Page 43 of Winter's End
“Business,” he laughed. “I mean it was none of mybusiness.”
“Ah,” she murmured, still staring.
After an awkward moment, he motioned her to a seat on the well-worn chintz-covered sofa. He sat cross-legged in a chair across from her. “How old are you, Evi Strobel? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
She looked down at her short plaid skirt. “Seventeen,” she lied. “Eighteen next February. And I do what I do for the Resistance.”
“Yep, I kind of figured that out, too, or you wouldn’t have had those big guys watching out for you.”
She stuck out her chin. “It is a dangerous job, but I will do it again, if they ask me to. It is my way to help rid the world of even one Nazi at a time.”
She paused. “But next time I will carry my own pistol.”
“Ah.” The American seemed to take her measure. “And are you trained to handle a pistol?”
She shrugged. “Not yet. But I can learn. And I will.”
“How?”
“I am not yet sure. Target practice. I plan to arrange it through the Resistance Council.”
The boy who had answered the door – the farmer’s son, Evi assumed, poked his head into the room. “My Mam asks if you want some tea.”
Evi rose, Jacob Reese following. “Oh, no, please. Tell your mother thank you, but I do not wish to overstay my welcome.” She grabbed her scarf from the arm of the sofa.
Jacob Reese followed her to the door. “So, how did you find me?”
She shrugged. “It is not far to look from the tavern where you found me.”
“You live nearby?”
“Not too far.”
He held the door open, peered out. “You bicycled here.”
“I did.”
“Well, Evi Strobel,” he said, smiling, “I wish you good luck with your target practice. To tell you the truth, it felt damned good to me to take out that Nazi at the tavern.”
She hesitated at the door, reluctant to leave, and not just because of the cold. “I um…I just want to thank you once again for coming to my rescue, Jacob Reese.”
He loomed over her in the open doorway. “It’s Jake. Jake will do.”
She hopped on her bike and pedaled down the drive. “I like Jacob better,” she murmured to herself, facing into the wind.
ZOE
The Dans Hal was abuzz with rumor and speculation. Zoe moved through the crowd, hearing bits and pieces. Farmer missing…Resistance offensives…A crisis for the Allies…what next?
“Zoe, over here” Leela Bakker called to her over the din.
Zoe moved quickly, avoiding an ambush, followed her to the hidden office. “Leela, I can hear the chatter. Has someone gone missing?” she asked.
Leela bit her lip. “Jozef Haan,” she whispered. “His wife is frantic. He did not return home last night.”
Zoe closed her eyes. “The roadblocks. I do not know how the Germans reacted so quickly.”
Leela shrugged. “My husband and I saw Jozef pedal off, carrying crates of food from the train. He was just ahead of us when we left. It was dark, Zoe. We were all on edge. Sad to say, we have not seen him since.”
