don’t like myself when my thoughts are so full of hate, and I doubt you would either.”
“I know little of what’s happened here, to you and to Edward and Jonah. Can you tell me?”
“It’s difficult . . . to speak of it, even after two years. But you have a right to know.” Genny’s eyes squeezed shut, and when they opened again, two new tears rolled to the side. “I should start before the Germans ever came, if you’re to fully understand. After that day your parents came to our hotel for you, to bring you out of Belgium, Edward and his father had a terrible argument. Edward wanted to return to England and enlist in the British army. He was so sure war was inevitable and feared Belgium needed to be protected. My Jonathan believed Germany would respect the treaty and not violate the border. We knew Edward didn’t want to join the army because he believed in a cause. What cause was there to believe in back then? Until Belgium was invaded there was no reason to think anyone should take up arms. By the time Edward tried to join the Belgian army, after we’d heard about the attack on Liege, it was already too late. No arms left, too much chaos. We should have left, gone back to England.”
She pressed her fingertips into her eyes. “That night, the night they came to Louvain, we all stayed inside in hopes they would just pass through. But . . . oh, I don’t know. There was so much confusion, and those soldiers were so young. Some people say there were two regiments of Germans, and they came upon each other thinking they were Belgian soldiers and that started the fighting. But the Germans claim armed civilians—snipers—fired at them. That’s what they said when they forced us to leave the hotel, that someone had fired from an upper window. It wasn’t true; how could it be? We had so few guests by then, and none of us had any guns. The mayor had requested all private arms to be turned over, to prove to the approaching Germans that we wouldn’t resist.”
She took a steadying breath. “We were marched out to the street while they took what they wanted, then set fire to the inn. Do you recall Martin, one of our most frequent visitors?”
Isa nodded. No one could forget Martin, the son of wealthy university patrons who was all grown up but in his mind still a child. Talkative, sweetly annoying in his lack of social manners.
“The noise outside frightened him and he went back inside. Jonathan—he ran after him. There was so much confusion, because the Germans didn’t know Martin’s ways. They thought he was going to get a gun, to defend the inn. Martin and Jonathan were both shot.”
Isa wiped away the wetness on her face. “How awful for them. For all of you.”
“There was nothing any of us could have done to stop them. And so while the fire raged and the Germans looked on, the rest of us went to the church to hide. The next day Edward left, to go and see what was happening. I begged him to stay, to keep hidden, but he went out anyway. I didn’t see him again for almost five months.”
She quieted, as if words were too heavy to utter until she regained her strength.
“Jonah told me Edward was taken away. To a work camp?”
“Yes, so many young men were rounded up that day. But a miracle happened, one Edward refuses to see.”
“What kind of miracle?”
“They were brought back on a farm cart. It stank of animals. Seventeen men in all. Half of each man’s head was shaved, the other half a tangled mass from top to beard. They looked awful, degraded. Edward was wounded on his shoulder, I think from a bayonet, although he never told me. It smelled so foul, and he was so feverish and weak. We had no medicine, no quinine, nothing. I could do nothing but watch him die. And pray.”
Isa wiped away yet another tear and watched Genny do the same.
“But God heard those prayers and blessed us both that day. He healed my son and gave him back to me for a little longer.” She turned to Isa then, and a smile glistened through her moist eyes. “It was a miracle, Isa. Of the seventeen who returned that day, Edward was the only one to live.” She sighed. “The Germans think he