Genny put a hand under his chin, beckoning him to look at her. “This is no time to try conquering the army. Let the soldiers take care of that.”
Still, he said nothing. She increased the pressure on his chin. “Jonah.”
At last his gaze faltered and he looked down, nodding as he did so. “I was scared half to death I’d be shot.”
With a low sigh Genny drew him back into her arms. “Well, now all you have to do is be silent unless asked directly to speak. And you’ll be home in no time.”
Genny looked around the room. It was chilly but not damp, and though it offered little by way of comfort, it was not unbearable. “I don’t know how long you’ll have to stay, Jonah. You’ll remember you’re never really alone, won’t you? God Himself is right by your side. Always.”
He nodded, his gaze meeting hers.
“All right then,” the Major said. “Your mother cannot stay longer. We’ll get word to the other parents that all of you are together and doing well, and that you’ll be home in no time at all. So go back to your circle, and if you do sing, it’ll have to be a song the teacher taught you. A German song. That’ll go well with the guards, and the tale of it will reach the dreaded teacher in no time and soften him up. You’ll see.”
Genny braced herself for a moan of protest, at least from her son, but even he showed wisdom and restraint, returning in silence to the circle. She didn’t want to leave, but when the Major put a hand beneath her elbow, she knew she must.
She took a last look at Jonah as the door closed between them, and for the first time since the crisis began, she took a breath without trembling.
“Must they stay the night?” she whispered as they followed their escort back to the main entrance. “You heard it’s nothing more than a trivial matter. Why must they spend any time here at all?”
“Evidently this Herr Oberland is a sensitive type. If he was offended, he’ll have to feel the crime was punished.”
“Surely that’s already been achieved.”
The Major lifted his shoulders. “The boys are fine, as you saw. No harm will come to them.”
Genny knew she couldn’t press the issue. “We must tell the other parents their boys are all right.”
The Major nodded. “We’ll go to the school. I’m sure we’ll find someone there waiting to pass the word along.”
* * *
By the time Isa let herself quietly into the back of her house, her lungs stung and her side felt as if a knife were embedded within. She hastened into the kitchen and found Henri at the door leading to the rest of the house.
“Oh, Henri, I need your help—”
He raised a finger to his lips, pointing to the door. She quieted, leaning her ear to the wood panel much as Henri had been doing a moment ago. Through the butler’s hall came the definite sound of voices. Men. German.
And she needed her papers—from upstairs!
“Where is Clara?”
Henri motioned something she could barely decipher, even accustomed as she was to his way of communicating. A coat. She must have gone out. A prayer. Perhaps praying for help—or looking for someone to help.
It was no use. She couldn’t send Henri upstairs; such an idea was too outrageous not to be noticed by the Germans. She must retrieve her Passierschein herself or risk another flight without them. But at least Henri could help with the other matter.
“I’ve hidden something in the cellar—in the special room. Will you go downstairs and bring me some of the money I’ve left on the table? A thousand marks, five hundred francs. And hurry!”
He nodded, then turned to the pantry door, the only access to the cellar.
Isa sucked in a deep, steadying breath. The sound of laughter pierced her. How could they laugh when men—and perhaps even boys—were being rounded up this very moment?
“Yes,” she heard one man say, “and like Lutz, you would have me believing he’s farther up the evolutionary scale than I.”
Whatever that meant, the room erupted into more male laughter—a sound Isa hadn’t heard in too many months to recall. She scanned the area for Genny but saw only uniformed men, each of them either smoking or drinking. What they drank, she had no idea. Nor was the Major present.