As they'd agreed, Jo and Renate took turns sneaking to the barn to gather eggs, to the refrigerator where the milk was stored, and then stealing away to Frieda's house at twilight. Freida's mother always met Jo at the door and quickly took the bag from her, mouthing the word 'thanks.'
Jo always felt as if there were eyes drilling into her body as she traveled back and forth, and she had a sinking feeling she was living on borrowed time, and yet, what choice did she have? She couldn't leave innocent human beings to starve.
Days became weeks, and one Saturday, Jo was returning home with Mrs. Weber's headache medication when she heard a triumphant feminine voice from behind.
"There she is!" Jo turned to see a young woman about her own age with two soldiers. The young woman looked fleetingly familiar. Was she a fellow factory worker?
Jo's heart thundered in her chest as she broke into a run, dodging other pedestrians, her only thought to flee to safety. She came to a bridge which covered a stream and, thankful for the swimming lessons she'd taken as a child, took a deep breath, then slipped over the side and into the water.
She swam underwater until she could stand the pressure in her lungs no more. When she tried to surface, something clung to her foot, and she looked down to see that it was tangled in weeds. Desperately she tried in vain to free it, wondering crazily whether, if she died as Martina, she could never re-appear as Jo in the twenty-first century.
Suddenly there were arms around her, pulling her free of the weeds and toward the shore. When she reached it, she saw her savior had been a policeman. They emerged from the water at almost the same time.
"Th-thanks!" she gasped.
"Do you normally go swimming fully dressed?" he asked.
"A-a big dog was chasing me!"
"A Rottweiler?" asked the policeman.
"Y-yes, that's what it was - a Rottweiler!"
"What's your name?"
"Martina Weber." She'd almost said 'Jo March' but had stopped herself just in time.
The policeman frowned. "Your hair is very dark."
"It looks darker now because it's wet."
He ignored her statement. "Your eyes are very dark as well." To Jo's amazement, he produced a tape measure and measured first the circumference of her head, then the length of her nose. "What does your father do, Miss Weber?"
"Right now he's in Stalingrad fighting the Russians, and so is my brother."
The policeman smiled for the first time. "Very well, then. You may go, but beware of those Rottweilers!"
Jo's clothing and hair were still damp when she reached the house. Mrs. Weber met her at the door, and she suddenly remembered the purpose of her trip.
"I lost your medicine, Mama. I'm sorry!"
"Never mind that! What on earth happened to you?"
"A Rottweiler chased me, and I had to dive off a bridge to get away from it."
Mrs. Weber's eyes registered incredulity, and Jo had to fight a rising panic, until finally her mother nodded.
"All right, then. Put on some dry clothes and help Renate with the laundry."
"But what about your medicine, Mama?"
"I'll go to the chemist on Monday and explain what happened. I hope I can get a replacement, but I doubt it. Pain medicine is in short supply for the injured soldiers in the hospitals."
Jo found Renate in the back yard, hanging out clean clothes to dry.
"Where have you been?" she asked Jo.
"I was coming back from the chemist with Mama's headache medicine, and - and - " Suddenly the whole story tumbled out of Jo - breathlessly, she related the chain of events in an excited voice. Renate's eyes grew enormous.
"After commenting about how dark my hair and eyes are, he did the strangest thing - took out a tape measure and measured around my head and how long my nose is! Why would he have done that?"
Renate only shook her head. "I've no idea, Martina. I'm just ever so glad he let you go."
What if he hadn't? The thought made Jo shake in her shoes.
The daily routine continued. Jo arrived at the factory every morning and got right to work, sewing uniforms together, stitching totenkopf skulls onto caps, never speaking to, or even looking at, anyone but Renate and Frieda.
One day in August, she came home after work to find her mother holding a letter and sobbing hard. Renate went to her and embraced her.
"What is it, Mama?"
"A letter from Horst," Mrs. Weber told her daughters. "Your father has been killed by a Russian shell attack."
All the color drained from Renate's face. "Oh, no! What will we do without Papa?"
"Surely they'll bring his body home, and allow Horst some time off to be with us," said Jo.
Mrs. Weber shook her head. "The Russians are burying all the dead in mass graves. The fighting is still going on, so Horst can't come home."
Renate's face grew very red, and she threw herself against the wall, which she began to pound with both fists. "I hate Russians!"
Jo went to Renate and held her, thinking of how similar her relationship with Renate as Martina was to her relationship with Beth as Jo. Only their ages were reversed.
"We'll see him again in heaven." It was all she could think of to say.
"I know." Renate stopped crying. "I don't really hate the Russians. We invaded their country, and they have the right to defend themselves. Of course Papa is now in the presence of the Lord. His troubles are over, but what about the rest of us?"
Jo could offer no words of comfort. She knew how much longer the war would drag on, and which side would win.