Chapter Six

At dawn, the husky rooster pierced the silence and put an end to a moonless night.

Wilhelm pushed himself out of the bed and moved toward the wall-mounted clothing rack. His uniform hung there, his cap perched atop neatly the black leather belt with the Wehrmacht eagle embossed on the buckle. Beside it, on an oak desk, laid his Walther P38 pistol. He wore his uniform and put the pistol into a holster connected to his belt. Carrying a weapon became a mandatory for all German soldiers since a German Naval Officer was murdered at the Barbès-Rochechouart station by a resistance fighter.

It had been three days since Adeline was

sick. Most of the time, she was in her bedroom. She was pale, lying languidly

on the bed with a cool compress on her forehead. Her chest felt tight so she had to work harder to breathe. Upper respiratory infection had swelled her vocal cords, making her voice sound raspy when she spoke. Last night Wilhelm heard her coughing so badly that woke Jeanne up. A dismay sigh escaped Jeanne's lips as she hurried to Adeline's bedroom. She stayed up late to take care of her until morning.

As Wilhelm approached Adeline's bedroom,

he overheard Jeanne's agitated voice, "Oh my dear, your temperature is still high." He stood thoughtfully behind the wall. A feeling of affection bloomed in his heart, arousing his tenderness to care for Adeline beyond measure. He took a few steps forward and stood by the door. 

"Excuse me, Madam," Wilhelm said.

Jeanne turned to him.

"I've noticed Adeline hasn't recovered in three days. I am worried it's getting serious. There's a French doctor who worked for

the German soldiers. I can summon him. If you would allow me, I'd be happy to help."

A flicker of surprise passed across her

tired face. With melancholic eyes, she looked at Adeline who was lying in pain. She hesitated, unsure of what to say. She had so much hatred for him. If she accepted his help, she was afraid that the French people would think she got along with the German. It would damage her dignity and self-respect. On the

other hand, she really needed his help. She couldn't bear to see her daughter

suffering from her illness. The power and heroism of a mother's love conquered her ego. She would do anything for her daughter's sake. With a slow, deliberated nod, Jeanne gave him silent consent.

"Alright, we'll be here shortly," Wilhelm

turned around, striding out of the house.

Moments later, Wilhelm and a French doctor

arrived at Adeline's house. They entered the living room where Jeanne was tidying up the mantelpiece ornaments. She paused as they appeared in the doorway. With a quiet nod, she led the doctor toward Adeline's bedroom.

"Honey, the doctor's here," Jeanne said as

she entered the room. Adeline lay in bed, her face was pale.

Jeanne relayed Adeline's symptoms to the

doctor. The doctor settled beside the bed, withdrew his stethoscope from his leather Gladstone bag and placed the cold metal against Adeline's chest, listening to the sounds of her heart and lungs. After a thorough examination, he turned to Jeanne, "It's influenza, Madame. A severe case, I am afraid. I'll prescribe an antiviral. She'll need to take it for five days."

"Thank you for your help, "How much do I

owe you?"

"Madam, there's no charge."

She stared at the doctor in bewilderment.

"Don't worry about it. He's... a good German" he was reluctant to praise the enemy because he thought it was a sensitive statement that would bother the French.

Jeanne's surprise was palpable. This

unexpected act of kindness felt monumental, a moment etched indelibly in her memory, a story she would recount countless times to her family. "How long have you been working for the Germans?" Jeanne asked, trying so hard to soften the offensive question.

The doctor's eyebrow furrowed. Her question felt like a stinging accusation of collaboration. "Madame, I don't work for the occupiers. I worked for the sick German and the sick French. I treat the sick, not the enemy." he emphasized the word 'sick' in the hope that

she could understand he dedicated his medical profession to the service of humanity. He wasn't angry, merely uncomfortable with her question.

The doctor walked into the living room

where Wilhelm was waiting. From a wooden partition wall, Jeanne watched them,

her ears straining to hear their hushed conversations. Wilhelm's voice was

laced with a genuine concern, "How is Adeline? How bad is her sickness?" When

she heard the front door clicking shut, she knew the doctor had gone. Without hesitance, she came up to Wilhelm. A surprising kindness softened her face, a

stark contrast to the cold expression she usually wore.

"Thank you. I really appreciate your help."

"It was nothing. I am glad to help you. I

hope Adeline recovers quickly."

A smile touched Jeanne's lips for the

first time since Wilhelm billeted in her house. She turned around and wandered through the house. The kindness she had just witnessed stirred a desperate hope

within her. "Could I dare to ask for his help in freeing my son from a prison camp?" she muttered. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. After all, he was the occupier who had immense power over the defeated. "I guess it's impossible," she sighed desperately.