“They will. They’ll know you would’ve tried to make me see reason.”
“If anything happens to you—”
“Then that’s my fault, not yours.”
He looked away from me and sighed. A moment later he pulled a pen and small pad of paper from this coat pocket.
“This is my last contact in the city,” he said, scribbling something on the paper. “I was just with them and they know about you. I have no idea how long they plan to stay. Could be until tomorrow, could be until the war’s end. But here is the address and the name you’re to give them should you need a way out.”
He tore the paper from the pad and handed it to me. I read the address, then the name.
Raphael Dubois.
“Is that...”
“That is my name. My real name.”
“Tu es Français?” I asked.
“Born and raised in Burgundy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Raphael.”
“And you, Gisela.”
He touched the tip of his finger to the paper. “If you go and they are not there, you have two pieces of identification to help get you out. Just be sure you give the right one to the right person.”
I nodded, giving him a small, sad smile.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked.
I took in a long breath and then let it out.
“No,” I said. “But I have to see my sister. Ihaveto.”
He watched me for a long moment and then reached out his hand. I placed mine in it and for a minute we just sat there.
“Thank you,” I said, breaking the silence.
“I’ll bet you’re a great nurse,” he said and I gave him a quizzical smile.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’d have made a good spy. Calm in any situation.”
“I much prefer working on a life-threatening gun wound to having a gun in my face,” I said and he chuckled.
“A good point.” He shifted in his seat, his eyes growing serious once more. “You are sure?”
“I am sure.”
“Okay then. Be safe, Gisela. And come home soon.”
“I’ll do my best. Please give my love to my aunt and uncle. And tell them I’m sorry. When I can, I’ll send word.”
I didn’t wave as he drove away. I didn’t even watch. I merely listened to the sound of tires crunching on the broken cement as I turned and walked toward home.
“Fräulein,” Paulina whispered as she opened the front door and pressed a finger to her lips. She pulled me inside and we stood staring at one another, listening. Somewhere in the house I could hear movement. The sharp clip of footsteps echoing through the hallways.
