Audrey swallowed, the thorns of her own feelings cutting at her throat. “I understand.”
An hour later, there was a soft knock on Audrey’s door, and Ilse came in. She was in her nightgown and slippers now, wrapped in a robe to ward off the late winter chill. She sat at the bottom of Audrey’s bed and they simply stared at one another.
“You’re going to stay here, aren’t you?” Ilse said finally.
Audrey nodded. She’d spent the past hour coming to the same conclusion. “I think it would be best.” For Ilse. For her.
Ilse traced a seam on Audrey’s quilt.
“All I’ve ever cared about is that you’re safe,” Audrey said. “And you’ll be safe in the Netherlands.”
Ilse’s dark eyes filled with tears and her nose swelled. “I hope so. I wouldn’t be going if not for Daniel.”
“I know. I know how difficult this is for you.”
Audrey sat up a little straighter at the head of her bed. “So much has changed since all this began. The resistance. Daniel. Friedrich, and…” She thought of the way he had looked at Ilse, felt a fresh wave of despair.
“I’m sorry, Audrey,” Ilse said. “That I don’t… that I can’t…” She shrugged, unable to give voice to Audrey’s greatest, impossible wish. “It’s not who I am. You’re the sister I never had. It’s different for me, I suppose.”
“You were always the sister I never had, too,” Audrey said, as her chin quivered. “And then… I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.” She didn’t want to feel this for Ilse anymore. She wanted to go back to the way it was before, the simplicity and comfort of it. This was too confusing, too complicated and painful. Illegal. She couldn’t explain, even to herself, why her feelings had deepened in the way they had.
But they had.
“I can’t ever give you what you want,” Ilse whispered.
The truth of it ripped through Audrey’s chest, fraying the edges of her heart like torn linen. “Because of Friedrich?” she asked.
Ilse hesitated. “It’s not only because of him. I thought maybe… it doesn’t matter now, anyway. I’ll be gone. We might never even see each other again. He has a job to do here.”
“And so do I. There’s a new purpose for me here,” Audrey said. “We can try to stop it, stop him—Hitler. I’ve been making progress with Weber. I’d like to see it through. And in a way…” She exhaled. “It might be easier for me, knowing you’re safe at a distance. I won’t need to worry about what could happen to you if we’re found out.”
The silver pendant resting on Ilse’s bare collarbone glittered in the moonlight. She hadn’t taken Ruth’s necklace off once, not even to bathe, not even when Daniel’s curious fingers snatched at it.
Audrey thought of Ruth and Ephraim, what their fates likely were, of the hope Ilse still harboured for their return.
“And if your mother and Ephraim come back, I’ll be here to greet them, to explain. They would have no reason to trust Friedrich’s word alone, would they?”
Ilse nodded, mopping her jaw. “And you could always come join me, right?”
“Sure I could.” But she knew that, for one reason or another, she probably wouldn’t.
Ilse crawled to the head of the bed and they held each other for a long while, both sniffling. Audrey closed her eyes and breathed Ilse in, committing the moment to memory.
When they broke apart, Ilse padded to the door. “Will you come with us though, to drop off me and Daniel?”
Audrey forced a smile, willing Ilse to leave so that she could submit to the emotional storm she’d been fending off since Ludwig threw his glass into the fire.
“I would do anything for you, Ilse.”
Chapter 21
Kate
ALNWICK, ENGLAND | EARLY DECEMBER 2010
I can’t believe they eliminated the lemon cupcakes,” Audrey says. They’ve just witnessed the finale of The Great British Bake Off.
“Neither can I,” Ian says, throwing his hands in the air next to Kate on the couch. “A travesty.”
Audrey chuckles, holds her coffee mug aloft. “Which one of you would like to go get me a refill?” Kate leans forward but Ian pushes himself off the couch first to oblige. “Thank you, dear,” Audrey says, and he disappears down the hall. “So the two of you are headed to the Christmas market tomorrow, then?” she says with a small smile. “Sounds lovely.”
“Yeah,” Kate says. She’s a little unsure of the trip, but truth be told she could use a breather from Audrey’s weighty recollections, and she’s trying to lean into Ian’s suggestion that the only real way to face this holiday is to push straight on through it. She’s felt better lately, despite the occasional nightmare. But she’s having fewer of them than she did back in London, so she takes that as a sign of progress. “I’ve never been. Have you?”
“Once or twice, years ago now. I love Edinburgh though, used to go there often when I was younger and my legs didn’t creak like rotting branches. It’s a bit too hilly for me nowadays. The train ride was sometimes my favourite part. You get quite close to the sea along the way.” She shakes her head. “It’s funny. I’ve lived landlocked my whole life, despite how much I like being by the water.”
“It’s not too late, you know,” Kate says gently.
“Yes, it is,” Audrey replies, her expression soft. “But thank you.”
Ian returns with her refill. “I gave it a little jolt of whiskey. Your baking horse lost. This is for the sorrow.”
“Cheers.” Audrey winks at him. When she takes the mug, a little sloshes over the side, and Ian guides it down to the cork coaster on the side table for her.
“You okay?” he mutters.
“Yes, thank you, dear.”
