"I know. I know." Gisela would never forget the sickening sound of bones being crushed. All night long that horrible last fall in Goldap, she listened to the Russian tanks roll over those fleeing them. She shuddered. How many more lives would the Soviets demand?

Gisela studied the young woman, her wavy hair escaping her rolls. She had seen her before. But where?

A moment's consideration gave her the answer. "You are Audra Bauer, a seamstress at the shop where my cousin buys her dresses, aren't you?"

The woman tipped her head. "Ja. I always remember these sweet girls. Frau Steinmetz gives them candy."

Gisela introduced herself and Mitch.

Audra wrinkled her forehead. "That soldier is your husband? I don't remember you or Ella mentioning him when you came to the shop."

When would she learn to think before opening her mouth? Or at least have an excuse at the ready. Gisela paused for a long moment before an answer came to her. "We are newlyweds. You know how wartime romances go. You meet one day and are married the next."

Audra giggled like a schoolgirl. "He is very nice."

Gisela had to admit she was right. His dimples got her every time, making her want to smile. And the way he raked his hand through his thick, dark hair . . .

Person upon person had crowded onto this truck tighter than pickled eggs in a jar. The truck flew over a b.u.mp and she and Renate jostled against Mitch. As if touched by fire, heat suffused her body. She managed a cautious peek at him. His prominent Adam's apple bounced as he swallowed.

He smiled a sort of sad smile, biting his lower lip.

Her head spun.

The world buzzed.

Then there was blackness.

Gisela, standing in front of Mitch, slumped into him. He grabbed her under her arms. If there had been a spare centimeter to move, she would have fallen to the ground. The hair on his arms bristled.

They b.u.mped along the road, jostled and shaken until every muscle in his body hurt. The smells of human waste, the taste of fear, the packing of one body against another reminded him of that horrific trip in the cattle car from France into Germany five years before. Their captors had been less than kind. The POWs had been packed tighter than in this truck. Men prayed. Men cried. Men died.

Renate, wedged between Gisela and Audra, cried a pitiful howl until Audra held her.

Mitch shook Gisela. "Wake up." She had to come to. "Come on now."

He slapped her cheeks, though not hard.

She didn't stir.

With quivering fingers, he felt for a pulse. Good and strong.

"Gisela, let's look lively now. Come on now. Come on."

Her eyes didn't open, her long lashes brushing against her pale cheek. He peered at the crowd pressing on every side. "Give her air. Back up."

But where could they go? The truck hit a pothole, jolting them. Gisela continued to sleep.

"She needs fresh air."

Kurt whistled, quieting the throng, Mitch's ears ringing with the shrill sound. "This woman has fainted. Now, everyone, step back so she can catch her breath."

They did their best to obey their wounded war hero. Not a lot of extra air circulated around Gisela, but enough that her eyes flickered open. Confusion clouded them.

"Mitch? Mitch."

He covered her mouth, hoping to cover her slip of the tongue. "Ja, Gisela, it's your husband, Josep. Are you feeling better?"

She righted herself. "What happened?"

"Have you had much to eat?"

She shook her head. "With Herr Holtzmann's food lost, I was trying to ration what we have left."

"You fainted." He dug in her rucksack, found a loaf of bread, and tore off a chunk. "Eat this."

"I'm not hungry." She turned her head away.

He clenched his teeth. Stubborn woman. "Suit yourself. When you faint again, I won't try to revive you."

She grabbed the bread and stuffed it into her mouth. After she swallowed, she grinned, a most insincere smile adorning her heart-shaped face. He returned the gesture.

Renate, Audra still holding her, patted Gisela's arm and made an announcement. "I go potty."

Did she mean she had to or she already had? If she went right here, both she and Audra would smell awful within minutes. And would keep smelling that way for days to come. Judging by the eye-watering odor in the truck, many had.

Mitch took a two-second survey of their surroundings. Nowhere at all for the little one to use the loo. There was only one choice.

He lifted Renate from Audra's arms. "Take off her pants."

Gisela leaned back and stared at him. "You want me to do what?"

"Take them off. You don't want her going potty with them on."

"What are you going to do?"

"Help her go."

"Right here?"

"Not exactly." He lifted Renate over the tailgate and held her out.

Gisela grabbed his arm and screeched. "Stop it! Stop it. Don't throw her."

A bubble of laughter rose in his chest. It was the kind of prank Xavier would have pulled. He'd be disappointed if Mitch didn't play along. "How far do you want me to pitch her? I toss a mean game of cricket."

Gisela tugged on him and he had to tighten his grip.

"I won't drop her. I promise. Renate, go potty."

And the child did so, while hurtling through the East Prussian countryside.

When she finished, Mitch pulled her inside and held her while Gisela dressed her. Renate laid her head on his shoulder.

He gave a short chortle. "Now wasn't that fun, Renate? When you grow up, you will tell your children all about this."

"My turn, my turn." Annelies wriggled out of her own clothing and he repeated the process.

He lifted Annelies inside the truck and she pulled up her pants. Then he faced Gisela. "Is it your turn now?"

She sniffed. "I don't think you could lift me like that."

"I could try."

Bettina began unb.u.t.toning her knee-length wool coat. "I want to try. That looks like fun."

"Nein, nein." Gisela grabbed her hand. "That is a game only for the children. You will have to wait until we stop."

"I want to soar. One day Sebastian took me in his plane, so high above the clouds I never wanted to come down. That is the one and only time in my life I have ever been in an aeroplane. He can lift me out of the truck so I can fly."

"You are crazy, Sister." Katya played with a gray curl that had escaped her hood. "You can't fly in a truck. Wherever did you get that idea?"

Mitch remembered wheeling over the English countryside in his uncle's biplane. Uncle Roger taught him how to operate the controls. Mitch loved every minute of it. He also recalled his father's stern look, the hard set of his mouth and the jut of his chin, not understanding. After all, a solicitor didn't need to know how to fly.

Mitch shook his head. "Bettina, I don't believe I'm up for that challenge. But perhaps someday we can arrange for you to fly again."

"A plane would get us there faster. It would take us farther away from this awful place." Gisela bounced against him.

The German army's truck engine ground to a halt, emitting a terrible squealing sound. Not one a vehicle should make.

Mitch peered around the edge of the canvas. Nothing but snow-swept farmland.

This couldn't be their destination.

EIGHT.

The soldier's footsteps crunched in the snow as he approached the back of his truck. Mitch inhaled and held it in.

"Where are we?" Gisela's breath tickled the back of his neck.

"I've no idea. I got a D in geography." Much to his father's consternation. A solicitor would need to do better than that in school. Perhaps if Mitch had paid better attention in cla.s.s, he wouldn't have never ended up in a POW camp to begin with. "Don't look to me for directions." Please, don't look at me. The muscles across his shoulders tightened. "If you don't know, we're in trouble."

One thing he did know was that he wanted to stay out of the soldier's sight. He didn't want to have to speak to him in German. He didn't want to have to come up with another excuse. So Mitch leaned back and behind the German with one arm. Kurt.

The driver lowered the tailgate and banged his hand on it twice. "I don't know what is wrong with the truck. I can't get it going again. The others have gone ahead. There was no room for you."

So they were to sit out here, target practice for Soviet planes? Would he ever rejoin his mates?

"We may not even be able to fix the truck. Danzig is just a few kilometers that way." He pointed in the direction the truck had been headed.

"Danzig?" Mitch whispered to Gisela.

"Where the Frische Nehrung meets the mainland. You should have paid better attention in cla.s.s." She sighed. "Danzig has a train station. That's why we have to get there. If the trains are still running, we can make our way to Berlin."

"Can you walk into town? What about the girls and the old women?"

Dark half circles rimmed the bottom of Gisela's eyes. "We're not invalids."

If he could, he would have raised his hands. "Don't go crackers. They are young and old. That's all I meant."

The driver busied himself under the bonnet. Most of the truck's occupants filed out and wandered away over the frozen landscape.

When he helped Gisela and the children down from the truck, Mitch was surprised to see Kurt and Audra waiting for them. Bettina and Katya stood between them.

"Sister." Bettina grasped Katya's age-spotted hand. "It's Barcelona. I would recognize it anywhere. I can smell the paella. What a cosmopolitan city it is."

Katya shook her head. "I don't smell anything. You are addle brained to think this is Barcelona. More likely, it's Madrid."

They continued arguing about which Spanish city they were in, appearing not to understand their brother was no longer with them. Was that a good thing or not?

He found himself often turning to speak to Xavier, only to catch himself at the last minute. Xavier wasn't with them.

Gisela asked the driver for directions to the train station and relayed them to Mitch. "He says we only have to follow this road and we will find it. We can't miss it."

He closed his eyes for a moment.

She didn't know his history.

Kurt watched as Gisela limped behind her husband. Her foot was bothering her, but she said nothing. And Josep was so busy playing the hero, he didn't notice.

She should remember he pulled her into the truck. He saved her from the Russians.

And what was an SS officer doing marching westward with this crazy band of misfits?

Kurt slogged on, his eye always on the beautiful woman in front of him. Her long amber hair had escaped its pins and flowed free and loose around her shoulders.

Beautiful. A Mozart concerto began to play in his head. His missing fingers ached. He longed to run them up and down a piano keyboard.

He hadn't heard the music or desired to play his instrument in months. She made it happen.

Ja, he was smitten with Gisela for sure. And G.o.d-if there was one-had dropped her into his lap. Literally.

Too bad she was married. Gisela caught up to Josep and spoke into his ear. He smiled at her but . . .