Laila helped her up. “They heard you reminiscing about tumbling in the surf.”
With a laugh, Else wiped water from her face. “So much for keeping my hair dry.”
“You look charming.”
Else struck a bathing beauty pose. “Why, thank you.”
They’d reached the edge of the crescent-shaped beach, where the Ahlefeldt villa overlooked the Sound, impressive but empty.
Laila flicked water in the direction of the villa. “If I had a fancy place like that, I’d live there all summer, sailing and holding parties on that lawn. Wealth is wasted on the wealthy.”
Else wanted to smile at Laila’s wit, but sadness seeped from the property, as if the house mourned the wife who’d died too young, the wayward son who’d broken their hearts, and the husband too grieved to face the memories of the place.
“And freedom is wasted on the free.” Laila now faced the Øresund. “I can almost see Sweden from here. If only I could swim there.”
Else looped her arm through her friend’s. Ten miles of frigid water would stop the heartiest of swimmers. “Maybe the Havmand could carry you on his back.” Throughout Copenhagen, she’d seen a new symbol chalked on walls—the “V for Victory,” but with the arms of theVshaped like a fish tail—a merman’s tail. The legend was spreading.
“Can you imagine?” Laila’s expression stayed pensive. “A neutral nation. No Nazis. No fear.”
Reminding her of the Danish government’s stubborn refusal to pass antisemitic laws would hardly console her. If the government fell—as the resistance wanted—or if the Germans used their might to impose their will, the rights of Denmark’s Jews would vanish.
They’d lose their freedoms and jobs, and they’d be deported to concentration camps. Rumors said no one came out alive.
Else shuddered.
“Tomorrow I’m quitting my position at the Mathematics Institute.” Laila’s voice came out low but hard. “I’ll work full-time for the paper.”
“You’re very brave.”
“No. I’m very scared.” Laila’s lips agitated. “But I’d rather die fighting for freedom than rounded up and slaughtered like cattle.”
Else clung to her friend’s arm and prayed for her life, for the lives of all who resisted, of the innocents the Germans wanted to kill because of their religion and heritage.
Laila turned to Else and made a comical face. “Thank you for inviting me here for a carefree day at the beach.”
Only one thing to do. Else stepped away, swept her arm through the water, and drenched Laila.
She squealed and splashed her back.
Soaked through and convulsed with laughter, they made their way up the beach.
Else stretched on her belly on her towel, made sure her swimsuit covered her backside, and pulled her triangular prism from her bag.
She angled it toward the sunlight and rotated it until a rainbow spread before her on the sand.
Laila rested her head on her crossed forearms. “You’re like a little girl with your prisms.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Light never ceases to amaze me. The sunbeam is invisible, colorless. Or so it appears. But all the colors are already present in the light. When it hits the prism, the prism separates the colors. Only then can we see them.”
Laila’s dark lashes fanned over her eyes. “Hmm. Like courage.”
“Courage?”
“You can’t see it. You don’t even know if you have it. Then you hit hard times, and you find out if the color is there.”
