Jo arrived at the Bohmke home to find Sybille sitting in a rocking chair, holding her new son. She looked at the tiny, red, wrinkled face to see that the baby was asleep.

"His name is Dieter Werner Bohmke," Sybille told Jo. "Uncle Dieter is his godfather."

"He's precious!" said Jo. "Can I hold him?"

"Of course!"

Jo took the newborn into her arms and held him close. She remembered holding Johnny and Daisy after they were born, how proud she felt to be an aunt. Would she ever get to see them again?

Little Dieter awakened, and his lips began to nudge the front of her shirt, seeking her breast. An unfamiliar ache went through her, and she reluctantly handed the baby back to his mother.

"It's funny," she said. "I never saw myself as being a mother, but seeing you with Dieter is making me have second thoughts." She almost mentioned her niece and nephew back in Concord but stopped herself just in time.

"I never imagined I'd be a mother this young," Sybille replied. "As Uncle Dieter would say, if it's the Lord's will, it will happen. How was he doing the last time you saw him?"

"He seemed fine, just like always. He was concerned about you and said he would pray you had a safe delivery."

"Werner went to see him right after our son was born," said Sybille. "He was very happy and honored to be little Dieter's godfather."

Jo had the chance to visit Dieter again herself several weeks later. She found him beaming and in an extra good mood.

"Have you met my namesake and godson?" was the first thing he asked.

Jo nodded. "He's a beautiful baby."

"I very much look forward to meeting him," said Dieter.

"How much longer do you think they'll keep you in here?" asked Jo. "I thought they just wanted to ask you some questions and then release you, but it's been a year now and you're still here."

"It isn't for us to question God's ways," Dieter replied. "I don't know why I'm still here, but I do know it's for a reason. Perhaps it's to bring encouragement to my fellow inmates and uplift their spirits."

Jo heard a loud whistling noise from above, followed by a deafening crash. The lights went out, and pieces of the roof began to fall. Dieter pushed Jo under a table, shielding her body with his own.

"Who's t-trying to k-kill us?" she stammered.

"The Royal Air Force."

"The English?"

"Yes, and the Americans as well."

"The Americans?" Jo tried to remember whether any of her family members had been in World War II. A great grandfather or two, perhaps. How bizarre to be killed by your own great grandfather!

Once again, she wondered whether, if she died as Martina, she would cease to exist as Jo in her own place and time as well.

"Yes, the Americans. Why are you surprised? You know they joined the war on the side of the Allies almost three years ago."

"No reason," Jo said quickly.

"Do you know any Americans?"

"Um, no." She supposed the answer was true enough under the circumstances.

"I do. They're my friends." His voice dripped with sorrow. Jo remembered Martina's diary entry from two years ago.

After awhile everything became quiet. Jo slowly crept from beneath the table to survey the damage. Piles of rubble were everywhere, and a whole wall had been knocked down.

"Hey, maybe we can find a way out of here!" She took a few cautious steps, then looked back at him. "Well, aren't you coming?"

"No."

"But why not?"

"Remember the story of Paul and Silas?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Am I any better than they were?"

Suddenly she was angry. "Why do you want to be a martyr so badly - so everybody can talk about what a great guy you were after you're dead?"

His face was set with fury. "You'd better go, Martina. Perhaps I overestimated your maturity."

Hot tears filled her eyes as she ran from the clutter and chaos.

One day, Jo entered the living room to find Paul and Julia sitting on the sofa, completely silent.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"There was an attempt on the Fuhrer's life today," Paul told her. "A suitcase containing a bomb was placed under the table at which he was sitting. He wasn't seriously injured, but he's furious. He's determined that the perpetrators will be caught and brought to justice right away."

Jo's heart began to beat madly. Had Dieter been behind the plot? If so, was there any way of tracing it back to him?

Suddenly, her legs felt very weak. Julia stood and came to her.

"What's wrong, darling? You look so pale?"

"Dieter," was all she could say.

Julia frowned. "Do you think he had something to do with what happened?"

"I-I don't know. When he asked me to marry him, he said he was involved in a plot of some sort, that he couldn't tell me the details because it would endanger my life."

"Oh." Julia's face blanched. It was obvious Dieter had said nothing to his parents, undoubtedly to spare them the worry.

Paul stood and embraced his wife. "What's done is done. You know our son has always followed his heart, and it's never led him wrong."

Jo couldn't wait to see Dieter again. She hoped he wasn't still angry at her. She'd given their last conversation a lot of thought, and to her, it seemed crazy that he wouldn't act on a possible chance to escape, but knowing him as well as she did, she was sure he had a good reason.

The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. She became more and more eager for her next opportunity to visit him. She planned to apologize first thing.

The next time she entered the prison, she saw the guard who usually arranged her visits with Dieter and asked to see her fiance.

"He is no longer here," the guard replied.

"Where has he been taken?"

"I cannot say. All I can tell you is that he is no longer a prisoner here."

Jo's heart fell into her stomach. It can't be! Where is he now? Was it because of the attempted assassination? If so, has he been sentenced to death?

She went to sleep that night vowing to herself that somehow, someway, she would find out where Dieter was and what had happened to him.