The Book of Lost Names(94)
“And then I’ll turn myself in, once I know she’s safe?”
“No, Eva, of course not. You’ll run for your life. You’ll return to Switzerland, and you’ll grow old and tell people of the things that happened here.”
“But if I run, they’ll kill you.”
“These men still think they know God. They have fooled themselves into believing they are doing his will. I have to believe that even a Nazi would have second thoughts about killing a Catholic priest in cold blood.”
Her mind spun as she stared at him. She couldn’t ask the priest to trade his life for hers, or even for her mother’s. The trouble her mother was in was her fault—and that meant she had to be the one to save her.
“No, Père Clément. Thank you, but no. I will find another way.”
“There may not be another way.”
“Wasn’t it you who told me that God opens doors we don’t even know are there? I have to trust that with courage and faith, anything is possible.”
The priest smiled sadly. “I’m afraid that sometimes, Eva, that isn’t enough.”
“It’s all I have. Thank you for everything. For offering to risk your life for mine. For saving me in the first place. For giving me a purpose, a home. But now it’s my turn to stand up for what’s right. And you should go, before it’s too late. Go to Switzerland. Live. My mother and I will meet you there when we can.”
She could see in his eyes that he knew Eva would never make it there, that she would die for her mother’s freedom. “I’m not leaving, Eva,” Père Clément said. “My place always has been—and always will be—in Aurignon. God has not abandoned me, and I will not abandon him. And I will do what I can for your mother, because I cannot turn my back on an innocent life any more than you can. It is my decision, not yours. Now go, Eva. Go, before the Germans catch up with us here.”
Eva held him tight before letting go. She knew it would be the last time she would see the priest who had helped redeem her. As she slipped into the cold and windy morning a moment later, she prayed that God would be with her long enough to let her save one last life.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eva knew, four hours later, as she walked through Clutier toward the small local prison the Germans had appropriated, that she was walking into the mouth of the lion and would probably be eaten alive. There was no other choice, though. Her only hope was that the Germans keeping watch there didn’t know her, and would be fooled by the way she had swathed herself in an extra layer of bulky clothes, making herself look ten pounds heavier. She had hastily produced documents identifying herself as a forty-nine-year-old widow whose husband had perished heroically at Verdun a generation before, and though it still felt like a foolhardy plan, she hoped that the Germans she encountered would buy the ruse, if only for a few minutes. That was all she needed to see if her mother was still alive.
Please, God, she prayed silently as she hobbled toward the jail, her shoulders rounded, dragging her right leg and leaning on a cane. Please help me to save my mother. Whatever happens to me, it is your will. The closer she got, the more convinced she became that if she died today, it would be all right. She had always believed that after death, souls lived on, although in Judaism, the explanation wasn’t as clear-cut as it was in the Christian faith. But if she was right, if there was some sort of Garden of Eden waiting for her after she died, she would see Tatu? again, wouldn’t she? And one day, hopefully many, many years from now, Rémy might be there, too, on the other side. It was her belief that in the afterlife, you could see straight into each other’s souls, and then, at last, Rémy would know how she felt, and how much she regretted letting him walk away.
If she lived, though, she had to get word to him that her answer was yes, had always been yes, would always be yes. After what had happened here, her mother would have to understand that in the face of such evil, the division between Christians and Jews meant nothing. All that mattered was that Rémy was a good person—and that time was too precious to waste. If you let me survive, she said to God as she turned the final corner onto the rue de Gravenot, I promise, I will do all I can to make things right with Rémy, too I must fix all my mistakes before it’s too late.
And then the jail was ahead of her, dark and threatening even in the early afternoon light. Or perhaps it was just a trick of the shadows, cloaking the bricks in cruelty and despair.
Bracing herself, Eva entered through the front door, her heart thudding as she dragged her leg behind her. A scarf covered the lower half of her face, and a hat shaded the rest. As she approached the desk, she was startled to see that the guard on duty was not German, as she had assumed he would be. He was instead a French gendarme, shuffling through papers, his eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion, his mouth set in a straight line beneath a narrow mustache.
He looked up as she approached, and in that moment, she hated him with a hot fury that surprised her. He wasn’t someone born to the other side. He was a Frenchman, who had once sworn to protect his own people. But he had ignored that promise, and had chosen to side with the invaders, likely in a bid to secure himself a position of power when the war ended. The Germans would pay for what they had done one day, Eva felt sure, but there was a special place in hell for the French men and women who had sold their brothers and sisters to the enemy.