holder, and struck a fresh light despite a cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray on the table. She walked to the window and stared down as gray smoke curled from her nose. “Didn’t think to see you again so soon.”
The sourness that had knotted in Kat’s stomach all day slowly loosened at the despondency in her sister’s voice. “I don’t like quarreling with you.”
“Were you with Barrett?”
Kat reached for the box, its top smooth and cool to the touch. “We went for a walk.”
“He’s good for you.” Ellie nodded absently and dragged on her cigarette. The smoke bounced off the window, but she didn’t wave it away from her face. “Too bad that can’t be said of all men.”
Unable to resist, Kat popped open the lid. Nestled on a bed of black velvet lay a slender blue-and-white iron cross with a starburst at the back and black swastika in the middle. Der Deutschen Mutter circled the spidery symbol.
“What is this?”
Ellie didn’t bother turning from the window. “It’s the highest honor awarded to a German woman.”
“Why would he give this to you?”
“Because it proves how much he needs me.”
Kat moved her thumb over the swastika and the poisonous inscription to block it from view, but the words had burned themselves too deep. Der Deutschen Mutter. The German Mother. Dread flooded her veins. “Needs you for what?”
Smoke curled from Ellie’s mouth like ashes from a smoldering ruin after a night of unending bombing. Broken, with little hope of lasting until the relief of morning. She didn’t answer.
Chapter 16
Kat stuffed her carefully worded letter into the silver-embossed envelope and sealed it shut. Maybe Barrett would reply to this one. She tapped the corner against the side of the desk. But what about the other four that had gone unanswered?
Replacing the fountain pen and paper in its storage box, she pushed out of her chair. Late-morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains to shine across the water-lily pattern of her room’s wallpaper, but she had no eye for the beauty. Not today. Not when it had become her prison as it had five days ago. Crossing the thick white carpet, she stared out the window as hazy clouds drifted across the blue sky. Tap, tap, tap. The letter pinged off the windowpane to fill the silence beating down around her.
“Please, please, Barrett. Please reply. Let me know you’re all right.” Unable to explain to him why she couldn’t see him until next week, she hoped he would read between the delicate lines and not do anything rash to further provoke Eric’s wrath.
She pressed a hand to the glass, her warmth seeping through its coolness until she dropped it back to her side, leaving a fleeting handprint. Alone, surrounded on all sides by panels. Just like her. Just as she always was. Until Barrett came. The only one to stand next to her without fear, without fleeing at the first hint of distress. Simply to stand next to her. When the time came to leave Paris, would he still . . .
Whirling, she rang the little silver bell on her nightstand. A few seconds later, Sylvie popped in. “Oui, mademoiselle?”
Kat held out the letter. “Another one. Are you sure they’re getting to him?”
Sylvie’s eyes dropped to the ground as she nodded. “Oui. My contact assures me that they are given to the right man.”
“But there’s never a reply for me?”
Sylvie shook her head, still eyeing the floor. She held out her hand.
Kat’s fingers crimped the edge of the envelope. What if he didn’t think it necessary to reply? Or perhaps he thought it might cause more problems if he did and Eric found out?
“Mademoiselle?” Sylvie’s eyes flickered up, concern in their brown depths.
“What? Oh.” Kat smoothed the edge of the crumpled envelope against her skirt and dropped it into the maid’s waiting hand. “Thank you, Sylvie. I don’t know what we would do without your help, especially since you’re the only one allowed to come and go.” She dropped her voice. “Have you heard from Pierre?”
“Non. No one speaks of it. There are too many gone to keep count of.”
“And your family?”
“Well enough, mademoiselle. They do not go out anymore. It is safer to stay inside.”
“Are they getting enough food? What about clothing? I have several blouses in my wardrobe—”
“Non, merci. The wages Major von Schlegel pays are more than enough for me to keep them provided for. For now.”
Kat took the girl’s hand. It was ice cold. “Please, if there is ever anything you