by Anne Barwell
“Heil Hitler,” Ken said.
“Heil Hitler,” the Oberscharführer replied. The presence of an SS officer was both concerning and suspicious. Did Holm know they were in the area, and if so, had he circulated their descriptions?
The Oberscharführer studied Sébastien closely and then shifted his attention to Liang. “You’re taking these prisoners to Caen,” he said.
“Yes,” Matt said. “They have important information, and the officer in charge at Caen wishes to interrogate them personally.”
They had no plans to pass through Caen, but had decided it made more sense for their cover to pretend they were.
“What a coincidence. I’m heading there myself.” The Oberscharführer put out his hand for the papers Ken carried. While Matt—who had kept the German equivalent of his rank of captain—outranked him, they didn’t want to give the SS officer any reason to be suspicious, so going along with his wishes was the best way to deal with the situation. “I’m looking forward to working with Standartenführer Holm. His reputation precedes him. I’m sure he’ll deal with these pesky Resistance cells very quickly. Are you going to be stationed there once you deliver the prisoners?”
Ken sucked in a sharp breath but managed to keep his composure. He handed over the papers and said nothing. Better to let Matt do most of the talking.
“Unfortunately we are continuing on to Bayeux,” Matt said. “I’ve heard of Standartenführer Holm. It’s a shame our meeting will be a brief one.”
Outside the truck, two soldiers kept guard. Despite his making casual conversation while he checked their papers, the Oberscharführer was not taking any chances.
The Oberscharführer glanced at the papers, then at Liang, and frowned. “Hmm, that is a shame.” He took a step closer to Liang. “You,” he said.
“Yes, sir?” Liang kept his tone polite and deferential.
“You look Chinese and yet your papers are for someone with a French name, Monsieur Berger.”
“Berger is my father’s name, and therefore mine,” Liang said calmly. They’d already decided on a cover story in case he was questioned about this very thing. “I am only half Chinese. My father is French and met my mother while she was living in Paris. Her family immigrated here before the last war and decided to stay rather than return to China.” The story he told was not too far from the truth except for the fact that his family had settled in England, and it was his mother who was English and his father Chinese.
“Perhaps you should have returned to your homeland when you had the chance, instead of staying here and causing trouble.” The Oberscharführer handed the papers back to Ken. “Everything here seems in order, Hauptmann,” he told Matt.
Matt gave him a curt nod. “I shall make sure I tell Standartenführer Holm that you were very efficient, Oberscharführer,” he said, already climbing out of the truck.
“Enjoy your journey,” the Oberscharführer said as he followed Matt. “If you get the opportunity to stay a few hours in Caen, I have heard that some of the old churches are quite remarkable. I studied architecture at Dessau before the war, and I’m looking forward to seeing them.”
“This war has taken many of us away from our passions, has it not?” Matt said, continuing the conversation as though they were taking a walk in a park somewhere rather than being soldiers fighting a war.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Liang let out a sigh. He looked shaken. “Bloody hell,” he said. “I swear that man is everywhere we go. Do you think—”
Ken shot him a look. He didn’t want Sébastien to know they had a high-ranking SS officer hunting them. “I’d rather not,” he told Liang in a low voice. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Is there a problem?” Sébastien asked. “Do you know this Holm?”
The truck engine turned over, and they started on their way again. Matt didn’t attempt to make conversation over the noise of the engine but instead focused on driving. It was a sensible decision as they’d have to wait until later to discuss their options.
“We’re not going to Caen,” Ken said firmly. “Holm is well known in Berlin. Most of the Resistance there has heard of him. He is someone best avoided.”
Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence that Holm was now stationed in Normandy? Did he know they were in the area? This had felt like a routine checkpoint. If the Oberscharführer had any clue they were not who they claimed to be, he would have detained them.
While Ken didn’t feel safe continuing with their original plan, he wasn’t sure they had a choice. Their papers had said they would be passing through Rouen, and any deviation might look suspicious.
Sébastien interrupted his thoughts. “If you’re worried we’ve been compromised, we can leave the truck at Corneville-sur-Risle and walk the rest of the way. It will only add a couple of hours to our journey, and that way if it’s found, it won’t lead anyone directly to us.”
“Thank you,” Ken said. “I’ll talk to Matt when we stop and see what he wants to do.” Matt was still their commanding officer, and any change of plan had to be his decision.
One thing was for certain, though. Ken had been right about Sébastien. He was an intelligent man and did not miss much. Ken would talk to Matt about him too and warn him to be careful. Although Sébastien was supposed to be on their side, Ken still did not trust him enough to risk him finding out the true purpose of their mission.
Chapter Seven
“I STILL remember the first time I saw you out of your uniform,” Kristopher said. Although Michel had been undercover as a German soldier the first time they’d met, Kristopher preferred him dressed more casually as he was now. The buttoned shirt, loose trousers, and faded jacket suited him.
“Elise’s Kaffeehaus?” Michel asked. Kristopher had come out of the bathroom and seen him clad only in his underwear. “I remember thinking your reaction was strange at the time, but I never figured out why until much later.”
“If you’d looked closer, you would have figured it out.” Kristopher had dashed back into the bathroom in an attempt to rid himself of his erection. “I much prefer you dressed like this. This is who you are. The other is a disguise.”
After they’d disembarked the train at Melun, they’d met their contact and changed identities and clothing. Michel seemed more at ease than Kristopher had seen him for several weeks. He’d taken his beret from Arlette and smiled before putting it on.
“I am happy to be home, although it is not the same and I still need to be cautious,” Michel said. “I haven’t been near the area in nearly a year.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Even the air smells different, or it seems to.”
“We’ve been in farmland before, but this….” Kristopher fought to keep the wistfulness from his voice. He needed to get used to living here and put any longing for Germany behind him. He’d known that before they crossed the Rhine but hadn’t expected the finality of leaving his country to hit so hard. “France is my home now. Once this is over, I want to build a new life here, with you. I can’t go back to being who I was.”
“You’ve changed a lot since we met, but you’re still the man I fell in love with. Don’t put all of that aside,” Michel said. “This is who I am—a French farmer. So much over the past year has been a lie. I’m tired of slipping into identities that are not my own. Whatever happens now, at least I can be French again.”
“When we’re together, you’re very real and honest,” Kristopher said softly. “You don’t hide from me.”
“I don’t want to hide from you. You see me for who I am, and I feel safe when I’m with you. I’ve missed being able to talk like this and not having to worry about being overheard.” Michel reached over and adjusted the beret Kristopher wore. “I know you miss Berlin, and I’m sorry. I wish….”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kristopher said. “I’m where I need to be, and who I want to be with.” He wished he could put his arms around Michel and kiss him, but that needed to be kept for somewhere far more private than her
e. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but your countrymen will always see me as German, no matter what I wear or what language I speak.”
“Don’t worry about Arlette. She has lost too many friends to this war, but she doesn’t blame you personally, although it sounds like it.”
“I don’t think she was happy about me coming with you to see your parents.” Although Kristopher wanted to meet them, he did not want to impose on what might be the last time Michel saw them. “The only reason she gave in was that the other option was one she wanted to avoid more.”
“Arlette has family and friends of her own she wants to see while we are here. She wouldn’t want you with her. I told her I was not leaving you alone in a country where you do not speak the language well. It would be foolish.”
Finally, after a heated argument with Michel in French that Kristopher had barely understood, Arlette had shrugged and told him she’d drop both of them off about half an hour’s walk from the farm, and keep the car as she had farther to go. They could meet in the same place an hour before nightfall, which would still give them enough time to reach the safe house. They’d kept off the road and out of sight, but where they were now was fairly isolated, so Michel had thought it safe to walk beside the field until they reached the farm.
“The scenery is as beautiful as you’ve described it to me.” Kristopher shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun. Fields of wheat spread out on both sides of the road, golden in the sunlight. “I’ve wanted to see this for such a long time.” It was also good to stretch his legs again after hours on a train, pretending he couldn’t walk properly or stand without the support of a cane.
“I worry about not being here when it’s time to harvest,” Michel said. “It’s only another month away. I’d hoped I’d only miss one harvest and didn’t expect to be away this long. Most of the men are either working for the Germans or in hiding with the Maquis.”
“We’ll be in Normandy by June,” Kristopher said. “All going well, we could be back for at least some of it.” He wished they could just disappear together now, but they’d agreed to meet the rest of their team in Bayeux. If Matt and the others didn’t report Kristopher’s death, the people they worked for would not stop looking for him. Holm had to believe he was dead too.
Michel shook his head. “I think it will be wise for us to lay low for several months before….” He picked up his pace.
Kristopher hurried to catch up. “Michel,” he said softly. “Are you sure you want me here when you talk to your parents? I do not wish to make the situation any more awkward than it already is.”
“I am not lying to them, Kit.” Michel stopped when Kristopher put one hand on his arm. “I cannot introduce you as merely a colleague or a friend when you are far more to me than that. I hate having to hide how I feel about you from everyone. I cannot lie about it to them.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Kristopher bit his lip. “You need to be able to come home again once this mission is over. I won’t be the reason you can’t. I can wait a distance away, and then you won’t need to explain who I am.”
“If they do not accept you, we will find somewhere else to live once this war is over,” Michel said.
“Family is important,” Kristopher insisted. “You can’t give up yours for me. Your parents have already lost one son. They—”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Michel turned to face him directly. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. Even if they won’t accept you, I want them to at least meet the man I love.” He sighed. “Besides, do you really think lying would be a good idea? My mother will take one look at us and figure it out.”
“We’ve been very careful since we left Haguenau.”
“It’s easier to pretend when you’re already being dishonest about who you are,” Michel said. “Let me do this, mon cher. Please. I need to do this.”
“Your parents won’t betray you.” Kristopher had heard enough about them from Michel to know that for certain. “They will not turn you over to the authorities.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I thought they would.” Michel’s expression hardened. “They knew Corin and I were Maquis and never said anything. I took my last mission without having the chance to say good-bye. I owe them at least that.”
“This doesn’t have to be good-bye,” Kristopher said. “I can leave….”
“No.” Michel gave him a frustrated look. “I love you, Kit, but you don’t always see sense, and we often have very different ways of approaching a situation. We remind me of my parents in that. They argue, but they always end up compromising and making up.” He smiled. “It’s usually Papa who backs down. Maman gives him a look, and he ends up agreeing with her.”
“Like the look you’re giving me now?” Kristopher asked.
“I am not giving you a look.” Michel rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who gives me that look.”
Kristopher couldn’t help but laugh. “If you insist, mon cher.”
“You’ve never called me that before in French.” Michel seemed taken aback. “The few times you do, you always say it in German—mein Schatz.”
The words might not translate from German to the French mon cher, but the sentiment was the same. Michel was very precious to him, and Kristopher loved him with everything he was.
“We’re in France now. I need to start speaking your… our… language instead of German. I’m never going to get any better at if I don’t.”
“You can’t call me that unless we are alone, so keep saying those words in German.” Michel lowered his voice to a whisper. “When you call me mein Schatz, I feel warm inside, the same way as when you say je t’aime. Don’t lose who you are. Please, Kit.”
“As long as you promise to always say ‘ich liebe dich.’ I want to keep hearing those words in German until we’re old and gray.” Kristopher wiped at his eyes. “Come on. We’re almost there. Your parents will take one look at both of us and we won’t have to explain anything. It won’t be just your mother who figures it out.”
“Ich liebe dich, Kit Lehrer,” Michel whispered. “For as long as I take breath, I am yours.”
KRISTOPHER LAPSED into silence as they walked together the rest of the way. Michel glanced at him a couple of times and was rewarded with a smile.
Michel’s heart was thumping, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. He hated this. Having to pretend when they were with people he considered friends was bad enough, but he wanted so much to hold Kristopher’s hand as they approached the farm. His mother had always asked him when he would be bringing a girl home. He was about to tell her why and introduce her to the person he loved. Except, not only was Kristopher a man, he was German.
Michel wasn’t sure which of those his father would be angrier about.
“Having second thoughts?” Kristopher asked.
They could see the house now. It was exactly as Michel remembered it, although his mother’s small garden in front had finally been weeded. Michel and Corin would offer to tend it for her, but she would shrug and tell them they had more important things to do. Their father wasn’t getting any younger and had a farm to run. Their father had spoken to them quietly and told them if they had time to weed their mother’s garden for her, they should do it. But before they could, war had broken out, and Michel and Corin had been forced to flee to avoid the STO. They’d both visited their parents since, but only when they were certain no one was around who might report them.
His mother stood in the doorway, watching the chickens run in the yard. One of the dogs hovered by her side. He looked up, barked, and ran toward Michel and Kristopher.
“Alfred, it’s good to see you, boy.” Michel got down on one knee and fussed over the dog. Alfred looked up at Kristopher and growled low in his throat. “This is a friend. Get down and let him sniff you,” Michel told Kristopher.
Kristopher crouched down next to Michel, held out his hand, and then carefully patted the dog. Alfred glanced at Michel, then sat down in
front of Kristopher, his tail wagging.
“I’ve never had a dog,” Kristopher said. “I’ve never been too sure how to approach them. They had dogs at the institute, but I wasn’t about to go near them.”
“Wise decision,” Michel said. Not all the dogs had been vicious, but they had been well trained and were fiercely loyal.
“Michel!” Rosine Faber ran toward them.
Kristopher stood and took a step back as Michel sprinted to meet his mother halfway.
“Maman!” Michel kissed her on both cheeks, then gave her a hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Rosine hugged him back tightly, then held him out at arms’ length to get a better look at him. “Ma petite crotte, it is you.”
Michel felt his cheeks flame. “Maman,” he said, waving a hand in Kristopher’s direction. Thankfully Kristopher wouldn’t know the translation for the endearment, but it didn’t stop Michel feeling embarrassed by it. “Please. We have company.”
“You worried me. I’m allowed to embarrass you.” Rosine looked Michel up and down. “You’ve lost weight,” she said. “You remember what I said about taking care of yourself and eating properly? Come inside. I have stew cooking. We can talk over a plateful of it.” She smiled at Kristopher when he still didn’t move. “You could do with some as well. Come inside, and my son can find his manners and introduce you.”
Kristopher cleared his throat and glanced at Michel as though asking if it was all right to do so.
“I wouldn’t try arguing with her,” Michel warned him. “Once Maman makes up her mind about something, the only option is to agree with her.” He sniffed the air and smiled. “Hmm, boeuf aux carottes. I’d recognize Maman’s recipe anywhere. Some days I swear I miss her stew more than I miss her.”
Rosine gave him a light whack across his bottom. “Enough of your cheek, mon enfant. Get inside. Your papa will be pleased to see you.” She turned back to Kristopher and held out her hand. “I’m Rosine Faber, Michel’s mother. You’re a friend?”
