“Actually,” I reply brightly, “I just did.”

Cocking his head, he gives me a half-hearted glower. “You’re insufferable.”

“Not among my most flattering traits, but yes. I am.”

His lips verge on a grin, but he battles it down. When he rakes his hair, angling away, I wrap myself in the blanket and stand. Moving toward him, I say, “Arie, I’m not about to leave you. Not ever again.” Then vitally and in all sincerity, I add, “Not if you’ll have me.”

He releases a breath, softening. With the back of his hand, he caresses the length of my cheek and rests his thumb at my chin. “There’s no guarantee our scheme will even work, Fen. It’s just a plan. A hope.”

While all that’s a given and perfectly valid, I remind him, “So was coming here to find you.” I have to smile, admitting, “In some ways, that might have been nuttier.” This much earns his agreement, conveyed in a scrap of a laugh. Then his eyes lock with mine.

“You sure about this?”

Against the alternative, of potentially losing him again, I couldn’t be surer of anything. For although happily-ever-afters rarely occur in reality, facing whatever lies ahead together will be more than enough.

By way of an answer, abandoning the blanket to the floor, I kiss him in a manner that makes this abundantly clear.

And I know right then that there will be no train ride in the morning. My unspoken understanding with Mrs. van der Meer further squelches my need to return before curfew. So here is where I’ll stay for as long as I’m able.

As if sharing the thought, Arie takes me in his arms, and an irony settles over me. Despite embarking on the journey of a fugitive, I feel as though, for the first time in my life, I’m out of hiding. I’m free.

Chapter 72

The morning comes too quickly and passes just as fast.

How I wish I could stay in this room with Arie for another day, another week. But there’s Evelien to consider, and Nel and her family.

Arie helps me into my coat, then guides me to face him. “Fen, listen, about tonight…”

I almost make a joke—about wishing I had a nickel for every time, during even the last few hours, he’s had us review the plan just once more—but his heavy expression stalls my words.

“If anything goes wrong,” he says, “if I’m not out of the hospital by seven thirty, I need you to go to Ziegler’s.”

Now comprehending, I shake my head to stop him, but he charges on. “Get Evelien to safety if you can. Just find the unlocked window we talked about. Once you’re in the house—”

“There’s no reason to tell me all this,” I cut in. “We’ll be going there together.”