“Papa!” Maaike cried. Lena thought she might burst with joy as Pieter dropped his sack of belongings and pulled her into his arms, kissing her on the lips, right in front of the children. He hugged Wim and tousled his hair, then scooped Maaike into his arms for a hug.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not Sinterklaas,” he said, “but it looks like he’s been here already.” He pointed to the children’s shoes, overflowing with treats. The carrots and hay were gone.

“See, Wim? I told you I’ve been good,” Maaike said, elbowing him.

The children hauled their loot inside, and Lena nestled on the sofa beside her husband as they watched the children tear into their gifts.

“Why didn’t you write and tell me you were coming?” Lena asked.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.

“Well, you certainly did. I thought for sure you were Sinterklaas.”

The children were so excited that Lena didn’t know how she would ever get them to sleep. Pieter sat on the sofa with Wim beside him and Maaike on his lap and told tales of his life as a soldier. At last Lena grew impatient to have Pieter all to herself and sent the children to bed.

“It’s so wonderful to have you beside me in bed again,” she said later. “I’ve been so lonely.”

“Me too. And I’ll tell you one thing, I like being a farmer more than a soldier.”

“Promise you won’t leave me again? It’s terrible here without you.”

Pieter propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her in the darkened room, his expression serious. The half-moon shone through the curtain and lit up his fair hair like spun gold. “I can’t promise that, Lena. They said if there’s a crisis, I’ll have to report back to Den Haag for deployment.”

“Do you think there will be one?”

“Well, not much is happening in the war right now. No major battles between the Nazis and the Allies. They’re calling it a ‘phony’ war.”

Lena pulled him down beside her again. “Let’s pray for peace.”

CHAPTER 11

APRIL 1940

In the months since England and France declared war against Germany, Ans had stayed alert for signs that Eloise might be sliding into depression. It was like watching her navigate a rushing streambed, stepping over slippery rocks, trying not to lose her footing and be swept away. She admired Eloise’s courage. When Ans first arrived in Leiden, Eloise had thrown herself into every task with frantic cheerfulness, talking fast, her graceful hands nervous and fluttery. Now she often had to be coaxed from bed in the morning. She ate very little and was obsessed with listening to news of the war. Not much had been happening so far, but the anxiety of waiting made Eloise’s melancholy worse, as if she feared the approach of a violent storm.