* * *
Two weeksafter the news that still leaves me gasping for air when I least expect it, I push Anna in her pram along the street to the park. The day is sunny, the weather warm, and she’s gazing up at the cloudless blue sky.
She makes a sweet cooing sound. I smile at her, my heart squeezing in my chest. I focus on Anna, my beautiful, beautiful daughter. The only bright star in this world of darkness. The reason I’m outside and not curled in a ball of grief in the flat.
Under the mattress of her pram, near her feet, a stash of leaflets lies hidden. A week after I received the news about Johann, I begged Henri through Lise to let me do something again to help the resistance movement. My heart isn’t in it like it once was. There is only so much passion I can drum up when the man who inspired me is dead. But helping the network is the right thing to do to help bring an end to this war. To make the world a better place for Johann’s and my daughter.
Besides, it gives me something to occupy my mind, to distract me while I wait for news of my return to England.
Now that Anna is more active—as active as she can be given her less than ideal body weight and energy levels—it’s obvious I have a real baby in the pram and not something the Nazis would frown over.
That’s not entirely true. They wouldn’t be impressed that the sweet baby in the carriage is a mix of Austrian and English blood.
“Should we visit the blossoms at the park,ma petite?” My voice is cheerful even though my body is on high alert. I might have the perfect cover for what I’m about to do, but that doesn’t mean vigilance is no longer my top priority. Our safety and the success of the mission depend on it.
I steer the pram onto the path leading into the park. Everything around us—the trees, the shrubs, the flowers—are fresh with dew and hope. Hope that the upcoming Allied attack is the beginning of the end of the war. Hope that someday soon, this long nightmare will finally come to an end.
I casually survey the area, doing my best to not draw attention. The place is free of German soldiers and anyone else in uniform. I release a long breath, ever conscious that not all danger is obvious.
A woman not much older than me walks past. She’s holding the hands of two small girls, their blond plaits gleaming in the bright afternoon sun. They walk to a nearby flowerbed, the colourful petals an assortment of pink, yellow, and violet.
I push the pram to an empty bench several yards from where they’re standing, gently pick up Anna, and sit. Smiling at her, I kiss her tiny fist. “Who’s my precious sweetheart?” She watches me with her beautiful blue eyes. So far, I have not recognized any signs of her aunt’s deafness in her.
I chew on my lower lip, the skin cracked and dry. Anna will probably never get to meet her Austrian aunt or grandmother. Even if they survived, it will be challenging for a while to find them once the war is over. Their home might have been destroyed by then, and I have no idea where they went. The world will be in chaos as everyone tries to find their loved ones. Anna may never have the opportunity to know any of her grandparents. But perhaps she will eventually get to meet her Aunt Hazel, Uncle Charles, and all her cousins. She won’t be completely without family.
A young man approaches the park bench, his noticeable limp slowing his pace. But if the Gestapo were to descend on the area and he felt the need to run, I have no doubt the limp would be miraculously healed.
“What an adorable baby,” he says. “Does she enjoy monkeys swinging from the lampposts?”
“Only when crocodiles sing a lullaby.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I have something foryou.” From his pocket, he pulls out a wooden clown with a white face, black painted hair, and a red hat. “Henri sends his regards.” He lowers the toy rattle into the carriage, stealthily removes the bundle of leaflets from under the mattress, and slips them inside his jacket. “I hope you and your little angel have a pleasant day.” He nods at me and quickly moves on.
I nonchalantly scan the area, as if looking to see what other interests the park holds for me and my infant daughter, but no one seems to have paid attention to the cut-out’s and my interaction.
Anna and I stay in the park a little longer. I’m not ready to be hidden away in the flat just yet. I scan the area once more, searching for signs of something other than heartbreak and pain. An unexpected wave of grief washes over me again, and a small sob escapes.
I push aside the need to touch the heart pendant Johann gave me. Caressing the delicate leaves etched in the gold sometimes helps with the never-ending ache, but I don’t dare to do that here in case someone sees the pendant and tries to steal it.
I tighten my hold on Anna. She doesn’t cry. She just watches me with that calm expression of hers. I tell myself the same thing I do every day when I first open my eyes each morning: one breath at a time, and one day I won’t have to keep reminding myself of that.
“Are you okay, Madame?” The strong German accent kicks my body into fight-or-flight mode.
I look up.
A blond Wehrmacht soldier is standing next to Anna’s pram. The tension in my muscles lessen slightly; he isn’t SS or Gestapo. A gaping hole spreads in my chest, formed from too many memories of Johann once wearing the same uniform.
The soldier eyes me with a mix of concern and curiosity, a small frown crinkling his brow. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asks.
I want to scream at him, tell him to go back to Germany. End this war. Fall in love with a sweet woman and never leave her. I want to tell him to stop risking his life for Hitler and the cold-hearted bastards who have stolen so much from all of us.
But as much as I want to say all those things and more, I cannot. I cannot risk being arrested. Cannot risk Anna being taken from me. Cannot risk her losing both of her parents.
“Not unless you can bring the man I love back to life.” There’s a sharp edge to my words, the slap of heartbreak and pain in my tone that I regret the moment the words are out. Now is not the time to provoke the enemy.
His gaze drops to Anna in my arms, and I can see my pain mirrored in his expression. He has also lost someone he cares about.
He shakes his head, the movement slow, rusty with remorse and sadness. “I wish I knew how to do that.”
