We sat in silence for a long time, and I sought that sense of peace again, trying to focus on the sights and sounds and the scents of the lake. But I couldn’t relax—not after hearing the torment in my husband’s voice, and especially not after he turned to me and said quietly, “I would do anything for you and the children. Anything.”

“I know.” He had more than proved that over these years.

“Every day, when it feels like it’s all too much, when I want to scream with the insanity of it all, I think of you and the children and that is all I can do to keep going.”

“But the madness is spiraling all over Europe, and we’re just sitting here drinking wine?” I cried bitterly.

“That’s exactly why I wanted this place. Why we need it. The day might come when we decide that keeping the family safe can’t be our highest priority in the context of what’s happening.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I realized that if the point comes when we need to draw a line in the sand and say this far and no further…well, so long as we’re meeting here, we can find a way to speak freely. We can work together to make a plan.”

After that weekend, I vowed to make trips to the lake house my highest priority.

Georg had been asking if Hans could join us for a weekend at the lake house from his very first visit, and I’d always discouraged this—wanting to reserve that place for our family. But over the summer of 1942, I finally gave in, and Hans joined us for a week. He was about to turn thirteen, and I sensed he was relieved to have a break from the bustle of his own home. Lydia and Karl achieved their goal of eight children for the Reich, but despite their small team of nannies, it seemed they expected Hans to parent himself. I knew from my own childhood exactly how lonely that could feel.

Despite everything, I liked Hans. He was a lot like my Georg—a good kid, albeit one bent out of shape by Nazi influence. Cut adrift from all of that, I saw the kindness of his heart set free again. If Georg didn’t clear his plate after dinner, Hans would remind him. If Laura felt left out, Hans would encourage Georg to include her.

I barely saw the children during the day—they’d disappear out the front door as soon as they were awake and they’d return only when they were hungry or too sunburned to continue adventuring. At night, they tumbled into bed early, resting up to prepare for the next day.