The Darkest Hour(68)

Although Stenay is within our sights, I skirt around the humble village rather than cut straight through it. There’d be too many eyes to avoid if we entered the town limits, and looking the way we do—dirty and dressed in rags—we’d be sure to attract the wrong sort of attention. So I take Tilly past the narrow canal that flows around the village and hurry under the shadows of the stone watermill, pressing onward until I locate a two-story farmhouse that should belong to Laurent’s cousin.

Tilly’s teeth chatter. “I’m freezing,” she whispers.

“We’ll be warm before you know it. We’re almost there.” I hope my voice doesn’t reflect the uneasiness swimming through me. My sights zero in on the house, and I wonder if this is the right place. The blue paint has long flaked off the exterior, leaving the wood beneath it exposed like tired bones, and a jungle of vines has climbed over the front fa?ade. But my eyes detect a faint trail of smoke puffing out of the chimney, which means someone must be home.

The thought of dry clothes and a roof over my head finally forces me to step forward, but a warning goes off in my head, telling me to wait. Harken taught us to be cautious to a fault, but remaining in the open is another risk entirely.

Ignoring my training, I help Tilly up the front steps and unsure how I’m going to explain us. Before I can think of something to say, the door opens a crack and a woman peers out at us. She’s younger than Laurent, about forty, but she has the same smooth skin and prominent cheekbones. Their resemblance aside, I know better than to fall into her arms.

“Madame?” I say. It comes out a whisper, and I clear my throat. “Your cousin told us that you might help my friend and me. Monsieur Laurent Bordelon.”

Upon hearing his name, she opens the door a little more. “Laurent mentioned you might come by, but that was weeks ago. Where were you?”

“We …” I don’t know how to answer her without getting into the details, and I can’t relive those memories now, just as I can’t think about Sabine. I tell her, “We were detained by the Germans.”

She surveys the front of the house, a look of suspicion plain on her face. “Laurent said there would be three of you.”

A lump forms in my throat. “There’s only two of us now.”

We stare at each other, and I don’t know if she’ll let us in or not. There wasn’t time for Laurent and me to come up with a passcode to give her. She’ll have to take our word that we’re not a pair of German collaborators.

A desperate thought takes shape in my head. I have just enough strength left to knock this woman out. Tilly and I need food and shelter, and if she won’t give it to us willingly, then we’ll have no choice but to take it. We’re not going back to the Nazis.

That’s the thought running through my mind when Tilly sneezes. It’s a thin and pitiful sound, and there’s a shift on the woman’s features. Her wariness melts, just slightly, and she beckons us inside.

“If you’re friends of Laurent, then you’ll be friends of mine. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. I’ll heat some water for a bath.” She motions for me to follow her and delivers us into her washroom, where she tells us to dry ourselves off. Once the tub has been filled, I help Tilly undress.

“I’m Ana?s,” the woman says after Tilly has climbed into the bath. Without batting an eye, she helps me sponge Tilly down and does the same thing for me when it’s my turn. After we’ve both been bathed, Tilly and I get dressed in Ana?s’s extra clothes and tuck into a meal of roast rabbit and carrots. She apologizes for not having any bread or potatoes to offer, but I tell her that this is the very best food that we’ve eaten all month—and that’s the truth. This makes her smile, but it doesn’t last long.

“I’m afraid I must leave you two for a little while. I have to speak to the Resistance about how to return you safely to Paris,” she says, clearing our plates and saving the bones to make a soup stock. “Unless there’s somewhere else you have to go?”

I nod. “We need to get out of the country altogether. To London, preferably.” Not only will we be safe in England, I need to speak with the SOE as soon as possible. They’re under the assumption that Covert Ops has vouched for Dorner, and who knows how many lives have been lost already because I trusted Dorner’s intel. I’m sure he’s very pleased at how readily I believed his lies. A piping-hot anger slices through me, and I wish I was in England at this very instant, ready to rip the smirk off Dorner’s face.

Ana?s doesn’t appear surprised at what I’ve told her. “It’s a dangerous route to London, but feasible. We’ve helped a few Allied airmen into Spain, though we’ve never smuggled women.”

“We can handle the journey,” I tell her. “Will you help us? Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Until I return, you two should go into the cellar. The Germans have been patrolling the village regularly.”

I’m sure that’s because of Tilly and me, but I say nothing about that because I don’t want to alarm Ana?s any more than I already have. While she pulls on her boots to leave the house, Tilly and I head into her cellar, where we settle behind a crate of onions and limp carrots. Evening sets in, leaving us in darkness. At some point I nod off, but I spring awake when I hear a truck puttering somewhere down the road. I gather Tilly farther back into the shadows until we can no longer hear the noisy engine. I release a tight breath, relieved that they didn’t bother stopping, but it isn’t long until they return again.