The Winemaker's Wife(87)

Tears welled in Céline’s eyes. “He’s too early, Michel, but he’s strong. I think he will survive.”

“God willing,” Michel whispered. “May I . . . may I hold him?”

Céline glanced over her shoulder. “If Theo wakes up . . .”

“Can we go down to the cellars? I will help you on the stairs.”

Céline hesitated, then half smiled. “I suppose it is never too early to show our son his future.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, though, she wanted to take them back. Had she sounded greedy? Had she assumed something he hadn’t offered? She had imagined a life stretching before them, after the war, in which she and Michel made a home here, taught their child to make bubbles, grew old together, found happiness. But what if that wasn’t his dream, too?

But then Michel smiled. “One day, he will know the caves like the back of his hand.” He reached out and touched his son’s tiny fingers, and Céline’s heart swelled.

“I will get him an extra blanket.”

Michel helped her to wrap the baby tightly against the cold, and then they shut the door quietly behind them and made their way into the night. Michel guided her through the darkness by the light of his lamp, and then he supported her as they made their way slowly and carefully down the stairs to the cellars.

In the cave with the hidden room, they found the blankets just as they’d left them the night before, when Inès had discovered them and the world had tilted on its axis. Had it only been a day ago? As Michel helped ease her down gently into the pile of softness, Céline could almost pretend that it had all been a bad dream, that Inès didn’t know the truth, that danger wasn’t swirling around them like a cyclone.

Michel asked to hold the baby, and as Céline gently handed the sleeping bundle over and watched Michel stroke his son’s face tenderly, joy filled her, buoying her, and she imagined all of them floating away on the strength of their happiness.

But then she remembered Inès, the wildness in her eyes, the pain that Céline had inflicted, and her bubble burst. “Michel, I’m worried,” she said. “When Inès got home earlier, it seemed like there was something important she wanted to say, but then she saw the baby . . .”

Michel nodded, never taking his eyes off the infant. He touched his son’s tiny face once again. “I was concerned, too, but I spoke with her. Everything is fine. She was just upset about yesterday, understandably so. She’s resting now.”

“She was coming to warn us about something, though.” Céline couldn’t rid herself of the uneasy feeling. “What if something is wrong, Michel? What if she told someone about what we did to Richter?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” he said firmly. “Remember, she was involved, too. And she’s a better person than that. She wouldn’t betray us.”

Céline hung her head, well aware of her own betrayal. “I know.”

“Besides, who would she have told but Edith? And certainly we can trust Edith.”

This, at least, made Céline feel a bit better. “I suppose you’re right.” Céline was still uncertain, but she settled back beside Michel, and he handed her the baby, whose blue eyes had opened. He blinked up at Céline and cooed, and all thoughts of Inès were suddenly gone, because all that mattered was this, right here, right now. “What should we name him?” Céline asked.

“What does Theo say?”

“He is not Theo’s child.” When Michel didn’t say anything, Céline added, “I was thinking perhaps David.”

“He who stood up to Goliath,” Michel whispered, “and came out alive. Céline, it’s perfect. David. Our son, David.”

“Our son, David,” Céline echoed. And finally, as their tiny son fell back asleep, Céline did, too, exhaustion overtaking her at last. She knew that as long as Michel was by her side, she was safe.

? ? ?

Céline awoke some time later to the sound of doors banging open, heavy footsteps on stone stairs, distant screams overhead. “Michel!” she cried, scrambling to her feet as she pulled David closer. “Wake up!”

Michel had dozed off beside her, and now he woke abruptly, panic flashing across his face as he scrambled to his feet and moved in front of Céline, backing her into the cave, as if he could hide her with his body from whatever was coming. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!” Jarred awake by his parents’ hasty movements, or perhaps by their fear, David stirred and began to cry. Céline hastily offered a breast, but he couldn’t latch on, and his screeches grew louder.

“He has to be quiet,” Michel said urgently. “They’ll hear him. They’ll find us!”

“I know,” Céline said. She was crying now, her tears falling on David’s tiny face. “Hush, sweet baby,” she murmured, but her voice shook, and the tremor in it only made him cry harder.

There were shouts in German, heavy approaching footsteps, screams growing closer. It was Inès shrieking, calling out Céline’s name. Céline pressed herself into Michel, the baby wailing between them, and he held her tightly and whispered in her ear, “I will love you forever. Never forget that. I don’t regret a moment of this.”