Our Darkest Night by Jennifer Robson

Author:Jennifer Robson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: William Morrow Paperbacks
Published: 2020-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

7 August 1944

If only she hadn’t let herself fall asleep under the olive tree.

Her back had been bothering her, and her feet were swollen, and though she’d insisted she was well enough to help Rosa and the children in the vegetable garden, she’d been overruled. “Better you stay here and work through the mending,” Rosa had insisted in her no-nonsense voice that made argument impossible.

She’d felt guilty at first, for she was comfortable in her spot under the tree’s silvery shade, sitting on a kitchen chair the girls had dragged out for her, a cushion at her back, her feet propped up on a round of firewood that Carlo had unearthed. She had a glass of cool water at her elbow, and the light was fine and bright, and now and again a cool breeze tickled the curls at her nape.

She was comfortable, and happy, and counting the hours until Nico returned, for yesterday she had felt the baby moving for the first time. A real movement, a proper kick that got her attention, although as the kicks and bumps and little hiccups continued over the hours that followed, Nina realized that he or she had been trying to get her notice for some time.

Today the baby was sleepy, likely because it was warm, and likely because Nina was sleepy, too. It would be heavenly to simply close her eyes and rest. A few minutes, no longer, otherwise she’d never finish up the mending.

The horribly familiar sound of car tires on gravel woke her. The unwelcome sight of a German officer’s Mercedes, hissing to a stop mere meters from her feet, was the first thing she saw.

Zwerger had returned. After months of silence he had come back, and she was alone, without even Selva at her side. She had promised Nico she would hide, but then she had fallen asleep and it was too late, now, to run inside and shut the door.

She stood, not as gracefully as she’d have liked, and smoothed down her skirt and the long shirt, formerly one of Matteo’s, that Rosa had helped her to alter so there’d be room for her expanding waistline. She waited, her shaking hands folded atop the gentle swell of her belly, as the wretched man got out of his car and marched toward her.

“It has been a long time since your last visit, Obersturmführer Zwerger.”

“Yes.”

“How may I help you?” she asked, silently cursing him for his curiosity—and herself for stupidly falling asleep. “Nico is in the fields with the other men,” she lied. Now she had to pray he wouldn’t insist on her fetching him. He wasn’t far, only in San Zenone for a few days, helping his widowed aunt with the haying on her farm. She ought to have told Zwerger the truth, for what if he—

“Would you believe it is you I’ve come to see? Only a friendly visit, I swear. Merely to see how you are settling in to life in this rustic place. It must be quite a change for a Venetian like yourself.

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