Then he bent forward, looked around in such a way that Hugo knew there were no other students in the hallway, and that no one, absolutely no one, could see what was about to happen—then his dad pulled him close and hugged him, even gave him a quick kiss on his worried forehead.

Chapter 14

They slept with the window open. He’d protested when Zofia pushed it up, but had trouble explaining to her why she shouldn’t let in the cool night air after three days of almost Mediterranean heat. He didn’t want to risk any more discussions of what couldn’t be discussed. That they weren’t just sending threats, they were sending death threats to their children. And somehow it was connected to him—to a past he’d promised they’d never have to deal with again.

He lay twisted in their sheet staring into the dim night sky outside, not quite dark but as close as it came in the summer. In the distance he could hear church bells strike three, and he wondered where the wind had carried the ringing from.

Zofia slept quietly beside him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, her legs draped over his knees, her lips just slightly parted like usual. Her sleep was always calm, her breathing regular, no matter where she was or what the circumstances they were in. It was a deep sense of security that he envied and knew he’d never possess. He always slept anxiously, tossing and turning and waking up from the slightest amount of light or sound. Or, quite often, like this night—he didn’t sleep at all.

He kept close to Zofia’s warm skin until the clock bells were struck again, twice, which meant it was three-thirty. And he gave up. It was impossible to rest. His body screamed for sleep, but lost out every time to a mind spinning with unsorted questions.

He caressed her cheek and gently rolled over the edge of the bed so as not to disturb her any more than necessary. The early morning birds had already landed in the apple trees, the great tit with its keen chirp, the blackbirds with their beautiful songs.

Life as it should be.