Florence reaches across and closes my car door. She shakes her head with a weak smile. Despite the fury of grief in her heart, her make up is flawless. Her honeyed curls are tucked into a demure bun on the back of her head. Only the bone dry weariness in her dark brown gaze gives any clue as to her inner turmoil.

"I can bring myself the rest of the way." She insists.

"Your trunk should be delivered home by next week." I shrug, unsure of my feelings.

I am glad that she is returning home, heartsick for the sorrow that no doubt awaits her and a little befuddled as to my own wellbeing without her. It's strange to think that I once thought her not worth getting to know. Now I can't imagine life without my dear friend.

She leans forward and embraces me. I fight off a wave of tears. With a slow breath, I open my eyes and peer across the street. Through the bustle of the main drag, I spot a familiar figure. Carwood Lipton stands on the edge of the sidewalk, gawkily clutching his hat as he watches us. His mouth parts as though he is going to call out. However, he merely straightens his cap back onto his head, smoothing down his jacket with his palms. He walks away. She releases me from her hold, gripping my arms and biting her lip. Florence doesn't know Carwood was so close. I decide not to tell her.

"I'll write you as soon as I reach England." She promises, dragging her suitcase from the back seat.

My stomach lurches as she gets out of the jeep.

"Florence," I say with a tell-tale crack in my voice, "Your friendship… I don't think anything has meant…"

I wet my lips, struggling against the pain in my throat. Everything I want to say sounds so trite. Reflecting on all we have experienced, words feel inadequate. She raises a hand, stepping back. She lets loose one of her true smiles.

"I'm not dead, darlin'." She chuckles, "I'm just going home."

I snort, my eyes drifting to the steering wheel.

"And you'll be visiting me in Tennessee when this is all over, y' hear?" She lifts an eyebrow, "I'll be seeing you, Ruthie."

"I'll be seeing you." I meet her gaze once more with a half-smile.

Florence gives me a swift salute with a wink before striding towards the station. She breezes past a couple British servicemen, one of whom lets out a low whistle.

"Nice try, Limey." She drones before disappearing into the depot.

By the time I return to Zell am See, my stomach is clenching with hunger. I realize I haven't eaten since the previous afternoon. After returning the vehicle, I march down the street.

My thoughts have been consumed with Leon since dropping off Florence. I had told him I would be waiting. I wish I had been honest. The memory of his confession has left a stain on my memory, warping how I have seen him from the beginning. I wish I had never told him my name that first day. I wish I had ignored him and wrapped up his leg. Left that day with Tab and never spoken with him again. I wish I had never met Leon Wagner.

Gathering myself at the door of the small bakery, I enter the warm, doughy air of the establishment. There is a small line leading up to the counter. I take my place behind three others ahead of me. I know the lunch rush should be arriving anytime.

The door opens once more, sunlight spilling across the tiled floor. I peek over my shoulder and see a young black serviceman removing his hat. He looks to be around 19 years old. He nods to me with a half-smile and I return the favor, thankful for a little friendliness from a stranger. It's a pleasant distraction from the bee's nest in my brain.

"Got here just in time, I see." He comments, rubbing his head as he takes his place in line behind me.

"Looks to be that way." I reply, lifting my brows, "Transportation corps?"

He nods, "Been here since last summer."

"Red Ball Express?"

"Sure thing, Miss." He lifts his head with a wink, "How long you been here?"

"We arrived a couple days after D-Day."

He makes a low hum in his throat as a few other servicemen enter the Bakery, "I'm Leon Gardner."

I almost scoff at the irony but manage to keep my face straight as I hold out a hand, "Ruth Toye."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Toye." He shakes my hand, "Where you from?"

"Pennsylvania-"

Our conversation is cut short as an American paratrooper punches the back of Leon Gardner's shoulder, shoving him forward. He catches himself before stumbling into me.

"Shit, I can't believe they let you people in here." The man snarls, chewing on the end of a cigar, "Get to the back of the line, boy."

Leon Gardner turns as though he is about to say something but the man's friend comes up alongside him. They are both bigger than him. It would be a massacre if things came to blows.

"Git on wit' yah," The other man snaps, "You heard him."

My mouth goes dry as Leon Gardner peers over at me. My mouth parts as I stare at him. I do nothing. He lets out a slow breath before trudging to the back of the line with his fists clenched. I feel sick. The instigator blows a cloud of smoke in my face, his thin mouth is more like a paper cut than lips.

"Sorry 'bout the unpleasantness, sweet cheeks." He grins.

I face forward as I come up to the counter. Studying the ruddy, impatient countenance of the Austrian baker, I realize that I have done nothing in the face of evil. I have watched blind hatred weave its sticky strands around another innocent person's neck and done nothing. I am no better than the men pushing Leon Gardner to the back to the line. No different from Leon Wagner with one less leg in a lonely hospital bed.

"Well?" The baker demands, "What will it be?"

I blink, "Just a moment."

I lift up a hand and peer back to the end of the line. By sheer chance, I manage to catch Leon Gardner's attention. I wave him up wordlessly with lifted eyebrows. He smirks quizzically before walking towards me. I push him ahead.

"He was in front of me." I lie to the baker, "It's his turn."

I hear the men behind me grumble and shift with annoyance. I keep my back straight and gaze directly ahead. They may be inbred troglodytes but I'm confident they won't pick a fight with a woman. Leon makes his order and leaves without another word to the men. I do the same. As I pass by them, the one with the cigar spits onto the floor in front of my shoes.

"Betraying her own kind." I hear him snarl as I continue towards the door, "Bitch makes me wanna puke."

I almost snap that I hope he chokes on his lunch. However, I wonder how much that will help. Returning hatred for hatred, no matter how deserving the subject, it only feeds the monster. I tear a bite out of my croissant and find Leon Gardner waiting on the sidewalk.

"You didn't have to do that," He chides, "I could have handled it later."

"I know." I answer with a nod, "But then where would that leave my conscience?"

Leon Gardner chuckles lightly, "I'm from California. I'm not used to that kind of thing happening very often."

"That's how half of our country lives amazingly."

We meander down the street, eating silently as the trucks and jeeps blur past us.

"You know what I can't understand." Leon Gardner blurts out, "How our own country can turn a blind eye to its own evil simply because we won the war."

"What do you mean?"

"I was there after our troops found one of those camps…" His voice trails off, "Dachau, they called it. I have never seen anything so horrible. Every single American present was changed that day. I don't think any of us will ever recover from what we witnessed."

I hesitate, biting my lip. I'm unsure if I should answer with that I think.

"But you can't help wondering how some of those same American servicemen can go home to their states where people are murdered simply because of their skin color. And how their local governments can turn a blind eye to it." I say with a grimace, "Over and over again."

We stop at the lakeside, the water gently shushing against the shoreline.

"I just-" Leon kicks at a stone, "I don't want to seem like I am detracting from what I saw at Dachau. From what those survivors experienced."

"You aren't." I state simply, crumpling up the piece of Austrian newspaper my croissant was wrapped in, "Evil is evil, no matter where you stand in this world."

"And it is everywhere, that's for sure."

My stomach sinks, "It makes you feel very small, doesn't it? It's a helpless feeling. How you do even begin to react against such hate?"

Leon Gardner lets out a rolling laugh, leaning over and picking up a flat rock, "Now that's the easy part."

"How?" I reply, narrowing my brows.

He throws the rock and it skips across the surface of Lake Zell.

"Love."

I blink. My gaze shoots towards the late afternoon sun on the red gold horizon.

"It's the only thing in the world stronger than hate. The only thing that can bring true peace, even to the most twisted soul." He winks at me, "I thought that would have been an obvious answer, Ruth Toye."

"I need to go." I say, my eyes straight ahead, "I need… there is a friend. I should be there."

Leon Gardner smiles, "Then you should get on."

"It was nice to meet you," I reach out and pull him into a half hug, surprising him with my action, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He laughs, studying me curiously.

I race back through town. Mentally checking off my options, I am desperate to find a ride to the civilian hospital. I can only hope I'm not too late.

"Ruth!" Tab calls from the other side of the street, jarring me from my thoughts.

He trots towards me. He's in his PT gear with a baseball glove tucked under his arm. Hair flopped across his forehead, he brushes it back as he reaches me. I stare at him, surprised to see him willing to be so friendly despite how I have treated him. He give me a half smile.

"How are you?" He asks awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm fair." My eyes skitter to the ground, "How is Chuck Grant?"

"It'll be a tough road for him." He nods, "But the doctor says he'll make it. Hows…"

"Leon Wagner?"

"Yes."

"He had to have his leg amputated last night." I explain with a heavy exhale, "Tab, I wanted to talk you. We didn't have a chance yesterday-"

"Ruthie," He grins, looking away swiftly, "No apology is necessary."

"But I shouldn't have treated you like that. My behavior with you has been inexcusable-"

"I'm not excusing your behavior." He sighs, "I'm merely forgiving you. Those things aren't mutually exclusive."

I bite back a surprising barrage of tears. I kick the sand and cross my arms over my chest, frustrated with myself beyond reckoning.

"What's wrong?" He reaches out and lays a hand on my arm.

I blow a stray strand of dark hair from my face and meet his eyes. The words pour from me, details about the previous evening, what Leon confessed to me, my afternoon at the bakery. Tab listens politely and patiently. After I am done, he doesn't respond. He merely sizes me up with a sigh.

"C'mon." He starts off down the sidewalk.

I blink after him before catching up.

"What are you doing?" I ask breathlessly.

"Getting you to the hospital."

Tab manages to scrounge up a vehicle for us by sunset. I am on edge of my seat nearly the entire trip, my knee bouncing with anticipation.

"You sitting like that isn't going to get us there any faster, y'know." Tab comments dryly, sounding more like himself with me again.

We reach the civilian hospital by sunset. Running into the ward where Leon had been last, I raced toward his bed, hemmed in by two screens. I turn the corner and find it empty. My heart drops to my stomach. I collapse onto the chair where I had sat the night earlier.

"They came and got him already."

A nurse approaches, stopping beside Tab. She peers up from her clipboard and studies me for a moment.

"You wouldn't happen to be Ruth Toye?"

"Yes." I breathe,"Came and got him? What do you-"

"He's alive." She sighs, "But it was a difficult surgery. We nearly lost him. He's being transported back into Germany as we speak."

My mouth is dry, "How was he when he left?"

"Weak. The surgeon says the next 24 hours will decide what happens."

"And they insisted on taking him?"

"We can't argue with Allied military." She smirks towards Tab, "Especially over a Nazi POW."

I cringe at the label, "How did you know who I was?"

Her white blonde curls drift over her shoulder as she digs into her apron pocket. I notice Tab observing her admiringly and it almost draws a smile from me. She tugs out a book.

"He wanted you to have this."

My hand takes it from her automatically, my wrist limp. I run my fingers over the leather cover.

"Faust." Tab reads over my shoulder.

I open the cover and find two letters tucked behind the title page. I examine one and find it is the letter from his brother back in Holland. It is in German. The other is in English and it's from Leon to me. I open the envelope. It's his address with a short note.

Please see that these are returned to my mother. If I die, I should like her to know Paul understood what she had tried to tell him for so long. Please don't feel guilty for not being here, Ruth. I knew you wouldn't be. I wish you nothing but happiness and long life. I took "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" with me. I couldn't bear to let go of all of you.

Leon Wagner