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“We’ll be watching you,” he said flatly. His gaze drifted across to Dietger and Anne’s house. There was a figure in the front window.
“That’s...that’s it?” I croaked. “I can go?”
“We’ll bewatchingyou,” he said again. “Every move you make, we’ll know about it.”
The house was empty when I let myself inside. The clock on the wall in my dining room said it was two fifteen, but I had no clue what day it was. I knew I’d have to call Lydia sooner or later to ask where the children were, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so—not yet. I took a quick shower and changed into blessedly fresh clothes. They hung on my frame—however long I’d been in that cell, I’d lost an immense amount of weight. My stomach still didn’t feel right, but I made myself a cup of ersatz coffee and nibbled on some old ginger cookies I’d made before the ceremony at Castle Varlar.
Then came a knock at the front door. I scrambled to my feet and ran along the hallway to open it. Lydia was there, alone. She looked every bit as disappointed as she did angry. She took a step forward until her face was close to mine.
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had no idea what your husband was going to do,” she whispered fiercely.
Behind her, a car door opened, and I was momentarily distracted by the sight of Gisela running along the path, crying and calling, “Mama! Mama, you’re home!”
Lydia took a step back. I crouched to envelop Gisela in my arms as she threw herself toward me, crying into my shoulder. A wave of love and relief washed over me at the weight of her limp body in my arms. Behind her, Laura and Georg were walking along the path too, both looking confused and unsure.
“I missed you so much. I was scared you’d never come back,” Gisela wept.
“I’m sorry, my love,” I choked out, pressing kisses against her hair. “I’m so sorry I had to go away.”
“Welcome home, Sofie,” Lydia said flatly. “I have explained to your children that there was a little misunderstanding and you’ve been away on business sorting it out.”
I looked up at her in shock. Was it a kindness that she’d lied to the children for me, or yet another game?
“Thank you,” I said. She nodded curtly and spun on her heel and walked away.
Laura remarked that I looked tired, and Georg’s frown had never been so deep, but after a few awkward moments, I found myself in the sitting room, surrounded by the children as they filled me in on their “exciting weeks” at Lydia’s house.
“...I finished that assessment at school and Mrs. Bruan said it was some of my best work,” Laura told me.
“Mama, I climbed the biggest tree at the park...” Gisela said, beaming.
“What business were you attending to?” Georg frowned. “Why do you look so sick?”
“Just some private business,” I said firmly. “And I’ve been a little unwell.”
The phone rang, the shrill sound jarring my frayed nerves, and I ran so fast to the study to answer it that I almost tripped over my feet.
“Hello?” I blurted into the handset.
“Hello, my love,” he said. He sounded exhausted, but more than that, he sounded defeated.
“Hello,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. There were so many things I wanted to say to him that weren’t safe to say, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to explain to me what he’d been through either. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” he said. He didn’t sound fine at all—his words were thick and a little slurred, as if his mouth were injured. His tone was heavy with dread too. “I have great news to share.”
“You do?”
“I’ve been invited to join the SS,” he said. There was no mistaking that he was crying now, and I gave up trying to contain my tears. Who cared if they heard us now? “I’ve been awarded the rank ofSS-Sturmbannführer. It is a great honor.” This was a high rank—the equivalent of major in the Wehrmacht. I wondered why our plan failed, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it.
“Can we visit you this weekend?”
“I don’t want the children to see me like this,” he whispered brokenly.
“Okay,” I agreed. “We’ll wait a few weeks.”
When I took the children to visit Jürgen at Nordhausen a few weekends later, there was still a green shadow on his jaw and a purple haze around both of his eyes. He’d warned me he still wasn’t himself, but he’d grown impatient to see us.
“Papa,” Georg said stiffly. “What happened to you?”
