The Book of Lost Names(86)

“Here in Annecy, the Protestants and Catholics work together to get people like us out. The priest will tell me whether the driver of this morning’s bus to Collonges-sous-Salève is a friend or a foe. If he’s not one of us, we stay here for the night. If he is, be ready to move.”

“You’ve done this many times.” She was seeing a whole new side to Rémy.

Rémy nodded. “Though never with someone I care so much about. Everything must be perfect.” He was gone before she could reply.

The children sat silently beside her, the two older boys staring at the cross, Georges tapping a rapid rhythm on his knee, and Jacqueline twirling tangles in her hair. Eva could feel the unease rolling from them in waves. “It’s going to be all right,” she said in a low voice, leaning toward them. “He’ll be back soon. He knows what to do.”

“How do you know?” the second oldest, Maurice, asked.

“I just do. He’s done this before. I trust him with my life.”

“Is he really your husband?” asked Jacqueline.

There was suddenly a lump in her throat so hard she couldn’t speak for a second. “No. No, he’s not. But we must pretend.”

“He’s not pretending, though,” said Georges. “He really loves you. You can tell.”

Eva blinked at him. “We have known each other for a long time.”

“Nah, it is more than that. He looks at you when you’re not watching him. It is exactly the way Herbert Marshall stares at Claudette Colbert in Zaza.”

Eva could feel herself blushing. “And what exactly are you doing watching an American film about a love affair?”

She meant to tease him, but the boy looked instantly crestfallen. “My papa used to love films. He took me with him whenever he could afford the movie theater near our apartment in Paris.” He hesitated and added in a voice so low it was barely audible, “Papa isn’t here anymore. No more movies.”

“I’m so sorry.” It was all Eva could think to say.

The boy sniffled and then flashed a smile that was clearly false. “And anyhow, you look at him the way Claudette Colbert looks at Herbert Marshall, too. You’re Zaza and he’s Dufresne.”

Eva had just opened her mouth to reply when the door to the church opened and Rémy appeared, backlit by daylight. “Come.” He beckoned to Eva and the children. “The bus leaves early today. There’s no time to lose.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven




Forty-five minutes later, Rémy held Eva’s hand as he helped her and the children onto a rickety bus headed toward Geneva. From the way Rémy and the driver nodded to each other, Eva understood that they were already acquainted.

As the bus rolled north, Eva could feel Rémy’s eyes on her as she gazed out the right window at the glistening, soaring Alps. Though she’d spent the past year and a half in Aurignon, with mountains in the distance, there was nothing quite like being in their shadow; they seemed to stretch straight up, their snow-dusted peaks like something out a fairy tale. If Eva hadn’t been terrified about their journey and worried about the children, the view would have taken her breath away.

They stopped in épagny, Allonzier-la-Caille, Cruseilles, Copponex, Beaumont, Neydens, and Archamps before finally pulling into Collonges-sous-Salève, where the driver stopped abruptly at the top of a hill rather than in the city center. Rémy beckoned to Eva, and as they disembarked with the children, the driver nodded once more before pulling away. “Here we are,” Rémy said cheerfully, loud enough to be overheard, though there appeared to be no one else out and about in the frigid weather. “Your mother’s town. Let’s go see her friend, the priest, before we visit with her, shall we?”

“Another priest?” Eva murmured as they began trudging through freshly fallen, ankle-deep snow toward a small stone cottage at the end of the lane. Smoke snaked skyward from the slightly tilted brick chimney.

“God’s hand is everywhere,” Rémy replied, his voice soft, and he gave the children another encouraging smile as they approached the house.

The door opened before they got there, revealing a short, portly man in a long, dark priest’s robe. He was bald, his complexion ruddy, his eyes clear and blue. “Come in, come in,” he said, gesturing urgently toward them. “Before someone sees.”

Rémy and Eva hustled the children inside, and the man closed the door behind them with a thud.

“Eva, this is le Père Bouyssonie. Père Bouyssonie, this is Eva.”

The priest’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah. Eva. I have heard much about you.” Eva glanced at Rémy, who was suddenly studying the floor intently. The priest chuckled. “And these, I assume, are the four children in your care?”

Eva nodded. “Yes. Georges, Maurice, Jacqueline, and Didier.”

The priest bent until he was at eye level with the little girl. He looked at each of them, one by one. “It is wonderful to meet you. I want to remind you that God knows who you are. He always has and always will. He sees your hearts, even in the darkness.”

The three boys looked perplexed, but the little girl was nodding like she understood exactly what he meant.

“Thanks, as always, for having us, Père Bouyssonie,” Rémy said. “Is everything looking good for the crossing?”