Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(83)

Hanna looks over at Sophie, who has not moved. “Sophie! What are you doing? Get up!”

“Not yet,” Sophie says.

Signatures are a delicate process; if she stops now in the middle, there’s a chance she’ll ruin it. The soldiers’ heavy boots thud up the staircase. Karl and Leon have the tarp down, engine parts spread out. Egon is at his easel; he knocks over a paint can, rights it at the last second with jittery hands. Hanna throws off modesty with her clothes, shimmying into her dirndl. Sophie makes a careful loop, crosses a t with precision. Her heart thumps with the approaching steps. For a moment, her hands tremble so badly she can do nothing but hold the pen and her breath. She has begun to cry.

Hanna races to Sophie’s side.

“Hanna!” Egon whispers urgently.

“Sophie. You can do it,” Hanna commands.

There is banging at the door.

“Hanna,” Egon pleads.

Sophie finishes her last stroke. “?ffne die Tür!” a voice on the other side of the door demands. There’s no time to hide the identity card. She slips it under her thigh, tents her skirt above the still-wet ink, and pulls out a sheet of stationery. My Dearest Prince, she begins.

“?ffnen oder wir brechen es auf!”

“Ja, ja, coming,” Egon says to the banging and the threat. He opens the door.

The soldiers flood inside.

“What took you so long?” the most senior of them demands.

Egon wipes his inky fingers with a handkerchief. “My hands were a mess.”

“Karl Alexander Schmidt!” the soldier calls.

Karl rises from the engine parts. “Ja.”

“You are to come with us to the barracks,” the soldier says.

“Why? What is it?” Hanna asks.

“Now, please.”

Sophie watches, helpless, as the soldiers escort Karl from the room without another word.



* * *



It’s nearly dusk when Karl returns to the garret. Hanna runs to him. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“Nein. The commandant’s car broke down. He wasn’t looking for a spy but a mechanic.” He sinks into a chair, exhausted from the work and his nerves. “He asked me questions while I worked.”

“What kind of questions?” Sophie asks.

He glances at Egon. “About you. He doesn’t trust you. Which means he doesn’t trust any of us. And Oskar isn’t helping. He’s only too happy to tell Herr Jaeger anything he wants to know. We have to be careful around him.”

“Leave Oskar to me,” Hanna says. Egon turns away.

“Anyway. I shouldn’t have done such a good job on Herr Jaeger’s car. He says he’ll be calling me again. How will I make forgeries if I’m at the barracks all day?”

“No. It’s perfect. Don’t you see? You’ll be able to report on what they’re doing,” Hanna says.

“I’m not much of a spy. You would be better than me.”

“Just keep your mouth shut and your ears and eyes open and remember everything,” Hanna says.

“And slip whatever parts you can into your pockets. We can use them,” Leon says.

“Hanna’s right. The closer we are to them, the less suspicion falls on us,” Egon says. “Let’s work while we can, before we lose the light.”

Sophie clears her throat. “I-I have to be home earlier tonight. My mother will be upset if I’m not there to help and I’m running out of good lies.”

Egon nods. “Ja. Fine. We will see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Of course.” Sophie stands uncertainly at the door. She glances at Karl but he is staring off into nothing. “It’s getting dark. And there might be soldiers out. I don’t feel safe going alone.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Hanna says.

“No!” Sophie blurts. “I … I’m sure Karl must be very tired after all that time with Herr Jaeger. He could take me home.”

They are mostly silent on the walk. When they curve onto Hauptstrasse, past the Baron’s statue, Sophie stops and turns to Karl. She pulls one of the letters from her pocket. “You wrote these to me.” It’s a question. A statement.

When he looks into her eyes, she knows. It seems to her that the moment is cradled between divine fingers, a butterfly resting on stillness. She will forever remember standing by the statue of Baron Wilhelm Alexander, with whom Karl shares a name, but seeing only Karl, seeing into Karl.

He brushes a thumb along Sophie’s jaw. “You saved me, Sophie. As much as you’re saving others now.”

“How did I save you?”

“War breaks people. It strafes the heart forever. But then you answered my letters, and I found a reason to keep living. You are still my reason for living. More than you know.”

What happens next is this: He kisses her. It is Sophie’s first kiss. It seems to her that, for as long as there are stars and a river of time running backward and forward, carrying the world moment by moment, this kiss will exist in every one of them.



* * *



It’s a bright golden day as Sophie hops on her bicycle for the ride to the forest. In her rucksack is the book of fairy tales stuffed with forgeries. She can feel its pointy weight on her back as she bicycles through town smiling at neighbors. She’s been making these runs twice a week now, sometimes three. So far, everything has gone smoothly. But when she reaches the main road to the forest, there’s a blockade manned by soldiers. Among them is Oskar, in uniform at last.