The World That We Knew(47)

The following day, Victor and Marianne both set off, Marianne to once again shepherd children to the border, and Victor to complete some business for the Armée Juive, a secret Jewish militia that he clearly didn’t wish to discuss.

“Why can’t you say where you’re going?” Julien complained, feeling left out, as if he were still a child when he was almost as tall and as strong as his brother.

Victor grabbed him in a rough embrace. “You don’t need to know.”

Privately, he believed he did know, and once Victor had gone, Julien searched the bureau. Sure enough, the rucksack was gone. He worried about his brother, driving like a madman with a bag full of explosives, but he envied him as well.

“Time for you to get to work,” Monsieur Félix told him as he was moping around.

Julien was taught to do chores on the farm and took a liking to the little goat, Bluebell, who followed him around. He wasn’t yet allowed to collect the honeycombs from the beehives.

“For that you need an experienced beekeeper,” Félix told him. “You’re not ready.”

But Julien had the sort of fearlessness a person needed to tend bees, and soon he’d convinced Monsieur Félix to let him try his hand. As they worked, Félix explained what happened here at the farm. Identity documents would arrive with a man who traveled from town to town, the papers hidden in the frame of his bicycle. He was a postman, therefore no one thought to stop him as he made his rounds through the mountains. Monsieur Félix was to give the documents to Marianne to use in transporting children across the border.

The postman came, a quiet, skinny fellow who had no problem bicycling throughout this rough terrain. Julien saw him give Monsieur Félix an envelope before he rode on. Félix disappeared into the dusk. When Julien went outside to look for him, he was coming back from the barn. He asked about the papers, but the old man shrugged.

“Hidden away so no one would ever find them. I’m smarter than I look. The Germans could send a thousand soldiers, and search for a thousand days, they still wouldn’t find them.”

“Maybe you should tell me, in case you’re not here and Marianne needs them.”

“I’ll always be here.” The old man continued to limp after his encounter with the Germans, still he was fast, and Julien had to struggle to keep up with him when they went to collect the chickens, who were let free during the day. “Anyway,” he went on as they walked, “I couldn’t tell you. They could torture it out of you, but with me it’s different. I’ll never talk. I’ve done this transaction thirty-three times, which means thirty-three souls are alive.” He slapped Julien on the back. “Now that you’re my helper, the next soul who is saved can be yours.”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


THE MESSAGE




ARDèCHE, SEPTEMBER 1942

VICTOR ARRIVED AT THE SAFE house one blue evening, cutting his headlights before turning off the road. There were fields of white wildflowers that glowed in the dark. He had been gone for several months, working with the Armée Juive. When he and Marianne were together, he felt like a carefree boy, helping her father with chores, sneaking up to her room when the old man was safely asleep, not thinking of anything more than his bare skin against hers. But as soon as he left the farm he was someone else entirely, and a darkness lingered inside him. He had been party to acts he did not wish to discuss or even think about. Now he had returned to the house in the woods because he was in need of a partner.

He had brought a satchel of food and supplies from the Félix farm, and after he greeted his old cohorts, he set to helping with dinner. Watching Marianne, he had learned how to cook, and he prepared a vegetable stew that was surprisingly tasty. In the past weeks it had become clear that Arno was still reeling from the bombing that had taken his friend’s life. It was decided it was best for him to stay and help guard Bettina and the forgery operation. It was Ettie who would be Victor’s partner, and after dinner they walked out toward the little silver river to talk privately.

“I hear you can catch a fish in your hands,” Victor said, amused. She was so slight and fierce he thought of her as a wild little sister.

“I’m even better with a gun,” Ettie informed him.

“I’m not surprised. So tonight we move on from here.”

Ettie had been waiting for this, the chance to fight, but she felt a tug inside her. She had grown close to Bettina, and it was difficult to say goodbye, and she worried about Arno, who suffered from nightmares and often gave them a scare when he disappeared into the woods and couldn’t be found. Her feelings must have shown in her face, and Victor offered to get her belongings and say her goodbyes while she waited in the car.

“It’s fine,” Ettie said. “I have nothing and there’s no need to say goodbye.”

Victor shrugged; there she was, the fierce girl, her decision clearly made. Without a word to the others, they got into the car. Ettie was always a surprise, so much tougher than she looked. Being with her in the car, as she silently looked out the window, made him long for Marianne, who was so kindhearted and gentle that even when she was angry with him for some foolish thing he’d said or done, he felt her deep affection and love.

They drove for quite a while, over the mountains, on steep narrow roads framed by thornbushes that hit against the car. After more than an hour they arrived at a small stone chateau painted a pale pink, with windows that were framed by dark green shutters. It was past twilight now and darkness was settling down into the woods. The trees were crisscrossed by vines, and something smelled sweet, a wildflower Ettie didn’t recognize as she followed Victor along the path. There was a side entrance, a black iron door decorated with filigree. The house belonged to a doctor, and this path was the route his patients took to his office during the day. In the evening, it was shadowy, and a chestnut tree blocked the entryway from view. Safe, Ettie thought. This is a safe house.