Page 16 of Winter's End
The mother – perhaps grandmother – of the little girl who had been threatened, pulled a pin out of the lapel of her coat. “Can you use this?”
Zoe accepted the pin. “Perfect,bedankt. Thank you.Ja.”
Pinning the scarf into place around the injured knee, she gently lowered the man’s leg onto the seat. “This will help to keep your knee immobile, Hans, until you can be seen by a doctor.”
She looked around her at the slowly dispersing crowd. “Does anyone have some aspirin?”
A packet of aspirin was thrust at her. She offered two tablets to Hans.
“Bedankt,”he grasped Zoe’s hand.
“No need,” she said. “I hope this will help you to feel a bit better. We will see that you have help when we get to Haarlem.”
She crossed the aisle to check the bloody nose.
“It’s better, I think,” the man drew the handkerchief away. “It’s only bleeding a bit.”
Zoe nodded. “But there is swelling,” she said. “And I would not be surprised to see your eyes blackened by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.”
“VerdoemdeNazis,” the man growled
Zoe sighed.
He moved the handkerchief back to his nose. “Thank you so much for your help.”
Zoe sank into her seat, closed her eyes, and although she fought against the image, she vividly re-lived the stark terror of that pistol shoved into her face….
MILA
It was more than just audacious, Mila told herself, her footsteps loud in her ears on the worn boards of the wharf. It was perhaps reckless, as Pieter suggested, to ask so much of an inexperienced girl. But she had fine-tuned the details and discussed them at length with both Daan and Pieter, who reluctantly agreed that, given the proper training and back-up, the benefits might well outweigh the risk.
At the very least, she told herself, keeping an eye out for theBlijde Tiding, Lotte would listen and then decline. Mila might do so herself, she thought, if she were a mother and such a plan was suggested for her only daughter.
On the other hand, Evi was clever and strong-willed, and eager to help the Resistance.
Spying the barge, Mila descended the stairs and knocked softly, careful not to sound urgent enough to inspire fear inside.
“Who is there,behagen?”
“It is I, Mila Brouwer. Hallo!”
The door swung open. Lotte’s tense face relaxed into a smile. “Mila, what a happy surprise! Do come in!”
The light was low, what little there was provided by a small kerosene lamp next to an armchair and another on the table where Evi was bent over her books.
“Thank you, Lotte. I hope all is well.”
Lotte pointed downward. “As well as can be – for all of us. And you?”
Mila nodded her understanding. Someone was hidden in the hold. “I’ve brought you something,” she said, reaching into her handbag.
Evi stood.
Mila set two jars of cherry jam on the table, along with a packet of dried beef, a jar of yeast, and a small bag of flour. It was as much as she felt she could offer without appearing to condescend – or worse yet, to be bribing the two to come onboard with her plan.
“We are lucky to have supplies in our cellar that were stored years ago,” she lied, unwilling to disclose that her father’s German dinner guests provided more than they needed. “And our cook has been managing to stay below our rations.”
“Are you sure –-?” Lotte began, as Evi surveyed the treasure
