way,” Edward said quietly once they were beyond sight of the guard station. She followed him off the road again, back into the bramble that had once been cultivated land.
“Is Genny in Louvain?” She’d wanted to ask details all day, but Edward was in such a sour mood she hadn’t dared.
“We’ll stop in Louvain because of what we’re carrying, but my mother isn’t there anymore.”
“The Bardiou family is still in Louvain,” she said. “I’m sure they will—”
He stopped so suddenly she nearly bumped into him. “No one is left, Isa. No one you knew, at any rate. Stop talking.” Then he turned away from her, not even looking back to see if she could match his stride.
They walked at a steady pace, past farmhouses that looked empty, around motley crops. Mostly weeds grew in the fertile ground these days, with an occasional cluster of wheat, so different from what she remembered.
Isa had visited Louvain many times during the years she’d spent more time with Edward’s family than her own, living in one of the best rooms their exclusive inn had to offer while Isa’s parents often traveled. But as they entered the outskirts, her heart went heavy. This was not the Louvain she knew. Where were the whitewashed brick homes and shops that had once lined the cobblestone street, the flowers that hung from each window, the gardens gracing every yard? Not a blade of color could be found, as if a massive paintbrush had drawn a swath of gray over the town. Entire blocks were burned to the ground; piles of brick and rubble stood crumbling where she’d once shopped and dined. She could tell by Edward’s face that he’d grown used to the devastation, so she hid her horror.
She knew the university was burned, where both her father and brother had attended—and Edward, too, at only sixteen. Perhaps it had been destroyed on the same day Edward’s hotel had burned, since it wasn’t far. American headlines told about the university and its beloved library burning, but Gourard had told her about the hotel.
And St. Peter’s, gone as well. How could they? But she knew that no matter how many of His churches the Germans burned to the ground, God wouldn’t abandon Belgium, not when she needed Him most. Edward must be made to see that . . . somehow.
A smaller chapel still stood, one she’d never visited before. Edward stared at it and she knew that was their destination. At the top of the wide cement steps, open doors beckoned.
Soldiers lingered on a nearby corner, smoking and laughing despite the dinner hour.
“We’ll round the block and come up behind the church.” Edward’s hand cupped her elbow so that even if she wanted to pause, she couldn’t.
They cut through the alley between two shops still intact but abandoned: one a grocer with a torn awning flapping on a breeze and the other with a printer’s logo in the window. Edward led the way to a back entrance of the modest, single-story chapel. Inside, colored light filtered through stained glass. A few people knelt in silent prayer at the altar, candles at each side lit as always in such chapels but perhaps more numerous than before the outbreak of war.
Isa had barely more than a glimpse of the altar as they passed through a hallway and down a narrow stairway leading to a tiled floor below. Downstairs they found several doors, all made of wood that, over the years, had absorbed the smell of incense. Edward went to one and tapped lightly.
A moment later a priest stood in the threshold. Bright dust flecks danced around the outline of his head like a halo, but until he held wide the door, Isa could see only the outline of a man wearing a cassock.
“Edward!” The priest was much older and barely taller than Isa, with a robust smile and the fair complexion of a Fleming, his sparse hair light and gray. “Come in; come in.”
The private chamber offered nothing more than a simple pine desk, a narrow chair before it and a crucifix above two more equally uninviting chairs opposite the desk.
“And whom do we have here? I’ve not seen your face before, young lady.”
“This is Isa Lassone, Father Liquori,” Edward announced. “I’ll be taking her to Brussels, but we have something to leave with you before we finish our trip.”
“Oh? Edward?” He sounded cautious, but his smile never wavered despite his tone of voice. “Are you sure?”
Edward patted the cleric’s shoulder