Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(84)

“Halt!” a soldier says, his palm toward Sophie. “This road is closed, Fr?ulein.”

Sophie slips off her bicycle. Her heart is racing. The blockaded road is the only one out of Kleinwald to the forest. If she doesn’t reach the tree in time, her contact will leave. Families will be without papers. They’ll be rounded up by the SS and put on trains. She must get to the Bridegroom’s Oak. She noses her bicycle tire against the barrier and manages a smile. “Oh. I was hoping to gather wildflowers for my mother. Hallo, Oskar. The uniform suits you!”

“Just a moment.” The voice belongs to Herr Jaeger. He unfolds himself from his camp chair hidden beneath the shade of a linden tree where he’s been watching everything. He puts aside an apple, half-peeled. The paring knife is still in his hand. “I have seen you leaving the village a few times a week. Where do you go, Fr?ulein?”

Sophie opens her mouth. For all the words she collects, none will come to her aid now. “I … I … to the forest.”

“Mmm. And what do you do in the forest? Do you meet anyone there?”

Sophie trembles. She hopes her smile holds. “Nein.”

“I suppose you heard about the seditious materials found by the statue.”

Some leaflets denouncing the Third Reich had been strewn at the base of Baron Wilhelm Alexander.

“Yes, Herr Jaeger.”

“Your father owns the bookshop, yes?”

He knows this, of course. He’s been there. Sophie doesn’t know what he’s playing at, only that she is at a disadvantage. “Yes, Herr Jaeger.”

“So he might have a typewriter. A printing press.”

“N-nein, Herr … we have a typewriter, of course, but—”

“Open your rucksack, please, Fr?ulein,” Herr Jaeger commands.

“M-my rucksack?” Sophie stalls.

“Bitte.”

Sophie is no longer in her body. Fear has removed her. Herr Jaeger holds out the hand without the knife and Sophie delivers the rucksack, which he places at his feet. Sophie concentrates on the shine of those black boots. She wonders if this is the last image she will have before a pistol is at her temple.

“Sophie!” Hanna strides toward her, arms swinging at her sides. “Don’t tell me you’re at it again. You promised to stop this nonsense!”

Hanna’s eyes bore into Sophie’s. Play along.

“I … I’m sorry, Hanna. I know I promised.”

“Oh, Sophie.” Hanna strikes just the right note of exasperation. “Tell the commandant the truth. Or shall I? Herr Jaeger, she writes to the Bridegroom’s Oak. Love letters.”

Oskar snorts. Herr Jaeger turns to him. “Is this true?”

“Yes, Kommandant. We call her Miss Lonelyhearts. She writes hoping some boy will take pity on her but no luck. She’s read so many fairy tales it’s scrambled her brains.”

“This is the famous matchmaking tree, ja?” Herr Jaeger asks.

Sophie manages a feeble nod. Herr Jaeger sucks air through his teeth and looks down the road toward the forest. Sophie and Hanna can practically feel him thinking. He turns to Oskar.

“Open the rucksack, please.” It’s not a request.

Sophie is so frightened she’s numb except for her heart, which thumps wildly against her ribs. Beside her, she can sense Hanna’s nervous energy as Herr Jaeger reaches down and lifts up the book. “Aren’t you a little old for fairy tales, Fr?ulein?” He puts the book aside and takes out Sophie’s letter.

“May I have that, please?” Sophie begs. “It’s private.”

Herr Jaeger’s pointed stare answers: Nothing you have is hidden from me. He wipes the blade of his paring knife on the edge of the rucksack and slides it efficiently beneath the envelope flap. He extracts the letter, unfolds it, and reads aloud: “My Beloved Prince, how I ache to hold you in my arms one day. Do you dream of me, too? You are my prince and I shall be your princess and our kisses will be like roses in spring…”

Oskar and the other soldiers can’t contain their laughter. Even Herr Jaeger seems amused. He tucks the knife into his trouser pocket.

Hanna sighs. “Oh, Sophie. You have only yourself to blame for this embarrassment.”

Sophie hangs her head. She can sense Hanna’s approval. Well done.

Herr Jaeger folds the letter into its precise creases and places it along with the book back into Sophie’s pack. Sophie’s knees shake. Josef Keller, she thinks, so that they will stop.

“See?” Oskar says. “What did I tell you? Crazy.”

“I believe in magic! And true love! If that’s crazy, then I suppose I am,” Sophie says. She’s learned a thing or two about acting from Hanna.

At last, Herr Jaeger extends the backpack to Sophie. She takes it quickly, hoping it reads as embarrassment and not fear, though she feels both, and slips it onto her back. She will be late. Her contact may flee. Let me go. Please let me go.

“Fr?ulein, you must be careful. There are some men who are not honorable,” Herr Jaeger says, like a concerned father—a surprise; it’s hard for Sophie to reconcile this Herr Jaeger with the other one.

“Yes, Herr Jaeger.”

“You may go to your tree. Heil Hitler.”

“Heil Hitler.”