The Winemaker's Wife(74)

His eyes fell on Céline immediately. “Good day, Madame Laurent,” he said as he stroked his thin mustache, his eyes pointedly fixed on the generous swell of her breasts beneath her cotton dress. She pulled her ragged sweater around her, and it was only then that he raised his gaze to hers, smirking at her discomfort.

“Good day, ladies,” Herr Klaebisch said. “Forgive the intrusion, but we are traveling all over Ville-Dommange today, inspecting cellars. If you will excuse us, we will head belowground to find your husbands.”

“Yes, of course,” Inès said, as if Klaebisch had actually been asking her permission. Céline found that she could not speak; she was frozen under Richter’s unwavering gaze.

Klaebisch and his driver headed for the stairs to the cellars, but Richter, who was still eyeing Céline, called after them, “I will stay here with the women and make sure everything is in order.”

Klaebisch turned and assessed Richter. “Very well.” And then they were gone, swallowed by the earth, while Richter continued to pin Céline with his gaze.

“Hauptmann Richter,” Inès said loudly, moving closer to Céline. “Perhaps you’d like to come into the house. I can make you some coffee.”

“Your French coffee is swill.”

“Then perhaps some bread?” Inès asked.

“No,” Richter said. “But you go. I’d like to have a word alone with Madame Laurent.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Inès said quickly. “I think I will stay here.”

Richter finally turned his attention to her, his glare hot with anger. “I asked you to go.”

“Oh, but you couldn’t possibly have meant it that way,” Inès chirped, and Céline allowed herself to admire the other woman’s show of faux-ignorance. “Besides, if there’s something you need to say to Madame Laurent, it would be helpful for me to hear it, too.”

Richter glowered at her before eyeing Céline again. “Very well. I did not realize you were expecting a child, Madame Laurent.”

“Yes.”

“Might I say that you look quite well?” When he smiled, she thought of a fox preparing to pounce on its prey. “Pregnancy agrees with you.”

Céline fought her urge to flinch under his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Of course the baby will be a Jew, too. Such a shame.”

Céline swallowed hard and didn’t say anything.

“But I could protect you,” Richter continued, his tone even as he watched Céline’s face. “Both you and your child. If you ask me to.”

He seemed to be waiting for something, so Céline managed to say, “Please, do not hurt us.”

“Oh, I am not the one you should worry about. I am only telling you that in times like these, a friendship like ours could be useful to you. Am I right in thinking you would do anything to save your child?”

Céline’s heart thudded. “Of course,” she whispered.

His smile was cold, vicious. “Good. Very good.”

“Hauptmann Richter?” They were interrupted by a deep voice behind them, and Céline spun around to see the driver of the car ascending from the cellars. “Herr Klaebisch would like to have a word.”

Richter turned back to Céline as the driver waited for him. “I will be back,” he said in a low tone, and then he strode away, toward the cellars.

Céline didn’t breathe again until Richter was belowground.

“Are you all right?” Inès’s voice sounded very distant, and the world swam before Céline’s eyes as she struggled to remain upright. She felt Inès’s hands grip her elbows, steadying her, and then the world righted itself. “Céline? You are all right?”

“Yes, I think so,” Céline finally replied, gripping Inès for support.

Without another word, Inès helped her into the house and settled her gently into a chair. She set about boiling water, and by the time she returned with a cup of ersatz coffee, Céline was feeling a bit better.

“You mustn’t put too much stock in what Richter said,” Inès said soothingly. “He is just trying to intimidate you.”

“But he’s not wrong. My baby will be in danger.”

“Michel and I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

Céline shook her head. “Thank you.” Within her, the baby had gone still, as if waiting to see what would happen next. She wondered whether Inès really believed her own words—that she and Michel would have any power of protection—or whether the statement was simply a kindness, offered because there was nothing else to give.

? ? ?

Céline knew that Richter wasn’t done with her, but she hadn’t expected his return quite so soon.

That evening, with Michel and Theo gone to a meeting of vignerons in Sacy, and Inès safely unaware within her own house, he appeared at her door in silence, his eyes burning holes in her. He had ridden a bicycle there, Céline realized, instead of arriving in a car, so Inès wouldn’t have heard his approach. “Madame Laurent,” he said, “there are some things I must follow up on in your cellars. You will show me belowground?”