“Everything you think you know is untrue. Just like an infant, you are going to have to learn how to interpret the things that you have seen and heard.”

Six-year-old Gisela was seated beside me. She reached to take my hand.

“Don’t fight,” she said. “I’m scared already. Please let’s don’t fight.”

“We aren’t fighting, baby,” I told her softly. “It’s okay to be scared. Laura and I are scared, and wherever they are, I bet Papa and Georg are scared too.”

“I’m going to tell them at my League meeting,” Laura hissed. “They always ask if our families are loyal. The Gestapo will come for you. That’s what you deserve for saying these hateful things.”

“There will be no more League meetings,” I snapped. “They are readying us to fight with our bare hands. If they cared about us at all, they would tell us to prepare our white flags and to welcome the Soviets. All there is left to do is accept the reality that we were on the wrong side and we lost.”

“Why are you talking like this?” Laura cried, her eyes filling with tears. She pushed her chair back and ran from the room, dropping the poster as she left. It fluttered slowly to the ground and drifted under the table. I heard her furious footsteps on the stairs, and then the sound of her door slamming as she ran into her bedroom.

I was tired and worried about Georg and Jürgen and sick of every moment being a battle. I exhaled slowly, dropping my forehead to the table. Gisela squeezed my hand.

“Mama, is everything going to be okay? Do you really promise it will?”

I reached for Gisela, pulling her onto my lap and wrapping my arms around her waist. She turned to rest her head on my shoulder, winding her arms around my neck.

“It is going to be difficult for a little while longer,” I replied. “We just have to be brave until things get better.”

I had just slipped into bed that night when I heard a car parking on the road outside. I assumed it was someone arriving for a neighbor, but then I heard a soft knock at the front door. Thinking it might be Georg, I flew out of bed and down the stairs to open it.

Jürgen was on the doorstep. He desperately needed a shave and, as I discovered when I threw my arms around him, a shower.

“I’m so happy to see you,” I cried. “Where on earth have you been?”

He offered a weary smile.

“The whole team was sent to a ski resort in Bavaria to await further instructions. In the chaos as they were leaving, I stole this car and started making my way back here.”

“Lydia thinks she’s going to America.”