Page 44 of Love in the Shadows

Johanna refilled the glass and took a sip from her own drink. Then she threaded the needle through Fabienne’s skin.

“Aghh, putain, that is worse than being shot!” She tried not to pull against Johanna, and tensed. “Putain, putain, putain!”

“Do you always swear a lot, Fabienne?” Johanna smiled as she inserted the needle to make another stitch.

“Only when I’m being stitched up by someone.” She moaned.

Johanna laughed. “Only three more to go.”

Fabienne tried to tug her arm from Johanna’s grip, but Johanna refused to let go. “Arghh, can we just leave it? I don’t care if it scars.”

“No, we can’t. The risk of infection is high enough without walking around with a gaping wound.”

Fabienne knew that. “I need another drink.”

Johanna filled her glass and stared at her while she drank. How Fabienne would like to know what thoughts passed through her mind. It was clear she wasn’t going to talk about her evening, not that Fabienne had expected her to. Fabienne released a low cry as Johanna started on another stitch. And then darkness closed in around her, and she heard glass shatter.

She was lying on the couch when she opened her eyes, Johanna in the seat across from her. Fabienne’s Browning pistol was on the coffee table between them. Johanna’s eyes were closed, and with her fair hair and pale skin catching in the low light, she looked like an angel. Fabienne tried to sit up too quickly. Her head spun, and the pain flared up.

Johanna opened her eyes and sat forward.

Fabienne focused on the weapon. “What time is it?”

Johanna looked at her watch. “Four thirty-five. You passed out, which is hardly surprising.” She got to her feet.

Fabienne lurched forward to grab the gun and was halted by the pain. She slumped back.

Johanna picked the weapon up and came to the couch. “The wound is stitched. But if you keep trying moves like that, you will bust them. I’ll give your grandmother some sulfa powder and a proper bandage later. I don’t expect to see you at the house until you’re fit.” She took the gun by the barrel and held it out to Fabienne. “You’ll want to hide this well.”

Fabienne took the weapon and set it on the couch next to her, feeling a fool for doubting Johanna’s intentions. If she’d wanted Fabienne dead, she wouldn’t have saved her from the officers. She winced at the burning in her arm and hands. Her head pounded. “What about Hauptmann Müller?”

“I’ll deal with him, and my husband. It would be no surprise if you’d caught whatever it was that made your cousin sick.” She smiled conspiratorially.

Fabienne eased herself up to sit. “Please, don’t let Müller near Mamie.”

Johanna put her hand on Fabienne’s thigh. The effect was electric, warm and inviting, and stirred arousal. “I’ll watch out for your grandmother, Fabienne.” She removed her hand. “You can trust me.”

Fabienne missed the contact that every cell inside her had been awoken by and now desperately needed. “It’s not that simple though, is it?”

Johanna lowered her head and sighed. “I detest the war and everything my country now stands for. It’s not the Germany that I knew and loved. I want to go home, but only because I want things to be as they were. They are not, though, and they never will be, and I know I’m holding onto the illusion because it’s all I have. I dread the reality that we will have to face. The Reich have stolen my son, my career, my friends and my husband. They have taken everything that was precious to me and made it either ugly or unrecognisable. And I abhor that the people my husband serves take such sick pleasure in the absolute destruction of others.”

Fabienne wanted to hold her close and claim the kiss she knew they both longed for.

Johanna shook her head as she continued. “War makes people suspicious. We forget what it is to care and to love. Hate and segregation and fear will turn us inside out if we don’t learn who to trust. It’s not in our nature to live in isolation, Fabienne. We need each other.”

Fabienne didn’t know if she was talking literally or metaphorically. “How do you live with yourself, knowing what is happening and not doing anything about it?” Johanna winced as if slapped. “That was not intended as an accusation.”

“You’re right though.” She held Fabienne’s gaze. “I don’t have the power to change the war.” She stared intently at Fabienne. “Unlike you.”

Fabienne held out her hand, and Johanna took it. “You can do more than you think,” Fabienne whispered.

Johanna traced the marked skin lightly with her fingertip. “I’m not brave like you,” she said, her voice broken.

Fabienne tried to squeeze, but her fingers refused to comply. “You are here. You are braver than you believe, Johanna.”

Johanna looked up at the use of her name. Her eyelids were heavy, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. There was so much she wasn’t saying that Fabienne wanted to hear.

“I assume you will be okay getting yourself to bed?” Johanna said. She released a sigh that spoke of resignation, and stood up slowly.

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