‘I will try,’ said Friedrich and she heard all the things he couldn’t say. The knowledge that his resistance activities would likely be discovered, that his protection of her would eventually come to light, that he was probably sending her away to safety while walking back to his own death. ‘Wherever I am, wherever you are, wherever our child is, my love will always be with you. In every lullaby you sing, every scraped knee you kiss, every bedtime story you tell, I’ll be there.’ He rolled over and kissed her again, soft and sweet and utterly heartbreaking. ‘Promise me something.’
‘Anything.’
‘Promise me you’ll be happy. That you’ll find joy again, even without me. That you’ll let our child see you smile when you tell them about their father, not just cry.’
The request broke something inside her, but she nodded through her tears. ‘I promise. But only if you promise me you’ll fight. That you won’t give up. That you’ll try to come back to us.’
‘I promise to fight,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘For you. For our baby. For the chance that love can win even when everything else has been lost.’
All too soon it was time for Clara to go back to the inn and for Friedrich to return to Berlin. Clara had never felt so physically sick or heartbroken in her entire life.
She gripped his hand desperately, wanting to prolong every second of physical contact, knowing that when she let go, it might be forever. They had talked optimistically about being reunited, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe it was guaranteed. The chances of Friedrich making it to the shores of England or Clara returning to Germany once the war ended, were heartbreakingly slim.
She held back her tears, determined that her husband’s last memory of her wouldn’t be one of weeping.
They reached the end of the road that led into the town, pausing in the shadows one final time.
Clara looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but Friedrich placed his finger gently to her lips, then kissed her with such tenderness it nearly undid her completely. In that kiss was every emotion, every moment of love they had ever shared – their first meeting, their wedding day, quiet Sunday mornings, whispered conversations in the dark.
She stood there looking up at him, drowning in the impossibility of this moment. How could she possibly say goodbye to the love of her life? How could her heart keep beating when it was breaking apart?
Friedrich kissed her one last time, lingering as if he could somehow make the moment last forever. Then his hand moved reverently to her stomach, pressing gently against the place where their child grew. He closed his eyes for several heartbeats, and she knew he was trying to somehow connect with the baby he would never hold.
When he opened his eyes to look at her, even in the darkness she could see the tears streaming down his face. Without a word, they wiped each other’s cheeks with infinite tenderness, then leaned their foreheads together, breathing the same air, existing in the same space for just a few more precious seconds.
Finally, Friedrich gently moved her hands away from his face, lifting them to his lips to kiss her knuckles one by one, as if he were saying goodbye to every part of her.
A small, broken sob escaped Clara’s throat. She took one last look at the handsome, brave, wonderful husband, trying to burn the image of him in her memory forever, before forcing herself to turn and walk across the square. Their hands stretched between them, fingers intertwined until the very last possible moment, until finally their fingertips slipped apart, and Clara’s heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. If she saw him standing there watching her go, she would run back to him and never leave no matter the consequences.
Chapter 37
‘Where were you this morning?’ asked one of the nurses as Clara met them outside the Gasthof the following morning. She couldn’t face breakfast. Her heart was broken and her appetite gone.
‘I’m not feeling too well,’ said Clara. She climbed up into the back of the truck, tucking herself in the corner behind the cab. With luck they’d take the hint and leave her alone.
Sadly, that wasn’t the case.
Alma climbed in last. ‘And there was me thinking you were sleeping in. I mean, you didn’t get back until the early hours of the morning, did you?’
Alma and the nurses all looked at Clara, waiting for her response. ‘I needed some fresh air,’ she said.
‘At two o’clock in the morning?’ Alma persisted, despite Clara closing her eyes. ‘You weren’t with one of the locals or a soldier by any chance?’
Clara’s eyes snapped open. She sat up. ‘Why would you say something like that? Besides, what I do is none of your business.’ She didn’t mean to sound so prickly but the panic that Alma had seen her with Friedrich or even suspected was sending her mind spinning. Was Friedrich now in danger?
‘Don’t tease her,’ said one of the nurses. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a midnight liaison. Especially, with handsome officers.’
‘You would know all about that,’ said the other nurse, nudging her friend. They both burst into laughter and the conversation was taken up by them enthusiastically talking about their former lovers. Clara closed her eyes again, trying to let the motion of the truck rock her to sleep.
It must have worked because the next thing she knew the truck had come to a halt and Alma was shaking her awake. ‘Come on. We’re at the Belgian border. They want to check our papers.’
Clara’s heart fluttered wildly. She suspected the border guards might not be so relaxed as the ones in Berlin. She had every faith in Friedrich and the forged papers he had prepared. She knew he wouldn’t have supplied her with anything less than perfect documentation.
She hopped down from the truck along with the other nurses, where they were lined up on the side of the road as a border guard made his way down the line, inspecting each piece of documentation carefully.
As Clara feared, this was no slapdash half-hearted inspection.
