The Book of Lost Names(56)

“And the children?”

He smiled slightly. “There were four of them, all from Poland. The ones we created documents for last week.”

“Arlette, Jeanine, Jean-Pierre, and Roland.” She preferred to remember their real names rather than the false ones she had given them. They’d ranged in age from two to seven—far too young to be running for their lives.

He nodded. “Pages one hundred seven to one hundred ten in our book. They’re safe and sound in Geneva.”

“Oh, thank God. And you? Rémy, who did this to you?”

“I’m back, Eva, and I’m fine. The rest doesn’t matter.” His eyes slid away. “I was worried about you.”

“But you were the one in danger.”

“And yet you were the only thing on my mind.” He coughed and turned away, and she was glad he couldn’t see her flaming cheeks. “So,” he said without looking at her, “how was your dinner with Faucon?”

The sharp edge to his voice replaced the warmth that had been there just seconds earlier, and the abrupt change shook her. “It was fine, Rémy. He’ll be working with us more now, bringing us supplies.”

Rémy’s eyebrows shot up. “Supplies?”

Eva gestured to the table. “Much better paper than we’ve been able to get on our own. We need him.”

Rémy looked down at the documents on the table. His jaw tightened. “Right. Faucon saves the day.”

“Rémy—”

“I’m sorry.” He blinked at her a few times and then sighed, his shoulders sagging. “It’s—it’s been a long few days. The destruction outside the larger cities…” He paused and shook his head. “Eva, I can’t help but feel like I’m still not doing enough.”

A chill ran through her. “But certainly you are. The work we’re doing here is invaluable. And now that you’re back, we can do so much more with these blank documents…”

“Eva, in a perfect world, there’d be nothing I’d like more than to stay here with you. But being out there, traveling with those children… There’s so much more to accomplish. And I can’t do it here.”

Her stomach twisted. She understood what he was saying, what it would mean, but he had to see that he was wrong. “I need you, Rémy,” she said. “I mean—there’s so much work to be done.” Too late, she gestured to the papers on the table in front of her, but she knew he’d heard the real meaning of her words. He looked away, and when he looked back, there was so much pain in his eyes that it hurt her to see.

“I want to build you a better France, Eva,” he said softly. “One where you have a home. I can’t do that if I stay here.”

“Promise me you’ll wait before you make any decisions.” She held her breath.

He held her gaze for a long time. “I promise.”



* * *



That evening, over a meal of watery beef broth with thin noodles, Mamusia stared at Eva with narrowed eyes while Eva made small talk with Madame Barbier and tried not to worry about Rémy and the decisions he was making without her. After they’d cleared the table and Madame Barbier had gone upstairs, Eva stood elbow to elbow with her mother at the sink, drying dishes while Mamusia washed.

“You’re throwing away a God-given opportunity, moje serduszko,” Mamusia said suddenly, breaking the uneasy silence between them.

“What opportunity?”

“Joseph Pelletier, of course.”

“Mamusia…”

“It’s plain to see the young man has feelings for you. He said it himself: you’re a catch. Are you so immersed in your little forgery operation that you don’t see it? He’s perfect for you, Eva. And surely it is fate that brought him here.”

“Actually, I believe it was the Resistance,” Eva muttered.

“Make all the jokes you want, but you can’t run from God’s will. He has delivered Joseph to your doorstep. What more do you need to see? Can you imagine how happy your father would be if he returned from Poland to find you happily married to a young Jewish man whose parents we knew?”

“I think Tatu? would be happy enough just to return and find us alive.”

“Can’t you for once listen to me, Eva? I know you think I don’t know what I’m talking about, that I’m just an old fool. But tradition means something. Sticking together in hard times means something. Our faith means something, though you seem bent on abandoning it.”

Eva threw down her dish towel and blinked back tears. “I’m not abandoning my faith, Mamusia!”

“You act as if you think I’m blind, Eva, but I see it, the way you still talk about that Catholic boy. I warned you, and you didn’t listen.”

The words, delivered coldly and with shame, felt like a slap across the face. Eva could feel her cheeks flaming, her blood surging with guilt and confusion. “Mamusia, you don’t even know him. Rémy is a good man.”

“There are lots of good men, Eva, but you want to waste your time with a papist? You think you’re better than where you’ve come from, but you can’t run from who you are.”

“I’m not trying to!”