“Of course not.”
“Then you’re involving him unwittingly.” Gerrit’s arms swung hard. “Even worse. He won’t know what he’s walking into. If he’s caught with a letter—you could get him killed.”
“The letter is innocuous. I told my girlfriend I was posted to Jersey, not near Saint-Malo as I’d hoped, and I won’t have leave for six months. I said she’s free to find someone new.”
Air puffed out Gerrit’s cheeks, and he blew it out. “Letting the network know why they haven’t heard from us. And never will.”
“Yes.”
“Send it by post. Leave Charlie out of it.”
“I don’t want the censors reading it in case they suspect my contact.”
A groan rumbled in Gerrit’s throat. “All the more reason not to involve Charlie. He can’t even be sixteen.”
“He’s fifteen. I told him I didn’t want the censors reading my letter because it was sappy and sentimental, and I made it as sappy and sentimental as I could stomach.”
“He’s fifteen.” Gerrit glared at his friend. “Fifteen, Bernardus.”
“Which makes him look innocent.” Bernardus kept his square face trained on the castle. “But he’s smart. He was one of the top boys at Victoria College, the best boys’ school on the island, but he quit to help his family. His parents evacuated to England, and the elder Dr. Picot left the practice in his daughter’s hands. It isn’t doing well, and Charlie wants to help.”
A kind and selfless boy. Yet another reason not to risk his safety.
Bernardus’s mouth puckered on one side. “I have some sad news about the family though. Charlie’s sister is married.”
A kick to Gerrit’s chest, which made no sense. Despite the strange and wonderful affinity he’d felt with Ivy Picot, she was appropriately disgusted by his uniform. “Dr. Picot is married? But she uses her maiden name.”
Bernardus gave Gerrit’s arm a light whack. “The other sister. The stunner.”
“Oh, that one.” Gerrit had seen her first, of course. A face that could grace the cover of any magazine.
Bernardus chatted about what Charlie had told him about that sister, the older sister—Fern was her name—and her husband and sons.
Gerrit’s thoughts trailed to the younger sister with the sweet face that had drawn him. She’d been talking to the elderly lady beside her, not with the condescension of youth or even the oversight of a physician, but with genuine interest and affection.
Which had drawn Gerrit even more. Then she’d turned to himwith those large dark eyes set in a face that was all softness—round cheeks and chin and a little round mouth. And she’d kept looking at him, and he’d wanted to keep looking at her forever.
Dr. Ivy Picot. To become a physician, strength and determination and courage had to lie behind all that sweetness and softness. And he’d liked her very much.
Then she’d recoiled at the sight of his uniform, and he’d gained deep respect for her, even as he’d resigned himself to the fact that she’d never again direct that sweetness his way.
“Kroon!” A man’s voice rose from behind them. “Van der Zee!”
“Don’t look,” Bernardus said in a sharp tone. “Anything else to discuss?”
The letter had already been given to Charlie, so Gerrit sighed and shook his head. With that letter passed their last hope of helping the Allies. He and Bernardus had gone from brave freedom fighters infiltrating the enemy stronghold to sniveling collaborators building that stronghold.
Nothing could be done. Quitting was impossible. Escape even more so. And sabotage would lead to torture and death with nothing to show for it.
“Kroon!” Riedel called, closer now. “Van der Zee.”
Bernardus turned and waved at the officer. “There you are, Herr Bauführer. I thought you’d gone on before us.”
At least Bernardus hadn’t included Gerrit in his lie.
Riedel jogged up, breathing hard, his belly shaking. He wiped sweat from under his nose, then shielded his eyes to study the castle. “What a sight, ja? Not as magnificent as the castles in Germany, but it’s still impressive.”
Even more so up close.
