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I nod. “I need a few minutes first to freshen up. I’ll knock on the adjoining door once I’m ready.”
He kisses me softly on the lips and unlocks my room door. I smile at him, the movement as soft as his kiss, and step past him. No sooner has the door clicked shut than I am rushing to the desk. I write a brief coded message for Allaire, taking care to leave no indentation on the surface beneath.
Nazis have infiltrated a resistance circuit. Baudelaire will unknowingly be handing over weapons to Gestapo. Ambush planned.
The cut-out will come to my room tomorrow to pick up the message for Allaire. In the meantime, I hide the small piece of paper in the secret compartment of my purse for safekeeping.
I quickly wash my face so as not to take too long and make Johann suspicious, and I knock on our adjoining door. I’m wearing nothing more than a robe when he enters. He no longer has on his uniform. He has changed into the trousers belonging to Jacques’s son. His bare muscular chest and stomach are on display for me to appreciate, and I’m relieved he took the time to remove all reminders of the entrapments that have nothing to do with the man beneath.
He enters my room and pulls me into an embrace. I allow myself to relax into him. But even then, uncertainty still lingers when it comes to Allaire being able to change the course of events the Germans have planned. Will he get the message in time and be able to convince Baudelaire he is in danger? Egos are growing bigger every day, and some men think they have things under control when they do not. They end up believing they know better and ignore orders from their leader within the resistance group. I have heard of that happening more than once since I arrived in France.
“I’m sorry you had a boring time tonight.” Johann kisses my temple.
“You didn’t know they were only going to speak German. I suppose in time they will expect us all to speak it, and German will become France’s official language.”
“I hope not, but I suspect you are right.”
“Did you have a good time at least? It looked like you were involved with some pretty intense conversations.”
Johann releases me. “Most of them were boring and politically based. Everyone wants power, and they don’t care how they achieve it.”
I cock my head to the side. “Is that why politics doesn’t interest you?”
He holds up his hands. “These were made for designing things to make the world a better place. They weren’t meant for me to climb the political ladder.”
“How is it you’re a captain if you aren’t interested in climbing the political ladder? I know nothing about the military, but isn’t that what it’s all about when you’re aiming to advance in your rank?”
He leans in so his mouth is against the shell of my ear. “In my case, it was about being good at what I do and about staying alive.” His gravelly, low voice sends a shiver of need through me. “And if the Nazis believe I’m on their side, I have a better chance of surviving this war.” His mouth coasts along my cheek, his warm breath fanning my skin. “If I hadn’t been captain, I would not have been able to stay with you and Monsieur Gauthier. My rank gave me that option. And it was one I chose to exercise, if only to give me a sliver of peace for a few minutes a day from the horrors I’ve seen and the choices I’ve had to make.” His voice, although still strong, splinters a tiny bit.
“It will be that way for so many people,” I say. “Innocent people who have lost their lives or their families. Boys who have been forced to grow up too quickly and become men. Children who will grow up without a father. Orphans who have lost everything.”
My grandfather told me when he was still alive about how men returned from the Great War a shell of the person they had once been. They had gone crazy and had to be locked away in an asylum. And those who hadn’t been locked away relied on alcohol and opioids to numb the memories.
No one comes home a winner in war—especially from a war started by a madman.
I embrace Johann in what I can only hope is comfort. Neither of us will come out of this war in one piece. I’ve witnessed things like he has that I would rather forget. My actions have resulted in the deaths of others, even though it wasn’t intentional. And I doubt the nightmares will ever fully go away.
“Can we not talk about this for now?” he asks. “I just want to hold you and make the most of this time we have together before my unit is sent away.”
“What do you mean?” An unexpected slither of dread leaves my chest feeling heavy and tight. “Where are they sending you?”
“Nowhere yet. But there is talk we will be sent to the Eastern Front in a few months. Even the engineers.” His look confirms he doesn’t want to discuss it. So, I let him do the one thing he is happy doing—I let him kiss me.
Our lips move together, and we sink onto the bed.
37
Troy
July, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
Monday afternoon, I tie Butterscotch’s leash to the bike rack outside of Picnic & Treats. He plunks himself down in the small patch of sun on the sidewalk. “I won’t be long,” I tell him and scratch him behind his ear. “Promise.”
“Hey, Boss.”
