The Book of Lost Names(92)

The priest nodded. “He left before dawn with a member of the underground who was driving back to Lyon.”

Eva’s heart sank. It was too late. There would be no way to find him once he was reabsorbed into the dense forests outside Aurignon. Her eyes filled, and she wiped her tears away, but not before the priest saw them. He pulled her into a hug, and she sobbed on his shoulder for a few seconds before gathering herself and pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m glad you did, Eva.” It was then that she realized that his expression was grave. “I’m afraid I have some news. It came in an hour after Rémy departed.”

“News?”

He sighed. “Come with me.” He led Eva toward the attic ladder, which was already down, and pointed upward. “We have a visitor.” He motioned her toward the ladder and followed her up into the space above.

It took Eva’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but as soon as she could see, she gasped. There in the corner was Madame Trintignant, the baker from Aurignon, her hair disheveled, her blouse ripped at the sleeve, her eyes bloodshot. “Madame?” Eva said. “What on earth are you doing here? What’s happened?”

“Oh, Eva!” Madame Trintignant leaned in to hug her awkwardly. “It’s all over in Aurignon.”

“What?”

“The arrests…” She broke down sobbing but quickly gathered herself. “The Germans came. They arrested so many of us. Madame Barbier. Madame Travere. Madame Noirot. Everyone.”

A chill ran through Eva. “What about Père Clément?”

Madame Trintignant shook her head. “He was fine when I left. He was the one who told me how to get here, who insisted that I had to flee immediately.” She hesitated, her gaze sliding away. “They have your mother, Eva.”

“My mother? No, no, that’s impossible. She has nothing to do with this.”

A single tear fell from the baker’s eye. “The Germans were looking for you, and when your mother wouldn’t tell them where you’d gone, they took her instead.”

“No, no, no. Is she…?” Eva couldn’t finish the sentence.

“She was alive when I left,” Madame Trintignant said quickly. “Though they took her to the prison in Clutier, I think. I’m afraid they know her real identity.”

Eva’s blood ran cold. “How?”

Madame Trintignant merely shook her head.

The priest leaned in to put a comforting hand on Eva’s shoulder. “I will pray for her, Eva. We all will.”

“But…” Eva’s head was spinning. “I—I have to go back.”

Madame Trintignant and Père Bouyssonie exchanged glances. “You cannot,” Madame Trintignant said firmly. “They know who you are now. They’re looking for you. They will execute you, Eva.”

“I can’t just abandon my mother.”

“Leave it to the underground,” Père Bouyssonie said. “They’ll do what they can.”

But Eva knew the fighters hidden in the forest would have bigger things to worry about than saving an imprisoned middle-aged woman who had no value to them. She had to go now, or her mother would die. Eva bit back a sob. “No,” she said when she could breathe again. “I have to make things right.”

“What has happened to your mother isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is! If I had never become involved in any of this, she and I would have been safe in Switzerland a year and a half ago.”

“If you return now, you’ll surely be killed,” Madame Trintignant said softly. “Do you want to play right into their hands?”

Eva stared at her, her heart racing with fear. The baker was right, but what choice was there? She could never forgive herself if she simply left her mother to be murdered because of choices she herself had made. When her father was taken, there wasn’t anything she could do. But Mamusia’s life could be saved if Eva returned. “I have to go,” she said softly, her mind already made up as she turned to the priest.

He hesitated before nodding in resignation. “Then you should hurry. The bus to Annemasse leaves in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Père Bouyssonie.”

“Don’t thank me. I fear I am sending you to your death.” He sighed. “May God be with you, Eva. You’ll be in my prayers.”



* * *



It was late the next morning before Eva arrived back in Aurignon after taking a train from Annemasse to Lyon, spending a sleepless night shivering in the station, then taking another train to Clermont-Ferrand and a bus to town. She went straight to the church and found Père Clément standing in front of the altar, the pews around him broken and splintered. He turned as she entered, and his eyes widened.

“You’re supposed to be in Switzerland!” he said, moving toward her, his eyes wild. His robe was askew, his face bruised. “My God, Eva, what are you doing here? It’s not safe. Don’t you know?”

“My mother,” she managed to choke out, and all at once, his face softened, and he took the final steps toward her, pulling her into an embrace as she collapsed into him. “What happened, Père Clément?” she asked through sobs. “Where is she? I have to help her.”