Devoted

Sunlight pools on the floor like lakes of fire through the spaces between the curtains. Dust particles float on an invisible breeze, swirling in all different directions. Soft breathing beside Hans pulls him into a trance, he has been awake most of the night keeping watch over Florence. It has been a long night while she has come in and out of consciousness, her fever making her delirious.

Her fever had broken an hour ago leaving them both sweat-drenched as she restlessly moved beneath the blankets. There is little he can do for her and he feels helpless but she had seemed happy he was there the times she had woken up. He rises from the bed, stomach rumbling, and goes to the kitchen stoking the fire and preparing a small breakfast.

Eating quickly and setting aside a plate to keep warm for Florence he pulls his jacket on going out to do the chores for the morning. He tosses hay to the horses and cows as he checks the water in their troughs before herding the two milking cows into the milking stalls. Bringing the small stool beside the first one he takes a seat rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them before milking. Boots crunching on gravel heading towards him knots his stomach as he leans around the cow to see Ron approaching.

"Doctor Feldstein will have turned you in by now I suspect. Ought to be prepared now and not rile Flo up with a scene." Ron suggests stopping on the other side of the cow, his hands shoved in his coveralls. Ice encases the edges of his thick beard, and it shimmers in the light.

"I go when they come," Hans says bending forward as he methodically milks the cow, the steady sound of milk filling the pail reminding him of home. Simple times. "No fight but I say goodbye."

"How is she?"

Hans pauses staring into the milky contents of the pail as he mulls over such an impossible question.  He takes his time as he stands gripping the handle of the bucket and walking it over to carefully pour into the churn and lets it clatter to the ground after the last drop drips from the rim.

The cows low, startled by the sudden clanging of metal onto the barn floor and they shuffle their feet waiting to be released. Hans comes beside the cows placing his hand on the hip of the closest one as he levels Ron with a calculating gaze. He should be honest with Ron as he would be the only one here to help Florence if the doctor had turned him in to the authorities. Except, it felt like an invasion of her privacy, their privacy, to speak about how she is after the events of the day and night before.

"Cries," Hans mutters rubbing a hand over his face vigorously, he is sure that his exhaustion is etched along his face. "She will live, not hot any longer. Florence is broken she needs time."

Ron nods solemnly as he studies his boots and Hans sighs pondering what to do. She would not do well to have a fit of hysteria as he is taken away if he is with her when they come for him. That is a fact. He must be vigilant in keeping an eye out for the authorities and say goodbye before a scene can unfold. Hans refuses to leave without more time with her even in the state she is in right now.

Hans watches as Ron picks up the other stool and empty pail, "I'll finish up. She needs someone right now I reckon and the devil knows what all you have done with hiding you away here."

Biting his tongue Hans pushes off from the cow slowly walking out of the barn checking that the yard is clear of any military or police vehicles before he jogs to the house. Closing the door behind him he takes a seat as he unlaces his boots, tossing them by the door. He checks the fire as he collects the plate he'd left for Florence before climbing the stairs to her bedroom.

Knocking softly on the door he opened it expecting to see her in the bed asleep but the bed is empty, sheets in a rumpled mess at the bottom. Hans scans the room landing on her small figure seated by the window, it's been propped open a crack and the cold draft ruffles the curtains around her.