Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(82)

He laughs, delighted by the surprise of his cleverness and Hanna’s kiss.

Sophie hates him at this moment. Her only satisfaction is that he is too arrogant to realize that Hanna is playing him for a fool. The rain has moved away. And in its place is a heavy, dull gray that shows no sign of lifting soon.

“If you love me, you’ll protect Sophie, too, Oskar. She is my dearest friend.”

“Well, I…”

Hanna inclines her face toward Oskar’s. “Would you like to kiss me again?”



* * *



The moment Sophie enters the garret the next day, she can sense that something’s wrong. It’s the rigid set of Karl’s shoulders, the way Hanna is slumped against the wall, her elbows resting on her knees. Egon blows cigarette smoke out the window into the stale heat of late July. His eyes are on the soldiers in the distance, but every now and then he looks over at Hanna in a way Sophie can’t decipher.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Sophie asks.

Hanna has told them about her conversation with Oskar and Herr Jaeger’s suspicion.

“It’s too dangerous for us to move the forgeries to Berlin now. He’ll be watching us,” Leon says. “How will we get the documents out?”

“We could use the Bridegroom’s Oak,” Sophie says.

Leon scoffs. “Are you mad? They open the letters and read everything inside!”

Hanna pushes up from the floor. “No. Listen: The postmaster arrives each day at the same time. We arrange the drop for after he’s left. Then we mark the tree with a piece of chalk so that our contact will know to pick them up.”

“There are soldiers in the fields near the forest. Sometimes in the forest itself,” Karl says. “They’ll question us. Search us.”

Leon shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”

“I can take them,” Sophie says. “Everyone already makes fun of me for writing to the Bridegroom’s Oak. Who would suspect Miss Lonelyhearts of being a member of the resistance?”

“How will we hide the documents?” Egon asks.

“We could hide them inside a book. Something like … like this!” Leon picks up Sophie’s thick volume of fairy tales. “Perfect.”

Hanna takes it from him. “That’s Sophie’s favorite.”

“It’s all right,” Sophie says. “I have them memorized anyhow.”

Hanna squeezes her hand. “You can tell them all to me. As often as you like.”

Leon drops the book on the table and flips open the front cover. “Look: We cut out all of the pages but the first ten, twenty. We tuck the documents inside, then cover them with the front pages.”

Egon cuts a rectangle into the center of the book. Karl nestles the lifesaving documents into the new cavity and covers them with the remaining pages. “It looks like any book.”

“If you don’t look too closely,” Leon says. “If they decide to inspect it, we’re dead.”

“Here’s hoping the Gestapo isn’t interested in fairy tales,” Egon says. He still won’t meet Hanna’s eyes.

Later, when everyone has gone back to work, Sophie gathers the broken pages and feeds them into the stove one by one. It feels like saying goodbye to a friend. Sophie is solemn on the walk home that evening. She didn’t want anyone to see her cry over a book. Even if that book had seen her through much of her life. She walks along the river so no one can see her tears. She hears her name being called. Quickly, she brushes the back of her hand against her eyes just as Karl catches up to her. He reaches into his pocket and hands Sophie a square of paper. “I saved a page for you.”

Sophie unfolds it. It’s from “The Three Spinners.” “Oh. Thank you.”

“That was very brave of you today.”

“It’s just a book.”

“But I know how you feel about books. They’re living things to you.”

Sophie looks down at her shoes, which are dusty from the attic. Mud clings to the soles. She’ll have to clean them later. Her mind is everywhere, scattered as river stones.

“I knew you were really somebody the day you were so kind to Lotte,” Karl says.

“It was just an acorn,” Sophie demurs.

“It was more than that.”

“Karl! Wait for me!” Leon is jogging toward them.

“Give me a minute!” Karl calls.

“I suppose you’d better…”

“Yes.”

She tries to gather her words. “I think you’re somebody, too.”

“Karl! Come on!” Leon says, exasperated.

Karl looks deeply into Sophie’s eyes. “Me? I’m nobody.”



* * *



The next day in the garret, Sophie’s mind jumps like a cricket.

She’s had all night to think of what she’ll say to Karl. She keeps stealing glances at him as he works on a truck engine. Suppose she’s wrong? What if this is another fantasy, like the von der Trottel brothers? She is mid-signature on an identity card when the growling rumble of trucks approaches. Leon races to the window. “Storm troopers!” With a razor-swipe quickness, documents, inks, papers, and photographs are stashed behind the loose brick. The soldiers’ heavy boots thud up the staircase.