Tenderly he kissed her, holding her face between his hands. It was a chaste kiss, yet its softness, its urgency, reminded her of the kiss Fritz had placed on her lips the last night she'd spent in the twenty-first century.

She had to swallow hard. I may never see him again. I may never see any of them again.

And yet, to remain here in the 1940's, among the new people she'd met and already formed strong emotional bonds with - would that really be so terrible? If she woke up tomorrow and found herself back in the twenty-first century, she'd miss them all dearly as well.

Dieter smiled and took her hand. "We'd better rejoin the others before they start wondering what happened to us."

They returned to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weber gave Dieter a questioning look, and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She beamed and gave him a close embrace.

Is this the way things were in the 1940's? Jo wondered.

Dieter stayed and visited with the family for several hours, then returned home on the train. After he'd left, Jo felt an emptiness inside that was almost palpable. With memories of this golden Sunday still vivid in her mind, she dreaded returning to the stench and horror of the hospital.

One day, a new group of soldiers were brought in. It included a young man who made Jo think of Teddy. He was about the same age, and his dark hair was parted in a similar style.

All that remained of his arms were two bloody stumps that ended right above where the elbows had once been.

Jo cleaned him up as well as she could and gave him pain medication.

"You're pretty," he told her. "What's your name?"

"Martina."

"I'm Ludwig." His gray eyes were dull and filled with pain. Jo wondered if they'd ever danced with fun, as Teddy's had. "I'm from Vienna," he continued. "I learned to play piano when I was just four years old. I had my heart set on attending the conservatory, but then the war started, and I was drafted into the army."

"I'm sorry." Jo couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I never wanted to be a soldier. All I ever wanted was to play piano." His voice was choked with tears. "And now I never will again."

"But you still have your life," said Jo. "As long as there's life, there's hope. You're young and intelligent. You can still live a life that's worthwhile."

His eyes blazed with anger as he uttered a string of curses. "If I can't play piano, I don't want to live."

"My fiance is a pastor. He'd say God spared your life for a reason."

"I don't believe in God anymore. How could I, after this?"

Later in the day, when Jo tried to feed him a spoonful of soup, he turned his head away.

"You have to eat," Jo insisted. "You have to get your strength back so you can recover."

"I'm not going to recover," he muttered through clenched teeth.

After the meal, pain medication was once again administered to the patients. While the other men slept, Ludwig closed his eyes in imitation of sleep, but Jo saw how his jaw was still set and heard his low moans of pain.

Things continued like this for several days, until one afternoon, Ludwig's face relaxed, and he was silent.

Glad that he was finally able to rest, Jo went about her other tasks, but when the next meal time arrived, she was unable to awaken him. Alarmed, she summoned Dr. Hauser.

"Ludwig won't wake up. I think there's something wrong with him."

Dr. Hauser placed his stethoscope on Ludwig's chest and listened for a few seconds, then felt for his pulse, and lastly shone a light into his eyes.

"He's dead," he told Jo.

"But why did he die? He wasn't bleeding anymore, and there was no sign of infection."

"Who knows? Perhaps he just gave up the will to live. It happens sometimes."

Jo thought of something. She opened Ludwig's mouth and swept her finger underneath his tongue. The tiny plastic remnants of the pain medication capsules were still there.

Tears filled her eyes, and she struggled to prevent them from falling.

Dieter came to visit again that weekend, bringing happier news.

"Werner and Sybille are getting married on Easter Sunday, and I'm to perform the ceremony," he told her.

"That's wonderful!" she replied. But what about our own wedding? she wanted to ask, but knew she couldn't.

"It has to happen soon; otherwise, Sybille will be conscripted into the Wehrmachthelferin," Dieter explained, as if he could read her mind. "Our own situation is different. Your mother would only agree to our engagement if I promised her we would wait at least one year."

Jo gulped, realizing she didn't know Martina's exact age. As she'd finished school, Jo had assumed she must be at least eighteen, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Please try to be happy for them, darling," said Dieter.

"Oh, I am!"

Easter morning, Dieter collected Jo at six in the morning in his car and drove her to the church. The only people who were there when they arrived were Sybille and her parents. Sybille's eyes were dancing with joy.

"Oh, Martina, I'm so happy; I can't wait!" she cried when she saw Jo.

"Congratulations!" Jo replied as the two young women embraced.

Soon Paul, Julia, and the rest of Dieter's family arrived, and the ceremony began.

Jo had never seen a more beautiful wedding. As tears streamed down her face, Dieter looked more handsome to her than ever before, and her mind returned to that long-ago morning when she'd heard him preach for the first time.

When he pronounced the couple husband and wife, everyone cheered and threw rice. A reception followed. Despite war rations, there was a moderately-sized white cake and a bowl filled with somewhat watery punch. There was a waltz afterwards, and Jo danced with Dieter, as she'd done the previous November.

Suddenly the music stopped, and everyone gasped. Jo turned her head to see several men wearing long black coats approaching, headed straight for Dieter!

"Are you Dieter Baumgartner?" asked one of them.

"I am."

"You are under arrest for subversion."