny?” she whispered.
For a long moment Isa heard nothing, not even breathing. Then Genny turned and gave Isa a smile. She could see little in the dim light from the single, high window in the room but could tell Genny had been crying, in spite of the smile.
“I thought you were asleep,” Genny said.
“I thought the same of you.”
“I’m sorry if I interfered with your rest.”
“What’s the matter?”
Isa saw a tear, suspended just below Genny’s eye, slip down a slanted line to disappear into her honey blonde hair. Genny might be old enough to be Isa’s mother but was still a beautiful woman. Her eyes were more green than the greenish gray she’d given Edward, and larger. Though her face had a hint of maturity with the barest shadow of a line here and there, she had the high cheekbones, full mouth, arched brows, and symmetry of natural beauty. But Isa saw a sadness she’d never seen before. At least not in Genny, who’d taught Isa to take joy in God’s creation.
“Now and then I miss Jonathan unbearably. Do you know, the last time you were in my care, Jonathan mentioned how lovely you’d grown to be, and how . . .” Her voice quivered and she paused, pressing her lips closed. “How he wished you were our daughter. And he credited me with some of your loveliness.”
“If I do have any loveliness, it was you who modeled it. He was right.”
“He would be glad you’ve returned. In spite of everything, he would be glad, because he knew you’ve always brought me joy.”
“I miss him too. How can you do it, Genny? How can you live here among the Germans who took his life?”
She raised a finger to shush her and shook her head, wide-eyed. “No, no, Isa. You mustn’t give in to that. Hatred will only hurt you, not them. Believe me, I’ve learned the truth about that.”
“Because you’ve hated them, too?” Somehow facing her own sin of hatred would be easier if Genny struggled with the same thing.
Genny leaned back and rested her arm along her forehead. “I