Page 103 of Winter's End
There was a waist-high picket fence behind the house, and no one beyond it that she could see from the street. But it would take a proper vantage point to know for certain – and to get a sense of how the house was laid out, and where de Boer was located inside.
She circled the area on the bicycle, casually, as though she were out for the exercise, keeping an eye out for a rise in the terrain, or a building –anything within range of the de Boer house that could offer a decent view.
She dared not appear in sight of the guards again. She pedaled past the rear. It was warm enough now that her breath no longer clouded in front of her.
She was not certain she could still climb a tree, though she had climbed a few as a child. But her attention was caught by a trio of evergreens on the corner of the street diagonally opposite de Boer’s home.
Pushing the bicycle in among the trees, she hoisted her shoulder bag high on her arm and squeezed between the thick boughs, looking for a possible foothold. Sharp pine needles scratched at her face. She pulled her scarf up around her mouth and peered about, searching for a branch heavy enough to bear her weight.
Finally, she thought she might have found one, a short, sturdy limb near a crotch in the midpoint of the trunk. Grunting, she steadied her right foot on the limb, then held her breath as she heaved herself up and prayed.
She found herself perched unsteadily on the limb, clinging by her fingernails to the rough tree bark, and struggling to balance the weight of the bag as she brought up her other leg.
Her muscles trembled and she breathed in short bursts, scrabbling for a steadier perch. Then, somehow, she was settled into the vee of the trunk, her bag firmly perched in front of her,
EVI
Jacob was the first out of the farmhouse when Evi trudged up the long driveway, bone weary and grateful to have gone the distance without running into a German check point.
“Evi! What in hell happened?”
His face was white, his gaze focused on her arm in the sling under her coat. Evi thought if she had not been so weary, she might have leapt up into his arms.
“It is nothing, Jacob – a flesh wound, Zoe told me. She treated it. I will be fine.”
“A flesh wound! You took a shot?” Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He took the bag from her good shoulder and examined the makeshift sling.
From the top of the steps, the three Beekhofs watched.
“Behagen, Jacob,” Evi said. “I am cold – and very tired.”
He drew her toward him, holding her gingerly at the waist. “I never should have let you go off alone. God, Evi, you could have been killed.”
He led her past the others and settled her on the sofa, covering her legs with a knitted blanket and kneeling on the floor at her feet.
Mevreowran to put up the kettle, then hurried back into the sitting room. Willem sat on the floor next to Jacob,Meneerstirred a fire in the grate.
Evi looked at the four of them, waiting for her to speak, but all she wanted to do was sleep.
“I shot two German guards outside a barn in Enschede,” she managed, searching Jacob’s face. “I took a hit to the shoulder, but Zoe’s father is free. The wound is not serious. It will heal…”
“Good God,” Jacob muttered. “Are you sure, Evi? Let me have a look…”
He brought her forward, but Evi stopped him, her small hand firm on his larger one. “Please,” she said. “I need to sleep…”
“Will you have some tea, Evi?”
“Later,” she said, leaning back on the sofa.
“My bed,” Jacob murmured. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
She was too tired to protest when his arms reached under her, lifting her as if she were weightless.
The last thing she knew before she fell into sleep was the softness of a feather quilt falling over her, and the touch of Jacob’s fingers on her brow.
ZOE
Zoe awoke to find she had slept for nearly twelve hours. Once, she remembered, she had been rattled awake by the noise of strafing German Stukas. But she had sunk back into sleep the moment the noise receded, and now the sun shone high in the sky, a tentative promise of spring.
