Chapter TwoDieter Fertig stifled the impulse to glance back at the spunky young woman with the chocolate-brown eyes. She’d seemed more agitated by the older woman’s disagreement about being tardy than falling at his feet in a heap. He chuckled at the look of irritation that shot sparks from her eyes. She’d stiffened when he teased her about her dress, then a tentative smile transformed her lovely face into a glow like the noonday sun.
Had she been part of the protest? Did she have a Jewish husband? He scrubbed at his face with cold fingers. What did he care? He’d never see her again. And even if he did, what woman in her right mind would be interested in him, a maimed ex-soldier who often awoke drenched in sweat from nightmares?
He hunched into his coat and tucked the delivery under the
