Dr. Hubert waves us into the house, his gaze searching the area. Once we’re inside, he closes the door. “You will need to remove that vehicle,” he tells Johann. “I won’t have anyone believing that I am collaborating with the enemy. And I do not want to get into trouble should German soldiers come around.”
“I will. I just want to ensure Angelique is all right first.”
“Fine, hide the car in the barn for now. You can do that while I examine her hand.”
Johann looks at me, his concerned eyes questioning me, one eyebrow lifted.
“I’ll be fine.” I don’t want that despised car to draw attention to the house any more than the doctor does.
A woman appears in the hallway, drying her hands on a tea towel. A floral apron is tied at her waist, and her dark-grey hair is secured in a tidy chignon.
Her eyes land on Johann in his Wehrmacht uniform, and her expression twists into that of disgust. It doesn’t improve when her eyes shift to me. “We don’t want your sort here.” The words are directed at my face. In her view, I’m a horizontal collaborator. That much is clear.
“Rosita!” Dr. Hubert says in a gentle chiding voice. “Johann was the man I told you about who saved my life. I owe him this one time.”
“I am not a collaborator.” My voice is soft, my energy waning. The throbbing pain in my hand is quickly sapping me of my strength. “I’m English and I work with the maquis. There was a double agent in my network. He told the Gestapo where to find me.” A shudder passes through me at the memory of Christian’s betrayal and what followed after my arrest. I have no idea how much of this Johann had already gleaned before he saved me, but there is no point keeping it from him now.
“I’m going to examine her hand and see what I can do to help her while Johann hides his car in the barn.” Dr. Hubert’s tone is firm, but I cannot tell if the words are meant for her or Johann or them both.
Johann plants a tender kiss on my brow. “I won’t be long.”
The front door closes behind him, and Rosita ushers me into the kitchen, though with obvious reluctance. I would be the same if our places were reversed. She is taking a risk in opening her home to me, even if it is only for a short time.
“Sit.” She points to a chair at the wooden table. The cabinets and furniture are a collection of sage and dark wood, the walls pale yellow. So beautifully different from the hell I was in a few hours ago.
She goes to the sink and fills a kettle. “Is he really a German soldier? Or is he with the maquis and that uniform is to throw the Nazis off? He doesn’t speak with that horrible guttural accent.”
“His grandparents are from Switzerland. He’s from Austria.” I don’t answer her question about him being a German soldier. I have no idea what to say. Once the Gestapo discovers I’m missing, they will investigate how I escaped.
He risked everything for me.
Johann didn’t desert the Army with his friend Dieter. He was afraid it would put his mother and sister at greater risk than they already are. Yet, that’s exactly what he did for me. Surely, he doesn’t intend to return to his unit as though nothing has happened.
Dr. Hubert enters the kitchen with a medical bag and puts it on the table. He washes his hands and sits on the chair next to mine. Then he takes my hand and examines it, carefully moving my fingers.
Pain stabs through my hand, and my body tenses. I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my best not to whimper and yank my arm away.
“Is it true England plans to attack the Germans soon?” Rosita asks, and I have a feeling the question is to distract me from what her husband is doing.
“Eventually. But I don’t know when. None of us…will know until closer to the date.” They’re running out of time if Parliament plans to do it before winter hits.
The kettle whistles on the stove. Rosita gets up and moves it to the side.
Johann strides into the kitchen. Gone is his uniform. In its place are clothes that belonged to Yvon, Jacques’s son. Rosita nods at him, the earlier disgust in her expression faded.
“As best as I can tell, you have some broken bones and damaged ligaments,” Dr. Hubert explains to me. “I’ll need to reset them, but it will be very painful while I do that. I would give you an alcoholic drink to help numb the sensation, but we don’t have any. And there’s no guarantee the bones will set properly. A hospital would do a better job than what I can do here.”
“I can’t go to a hospital. Not at the risk of being caught again.”
“I agree. It’s too dangerous. But I want you to know the risks if I reset your bones. You may never have full use of your hand again.”
“I understand.” What will that mean once my baby is born? Will I be able to hold my precious child?
I don’t voice my fears. Without Dr. Hubert’s medical aid, it’s guaranteed I wouldn’t be able to hold my baby. I owe him everything for what he’s doing for me. For the risk he is taking in helping a fugitive.
Johann puts his hand on my shoulder, the gesture gentle and intimate. “She’s pregnant. Will that be a problem?”
That earns Johann a raised eyebrow from Dr. Hubert. “Yours, I assume?”
