The Exception

2. The run.

He squeezed her hand tighter in his. Shifting his body to scoot closer to her, he wrapped her securely in his arm, keeping them from jerking as the car swerved sharply to the right.

"It's OK Mieke. Everything's gonna be fine." He drew his lips into a reassuring smile. But his eyes told her another story.

Gripping her rounded belly, she tried her best to suppress the grimace from her tired face.

Her back and abdomen hurt like hell but she never would let him know. Stefan was too anxious about the baby and their escape out of England, he could have cancelled the whole thing if he had known.
She tried to relax her tensed body but the pain was alarmingly growing higher.
Breathe Mieke!

"Cameron easy!" Stefan patted the driver's shoulder. He too would be more comfortable if their friend could slow down a bit. Not that he wanted to enjoy the view, no, it was the middle of the night, but the relentless rough slalom started to get him sick.
And guessing the discomfort through Mieke's face didn't help.
He needed a smoke, so badly, but he was cursed with bad timing. Again.

"Sorry guys" the man answered "I'm doing my best with what's left of that damn road. It's like moles had invaded London and had fun to drill holes every fucking inch."
He glanced in the rear-view mirror and apologized for the curse.
"Sorry Mieke..."

She swallowed a smirk, in a lame attempt to forgive him. As if it mattered.
Moles. Everyone would have rather liked moles' holes.

But it wasn't. London had been under attack for months now. More than a year has gone by since England had declared war against Germany and its insane leader.
The situation was going worse and worse not only in England but everywhere in Europe. That's what motivated them to leave.
Mieke didn't want to give birth to their unexpected first child in a country in war.

War reminded her painful memories. Both her father and her first husband were killed. But first and foremost, she hated that awful Aryan race theory and the inhuman hunt for the Jewish people. Her people.
She ceased to believe in God, after all the atrocities she had witnessed and those Stefan told her about the first world war, but Jewish blood was still running in her veins and through their growing child.

Stefan was not afraid by the war, he had been a soldier his entire life, ready to die for the Fatherland.
But now that the poor Fatherland had become insane and cruel, his priorities had changed.
He was devoted to her wife, body and soul and nothing else mattered than run for cover and offer a safer and saner place to settle his family.

When it came clear they couldn't stay here, they both decided to try their luck in America. A country with better ideals and aspirations than bombing and destruction. The country of second chance and promised new start.

Through the decision was easy, taking flight was harder, mostly in circumstances of war. They were not the only candidates to exile and finding a boat to New York and enough money to bribe the right pen pusher and pay for the smuggler had been quite difficult.
But they had connections. Thanks to Mieke's job for the English crown, they had been provided with authentic falsified documents in a record time and for a reasonable price.
And they had Cameron.
He proposed a bunch of names which sounded more English than Brandt. America opened its arms to Jewish people, running for their lives, but unlikely to former German officers under Hitler's command. Changing their names was the better way to avoid questioning and more troubles, even if it hurt Stefan to agree with the fact his son wouldn't carry his real name.

Cameron was their neighbour, Wilma's son precisely. He was a carpenter and often asked Stefan to give him a hand on a jobsite. He was kind enough to keep the hardest tasks for himself, Stefan's condition kept him from carrying what's heavy or hammerinĝ for too long. Besides that, Stefan was very capable and handy. Cameron paid well and was always the life of the party. His great sense of humour fit Stefan's and the pair had Mieke laughed out loud, which was music to their ears.
Wilma lived next door, literally and was a delightful old lady, even if the loss of her two younger sons at the battlefield had diminished her. Far away from being a weak grandma, she was a strong, hilarious and loving woman, maybe a little bit too crazy when her brain played tricks.
As a former self-made midewife, she showered Mieke with advices and old wives cures and predicted a boy. Which Mieke and Stefan took as fact, since Wilma was known to be unfailing. The aromatic herbs she prescribed to cure Mieke's nauseas at the early stage of her pregnancy worked magic and since she advised that having sex was good for the baby, Stefan would agree with anything she'd say.