The World That We Knew(30)

Ettie felt free whenever she was away from the café. She often took long walks so she could practice her French with no one near to overhear her mistakes. The night was cold, and she hadn’t a coat, so she walked quickly, quicker still when she heard someone behind her. The more speedily she walked, the closer they followed. She’d left her knife in her cot and was defenseless. She had the urge to run, but on this evening she was Nicole, her alter ego, a French girl who had a perfect right to walk the streets of Vienne, who was as good as anyone, who had no fear of strange men, who had faith and said her prayers, who was convinced that God was looking after her and was there to protect her.

She turned to face her follower. They were stopped on a dark corner. He was more a boy than a man, tall and lanky, and she only saw a glimpse of his large, handsome features. He had a strong physique, although his shoulders were hunched, as though he were deep in thought and didn’t wish to be disturbed. He slipped his arm through hers and softly said, “Just keep walking.”

To anyone watching, they appeared to be a couple taking a stroll after dinner. They were similar in age and demeanor. They didn’t speak, but that was not so unusual. Couples often had little to say at the end of the day, yet were happy enough to be together in silence. They got into a car that had been parked not far from the church. The key was hidden under the seat. The car had been stolen in Nice and driven here to use until the time came to ditch it and find another.

“Are you old enough to drive?” Ettie had always been one to challenge boys her age.

“I’m the best driver you’ll ever meet.” He took out a blindfold, pleased to have the upper hand when he saw the shock on her face. “It’s better for you not to know where we’re going. Then you can’t divulge the address.”

Ettie felt a sort of terror slide under her skin, yet she didn’t flinch when he blindfolded her. She thought of the Morning Star, Esther, and how she had rescued a nation when no man could have done so, and as she imagined this heroine, Ettie’s nerves died down. In the car the young man told her about the underground movement of young Jews who resisted in every way they could, trying to rescue the next generation. They had learned to make explosive devices, most often pipe bombs that would stop German convoys or trains. When they could, they procured papers for families or children, whom they transported to passeurs, local people who were lifelong residents of the small villages who knew this wild, mountainous countryside, and could see Jewish refugees to the border. The organization was divided into small groups, cells that worked together, who often didn’t know the names or locations of the other cells so they would have less information, for the good of all.

“I deliver you, and then, after they train you, if you’re any good, you’ll be my partner,” the young man said.

“Good at what?”

“What do you think?” her companion said. “You went to the priest.”

“I’d like to destroy the people who killed my sister.”

“How do you plan to do that?” he asked.

She had no idea. A knife in her hands would do little.

When she didn’t answer he said, “We’ll show you.”

She turned her head so he would not see that beneath her blindfold she was crying, tears streaming down her face. Whatever she did could never bring her sister back. Perhaps the boy felt for her. “I’m Victor,” he told her despite the rule to keep his identity secret. “From Paris.”

“I’m called Nicole here,” she said. “My family called me Ettie.”

They drove for quite some time, Ettie in the passenger seat as they barreled down the roads at a high speed. She couldn’t see through the blindfold, but she knew they were headed into the countryside, for the roads were now bumpy and steep. They stopped once and the back door was wrenched open. A man got in and sank heavily into the backseat. He stank of cigarette smoke and he brought the cold inside with him. Ettie felt a wave of panic. She didn’t like the idea of being outnumbered. The driver must have sensed her fear.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “He’s one of us.”

So that was it, she was one of them now, and she didn’t even know who they were. They were simply fools the priest had sent for her, who she hoped knew how to do battle. They drove for perhaps an hour. She learned that the fellow in the backseat was Claude. At last the car turned down a rutted road filled with puddles the tires splashed through, coming to a stop in a half-cleared spot in the woods where the parked car would not be seen. Victor got out and came around to help Ettie from the passenger seat. When he took off her blindfold, she saw they had come to a small abandoned house. They walked past it, into the woods. It was nearly midnight now. Ettie knew the café owner would find her empty cot, and the knife she kept there, and curse her. Let him. She was never going back. She had leapt from a cliff and now all she could do was wait to see where she fell.

There were two more young men, and a young woman. Jean and Arno and Bettina. They greeted her, and gave her supper, then asked what she knew about fighting. She knew how to hate, nothing more, so she shrugged. The others were not impressed.

“She’ll be fine,” Victor said. “All she needs is a teacher.”

They laughed because Bettina had been an art teacher in Paris.

“If you’re ready, so am I,” Bettina said.