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shoulders.
    “Are you all right? Where were you?”
    “I’m so sorry. I got disoriented and couldn’t find my way back.”
    “You poor thing, you must be exhausted. Let’s go into the house. Ingrid has a nice beef soup on the stove. We’ll soon set you to rights.”
    Astrid’s kindness overwhelmed her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up with her head on Astrid’s lap and let her look after her as if she were her own mother. But she no longer had any claim on this family, and no right to seek comfort from them.
    When they reached the kitchen, she turned to Ingrid. “I didn’t know Signe was waiting for Anders. He never talked about her. But Erik tells me she’ll be good to him.”
    Ingrid blinked at her, surprised. “Yes, she will. She loves him.”
    “That’s good.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much she wished things had turned out differently, she knew Anders was now part of her past. She had to go on, alone. “How can I help? Shall I set the table?”
    “Of course,” Ingrid said. “The bowls and cups are in the cupboard to the right of the wash basin. Spoons are in the top drawer.”
    Anne found everything she needed and in a few moments had the table set, while Astrid cut thick slices of homemade bread. She helped Ingrid fill the bowls with soup. Her stomach growled.
    The soup tasted even better than it smelled. And the bread, which she slathered with a generous dollop of butter, melted in her mouth. After six long years of rationing she’d almost forgotten how wonderful white bread with butter could taste. She’d had her first egg and toast in months on the Mauritania, the ship that had brought her and dozens of other war brides from England. They had all been overwhelmed by the quality and quantity of food on the ship. But after the first couple of days, the seas turned rough and she’d been too seasick to eat anything more.
    After they finished their soup, Astrid made tea. While they waited for it to steep, Anne cleared her throat.
    “I’ve decided what I’m going to do. I’ll write one of the Red Cross ladies who escorted us from Southampton. I’m sure she’ll be able to help me get the money I need for a return ticket to England.”
    Astrid nodded. “If you think that’s best, then it’s what you must do. I’m sure your family will be happy to have you home again.”
    “No.” Even after five years the pain could still blindside her. “They were all killed in the blitz, early in the war.”
    “Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry.”
    “My mother’s parents were living with us because my grandfather needed extra care. He wasn’t well enough to hurry to the bomb shelters when the sirens went off, so my father dug an Anderson bomb shelter in the back garden, big enough for all of us—my grandparents, my parents, my younger sister, and me. It worked well, until our house took a direct hit. I would have been with them, but I’d traded shifts with another student nurse whose boyfriend had one night of leave. I was at the hospital that night.” The guilt of not dying with them, of being the only one to survive, still haunted her.
    Astrid reached across the table and took her hand. “There was nothing you could have done for them.”
    “No, I suppose not.” She needed to change the subject. “Perhaps you know of a room I can rent in Emerald until I can book my passage.”
    “Rent a room?” Astrid looked horrified. “We couldn’t let you do that. You’ll stay with us as long as you need to.”
    “I don’t want to impose.” She looked at Ingrid and then at Erik. “I’ve got a little money, enough to rent a room, at least for a while. And I could probably get work somewhere.”
    Ingrid shook her head, the previous animosity Anne had seen in her eyes all but gone. “No. There’s no need for you to leave. Is there, Erik?”
    Erik fixed her with his blue gaze. It mesmerized her once more, making her feel as if he were again