The man tried to move his legs. His face twisted in agony, and she stepped forward again, right by his bedside now.
“Lie back down, Herr Graf.” It felt ridiculous to be using a name she knew wasn’t real. “I know you’re in great discomfort.” She looked around for the aspirin pills. They weren’t going to do anything more than temper his pain, but any kind of relief would help him sleep again. They were on the bedside table, which she’d shoved out of the way to reveal the floorboards, and now his eyes went down to the gaping hole she’d created.
“What is going on here? What are you planning on doing?”
“Just some repairs,” Franka said. “Nothing to concern yourself with.” She took out three pills and offered them to him. He looked at them and then back into her eyes.
“They’re just aspirin. They’re not much, but they’ll help until I can get something stronger.” She could see the pain in his eyes, and also the fear and confusion that he was working so hard to hide. He held out his hand, and she dropped the pills into his palm. She gave him water, and he swallowed the aspirin, gulping down the entire glass in seconds.
“Do you want more water?”
“Please.”
She hurried into the kitchen, glancing over at his rucksack on the floor of the living room as she passed. The guns were still inside. Her father’s gun was in the drawer of the dresser table by the front door. When she returned, he was trying to get out of the bed, his face sweating and distorted in suffering.
“No, please,” she said. “Lie back down. You have nothing to worry about. I am a friend.” She handed him the water. It was gone in seconds, as before. She took the glass back. He was still upright on the bed. He folded his arms across his chest as she began to speak. He looked as if he was concentrating on each individual word she was saying. “Lie down. We’ve no way of moving you. The roads are closed, and both your legs are broken. We’re stuck here together. We’re going to have to trust one another.”
“Who are you?” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck.
“I’m from this area. I grew up in Freiburg. This was my family’s summer home.”
“Are you here alone?”
“Apart from you. What were you doing out there in the snow? I have your parachute.”
“I can’t talk about it. That’s classified information. If I were to fall into Allied hands, it could be damaging to the war effort.”
“Well, you’re still in the fatherland. You’re safe. The Allies are hundreds of miles away.”
The man nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor.
“You must be famished. I’ll fetch you some food.”
“Yes, please.”
“My pleasure, Herr Graf.”
She retreated to the kitchen. Her hands were shaking as she reached for the last can of soup in the cupboard. It was hard to know how to play it from here. Trying to out him from his charade could be downright dangerous, but she had to let him know that he could trust her.
“Trust takes time,” she whispered. “This isn’t going to happen tonight.” She went back to him as the soup warmed on the stove. He flinched as she walked in.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes, thank you. It’s just that the pain in my legs is quite intense.”
“I understand. I’m sorry about that. I’m going to try to get more painkillers for you tomorrow.” He didn’t answer. “I have your boots, but I was forced to cut the pants off your legs. I also have your backpack. I saw that you had clothes in there.”
He nodded, seemingly unsure of what to say. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he answered after a few seconds. His eyes drifted toward the window and then back to her.
“I set the bones in your legs, but I’m afraid we’re going to need plaster casts to make sure they heal correctly.”
“Yes, thank you, Fr?ulein Gerber. Whatever you think is best.”
His eyes were glazing over, and he fell back on the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. The soup was ready, and she poured it into a bowl for him. She returned to the bedroom. He was lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He sat up as she placed the tray in front of him. He devoured the soup even more quickly than she had earlier. She took the tray, wishing she had bread to give him. “You need to rest now.”
“I have some more questions for you.”
“Questions can wait.”
“Have you spoken to anyone else about my being here? Anyone at all?”
“I haven’t spoken to another soul in days, not since before I found you. We’ve no telephone here, as I said. There isn’t even a postal service. I’d have to go into town to get any letters if anyone knew I was up here. But they don’t. We’re alone.” She leaned forward. “I brought you back here so you could get better.”
“I’m grateful for that, but it’s important that I be on my way as soon as possible.”
“You’re not going anywhere on those legs for several weeks. Once the roads open up again, we can see about bringing you back to town, but until then you’re stuck here with me. You need to accept that and also realize that you can trust me. I’m here to make sure you get better.”
“I’m thankful, Fr?ulein.” He nodded to her, but there was little joy or true appreciation in his words. It was as if he were reading off a script.
“Think nothing of it. I could hardly leave you out there to freeze to death, now could I? The important thing now is that you rest.”
Even her own words were wooden. It was as if they were two bad actors performing a play.
The man nodded and lay back down, the pain evident on his face. Franka reached for the candle on the bedside table and extinguished it between two wetted fingers. She closed the door behind her, drained from the masquerade. She turned the lock once more, aware that he must have heard her do it. The man didn’t protest.
The fire in the living room was dying, so she added more wood, standing back once more to watch it blaze up. She felt like she was alone in a cage with a wounded animal and unsure of anything it might do. His broken legs were her only guarantee of safety. As long as he couldn’t move from that bed, he couldn’t hurt her, especially without his guns. It was paramount that he understood that she meant him no harm, but also that she was in charge. She would not be subject to the whims of any bully, be they a Nazi or an Allied soldier. She would keep him here, safe from the Gestapo. That would be her final act of defiance against them before she joined Hans and the others.
Her entire body ached now, crying out for sleep. She went to her bedroom. Usually she would have left the door open to collect some of the warmth from the living room, but she closed the door behind her.
She went to the window. It was a calm, clear night, and the stars outside shone like light through pinpricks in black velvet. The weather tomorrow would likely be good enough for her to go into town. The trails would be clear. It was the type of trip she might have relished ten years ago. That seemed like a different world. She’d accumulated so many scars since then.