Jonah was a spirited child, and she was fully prepared to believe he’d done something rash, even reckless. Yet whatever he’d done could not possibly deserve the punishment of imprisonment. He was a child!
She shrank to the farthest corner of the auto, feeling the very thing she told others not to feel. Don’t hate them, Jonah, because God loves even them. Don’t hate them, Isa, because your hatred will only hurt your own soul. Don’t hate them, Edward, in spite of all they did to you. Forgive them, as we’ve been forgiven. . . .
She stifled a cry, imagining Jonah suffering some sort of German injustice even now.
What a liar she was, a fraud. She hated them, all of them, even this man beside her, for taking her husband, for burning her home and destroying her livelihood, for making Edward suffer as he had. And now for this.
God forgive her, she hated them.
And yet this was a man beside her, not an army. A man who seemed sincere in his efforts to help.
He’d said little since Isa had left with his note. When four other officers came to their door, Genny had nearly fainted of fear, certain they’d come to tell her Jonah’s fate. Yet the Major had bid the men to enter. They had all seemed happy to see him, calling him Max, thudding his shoulder or back. He’d introduced her shortly after that, and everyone had been polite, offering formal bows, and one even kissed her hand as if they were at a soiree.
She’d wished them all away then, silently but fiercely, until one of them said “old Lutz” had sent them with a motorcar for the Major’s use and to let him know he would check into the matter of Max’s note.
Upon hearing of the car, the Major had glanced Genny’s way, and as if they were suddenly the kind of old friends who could read each other’s mind, he handed her the shawl she’d only just discarded and they went on their way. That seemed an eternity ago, but it must have been only minutes, for they hadn’t been on the road long.
“Frau Kirkland,” the Major said quietly, “I can ensure that you see your son, and I can have my friend Herr Lutz look into the matter, but neither I nor Herr Lutz can free him immediately. You do know that? That he’s been taken here, of all places, suggests he’s done something wrong. Something illegal.”
She nodded, tearing her eyes from the flags on the hood to glance at him, then out the side window. Illegal according to German law, perhaps . . .
“It’s a rather fragile web we’ve woven,” he said softly, almost as if he spoke to himself. “We all do our jobs because we want to see our country victorious. We long for Germany to take its place among the great powers. Is that wrong?”
She peeked his way but he wasn’t looking at her, either.
“We have jobs that seem quite separate, alien even, to other compatriots who serve our country.” Then he cleared his throat and peripherally she saw him look her way. “That is why I’m unable to assure his freedom. Depending on the details, and upon the insistence and importance of his accuser, as well as upon the judge-advocate who hears his case, if one is to be heard, there may be nothing at all that I can do. In fact, were I von Bissing himself, I could do nothing unless those who are involved with the case allow it. It is all part of this web, do you see?”
She nodded again, although she didn’t “see” at all. Justice was justice; why must it be so difficult to apply universally, rather than allow only a select few to decide? Was true justice to be found in any court in Belgium while Germans were here?
She kept silent, afraid she might say something to cause him to withdraw his offer of help. He had no real reason to offer such aid, she knew that. And she wasn’t about to shun the precarious hand he extended her way.
At last they pulled up before St. Gilles. She’d seen it before, in passing. The turrets, the battlements, the arrow loops and perpetually guarded center gate. Only now those sentries were German. They spoke briefly to the driver. One flashed a light on Genny and the Major in the backseat while another examined their papers. Then they were waved through