Bernardus and Gerrit, and Ivy nodded. “I know both men and trust them completely. They’ll take good care of Charlie.”
“Benny would be a tremendous catch for the Germans. I assume Gary is as notorious? At times when Charlie is feverish, he mentions losing maps, worries about them falling into German hands.”
Ivy winced. Charlie might be able to withstand torture, but not delirium.
Dr. Tipton pushed up to standing, and he paced the length of the room and back to Ivy. “We don’t mind aiding escaped workers. They’re only trying to survive. We don’t even mind fugitives wanted for infractions that weren’t illegal before the occupation. But saboteurs? Spies? Harboring them, helping them could land us in far greater trouble than a prison sentence.”
“Then allowing Benny to leave the island might benefit the ring.”
Dr. Tipton huffed, but in a resigned way, and he crossed his arms. “We suggested sending Charlie with other men trying to escape, but Charlie refuses to go with anyone but Benny and Gary.”
Her brother might be gravely ill, but his spirit remained strong. “Would it be any worse for Charlie if he were caught with Benny and Gary than with someone else?”
Another resigned huff. “Probably not.”
“I can’t think of anyone I trust more to accompany Charlie. Benny and Gary are good men who have risked their lives to aid the Allies. They’re fond of Charlie, and I know they’ll take good care of him.”
Dr. Tipton raised one eyebrow. “As will you.”
Outside the window, the blue sky stretched over Jersey and France and England. What would it be like to live in freedom again? To not live in constant dread of arrest? The Germans hadn’t returned to La Bliue Brise or arrested anyone in connection with Charlie’s disappearance, but they were still watching her. Following her.
If she escaped to France, she’d have plenty to eat, and she wouldn’t be separated from Charlie and Gerrit. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
“Dr. Picot?”
A sad smile rose. “I can’t leave. My patients need me. You understand.”
“I do. Charlie will too.”
“What next?”
Dr. Tipton pulled up a chair and sat. “Do you know how to reach Gary?”
“Yes.”
“Then we must both make arrangements with the gentlemen Charlie named. I know where Benny and Charlie are hiding. You do not, nor should you, nor should I know how to contact Gary.”
Ivy frowned. “I can’t go to this man. The secret police are following me.”
“I’m aware. I brought my car. I’ll pull behind the hospital, and you’ll lie down on the backseat. We’ll drive to the gentleman’s home and back. Then you’ll leave the hospital for home as always. We should go at once.”
“Now?”
“The sooner we can arrange an escape, the better. If we wait too long...”
Not even the most modern medications would save Charlie’s life.
St. Peter’s Parish
Sunday, October 8, 1944
Gerrit shouldn’t have come. He cycled down a quiet lane on the far side of the Jouny farm in case the Germans were watching Arthur and Opal or had followed Ivy.
Tension had defined the past two weeks. Although he hadn’t been interrogated again and a search of his room had yielded nothing, Schmeling didn’t trust him. Claiming that he no longer required Gerrit’s engineering skills, Schmeling had assigned him to manual labor with the few dozen volunteer workers remaining in Jersey, ripping up a railway line along St. Ouen’s Bay for firewood for the coming winter. Ironically, a railway line laid by OT.
After looking in all directions, Gerrit dismounted, hoisted his bicycle over the hedgerow, and clambered over into the pasture. His arms and legs ached from twelve hours of labor a day, six days a week.
A pair of Jersey cows chewed their cud and eyed him.
