Page 43 of Love in the Shadows

Fabienne sighed and looked up. Understanding passed between them, and the sorrow and tiredness combined to drain her last ounce of energy. She slumped back in the couch and closed her eyes.

“Where will I find sulfa powder and a cloth?”

“We don’t have sulfa. There should be some warm water in the kettle on the stove, and salt in the pot on the table. Cloths are under the sink. The kitchen is through the door behind us.”

She felt a slight breeze cross her face as Frau Neumann stood up, but her eyes refused to open to check.

Memories of the evening taunted her with their vividness, and she trembled. There had been soldiers everywhere. The prisoners they’d recaptured, they’d executed. God knew how many had died already. It would have been many more had it not been for the weather, but still it was too many. And tomorrow they would execute more innocent people in retribution for the dead German soldiers.

She felt wretched, and useless. Her head ached, her arm throbbed, and she’d lost the sensation in her hands and fingers. Was all this death a price worth paying in the fight for freedom?

Frau Neumann came into the room. She pulled the table lamp closer to inspect Fabienne’s arm. “You need to take your shirt off,” she said.

She smelled of wine and cigarettes and a light perfume, and Fabienne was sure desire flashed in her eyes when she looked at Fabienne. Frau Neumann started to unbutton the shirt. Fabienne tried to stop her, and the pain stilled her. Frau Neumann took Fabienne’s trembling hand and helped her to lower it with such tenderness that the movement was as intimate as a first kiss.

“You can trust me,” Frau Neumann whispered.

Fabienne leaned forward so her shirt could be removed. Frau Neumann’s breath caressed her cheek, and she turned towards the warmth. Frau Neumann’s mouth was so close, so tempting. Urgency compelled her to kiss her without consideration for the consequences. Just to feel the softness of her lips. Desire coursed through her veins. All she wanted was to feel alive when so many people around her had died. She was convinced she wasn’t alone in her longing for that connection, but she was in no fit state to trust her judgement about anything, let alone this.

“My name is Fabienne,” she whispered.

Frau Neumann’s attention was fixed on her arm. “Well, Fabienne. This is going to hurt.” She pressed the damp cloth to the wound.

The pain struck her like lightning. Fabienne gritted her teeth and moaned.

“My name is Johanna.” Frau Neumann smiled.

Fabienne studied her. She didn’t want to feel this way. She couldn’t. These feelings made her vulnerable, open, afraid. Afraid of what? Of losing someone else that mattered. What was the point in having feelings for someone like Johanna? God, how she wanted to kiss her. She flinched at the sharp pain as Johanna continued to clean the wound.

“You have a pretty name,” Fabienne said. Her voice sounded thick with emotion. She cleared her throat.

Johanna glanced up at her. “And you have been shot.”

Fabienne would have laughed had she not been in such agony. “I know, I was there.”

“You’re lucky. It looks like it’s just a flesh wound. I’ll need to stitch it.”

Fabienne shook her head. “It hurts like hell for just a flesh wound.”

Johanna sighed, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Where will I find a needle and thread?”

Fabienne tried to breathe deeply to control the pain, but the best she could do was short, sharp, panting breaths. “In the cupboard to the right above the sink, there is a box.”

Johanna stood up. “Can you keep bathing it?”

The cloth stung the split skin on her fingers, but she held the cloth to the gash in her arm and leaned back in the couch.

Johanna returned and sat next to her.

“I forgot to ask how your evening went,” Fabienne said.

Johanna frowned as she looked again at the wound. “I think you’re going to need something before I do this. Or maybe I do.” She smiled at Fabienne as she held the threaded needle up.

“There is brandy in the first cupboard on the left.”

Johanna returned with the bottle and two glasses. She poured them both a large shot.

Fabienne slugged the drink in one hit and held out her glass for it to be refilled. “As you can see, my night hasn’t gone so well.”

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