“I’m taking the cows out to graze in the pasture today,” Wim told Lena at breakfast one morning. “There’s still a little grass out there, and we need to save the feed for winter.” He was taller than Pieter now, with Pieter’s large, strong hands.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Lena asked. “The cows are terrified of the low-flying planes. And I heard that cows have been killed by falling shrapnel.”

“They need to eat or their milk will dry up.”

“I can take the herd out.”

“I need to get out and walk, Mama. Please.”

She couldn’t deny him such a simple thing. Lena guessed that he wanted to feel the fall sunshine on his head more than he wanted the cows to find grass. Ever since Wim was a child, the sun would bleach his thick blond hair nearly white during the summer months. Now it was the color of ashes after hiding indoors for so long. Lena stood in the open barn door with the milk cans, watching Wim stride across the field with the cows. “Not too far,” she whispered. “That’s far enough . . .” Wim kept going.

When she heard engines approaching, Lena looked up. The sky was clear. The vehicle was speeding closer. “Wim!” she screamed. “Wim, come back!” He didn’t seem to hear her. She started to run toward the pasture, calling his name. Then she remembered that Maaike and Bep were inside the house alone. If this was a Nazi vehicle —and who else had gasoline these days? —she couldn’t leave her girls here by themselves. “Wim!” she screamed again. “Wim, hide!”

He finally turned to her. But the truck was close now. Lena could see it. Wim wouldn’t have time to run all the way back to the barn. Whoever was in the truck would surely see him standing in the middle of the flat field. He might be able to make it to one of the irrigation ditches in time if he crouched low. Oh, God, please! she begged. Please don’t let them see Wim! She had prayed for her father, too, and God hadn’t listened. But He had to answer her prayer this time —He had to! Swastikas fluttered from the truck’s antennae. Lena turned away from the field and moved into the barn so they would have to follow her there to speak with her.

The truck pulled to a halt and the soldier in the passenger seat jumped down, armed with a rifle and bayonet. He would use it to stab all the haystacks, searching for men in hiding. A second soldier jumped out of the back, also armed. Then a third.

“Where is your son?” the soldier asked in German. “We know you have a son.”

Oh, God . . .