Chapter 26
chapter
St. Peter’s Parish
“I’m here to treat Bernardus,” Ivy murmured as she knocked on the farmhouse door.
Since she had an appointment in the surgery only an hour and a half from now, she should have visited Bernardus on Sunday afternoon.
Yet she’d come on Saturday. And she’d taken more care than usual with her hair and had worn her favorite emerald-green blouse under her brown tweed suit.
Because Gerrit often visited Bernardus on Saturday afternoons.
When Charlie had told Ivy about the men’s involvement with the resistance, her intuition about Gerrit had been proven correct. However, Ivy hadn’t seen him since late on the night of Bernardus’s operation, when Gerrit had returned to coordinate stories with Charlie.
Aunt Opal opened the door. “Ivy! How lovely to see you, Ivy,” she called, informing Bernardus that he did not need to hide.
Ivy stepped inside. “How is our patient?”
“Physically, he’s improving, but his spirits are low. I’m glad Gerrit is here today drawing.”
A little trill ran through Ivy’s chest. “It’s good for him to have friends visit.”
After washing her hands in the kitchen, Ivy climbed the stairs. What could she say to Gerrit? Words had never been her strength.
At the top of the stairs, Ivy turned down the hall.
Gerrit was coming from the other direction, and he stopped short, his eyes wide.
Ivy worked up a smile. “Hallo, Gerrit.”
“Hallo.” He gestured toward the stairs. “I was just—I need to return to my billet. I must go out with the OT men tonight.”
It was only two o’clock, but Ivy stepped to the side. “Of course. Will I see you in church tomorrow?”
His gaze skittered past her to the stairs. “I’ve been attending German-language services. I need to look loyal.”
“Oh yes. I see. It must be difficult for you lately. I’m glad they believed you, though, about Bernardus escaping, presumed dead. I saw it in the Evening Post.”
“Yes. Excuse me.” He edged past without meeting her gaze.
The trill sank into a mire of disappointment, but she had more to say. “Thank you for what you’re doing. The maps and such.”
“Pardon?” He turned back.
She tried for a teasing smile. “I’m glad you’re on the right side after all.”
He gave her a nod, but his eyebrows pinched together. “I’m sorry we involved Charlie.”
“Don’t be.” She’d given it much consideration over the past few weeks, and her hand fluttered in a dismissive way. “I won’t pretend I’m not worried about him. I am. But I’m also extraordinarily proud of him. I told him so. Our father would be proud too.”
“We lost our contacts anyway, so . . .” He sidestepped down the hall. “I need to . . .”
“Leave, yes. Goodbye.” After he returned her goodbye and headed downstairs, Ivy turned for Bernardus’s room. She might have been correct about Gerrit’s character, but she’d been mistaken imagining he might be attracted to her. As had Fern.
And that connection she’d sensed when she met him a year earlier. The connection she’d felt each time she’d seen him since. An illusion.
In the bedroom, Bernardus lay in bed with his leg propped up.
“How are you today?” she asked.
Bernardus rolled his head away from her toward the wall. “Crippled, bored, chastened.”
Ivy pulled up a chair, opened her medical bag, and set the kitchen timer so she’d leave in time for her appointment.
Then she unwrapped the bandages. “The crippling is temporary. We saved part of your foot, including the heel, which will aid in walking. And much of the musculature in your calf and thigh will grow back in time. Next week, we’ll have you start walking with a crutch. ”
“I wish the chastening was temporary.” He balled up the blanket in his fists.
She raised a soothing smile, but her patient stared at the wall. “I’m glad Gerrit visited. Has he forgiven you?”
“As always, yes. If only I’d learn to give him less to forgive.”
What a blessing it must be to have a friendship like Gerrit and Bernardus had.
Ivy examined the surgical incisions—all clean with no signs of redness or infection. Aunt Opal was caring for him well.
“Any word from your contacts?” Bernardus asked.
Dr. Tipton and the others in the ring had balked at adding Bernardus to the lifeline. Although presumed to be dead, Bernardus was far too valuable to the Germans, and his very Dutch looks would make disguise difficult.
But Ivy had pressed her case and prevailed. “They’ve agreed.”
“Perhaps they shouldn’t have done. If the Germans learn I’m alive . . .”
Ivy had seen what they’d done to Demyan Marchenko. How much worse would they treat a resistance member who had infiltrated their Todt organization, a man who had fooled them and made a fool of them?
Ivy suppressed a sigh and pinned the bandages back in place. Her job was only to help him heal and to keep him hidden.
Ivy rounded the corner on her bicycle. Up ahead, Mary Surcouf climbed the steps to La Bliue Brise with little Penny on her hip.
Was Ivy late? She’d left the farmhouse even before the kitchen timer dinged. She glanced at her wristwatch—ten minutes early.
A distinctive cough flowed down the street.
Whooping cough, and Ivy cringed. An epidemic was raging amongst Jersey’s children, and little Penny had fought off diphtheria less than a year ago.
“Mary!” A woman ran across the street—Doris des Forges Mollet, Ivy’s childhood friend.
“Good afternoon, Dor—”
“You’re not seeing Dr. Picot, are you? Haven’t you heard?”
Oh no. Ivy stopped pedaling, and she set a foot on the ground to brace herself.
“Heard?” Mary turned with one hand on the doorknob.
“They’re collaborators, the lot of them,” Doris said. “Last Saturday night, my husband and I saw Fern and a German officer in a—shall we say, an amorous embrace. Right in the street for all to see.”
“Oh, Fern,” Ivy whispered.
Mary looked up at the facade of La Bliue Brise, the blue trim peeling now with wartime restrictions on painting. “We’ve always come to the Picots.”
“Suit yourself.” Doris hefted her chin. “If you enter that door, we’ll all know you’re a collaborator too.”
Mary lowered her hand and her gaze, and she cradled Penny’s whooping little head to her chest and trudged up the street, away from Ivy.
The pain of it slammed Ivy in the chest, punched the breath out of her. Penny Surcouf was the first baby Ivy had delivered in Jersey. Ivy had seen her through diphtheria. Now the Surcouf family had left the practice.
Because of Fern.
Ivy walked her bicycle around the back of the house and into the supply room, praying all the way.
She hated disharmony, but Ivy wasn’t sounding the sour notes. Fern was.
Aunt Ruby sat at the receptionist’s desk, smiling at Ivy.
Ivy shook her head. “Penny Surcouf won’t be coming. The family is leaving the practice.”
“Not another one.”
“Is Fern home?”
“Yes.” Aunt Ruby directed a dark look at the ceiling. “Preparing for her evening out.”
With that German officer, and Ivy turned and ascended the stairs. Instead of fury, Ivy felt nothing but sad conviction.
For most of her life, Ivy had adored her sister, leaned on her, and looked up to her. But Fern apparently loved Ivy’s dependence and admiration far more than she loved Ivy.
Fern’s door stood ajar, and she sat at her dressing table pinning up her sable curls into a fashionable style.
Ivy stood a few feet behind her. “Another family left the practice.”
“Dear, oh dear.” Fern met her gaze in the mirror. “You were late again?”
“I was ten minutes early.” Ivy’s voice sounded remarkably calm. “Doris Mollet told my patient she saw you publicly kissing your German lover.”
A flash of shame in Fern’s brown eyes. A flush of red across her high cheekbones. “Don’t be crass.” Her voice quivered.
She hadn’t denied it, but Ivy’s breath still came slow and steady. “You’re betraying Bill.”
Fern’s fingers flew over the pins and curls high on her head. “Bill abandoned me. He doesn’t appreciate me, but Helmut does. Helmut dotes on me.”
“You’re betraying your country. Bill is fighting for Britain, and you’re carrying on with the enemy.”
“Enemy?” Fern slapped both hands on the dressing table, and hairpins bounced. “Jersey is governed by Germany. I’m supporting our country.”
What a way Fern had for twisting words and ideas to justify her decisions. Yet nothing but sadness filled Ivy’s heart. “You’ve betrayed our family, betrayed the practice. So many patients have left.”
Fern gasped. “They’ve left because you’re always late, always daydreaming, always drawing.”
“We’ve lost far more due to your job and your affair. I’ve been branded as a collaborator because of you.”
Fern sprang from her chair and wheeled on Ivy. “Why, you pathetic, priggish little spinster. Just because no one wants you, you can’t bear to see me happy.”
Ivy’s head swung back and forth. “Not when your happiness comes at the expense of everyone you claim to love.”
“Get out!” Fern pointed to her door, her arm and her voice shaking in tandem. “Need I remind you of the man who was imprisoned for telling a woman not to step out with German soldiers? Six months in prison.”
Ivy studied her sister. Her own sister, who had just threatened her. One half of her hair pinned up and sophisticated, the other half wild and disordered.
Without a word, Ivy left her sister.