“I admire your courage,” Truus said as she led the way upstairs. “Riding out in the open countryside leaves you so exposed.” She gestured to the kitchen table, and Lena sat down, pulling Bep onto her lap. Maaike didn’t want to sit but went to the window that faced Papa’s church across the square. “All I have is ersatz coffee,” Truus said, “but at least there’s gas today.” She lit the burner under the coffeepot, then placed cups and saucers on the table. “Remember the days when we drank real coffee together, with pastries from the bakery? Something buttery and flaky?”

Lena smiled. “I would be happy with just the coffee nowadays. With maybe a tiny pinch of sugar.”

“We have to keep believing that better days are coming and that everything will be the same as it used to be, soon.” Her words bothered Lena.

“The war may end, but I wonder if any of us will ever be the same. And I wonder if we’ll be changed for the better or for the worse.”

Truus gave a little frown. “What do you mean?”

“Are you the same person you were before the war?”

“I should hope so!” Truus had always been a practical, down-to-earth woman, never one to ponder her own motives or look too deeply into her own heart. It would never occur to her to question God or examine her own faith too closely. But the war had changed Lena. Her faith had been shaken, challenged, destroyed, and rebuilt into something completely different. It was stronger —she was stronger —and yet she knew her faith was more fragile than ever, reduced to a childlike trust in the face of circumstances she was helpless to control. Surrendering control, which she’d learned had been a mere illusion all along, had altered her relationship with God forever.

“Well, I hope I’m not the same,” Lena said. She waited until Truus filled their cups and sat down before leaning closer, still trying to probe her cousin’s faith. “What went through your mind when your husband knelt in that lineup, facing execution?”

Truus looked away. “I’ve tried hard to forget that day, so please don’t remind me of it. Besides, he was saved in the end.”

“But what if he hadn’t been saved? What would you have said to God then?”

“I don’t know. And I never will know, because he didn’t die. And neither did your husband, so can we please talk about something else?”

Lena took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid, conceding to Truus’s wishes. Pieter was still out fighting the Nazis somewhere. For all Lena knew, he might be dead, and she might be forced to answer her own question.