Page 129 of One More Secret

“Desertion with intent to remain permanently away.”

Schmidt does not react to the charge, but it comes as no surprise to him. Dieter had already warned his friend that he was planning to escape.

“Has someone contacted his family?” The muscle in Schmidt’s jaw bunches, the movement barely perceptible.

Müller gives a terse nod. “It has been dealt with.”

I remain motionless, my face free of any emotion that will give away I understand their exchange. On the inside, my heart aches for Dieter’s family. But at the same time, I wonder what they will think of the news. Will they be ashamed that he deserted the Army? Or will they be heartbroken to have lost a son?

Müller walks to the waiting Jeep, gravel crunching beneath his boots. The Jeep door slams shut, and the vehicle drives away, leaving silence and dust in its wake.

I stay perfectly still, waiting for the Jeep to drive out of view. Schmidt doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at me. He walks past me, his expression one I know only too well. It’s the twist of emotions I experienced when I found my fiancé naked with my sister.

Anger and agony and pain and shame.

His emotions are buried beneath the surface, visible through fine cracks in his veneer. And all the anger I felt towards him fizzles, a candle flame in the rain.

He heads in the direction of the pond, where he has gone almost every evening for the past week. Sometimes Fischer was with him. Other times he was alone.

I go into the farmhouse and make supper. The front door opens a short time later while I’m preparing the food. I glance over my shoulder to see if it’s Schmidt.

Jacques walks past the kitchen and goes upstairs. I finish cooking his food and carry it to his bedroom. With the exception of the first night when Schmidt moved into the farmhouse, Jacques refuses to eat with me if Schmidt will be joining us. And he refuses to eat the food that Schmidt supplies. He only eats the food he provides or what I am able to get with our ration cards.

It’s the one act of defiance Schmidt knows about.

I return downstairs to an empty kitchen and still no sign of Schmidt.

I grab my worn cardigan and hurry to the pond, telling myself I’m doing this to gain war intelligence. Unlike those other times I followed him, I don’t try to be quiet. I’m not going there to spy on him. But I also don’t know what I plan to do once I get there.

Schmidt is sitting on the grassy bank, staring out at the water. I’ve never seen anyone look so lost.

An ache, so simple and pure and unexpected, fills me. And Dieter’s words return from the first night they came here. If what he said is true, Schmidt might have lost his mother and sister to the Gestapo. And now he has lost his friend, a man who didn’t want to be here, who risked death to allegedly desert his post with the Wehrmacht.

I walk to where Schmidt is sitting and lower myself onto the grass next to him. He doesn’t react to my intrusion, doesn’t remind me it’s after curfew. He continues to stare out at the water.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” I say after a moment. “Were you two close?” Most of the teasing and joking I overheard between them was in German, so I must be careful with how I tread.

Schmidt’s handsome features in the light of the full moon are weary. His shoulders are slumped. “We’ve known each other since we were babies. He was a brother to me.”

“Will you be all right?” As soon as the question is out of my mouth, I want to snatch it back. It’s a daft question. He clearly isn’t, but he won’t admit to me that he’s hurting. He’s a soldier. To show weakness is a sign of cowardliness. Inexcusable. His commanding officer already believes Dieter was a coward. Schmidt won’t want anyone else, especially me, to think the same of him.

“You had a sister. Would you have done anything to protect her, even if it meant doing something that went against who you were?”

I study his handsome features, unsure if he’s referring to the sister I’ve overheard him talk about with Dieter, or about Dieter as his brother.

I think back to when Hazel and I were best friends. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for her.

I nod at Schmi—I nod at Johann’s question. With him sitting here, a statue of grief for everything he has lost, possibly all at the hands of Hitler’s men, I can’t see him right now as the enemy. He’s just a man who looks as though his own world is caving in on him in a way I hope to never understand.

I lost my sister because she betrayed me by falling in love with my fiancé and marrying him. She’s still very much alive. While I might be angry at her for hurting me like that, I couldn’t imagine losing her the way Johann might have lost his sister.

But if Hitler has his way, that’s exactly what will happen.

If Hitler has his way, I’ll know firsthand how Johann feels.

“My sister loves folklore,” he says, surprising me. That was the last thing I had expected him to say. “One of her favourites involves the nixie.”

“Nixie? I don’t think I know that one.” Hazel is the one who was once interested in English folklore. When we were little girls, she was positive fairies were real.

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