Chapter Thirteen
“You received a letter yesterday,” my father said to me, watching my fork poke at my cold oatmeal. It had been cold for a long time.
Hearing my father’s words, I sat up straighter, my heart pounding. “You did? Where is it? Can I see it? Who is it from?” My words came out fast, tumbling over each other. Vater laughed. He handed me a letter. It had no return address, no stamp. Just my name and address. I snatched it from his hands, rushing upstairs to my room to read it, my heart beating faster with each step. I tore it open as soon as I got to my room, unfolding the neatly folded envelope.
Dear Miss Emilia Muller,
We have received your letter and distress signal. We have decided to bring our troops along the beaches of Normandy, France. We understand that this is far from where you live, and that this wasn’t your plan, but we have decided it will be for the better. We shall attack on the day of June 6, 1944.
Thank you for your help.
That was it. No signature. No handwriting to track, because everything was typed. Nothing that would give them away. What was the day? I checked my watch. My heart wretched into my throat. It was June 3, 1944. It had been a little less than a year since I had sent the letter. I couldn’t believe it. The letter had come too late. In three days, the Allies would attack, and there was nothing, nothing I could do about it. The war would end. I had done nothing. I could do nothing.
Except… I could… but I couldn’t. It would kill my parents. They would be dead within three days. If I ran away, their life would be running away. Sure, they saluted Hitler, but they still loved me. I hoped that would stay if I ran away. But did I truly dare? Where would I go? Obviously, I would travel to the Normandy Beaches, in France. Maybe Stephen would go with me. I intended to ask him tomorrow.