The Sweetness of Forgetting (61)

The Nazis were everywhere. German soldiers filled the streets, and the French police followed along like lemmings. Jews were no longer permitted to go out without the yellow Star of David sewn over their left breast, a brand marking them as different.

“Nonsense,” said her father, a proud man who believed in his country and in the goodness of his fellow man. “Only criminals and cowards run.”

“No, Papa,” Rose whispered. “It’s not just criminals and cowards. It’s people who want to save themselves, who don’t want to blindly follow, hoping that everything will be okay.”

Her father closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Beside him, Rose’s mother rubbed his arm comfortingly and looked at her daughter. “You are upsetting your father, Rose,” she said.

“But, Maman!” Rose exclaimed.

“We are French,” her father said tersely, opening his eyes. “They are not deporting French.”

“But they are,” Rose whispered. “And Maman is not French. To them, she is still Polish. In their eyes, that makes her—and us—foreigners.”

“You are talking nonsense, child,” her father said.

“This roundup is going to be different,” Rose said. She felt like she’d said it a thousand times before, but her father wasn’t hearing her because he didn’t want to. “They are coming for all of us this time. Jacob says—”

“Rose!” her father interrupted, slamming his fist on the table. Beside him, Rose’s mother jumped, startled, and shook her head sadly. “That boy has a runaway imagination!”

“Papa, it’s not his imagination!” Rose had never spoken against her parents before, but she had to make them believe her. This was life and death. How could they be so blind? “You’re our father, Papa. You have to protect us!”

“Enough!” her father roared. “You will not tell me how to run my family! That boy, Jacob, will not tell me how to run my family! I am protecting you children, and your mother, by following the rules. Do not tell me how to be a parent! You know nothing of such things.”

Rose fought back the tears in her eyes. She put her right hand on her belly, without intending to, and she quickly moved it back to her side when she saw her mother look at her curiously and frown. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from them for much longer, and then they would know. Would they forgive her? Would they understand? Rose thought not.

She wished she could tell them the truth. But now wasn’t the time. It would only complicate matters. Before she did anything, she needed to save them.

“Rose,” her father said after a moment. He stood and walked over to where she sat. He knelt beside her, the way he used to when she was a little girl. She remembered, in that moment, the way he’d been so patient with her when he’d taught her to tie her shoelaces, the way he’d comforted her the first time she skinned her knee, the way he’d pinched her cheeks when she was just a little girl and called her ma filfille en sucre, my little girl made of sugar. “We will do what they say. If we follow the rules, everything will be fine.”

She looked into his eyes and knew in that moment that she would never change his mind. And so she wept, for she had already lost him. She had already lost them all.



When Jacob came for her later that night, she wasn’t ready. How could she ever be ready? She gazed into his gold-flecked green eyes, which had always reminded her of a magical ocean, and thought about how she could get lost there forever. Her own eyes filled with hot, stinging tears as she realized she might never sail those seas again.

“Rose, we must go,” he whispered urgently. He took her in his arms and tried to absorb her sobs with his body.

“But how can I leave them, Jacob?” she whispered into his chest.

“You must, my love,” he said. “You must save our baby.”

She looked up at him. She knew he was right. There were tears in his eyes too. “Will you try to protect them?” she asked.

“With every ounce of my being,” Jacob vowed. “But first I must protect you.”

Before they left, she slipped into the room Alain and Claude shared. Claude was sleeping soundly, but Alain was wide awake.

“You’re leaving now, aren’t you, Rose?” Alain whispered when she drew close.

She sat down on the side of his bed. “Yes, my dear,” she whispered. “Will you come with us?”

“I must stay with Maman and Papa,” Alain said after a moment. “Maybe they are right.”

“They are not,” Rose said.

Alain nodded. “I know,” he whispered. He paused for a moment and then wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Rose,” he whispered.

“I love you too, my little man,” she replied, pulling him tightly to her. She knew Alain didn’t understand why she was leaving him. She knew it seemed to him as if she was choosing Jacob over her family. But she couldn’t tell him about the baby growing within her. He was eleven, too young to understand. She hoped that someday, he would realize that she felt as though her heart were being ripped in two.

Thirty minutes later, Jacob led her through an alleyway, where his friend Jean Michel, who was part of the resistance movement, waited outside a darkened doorway.

Jean Michel kissed Rose hello on both cheeks. “You are very brave, Rose,” he said simply.