He pulls open my purse and I’m taken aback by his forwardness—and a bit amused.
He shakes his head. “See here…a handkerchief and two bobby pins.” He pulls them out of my purse, then hands me my bag and drops back down to his knee before tending to my ankle. My chest tightens as he carefully wraps the fabric over the wound. His hands are steady, despite everything that’s just happened.
“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself—” I say, my words hesitant.
“I can see that,” he replies, ignoring my statement as he secures the handkerchief with the two bobby pins and pulls my sock back up. The kind gesture jolts my nerves in an unfamiliar way—a pleasant way. “There. Good as new.” He brushes himself off as he stands.
I can’t stop myself from grinning as a warm blush fills my cheeks. “Well, it seems I have a reason to repay you foryourkindness?”
“There’s no need,” he says, his dimples deepening.
“Oh, don’t be so humble,” I retort, throwing his words back at him.
His smile wanes as he fiddles with the loose braid dangling over my shoulder. “Could I at least walk you home?”
“What if I live across the city? You’d be walking all night.”
“It doesn’t matter, because I’d be sure you got home safely,” he says. Except the Jewish people have a curfew that begins at seven o’clock—in less than an hour. Even without the armband, his identification stamped with the letter “J” would betray him. If the soldiers caught him out after curfew, they’d arrest him on the spot.
“I don’t live too far from here.” I don’t accept his offer, but don’t reject it either.
He takes my bicycle from the brick wall and begins walking with it on his right side, me to his left.
“Your voice—I’ve never heard anything like it. It—well, it reminds me of Fred Astaire. Have you been singing your whole life?”
He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a long second before exhaling. “Well, to avoid being too humble for this conversation, I thank you for your kind words, and yes, I have been singing my entire life, but only in my bedroom for the most part. When my father and grandfather lost their jobs, I had to help. I didn’t think performing on the street would be my work for too long, but until the others tire of me, I’ll keep showing up.”
We walk in silence as my mind races with hundreds of questions, my pulse racing with every aching step forward.
“My turn to ask you a question now. Why did you save me?” he asks.
I hesitate, because it all happened so fast. “Those German soldiers… I overheard them talking, they were saying terrible things and making jokes about lining all the Jewish people up and—they wanted to terrorize everyone. It was the right thing to do,” I say with a shrug.
He stops walking, so I do, too, finding him gazing at me with wonder. “A few weeks ago, the Reich imposed new laws prohibiting large public gatherings in Jewish communities. I wouldn’t classify the size of the crowd in the square today as being large, nor have they caused a commotion before today, but I don’t make those rules.”
“Will you have to stop singing now?” I ask, staring up at him, finding despair filling his eyes.
He shakes his head and straightens his shoulders. “No, no. I should be more mindful of the crowd, I suppose.”
“They all want to hear you sing,” I utter. “Who can blame them?”
His cheeks burn as he fights a small smile, but the smile fades just as fast when his eyebrows knit together. “You could have gotten yourself in trouble with those soldiers today. What if they went after you?”
I drop my gaze and press my hand to my chest. “They didn’t.”
A sigh floats over my head. “They might not let you go next time.”
Before I can respond, a throaty voice cuts through the air: “You two! Stop and retrieve your papers.”
I gasp and twist around, finding two soldiers cruising toward us on a motorcycle with a sidecar. For a split second, I can’t move, my mind racing over every option for escape—but there’s no time. I grab my bike from his hands. “Get on,” I whisper, my voice shaky.Are they after us?He swings his leg over the seat as I clamber onto the metal basket in front. His hands wrap around my hips as he helps me balance my weight. The heat from histouch radiates through me, adding another layer of shock to the frenzy. “Now, go!” I shout through a breath. The wind stings against my face and my pulse thrums between my ears as we lurch forward.
I clench my grip on the basket, my heart bouncing around in the same rhythmic speed and pattern as the hop on every cobblestone. I haven’t acted so recklessly since I was a curious young girl searching for the tallest trees to climb with the hope of someday touching a cloud. Now, fleeing for safety and protection—escaping the enemy—it’s as if I’m reaching for the clouds again.
The street twists and turns into sharp bends, and the bike wobbles below us. “Hold on tight,” he rasps through a labored breath. For a fleeting second, I believe we might escape.
Then, a guttural rumble whomps through the air, bouncing between the buildings. They’re following us.
“Stop now, or we shoot!” a soldier shouts over a sputtering engine.
