She did whatever she could, applying bandages, cleaning wounds, and it was bright daylight again by the time she made her way back downstairs to what had once been her kitchen. There were half a dozen orderlies eating there, some soldiers and two women who looked at her as she walked in, and said something to each other in German. Her dress and hands, and even her face, were covered in young men’s blood, her hair hung in wisps around her face, but she seemed not to notice. And then one of the orderlies said something to her. She couldn’t understand what they said, but it was impossible to mistake the tone of respect, as he seemed to thank her. She nodded, and smiled at them as they handed her a cup of coffee. One of the women pointed to the baby then, and seemed to ask if she was all right, and she nodded and sat down gratefully with the steaming coffee. It was only then that she began to feel her own exhaustion. She hadn’t thought of herself in hours, or her baby.
Joachim came in a moment after that, and asked her to come into his office. She followed him down the hall, and as she walked in, she felt strange here too. Even the desk and the curtains were the same. This was William’s favorite room, and the only thing that had changed was the man who lived there.
Joachim invited her to sit down in the chair she knew so well, and she had to resist the urge to curl up, as she always had when she and hers husband had long, cozy conversations. Instead, she sat politely on the edge of the chair, and sipped at her coffee, reminding herself that in this room, she was now a stranger.
“Thank you for all you did last night. I was afraid it might have been too much for you.” He looked at her with worried eyes. He had passed her frequently in the night, working doggedly to save someone’s life, or just closing some boy’s eyes they had lost, with tears in her own eyes. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’m tired.” She smiled honestly, her eyes still sad. They had lost so many boys. And for what? She had cradled one like a child, and he had held her just as Phillip did, but this boy had died in her arms, from a wound in his stomach. She could do nothing to save him.
“Thank you, Sarah. I’ll take you home now. I think the worst is over.”
“Is it?” she said with a look of surprise, in a tone that startled him with its sharp edge. “Is the war over?”
“I meant for now,” he said quietly. His views were no different than her own, although he couldn’t allow himself to express them.
“What difference does it make?” she asked, setting down her coffee cup on William’s desk. She noticed that they were also using her china. “It’ll all just happen again somewhere else today, or tomorrow, or next week. Won’t it?” There were tears in her eyes. She couldn’t forget the boys who had died, even if they were Germans.
“Yes, it will,” he said sadly, “until all this is over.”
“It’s so senseless,” she said, walking to the window and looking out at the familiar scene. Everything seemed so deceptively peaceful. And Joachim walked up slowly behind her until he stood very near her.
“It is senseless … and stupid … and wrong … but right now, there is nothing you and I can do to change it. You are bringing life into the world. We are bringing death and destruction. It’s a terrible contradiction, Sarah, but I am helpless to change it.” She didn’t know why then, but she felt sorry for him. He was a man who didn’t believe in what he was doing. At least William had the comfort of knowing that he was doing the right thing, but Joachim didn’t. She wanted to reach out and touch him as she turned to face him, and tell him that it would be all right, that one day he would be forgiven.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, and walked past him toward the door. “It was a long night. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It’s not your fault.” She stood and looked at him for a long moment, as he longed to be near her again. But he was touched by what she had said.
“That’s not much comfort sometimes,” he said softly, still looking at her. She looked so tired now, and she needed rest, or the baby might come early. He still felt guilty for asking her to come and help, but she had done a splendid job and the doctors were very grateful to her.
He took her home after that, and Emanuelle had just come downstairs with Phillip. She looked at Sarah as Joachim left, and saw how tired she was and she felt guilty for not going to help her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to her, as Sarah sat down heavily in an old chair. “I just couldn’t … they’re Germans.”
“I understand,” Sarah said, wondering why it hadn’t made more difference to her, but it hadn’t. They were boys, and a few men … just people…. But she understood more when Henri came to the cottage a little while later. He looked at his sister, and something Sarah didn’t understand passed between them. He nodded, and then she saw his hand, wrapped in bandages, and she wondered.
“Henri, what happened to your hand?” she asked calmly.
“Nothing Madame, I hurt myself helping my father saw wood.”
“Why were you sawing wood?” she asked wisely. It was far too warm for anyone to need a fire, but the boy knew that.
“Oh, we were just building a house for our dog,” he said, but Sarah also knew they didn’t have one, and then she understood all too clearly. The explosion at the munitions dump had been no accident, and somehow, for some reason she didn’t even want to know, Henri had been there.
That night as they were getting ready to go to bed, she looked at Emanuelle as the two women stood in the kitchen. “You don’t have to say anything … but I just want to tell you to tell Henri to be very careful. He’s only a child. But if they catch him, they’ll kill him.”
“I know, Madame,” Emanuelle said, with terror in her eyes for her little brother. “I told him that. My parents don’t know anything. There is a group in Romorantin—” But Sarah stopped her.
“Don’t tell me, Emanuelle. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to accidentally put anyone in danger. Just tell him to be careful.”
Emanuelle nodded, and they both went to their rooms, to bed, but Sarah lay awake for a long time that night, thinking of the boy and the carnage he’d done … all those boys with lost limbs, and faces, and lives that ended so quickly. And little Henri with his burned hand. She wondered if he understood what he and his friends had done, or if he would be proud of it. Officially, what he’d done was considered patriotic, but Sarah knew better. Whatever side you were on, in her eyes, it was still murder. But as she lay there, she only hoped that the Germans didn’t catch Henri, or hurt him.
Joachim was right. It was an ugly war. An ugly time. As she thought of it, her hand drifted across her belly, and the baby kicked her. It reminded her that there was still hope in the world, and life, and something decent to look forward to… and somewhere, out there, there was William.
Chapter 14
But Sarah knew he was a decent man. She was more sophisticated than Emanuelle, although she was no more fond of the Germans. But there were times when he made her laugh, and times when she was quiet, and he knew she was thinking of her husband.