died, and I never went to the Kommandantur to tell them differently. They expect all the men between seventeen and fifty to report regularly. But I think they’ve done enough to him. That’s why Edward wears that disguise. His identity did die. Gourard even produced a death certificate for him, and I took it to the Germans.” She put a fist to her lips, pressing against the quiver Isa saw nonetheless.
“Oh, Genny,” Isa said and hugged the older woman. “Thank God, oh, thank God his identity was all that died.”
“I do thank Him, Isa, every day of my life. Every morning I wake up and thank the Lord for sparing my son. Only . . .”
“What?”
“The Lord healed his body, but something inside of him is still infected. His spirit has shriveled up with hatred of the Germans. Sometimes it seems he even hates God for taking away his father. At least for taking him when He did, when their last words were so harsh. He won’t speak of God anymore, and his Bible is here with me.”
“God hasn’t let go of him.”
Genny pulled Isa to her. “I know.”
Isa clung to Genny, with hope and desperation in equal measure.
8
Contrary to what the FOREIGNERS would have us believe, for every German victory there is an Allied victory. We must pray for the balance to tip in our favor.
La Libre Belgique
* * *
Major Johann Maximilian Gottfried von Bürkel let the breeze carry the sheer curtain aside, affording him a clear view of the street below. What had he expected? That they would arrive in royal style? in a vehicle or a carriage?
Perhaps not, but neither had he expected the owner of this impressive city villa to be dressed in rags. Who could tell which one he was supposed to watch? But why bother, anyway? The little group arrived as one insignificant mass, huddled close as they approached the entry porch.
He turned away as they left his line of vision. With only one crutch he was still nimble, easily making it to the nearest chair. He sat and placed the crutch with its mate, near his one remaining foot, heaving a sigh between resignation and disgust.
The war had taken its toll on everyone, including those who had once lived in such a grand home. His eyes took in the burgundy and gold room he’d called his own for three months now, with its brocade draperies, silk wallpaper, and carpet spun right here in Brussels. Only the very best.
He hadn’t expected more than one of them but hardly cared which was the owner. Whoever she was, the Germans intended to keep an eye on her. He wished he could care about the things the army wanted; at least that might seem familiar. Instead, the thoughts that consumed him these days were far from armies and killing and German objectives. The future often filled his mind, but an eternal one rather than a German one.
A moment later brought the expected tap at his door, and he called his permission to enter. He used French, the language that came with the few servants left in this home.
“Pardon, Herr Major, but our Mademoiselle Lassone has returned.”
He caught the pleased look in the middle-aged woman’s eye and dismissed it as sentimental. “Very well. I intend to remain in my room. If she wishes to see me, she may announce herself. Otherwise, I shall give as little attention to her as I hope she will give to me.”
Max watched the servant close the door. He settled back in the comfortable leather chair. He listened. At first he heard nothing, but then it came. The sound of feet on the stairs and then voices. He hoped they would pass his door without pause, and when they did, he was surprised at his own disappointment.
He should have gone back to Germany after he left hospital. But for what? For whom? His sons were gone, both of them killed within months of each other, before this vile war knew its first anniversary. And their mother . . . she might as well be gone, too. He knew she was safe where she was, cared for by the nuns in the convent where she’d lived as a child. There was some measure of comfort in that, whatever comfort he could find amid the fact that she no longer knew him. Grief was a powerful force, more powerful than her memory of him.
“Well,” he said to himself, “I never did like fighting those hall