Echoes

“Have you come to ask me to go back to Germany, pretending to be your wife?” she asked mischievously. As terrifying as it had been, in retrospect she had enjoyed working with him. Almost as much as he had enjoyed working with her. “Maybe you could say I'm your grandmother, now that I'm in a wheelchair,” she said, looking faintly embarrassed, and he brushed the comment off.

“Nonsense. You'll be running around again in no time. They tell me you'll be getting out next month.” He had kept close track of her, and had promised Serge he would. But he had waited until he thought she'd be up to a visit. He knew she had been in bad shape until then. She'd had a very rough two months.

“I thought I'd go to the convent in Notting Hill, when I get out. I don't want to be a burden to them, but there's still a lot I can do. I'll have to brush up on my sewing,” she said demurely, looking only for an instant like a nun. But he knew her better.

“I don't suppose they'll want you blowing up their garden. It could actually upset them quite a lot,” he said, smiling at her, happy to see her. In spite of the rough spot she'd been through, she looked well and, as always, beautiful. Her long blond hair hung down her back and shone in the sunlight. “Actually, I had a proposition for you. Not as exciting as a mission into Germany, I'll admit. But close. And at times, almost as challenging for the nerves.” She looked surprised as she listened. She couldn't imagine that in her current condition the British Secret Service would want her to do a mission with him. Her days as a Resistance fighter were over. But hopefully in a while, the war would be, too. She had fought a good fight for a long time. Longer than most. “Actually, to be honest, I need help with my kinders. They're getting older. They've been with me for five years now. The little ones are not so little, and getting into all kinds of mischief. The older ones are nearly grown up, and causing all kinds of ruckus at my place. I'm here in London most of the time, and frankly I need someone to keep an eye on them until this whole mess is over. And when it is, I'm going to need help tracking down their parents for them, if they're still alive. It could be quite a job. It's not easy for a man alone with twelve children,” he said plaintively, and she laughed. “I don't suppose you'd put off reenlisting with your order for a bit, to help out an old friend. We were married for a few days at one point, as much as a week I'd say, all in all. I mean, you owe me at least that. You can't just walk off and leave me with twelve children on my own.” She was laughing as she listened, and she suspected he was just being charitable, but also kind, which was typical of him.

“You're not serious, are you?” she asked with a strange expression. She felt an old stirring of friendship for him. Although they didn't know each other well, after all they had risked together, it created a powerful bond. In a sense, during their two missions, they had protected each other's lives. And done some terrific work. She was proud of what they'd done.

“Actually, I am serious. I adore them. But to be honest with you, Amadea, they're driving my housekeeper insane. She's seventy-six years old. She was my nanny when I was a boy, and my children's. These kinders need someone a bit younger to entertain them and keep them in line.” He was being truthful with her.

“I'm not sure how useful I'd be at either these days.” She glanced down at the wheelchair, and then back at him. “They might push me off a cliff if they don't like what I said.”