Lucien watched Germans coming down the road. Troop trucks formed a line in the distance, on the crossroad that led to the highway. They were moving to the west, chasing remnants of the Allied army. Other trucks rumbled south, into France.
When they were gone, only specks on the horizon, he made some chicken broth for Henry, and brought it into the spare room. “This will make you feel better.”
“I’m starting to get an appetite,” Henry said as he took the cup. He leaned against the wall and took a sip. “This is good.”
“The Germans left,” Lucien said. “But I want to make sure no more are coming.”
He went into the parlor and looked out the window that faced the stream. He wondered why Camille stayed at the window, studying the Germans so intently. With the drapes opened they could easily be
