Gerard wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Let me go first, then I’ll catch you.”
She nodded. Landing was the least of her worries. Rather, the miles-long hike to their next stop crowded her thoughts.
Chugging at a crawl, the steam-powered monster inched up the slope.
“I’ll jog alongside and stick the flashlight in my jacket so you can see me. Jump toward me on the count of three.”
“Okay.”
In a blur, he disappeared through the opening. A second later, his voice broke though the darkness. One…two…three!”
She threw herself toward the sound. Hanging in the air, time stood still. Then she was in his arms, his musky smell of sweat, hay, and outdoors permeating her senses. Wrapped in his embrace, they tumbled and rolled on the ground.
“Good girl.” A smile laced his words.
Her heart swelled. Success. She hadn’t fallen, or worse, hurt him in the process. Thank You, God.
He helped her stand. “Are you okay to walk?”
“I have to be.” She put her weight on the injured leg. A dull ache pulsed in her muscles. Her eyes widened. “Yes. My knee no longer feels like someone is sticking knives or needles into it. Resting has helped.”
In the distance, the train reached the top of the incline and rounded the bend. Silence fell.
“Excellent, but we must be careful not to overdo.” Gerard retrieved his flashlight, shone the ray on his compass, and then clicked off the light. He pointed east. “Best get moving. We should be there in a couple of hours.”
They walked to the tree line that edged the meadow. Pitch dark or not, walking across the middle of the expanse was foolish. Their feet sank into the soft ground. Deep in the woods, an owl hooted. Even deeper, another answered. Bats chattered and pirouetted in the sky.
Emily stuffed her hands into her pockets and tried to ignore the throbbing in her knee. Snippets of her favorite hymns floated through her head, and the tension slipped from her shoulders. After an hour, they rested, then continued on their way. Wiping the perspiration along her hairline, she plucked at her blouse that stuck to her skin. Would she ever be clean again?
Gerard stopped and pointed at the collection of cottages about a hundred yards away.
She drew alongside him, and her chin lifted. They’d reached the village in good time. She hadn’t slowed them down. “It won’t be light for another few hours, so we should be able to slip in undetected.”
“As long as no one is lying in wait for us.”
“Surely, they can’t have staked out every village within a hundred-mile radius.”
He shrugged. “You’ve read Moby Dick. If our German friend is anything like Captain Ahab, he could have spies in places we can’t imagine. We’ll not borrow trouble, but we must be cautious.”
“The constant suspicion is wearing. I wonder if I’ll trust anyone after I get home.”
“Perhaps eventually, but it’s an occupational hazard, to be sure.” He squeezed her arm. “You’ve not complained once. How is your leg holding up?”
She trembled at his touch. “Achy but manageable. I’m ready to be off my feet, so hopefully we’ll find the safe house with no difficulty.”
“Agreed.” His chuckle was low and warm. “And for the record, pleasure hiking is no longer on my list of hobbies.”
She giggled and clapped a hand over her mouth.
They headed toward the tiny hamlet, and she pressed her hand to her chest where her heart bumped in a staccato rhythm. Brave. She must be brave. Her eyes burned as she peered into the inky night, straining to see movement that would indicate they were being watched.
The lane into the village widened, and they crept past the shops, many boarded up. At the second intersection, they turned south and walked to the end of the block. Turning left, they stopped in front of the third stone cottage on the street. A pair of flowerboxes graced the front windows, unfamiliar white blooms nodding in the night air. If a key was under the pile of bushel baskets out back, they were in the right place.
“Wait here.” He trotted away.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she whirled. Her gaze bounced from house to house. All was quiet. Was she jumping at shadows, or were their pursuers within striking distance?
Her breath came in ragged bursts, and her vision shimmied. She bent over, and the dizziness passed. She was letting fear get the best of her.
A tiny click sounded, and the door opened in front of her. “All clear.” Gerard’s whisper penetrated the silence.
She tiptoed inside.
Gerard closed the door and flicked on his flashlight. “Even though the house has blackout curtains, let’s leave the lights off until daylight. I’ll take first watch. There’s a rather decrepit sofa in the living room and a cot in the bedroom. Your choice.”
“I’d rather stay in here together, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure how much I’ll sleep, but getting off this knee sounds heavenly.”
He swung the beam around the room until it came to rest on the sofa. “I’ll keep guard by the window for now.”
Trying not to limp, Emily navigated past two upholstered chairs and a small table surrounded by wooden chairs. A woven rug that had seen better days lay in the center of the room. She dropped onto the end of the couch and sank into the worn cushion. She propped her back against the padded arm and extended her legs. A twinge fluttered through her knee, but the shooting pain had ceased.
The light clicked off, plunging the room in darkness.
She closed her eyes and lowered her chin, willing her muscles to relax and her thoughts to stop racing. Images of the altercation with the Vichy policeman they’d shot replayed through her mind. Her heart sped up, and she blew out a deep breath.
“Emily?”
Her eyes flew open, and she turned her head toward Gerard’s voice. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. Is your knee giving you problems?” Worry covered his words.
“Not as much as I’d thought it would after a trek over hill and dale. No, memories are bubbling up. I can still see the policeman’s vacant stare. I’ve never seen a dead person before. It’s…disconcerting.”
“Disturbing is more like it, especially with a violent death. We can talk of home to replace the thoughts with something more pleasant. Tell me about your students. Was it hard getting to know them and then lose them at graduation?”
“In some ways, yes. And I shouldn’t have favorites, but some kids worked their way into my heart. They were bright, eager to learn, and exhibited such joy when they succeeded. Over the years, a few of them have written letters.”
“Their keeping in touch says that you mean a lot to them. You must be a good teacher.”
Her face warmed, and she was glad of the darkness so he couldn’t see her blush, a habit that was ridiculous at her age. She shrugged. “At twenty-five, I’m not much older, so perhaps they can relate more to me than the older instructors.” She giggled. “Many of whom seem old to me.”