Free Whisper on the Wind by Maureen Lang

British were as silly as all that, especially when people were hungry there, too.
    Edward led the way inside, and Isa followed him.
    “You didn’t laugh,” Edward said once they were in the kitchen.
    “I don’t find starvation funny.”
    He faced her, and she felt her heart skip a beat at his sudden, unexpected attention. “We don’t either,” he said softly. “But if we can pretend we’re handling our hunger better than others, well, so much the better.”
    “Aren’t you forgetting something, Edward? You’re a British citizen.”
    “For all practical purposes, I’m as Belgian as they come, especially now.” Then he added, “Like you.”
    Isa’s heart danced in her chest. This was the first friendly exchange they’d had since she’d returned.
    Isa accepted the bread and cheese Edward cut, even though she wasn’t hungry anymore. Being alone with him always robbed her of her appetite.
    “Don’t you have anywhere you must be?” she asked. “A . . . job?”
    “The hotel is gone. Where would I work?”
    “I don’t—”
    He leaned forward. “The Germans control everything. Everything. And so we stand in the food lines rather than work for them.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry? For me?”
    She nodded. “I’ve never known you to be idle. It must be difficult for you, this forced unemployment.”
    He didn’t reply, but she was unwilling to let the topic go. Surely he trusted her enough to let her know what he was involved in?
    “You’ve always liked to work. How must you pass your days, then?”
    His gaze lingered on hers. “Isa,” he said at last, “I wanted to tell you something I should have said this morning.”
    She couldn’t help but smile. “Please don’t scold me for going out alone.”
    He shook his head. “No, not about that, although you should not . And I don’t consider Jonah an adequate escort, either. He didn’t even have his papers.”
    “Well, I had mine, which clearly state I belong in Brussels. In fact, I’m not to travel outside of the city, so I must belong again, at last.”
    “Blast it all, Isa, you make it sound like Brussels is paradise. Those soldiers think they can occupy every part of this city, own anything or anyone in it. I don’t want them to get a glance at you, or one of them might decide to try to own you .”
    “Edward—”
    “As a matter of fact, when you leave here, I want your promise that you’ll wear the hat you had on the other night. Yes.” The volume of his voice increased when she opened her mouth to speak. “That awful hat, that dark, dowdy, peasant cap. And a coat, and for heaven’s sake keep your eyes averted. Look at the ground instead of any soldier. Do you understand?”
    She gave a slight nod, not looking at him. “Like this?” She kept her eyes down, and when he failed to respond to her exaggerated example, she laughed. “Oh, Edward, you’re so solemn when, at least for the moment, all is well. Is that what you wanted to say to me, to give me instructions for when I go out?”
    “No.” He sighed. “What I wanted to say was thank you.”
    “Why?”
    He leaned into the table, bringing his face closer to hers and taking her hands in his. “You were childish, naive, downright foolhardy to come back. But,” he added when she tried to pull her hands away, “you were also brave. I’ve never wanted to admit that a little slip of a girl could be so brave, but I can’t deny it anymore. Thank you for wanting to bring my mother out of this place. I wish she would agree to go.”
    Now she held tight to his hands. “We both know the way to get her to do that.”
    “I haven’t given up trying to convince her, and neither should you.”
    “We won’t leave you behind.”
    “You’ve made that clear.”
    Isa studied his hands—had he forgotten he still held hers?
    “It’s generous of you to offer your jewels,” he said. “I’m sure they meant a lot to you.”
    “Not so much,” she whispered.
    “You said your father