12 April, 1940 - Grasse, France
A week later, Danielle sat alone on her bed in her whitewashed bedroom. The sun warmed her shoulders through her white cotton dress, and a spring breeze drifted through the open window.
After all that had happened, now she had an infant to care for. A bittersweet blessing, she thought, blinking hard. She had so many decisions to make. How can I find Nicky? Where will we live? And how will I manage it all with this new baby? She brushed away tears of frustration. Her mother had promised to help, but she was so sick with influenza that she couldn’t come to visit yet.
Jon tapped on the door and pushed it open. That morning he’d volunteered to bathe the baby. This offer alone had endeared him to her even more. He held her now, tiny and pink and clean, swaddle
