But the Netherlands’ last hope for liberation had disappeared with the British forces. The Nazis and their allies now occupied Belgium, leaving the Netherlands cut off from the world and surrounded by Nazi-controlled nations. The French army was in tatters. The Nazis marched relentlessly toward Paris.

Ans finally coaxed Eloise out of bed, but she cringed when Eloise went to the front room first and switched on the radio. “Let’s wait until after breakfast —”

“No, wait! Listen!” The excitement in the announcer’s voice was unmistakable. Ans held her breath, hoping it was good news for once. It was. All Dutch soldiers being held as prisoners of war would be set free to return to their jobs and homes.

“Papa!” Ans shouted. “My papa is coming home! And Erik! Oh, Eloise, thank God!”

“You must go home and celebrate with your family this weekend.”

“Thank you! I think I will!” Erik would be coming home too. They’d exchanged letters while he’d been away, and the bond between them had grown stronger as they’d shared their hopes and fears with each other. She could hardly wait to see him.

Ans packed an overnight bag and set out for the farm on her bicycle early Saturday morning, knowing that the trains would be crammed with Nazis and returning Dutch soldiers. “If Erik comes while I’m at the farm,” she’d told Eloise before leaving, “please let him know when I’ll be back. And that I can’t wait to welcome him home.”

The air was warm with the promise of summer, the fields green and scented with freshly mown hay. Even the manure smelled good to Ans as she pedaled home, thanking God for sparing Papa and Erik when so many others had died. And thanking Him that the good news had helped Eloise find her footing again in the delicate balancing act she performed every day. The journey was tiring, but Ans sped up as she cycled the last mile home.

How wonderful it was to hug her family and be with them again. The simple farmhouse with its red-tiled roof, and the attached barn full of cows, and the squawking chickens, and the stately old windmill —none of these familiar sights had ever looked so beautiful to Ans.

Her down-to-earth papa seemed uncomfortable with the fuss everyone paid him. Mama wouldn’t take her eyes off him. Maaike clung to him like a third leg. Wim followed him around like an unweaned calf.

“You rode an awfully long way just for me,” he said as Ans hugged him.

“I needed to make sure you were all right.” Ans thought she saw more wrinkles on his tanned brow. And he looked weary.

“We did our best,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t enough.”

When Opa learned that Ans was home, he joined them at the farm for dinner. Mama had cooked Papa’s favorite treat, smoked eel.