Words dried out in Ivy’s open mouth, but words would be of no benefit. Not when Fern knew the truth.
A chuckle from Fern. “I always knew he was smitten with you. Then I remembered that nonsense when you insisted you knew about love, and I realized you two were exchanging notes like silly schoolchildren. So I looked around.”
“My office.” The words shot from Ivy’s mouth. “My private papers.”
Fern shrugged one shoulder and glanced at Gerrit’s letter. “‘Please know I love you dearly. When all this is over, I will cometo you as soon as I’m able. Then no one and nothing will keep us apart.’ Well, he certainly won’t win awards for poetry, but you don’t provide much in the way of inspiration.”
How many times had Ivy born the sting of such barbs? But she couldn’t bear the insult to the man she loved. “Poetry is a poor measure of love.”
“Love? You little hypocrite. Looking down on me for loving a German officer, all whilst you were in love with a Todt? They’re the bad ones.”
“Not Gerrit.”
“Of course not.” Sarcasm rippled in Fern’s voice. “Your scruples. You could never love someone who supported Germany.”
Ivy’s hand coiled around the handle of her medical bag. In case anything went wrong tonight and Gerrit had to return to his duties, she couldn’t incriminate him any more than she already had.
Fern clucked her tongue. “I remembered his friend Bernardus, the man who died trying to commit sabotage. What if Gerrit had been a fellow saboteur, then deserted Bernardus when things went awry? They turned Charlie to the other side, didn’t they? Is that why Charlie tried to escape? Because he’s a traitor like they are? Like you are?”
Ivy’s breath came hot and fast, pulsing with the truth that there was only one traitor in the family. But some truths were best silenced.
Fern straightened up. “Thank you for this opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“To prove myself. Now Helmut will know I’ve been loyal all along.”
“What does that—”
“Didn’t I mention? The police are coming. I rang as soon as I saw your bicycle approach. They’re on their way to Gerrit’s quarters as well.”
Ivy’s knees buckled, and she braced herself against the shelves. Gerrit wasn’t in his quarters—but now they’d send out a searchimmediately rather than in the morning when Gerrit didn’t report for duty. What if the boat were delayed for some reason? He’d be captured.
Even if he escaped, Ivy would be interrogated, beaten. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t risk betraying the men she loved. Her aunt and uncle. Joan and Dr. Tipton and the ring. The helpers and escapees.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Fern said in a satisfied tone. “Your treachery caused me to lose the man I love, so now you’ll lose the man you love. And so much more. Just to be sure, I’ll lock you in here until the police arrive.”
Fern stepped back. The door creaked. The light diminished.
“No!” Ivy charged forward, wedged her shoulders into the doorway, swung her arms through. Her bag thumped to the floor beside her with a great rattling of glass. The keys tinkled onto the hallway floor.
“Get inside!” Fern shoved at Ivy.
“No, no, no.” Ivy gripped her sister’s upper arms, lunged forward, pivoted. Her back banged against the doorjamb. She couldn’t let herself be locked inside, couldn’t be arrested.
“You won’t get away.” Fern’s fingernails dug into Ivy’s shoulders, and she wrestled her toward captivity. “You won’t.”
“No!” With all her might, Ivy threw her sister to the side.
A scream. Fern tripped sideways over the medical bag and tumbled inside the supply room. She flung out her arms, and the bicycle toppled over, fell on her. She screeched.
No time to think.
Ivy kicked her medical bag out of the doorway and slammed the door shut.
“Ivy! You can’t do this! You can’t.” Thumps resounded inside.
