A handsome man sat next to her, but he was not the man in the German army uniform. "After he died, I married again, and I loved this man, too. But not as much as I loved my Christof." What happened, Ma-mère?"Marie didn't say another word. Instead, she handed her wide-eyed great-granddaughter her diary. She wiped a tear from her eyes, took a deep breath and left Danielle on the couch to read through the chapter of their family history that was shrouded in secrecy.There was very little for the French to be happy about in the summer of 1943. It was the third year of the German occupation, and in all of the villages along the northern coast of France, they were preparing for an invasion by the Americans and the British. The puppet government in Vichy controlled the southern part of the country, but in Marie's village, a German Major was the prevailing authority.Before the war, it had been a small farming village along the Normandy coast. But with a looming assault from across the English. One picturewas of me sitting on a blanket, relaxing in the sun light, slowlyoffering a nut to a cute squirrel that seemed to have very little fearof me. Then there were some of me walking among the flowers and smellingthe roses in the flower garden after making sure there were no bees.The one picture I really wanted a copy of was of me holding a flowerclose to my face and a beautiful butterfly landed on it just as hesnapped the picture. I thought that one picture truly captured the realme, especially after he worked on it. The final result showed my facewith a slight blurring around the edges to give a soft romantic look.The whole time we were looking for places to take pictures, we talked.It was very flattering that he wanted to know so much about me. Icouldn't help it. I found myself opening up to him in ways I had neverexpected I would. I mean, I had just met him a few days ago and hadn'teven really talked to him.Before we separated, he took me to a small coffee shop and bought me.
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