Her lips parted. She laughed and ducked her chin, and her cheeks grew pinker. So genuine and unassuming, she brought out something genuine and unassuming in him. With a woman like her, he’d never need slick flattery or contrived wit. He’d once excelled at both, but now he despised them.
She handed him the teacup. “Here. It’s good for your throat and chest.”
“Tak.” He took a sip and watched as she settled into the chair, her color still bright and becoming. “How was your day?”
Her smile flickered. “Fine.”
No, it wasn’t. There he was, too weak to fight Mortensen, no matter how scrawny the scientist might be. He exchanged teacup for soup. “What’s wrong?”
Else tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, pulled it free again. “Everything’s getting chaotic. Every day there’s more sabotage.”
Henrik paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. Whatwould she think if she knew he planned sabotage and recruited saboteurs? Or he would if he ever returned to work.
“I know it has to be done.” Her eyebrows lowered and her mouth firmed. “I don’t know how you feel, but I do think we should stand up to the Germans.”
Thank goodness, and he allowed a nod.
“But I hate it.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “People are getting beaten and arrested and shot. Everything’s accelerating, going faster and faster, and it feels like it’s all flying out of control. And yet I think it’s actually the opposite. It’s all flying together. Does that make sense?”
It made complete sense, and he wanted to draw her into his arms and tell her that yes, it was flying together for good. That the chaos had to get worse, had to bemadeworse, before they could drive it away.
But in her brow, her eyes, the twist of her mouth, he saw the human cost of resistance. Many people would get arrested and shot. Very likely, he would be one of them.
All the more reason not to get involved with a tender heart like Else’s.
She lowered her chin, as if embarrassed to have said so much.
Only words could reassure her, and he had so few at Hemming’s disposal. “These are hard times.”
She looked up, and the tension washed from her face. “They are.”
A burst of wind and rain pelted the window.
“This weather.” Else darted to the window and felt the latch and around the frame. “It looks secure. If this keeps up, my grandparents will forbid me from visiting them. They think I dissolve in the rain.” She laughed and returned to her chair.
He ate more soup, his teeth unused to the firmness of the ham. He wouldn’t go to Søllerød this weekend either, and he frowned.
How many messages for the Havmand had he missed the previous weekend? He had no way to let his cut-outs know of his illness.
“I need to get back to work.” He bit off a chunk of bread.
“Concentrate on getting well. I’m sure the shipyard can manage without you for a while.”
The shipyard. Yes, he also needed to get back to work as liaison. All the coordination and planning sat on ice while he lay in bed. “That too,” he said.
“Too?” Else smiled. “Do you have a second job?”
Henrik winced at his mistake and wracked his foggy brain for something in Hemming’s story. “I help my aunt and uncle.”
“In Søllerød.” Then her face lit up. “If I go this weekend, I could visit and let them know you’re improving.”
Henrik opened his mouth to accept. The Thorups would worry about him. He’d had Fru Riber call the shipyard, but he didn’t dare have her call the Ahlefeldt villa.
He pictured Else at the gate of Lyd-af-Lys, and he slammed his mouth shut. He couldn’t allow her to make another connection to the Ahlefeldt family. “No, thank you.”
“All right. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Henrik grunted his consent and gnawed off bread in a way that would appall every member of his family.
