The World That We Knew(27)
On the day Julien took her to see the city, his hair was slicked back and he wore a pressed white shirt. Lea hadn’t seen any more of the city than she had during her initial walk from the train station. The neighborhood was a maze of tiny streets and alleyways, a maze Julien knew so well, he could be blindfolded and still find his way. He backtracked through the small cobbled streets that took them to a bridge that crossed to the ?le Saint-Louis. They waited until the bridge was empty, then dashed across and quickly took the flight of steps to the river so they could walk along the Seine in the wilting, green heat. There was such a hush it was as though they’d entered a dream. They went on in a trance, as Julien described the places where they walked as they’d been before the war, the crowds on summer days, the ice cream shops, the boats on the river, the fishermen underneath the bridges who caught salmon, carp, and eel.
Lea didn’t know where to begin when he questioned her about herself. What could she say, that she’d witnessed a murder, that there was still blood on her shoes even though Ava had cleaned them so well, that her mother had sent her away and her grandmother was trapped in their apartment with no means of escape, that she kept a secret close to her heart that she could never divulge?
The best she could do was shrug off his interest. It was probably a bad idea to become attached to someone when she had no idea how long she would stay. “I like to keep my thoughts to myself,” she told him.
She gave him a keen glance that made him uncomfortable. Suddenly, he felt awkward, and somewhat in her power. Without his shield of charm, he was vulnerable and easily wounded.
“Maybe you’ll share them with me,” he said.
Lea laughed and made a face. “Please don’t count on it.”
Julien grinned, his self-assurance regained. At least he had made her laugh.
He watched what he said for the rest of the morning, for fear he might ruin everything by trying to rush her into taking him into her confidence. They were both half-dazed as they went along the river, from the heat and from the intensity of their time together; every moment was one they stole, free from the gaze of adults with their never-ending rules. Both were unaware they were not alone. Ava had tagged after them, so quiet not even the birds in the hedges took note as she passed by. She knew it was unsafe in Paris, and she was not the only one who had spied them. Two German soldiers rounded the corner, one elbowing the other when he caught sight of Julien and Lea, now on their way back home, hoping they could sneak over the garden wall before Madame Claire awoke from her nap.
“Halt,” one of the soldiers called. “Komm jetzt her.” Come here now.
They stopped, both thinking the same thing. Could they dare to run?
“Ich gebe euch eine Minute Zeit.”
They had one minute to turn and walk forward. They had been speaking of foolish, childish things. How they would sneak out their windows one evening so Madame wouldn’t know, how Julien might convince his mother to allow him to have a dog, which she had always denied him before. Now their hearts were beating in rhythm, in terror. He could push Lea aside so perhaps she could escape. She could go forward and be arrested for being a foreign Jew so he might flee. They could stand together or run together.
“Schicke nur das M?dchen,” one of the soldiers called, and both men laughed. Just send the girl.
Julien muttered a string of curses under his breath. He felt the way he had when he’d beaten Bernard, a rising fury he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control.
“Don’t say anything,” Lea said in a whisper. She had spoken only French since her arrival, and the German of the soldiers sounded strange to her now.
“Bist du taub?” Julien was now asked. Are you deaf?
One of the soldiers had a grasp on his rifle as he muttered to his friend and began to approach. That was when Ava appeared from a doorway, her black hair falling down her back, her face serene. Lea hadn’t realized how beautiful she was; in the kitchen she looked so plain with her hair tied back, wearing those horrible boots. But now, she was illuminated. Supernatural, Lea thought, her breathing ragged and uneven. A magical creature formed from a different substance. She thought of her mother. I’m still here every time she looks at you. She sees you as I would.
The soldiers held their hands over their eyes to shield themselves from the brightness that filled the street; they tried to make out what caused the brilliance, but they would never know that Ava was accompanied by the light of the three angels sent to watch over Lea. Melahel, and Ornael, and Haiel, the angels of safe travel, patience, and courage.
“Was machst du hier?” one of the soldiers called to her. What are you doing here?
She was here to see to her duty, her burden, her obligation, her child. In this street that is what she felt and what she knew. Hanni had placed her own tears in Ava’s eyes before they had opened to the world. Perhaps that was why at this moment she felt what she should have not felt, a rising panic. She heard the wind and it told her what to do. Do what you must, do the most not the least, make certain, save her at any cost.
“Come close,” she said in the first human language she had learned. Komm n?her.
She was stronger than a hundred horsemen. She would follow her burden to the end of the earth. She glanced at Lea and, with no words, let her know she should run. Lea grabbed Julien’s hand the moment the soldiers’ attention was diverted. They dashed around the corner, over the cobblestones, their hearts pounding, flying along alleyways, throwing open the garden gate, then sinking down behind the greenhouse, their backs against the wall, as they did their best to breathe.