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them since you were seventeen, haven’t you?”
    â€œI worked for Judge Hahn’s parents first, but when Mr. and Mrs.Hahn married, they asked if I could come and work for them. Of course I did. I practically raised Linus.”
    Something about the way she said it, with a downy fondness in her voice, made Esther pause….
    Linus’s death would rip a gash through Mrs. Hahn, through the judge, through even Bertha that nothing could repair. Their only son, lost on the battlefield.
    Only Sadie left to balm the wound.
    Bertha set the picture back on the shelf, pressed her fingers to it, as if leaving behind her affection, and Esther’s breath lodged in her lungs.
    Sadie belonged to the Hahns.
    Even if Esther left, the judge and Mrs. Hahn would never allow her to take Sadie away. Judge Hahn would see to that—whatever it took.
    â€œAre you all right, Esther? You look pale.”
    Esther rocked up from the bed, steadying herself on the side table, finding her voice, the one she used in the ward when talking to the soldiers. “Everything’s fine. I—I just had a long shift, and I’m rather hungry.”
    â€œYour porridge is downstairs. I dished it up for you to cool.”
    Esther turned to the window, her eyes blurry again. She couldn’t decide why. “Thank you.”
    Sadie and Mrs. Hahn skipped up the walk, their hands swinging between them.
    â€œAre you sure there is nothing wrong?”
    Esther’s fist curled around the letters in her pocket. Maybe he wasn’t dead. After all, they hadn’t received a telegram. Not even an MIA…
    She closed her eyes, hearing the door squeal downstairs.
    â€œMama!”
    No one had to know. Until they received an official telegram, no one needed to know.
    There’d been enough desperation for one day.

CHAPTER 3

    May 1945
    Green Lake, Wisconsin
    Dear Miss Lange,
    I am not sure how to answer your question. Obviously, I could begin with the facts. I believe he may have shattered all the bones in his leg, including the thigh bone or femur and both bones below the knee, the fibula and tibia. I worried about the blood flow to his foot, due to the cyanotic color. I also feared that he might have at numerous broken ribs, due to the instability of his chest. He also had an open wound that extended into the chest cavity. I did my best to seal it. Because of the darkness, I was unable to determine further bruising or swelling on his body. I also believe he may have had a concussion, because at points he lost coherency and reverted to his childhood as I talked with him.
    As to how his injuries occurred, I cannot accurately ascertain. As I mentioned in my previous letter, I came upon him quite unexpectedly, assigned instead to assist two other solders in the same location. When I discovered his wounds, of course I attended them after determiningthe other two solders under my care had been sufficiently tended. I can only guess at the circumstances that wounded him.
    The German army had fortified the Seigfried Line, the southern flank of Field Marshall von Rundstedt’s stronghold. Admittedly, it seemed an impregnable defense, located beyond the Our and Sauer Rivers, now torrent with the spring thaw. I remember the night of February tenth, when the attack commenced, an icy rain dripped through the coniferous forest and down the back of my coat. I worried my medic pack might be saturated.
    Then, the German line exploded. The 80 th Infantry coordinated their attack to light up the pillboxes that fortified the steep incline from the rivers, and in the eerie glow of the flames, I could see the infantry charging up through the rocks, hitting the dirt as screaming meemies, tore open the forest, churned up the ground. Assault boats swamped in the river, and the German line littered the onslaught with artillery and machine gun fire. The world turned to fire, despite the hounding drizzle.
    My world, then, became a blur of dodging bullets,