“The ration cards arrived at the post office this afternoon,” Pieter began. “I’ve been in the mail-sorting room before, so I’m pretty sure I can find my way around in the dark. It shouldn’t be hard to find the packages.”

“Have you told the postmaster what we’ve planned?” one of the men asked. “He’s a relative of yours, isn’t he?”

Pieter glanced at Lena for a moment. “His wife and Lena are cousins. But no, I’ve decided not to involve him.”

“Why not? He hates the Nazis as much as we do. He’ll look the other way.”

“He might even help by leaving the door unlocked so we won’t make a commotion breaking in.”

“I’ve thought it all through,” Pieter said, “and if we don’t involve him, he’ll be able to report the robbery with a clear conscience. And if the Nazis apply pressure, he won’t have any idea who we are.”

“Doesn’t he live above the post office? What if he hears us and comes down? We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“We’ll have to take that chance.”

“Pieter’s right,” the officer said. “These missions should involve as few people as possible. I’m sorry to say, but it isn’t safe to trust our own relatives in these times.”

“Where will we hide the ration cards afterwards?” someone asked.

“We’ll bring them back here.”

Lena froze at her husband’s words, her mending falling limp in her lap.

“That’s a huge risk to take if you’re caught with them, Pieter,” one of the men said.

“I have a cache where I can hide them. My contact with the Resistance knows where it is. They’ll be safe until he picks them up.”

“What about random Nazi patrols in this area?” the army officer asked.

“We’ll avoid them if we can. The cloudy skies will help tonight. And the snow has all melted, so we won’t leave footprints.”

“Don’t they guard their shipments?” the officer asked. “These robberies have taken place in other post offices.”

“We’re counting on the fact that we’re a sleepy farming village that hasn’t caused much trouble,” Pieter said.

“Aside from some stolen hogs,” one of the men added. Everyone chuckled.

“Well then, are we ready?” the officer asked. He stood as if eager to leave. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and Lena’s breath caught when she saw he had a pistol. If Pieter or the others noticed it, they didn’t say anything. Lena’s heart raced faster.

“I would like to pray before we go,” Pieter said. He pulled his chair away from the table, then knelt in front of it with his hands clasped, his elbows resting on the seat. Lena knelt with everyone else. How strange to pray before going off to commit an armed robbery.