“The maquis couldn’t fully trust I was not a German spy,” Johann says. “So guards were assigned to make sure I didn’t do anything foolish that would benefit the Germans. But if it meant fighting a regime I don’t believe in, it was a condition I was willing to accept.”
“How long do we have together?”
“A few hours.”
Nowhere near as long as I hoped for. “Is she asleep?” I smile at the precious bundle in his arms.
He nods. “She stirred when I came into the room and settled down when I picked her up.”
My smile widens. I can’t remember the last time I smiled this much. “She knows you’re her papa.”
He gently lowers Anna into her cradle. She whimpers and drifts back to sleep.
“She fed before I laid down for a nap,” I tell him. “So, she’ll probably sleep for another half an hour or so.”
Johann yanks his jumper over his head and unbuttons his trousers. “That gives me half an hour to hold my fiancée.”
Athudcomes from the other room, followed by a muffled French curse.
“Someone is out there,” I say, standing, panic infusing my tone. I know it’s not Lise. She’s not due back yet. I take a step towards the door.
Johann gently grabs my wrist. “It’s okay. I told you the maquis group I’m with assigned guards to make sure I don’t do anything that will put the group at risk. That would be one of them.”
“You’re a prisoner?” The question fires from me louder than expected.
“He’s not a prisoner.” The deep male voice comes from the other side of the thin wall. “Just ignore me.”
“It’s hard to ignore you when you’re making all that racket.” Humour lightens Johann’s tone, softens some of the stress around his eyes.
The man on the other side of the wall laughs. “Don’t let me stop you from being with your fiancée. I don’t suppose her pretty friend is returning anytime soon, is she?”
Anna releases a small sigh but continues to sleep through the conversation.
Johann also releases a sigh, although his is nowhere near as small as his daughter’s. “I might as well introduce you to Gaston; otherwise, we won’t get any peace from him.”
He pulls his jumper back on, takes my hand, and we walk into the drawing room.
The man standing by the side table looks to be about Johann’s age but is a few inches shorter than my love. He rubs his hand against a jaw that appears recently shaved. I suspect that is not typically the case.Nothing states you’re a member of the maquis more than when you are heavily bearded.
“Angelique, this is Gaston,” Johann says.
I don’t correct him and tell him my new alias. If he and Gaston found me, they must already know it. But to Johann, I will no doubt always be Angelique, even after he learns my real name.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,mademoiselle. We’ve heard so much about you. Your fiancé doesn’t stop yammering on about you.” Gaston winks at me.
I grin, relieved Johann has found someone he can trust. That is a rare treat these days. These tiny pockets of humanity—of trust—are what give us hope and a reason to keep going during the darkest days. “I’m glad to hear he misses me.”
“I’ll let you two get back to being reacquainted. I’m here if you need me to look after your little princess. I haven’t seen my own daughter in two years, but I do remember how to hold a baby.”
Two years. That’s what this war is doing to families. As it is, I probably won’t get to see Johann again until the war is over and we are reunited. Soldiers are not the only ones separated from their families. Members of the maquis are not usually permitted to visit their loved ones. They remain hidden in the hills and woods, far away from their families.
“She’s asleep now,” Johann tells his friend. “But we will hold you to that if she wakes before we are ready.”
“And your pretty friend?” The question is directed at me.
“Are you married?”
“I am. But that doesn’t mean I cannot talk to another woman. And talking to your friend is more exciting than staring at the cracked wall.”
