The Golden Hour Read Online Free PDF

loved, left behind in Germany with what must be their newborn son. Did she miss him terribly? Did he miss her? He must be lonely so far away from home. But how odd it was, I thought, to find myself attracted to one of the cruel aggressors who had plunged our lives into such chaos. I lay back, closed my eyes, and let my imagination float on the sounds of boisterous laughter, the rising verses of a German drinking song coming from the terrace just under my open window.

Chapter Three

    I t was May and the nights were getting shorter, but when a rooster crowed around four o’clock, it seemed as if only a couple of hours had passed. I sat up in bed, remembering the photograph. It was still dark, the sky just beginning to fade. I frantically searched among the bedclothes and found it, to my dismay, creased and slightly rumpled where I must have turned over on it during the night.
I have to get to school before Klaus does.
I dressed quickly, tiptoed down the back stairs to the kitchen, grabbed a piece of yesterday’s bread, and hurried out into the chill of the early morning. An orange glow was burning on the eastern horizon. Swallows darted in and around the tops of the dark cypress trees that stood sharply outlined against the sky.
    By the time I reached Santa Maria, the sun had come up. The courtyard was deserted, the morning stillness broken only by the song of a warbler trilling from the top of a horse chestnut tree that shaded the north side. I stepped onto the wooden loggia and made my way to Klaus’s office. Hardly breathing, I peeked in to make sure no one was there. The envelope was still on the typewriter, just where I had left it. I took the rumpled photograph from my pocketand was just smoothing it on the desk when I heard footsteps outside the door. I was leaning over to slide it quickly into the envelope when a shadow blocked the light from the doorway. I froze.
    “Giovanna? Why do you come here so early? Why are you in my office?”
    I kept my eyes down, not daring to face him. The photograph was still in my hand. I broke out in a cold sweat, and the bottom of my stomach dropped. I steadied myself, then slowly looked up at Klaus. “I…I was just going to tidy your desk.” I paused a moment. “I found this picture. Is this your wife? Your baby?”
    Klaus moved slowly, his neck stiff and his face immobile, and took the photograph. He stared down at it, traced its new creases with his finger, beginning at Mathilde’s head, down her back, across her lap to the tightly wrapped blanket that held the baby. “This happens to be my wife, and, yes, it is my child, my son.” He looked at me without smiling.
    The heat from his body began to penetrate the morning chill. I stepped to the side of the desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your things. Honestly, I just…think they are both so beautiful.”
    “
Ja
, well, of course they are beautiful.” He sounded sarcastic now, anger seeping out between the words. “I have never seen my son, and this is the one photograph I have. Now look at it, will you?” He thrust it out and made me look at it again. “Look at it, Giovanna. You ruined it.”
    “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have touched the letter. I feel terrible; really I do.”
    “Well, you should.” He set the photograph back on the desk and smoothed it heavily with his hand. “You have no business here at all. Just go—right now.” I thought I heard a tremor in his voice, as if he wanted to cry. He sat down. Slapping both his hands hard against the top of the desk, he lifted a file, opened it, and bent over the papers inside with full concentration. I took that opportunity to turn and run out of the office.
    I ducked out the back door and into the play yard, where I leaned against the wall, breathing fast, my heart beating wildly. What was I thinking of, actually stealing from a Nazi soldier? He could easily have arrested me or had me sent to a prison camp. I paced up and down the yard, sat