The Orphan's Tale(85)

A moment later we break apart. Though it has been only a few days, his face looks thinner, cheekbones chiseled. His eyes are ringed, as though he has not slept for days. “Have you eaten? You need rest.” I search the fairgrounds for a place where I might hide him.

He waves his hand, as though the question is unimportant. “I’m fine.”

I lean against him and he holds me close. “I’m so sorry I had to leave without telling you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t have gone like that if you had a choice, that something must have happened.” I can see the depth of his concern for me in his eyes.

“You found me,” I say, nestling closer against him.

“I found you,” he repeats. “The question is, what now?” He pulls away from me, straightening, and I see the conflict in his eyes. He is hundreds of miles from home—will he simply say goodbye and go back again? “I don’t want to lose you again, Noa,” he says and I hold my breath, waiting for him to propose a life together once more.

“But I’m going to join the Maquis.” Hearing this, my hope deflates. I have heard of the resistance fighters who operate from the woods. But I have never seen them and they seem like the stuff of legend compared to the timid villagers. It sounds dangerous—and far away. “There’s a unit of them east of here in the Vosges forest and if I can get there, I can help,” he adds.

“But that’s so dangerous,” I protest, lifting my head to meet his eyes.

He smooths back my hair. “I’m not running, Noa. You’ve taught me not to be afraid. For once in my life I’m going to stand my ground and fight.”

“So it’s my fault then, that you are going to get yourself killed?” I demand, only half joking.

Luc smiles. Then as he takes my hand, his face grows serious once more. “I only meant that this thing between you and me has opened my eyes. I can’t sit by and watch anymore. I have to do something. And the work that the resistance is doing, disrupting communication and the rails, is more important than ever to prepare for the Allied invasion. There’s talk that it’s coming soon, now that the weather has improved.”

He draws me close to him once more, wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. “I don’t want to leave you, though. It’s time for something more—for both of us. If...if you would consider going with me.”

“To the Maquis?” I ask.

“Yes. There are some women, too, who are helping with their work.” I realize, proudly, that he is thinking of me, and that I am strong enough. “Would you?” he asks, eyes hopeful.

I want so much to say yes. If only it were that simple. “I can’t,” I say, putting my hand on his chest. “You know that.”

“If it’s about Theo, we can find a safe place for him until this is all over,” he replies, putting his hand on top of mine and lacing our fingers together. “Then we could raise him as our own.”

“I know, but it’s more than that. Astrid, she’s risked everything for us. I can’t abandon her now.” Once Astrid might have managed on her own, but she can no longer manage for herself. Everything has been taken from her except us.

“I thought you would say as much.” His face grows resolute. “I have to do this, though. There is no place for me at home anymore.”

“When will you go?” I ask.

“Tonight. If I set out after dark across the hills, I should be able to find the Maquis encampment before dawn.” He pauses. “If only you were going with me.”

“I know.” But I’m not and so this is goodbye. I wrap my arms more tightly around him. We stand together, pressed close, willing the moment to last just a bit longer. I pull back slightly to peer back toward the tent. “I should go. Astrid is waiting for me.” He nods. “I’m so worried about her,” I confide. “First losing the baby and now Peter.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” he adds, his voice low with guilt.

“You mustn’t blame yourself. I don’t.”

“Actually, that is the other reason I came.”

“I don’t understand,” I say. What other reason could there be?

“I should have told you sooner, only I was so excited to see you again.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. “A letter came to the village.”

He holds it out and I imagine the worst, news coming from across the miles. Has something happened to my family?

But as I start to reach for it, he pulls his hand back. “It’s not for you.” I take it from him anyway and, seeing the Berlin postmark on the envelope, my breath catches.

The letter is for Astrid.





23

Astrid

Forty feet. That is what stands between life and death, the thinnest sliver of a divide.

I came back to the ring as I said I would and pretended to rehearse for Noa, and leaped as though nothing had changed. She has disappeared from the tent, though, leaving me alone, and so I return to the board. The movement of flying through the air had once meant everything to me. Now each swing is like a knife through my heart. The cavernous space high above the ring, which had been home, is almost unbearable.

I peer over the edge of the board as if it is a cliff, staring into the abyss of the net below. I tried to kill myself once, after Erich told me to leave. He’d walked from the apartment, ostensibly to give me time to pack and go, unable to bear watching or maybe to avoid the hysterics he considered so uncivilized. I’d run to the cupboard and grabbed a bottle of pills and vodka, impulsively downing as much as I could of both. I imagined him finding my body and crying over what he had done. But after a few minutes I realized he wasn’t coming back to check. He had already cut me from his life. Instantly remorseful, I put my hands down my throat and brought up the half-digested mess. I had sworn then never to live for a man again. This loss is more, though—it is everything.