Reyna Feldman, a twenty year old Jewish girl from the tiniest of villages in France, is on the run. Captured by German soldiers while trying to escape over the border, she's taken to an internment camp in Freiburg, Germany, where she meets SS Philli...
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After months, here is Chapter 9! Woohoo! I'm a little rusty, so this chap is on the short side. I wanted to give you guys something, so getting a shorter chapter out quickly seemed like the best way to do that! Let me know what you think... I'm so excited to get back into this story! It's been too long!
"So what's on tonight's agenda?" Luca asked. They had made it a few steps outside, the barrack doors only just closing behind them.
She shrugged awkwardly. She wasn't sure how much she should divulge of what she and Phillip did during their nightly meetings, even to someone like Luca ... The majority of her's and the Stubaf's conversations centered around banned books after all.
"Will you be picking back up your discussion on romanticism in nineteenth century English society?" He asked nonchalantly. She could practically hear the smirk on his face before her head snapped around to look at him.
"You've been eavesdropping on us?!" The question could've only been in reference to her's and Phillip's conversation about Sense and Sensibility, the latest Jane Austen novel he'd given her to read.
"Maybe," He gave an indifferent shrug, but his smirk had widened.
"Well," She crossed her arms over her chest. "I wonder what the Stubaf would have to say about you pressing your ear against the door to his study."
"Are you going to tell him?" He asked, though he didn't seem the least bit worried that she might.
"Maybe," She replied, mimicking the same indifferent shrug he'd given her.
"No you're not," He shook his head. "Besides, I don't make it a habit of barging into a room when there's mixed company on the other side of the door."
"I told you it's not like that," She scowled.
"I know... It seems the two of you would rather discuss neoclassicism into the wee hours of the night," He smirked again. She gritted her teeth ... He was making fun of her. "Oh, take a joke," He nudged her.
"Maybe I would if you didn't have so many of them," She shot him a look.
"Okay, okay," He chuckled, raising his hands in concession. "I'll lay off."
"How do you know what neoclassicism is anyway?" She asked, changing the subject.
"What? It never occurred to you that I'm an educated man?"
She cocked an eyebrow at his less than serious response.
"My father was a literature professor," He said, taking the hint.
"Oh," She paused, not expecting that response. "Where did he teach?"
"The University of Brussels."
"Wow," Was all she could think to say. As much as his constant joking exasperated her, she never knew how to act, or what to say when their conversations took a more serious turn.
"Yeah, he was quite the man," He nodded. His eyes were fixed forward, the lights overhead casting a shadow that concealed the expression on his face.
"Was?" She hadn't been able to help herself. She'd wondered what fate had befell Luca's family since the first night she'd met him. She'd never had the courage to ask though, until now.
"I assume he's dead." The words had come out flat. "I've been here for nearly three years," He continued on in the same indifferent tone. "Within the first six months, the rest of my family had been shipped somewhere else."
"Surely the Stubaf-"
"It was before his time," Luca answered before she could finish the thought. "If it hadn't been for the Stubaf, I'd probably be dead too."
"Why do you say that?"
"Three years is a long time in a concentration camp Reyna," He glanced at her, the shadow that had previously concealed his face giving way to the slightest traces of a grim expression. "After you've seen as many people pass through here as I have, you get pretty good at guessing expiration dates."
"Expiration dates?" She asked, though she knew exactly what he meant.
"People our age last the longest ... The young and healthy make the best workforce," He explained. "My father was neither of those things." Silence chilled the already icy air as they continued their walk.
"I'm sorry," She said, wanting to fill the void somehow.
"Don't be," He shook his head, opening the door to the Stubaf's house, stepping aside to allow her to pass through first. "Everybody here sings the same song as me, just a different verse."
She nodded, stepping inside. Maybe she'd been too quick to judge him. Three years was a long time. She'd been here for less than a month and she'd already seen things that had previously been confined to her darkest nightmares ... She could only imagine the things he'd experienced. Everybody had their coping mechanisms, and if she had to guess, humor, as callous as it came across, was Luca's.
They continued on, traversing the stairs in silence until they reached the door to Phillip's study. Rapping against it, Luca waited for the Stubaf's familiar, "Come in," before turning to face her.
"See you in a few hours," He nodded. The airy expression he usually wore had returned to his face. If their conversation moments before had affected him, it no longer showed.
"See you then," She nodded back, giving him a small smile before opening the door and disappearing inside.
