The Baker's Secret(78)

Captain Schwartz studied them before turning to his men. “You fellas seeing this?” The soldiers all nodded.

Emma noticed Monkey Boy watching her eat, and gave him her tin of food. She took a long drink of water, then handed the jug to Mémé. “You are outside of this small farming and fishing village, here,” she told the captain, pointing with her good hand at a spot on the paper. “Five kilometers from Longues-sur-Mer.”

“Then why did I see a sign that said we were—what, eight miles from Honfleur and five from Caen? My map says they must be a good twenty miles apart.”

“I don’t know miles,” she answered. “But Caen to Honfleur is more than sixty kilometers.”

He swatted the map with his hand. “Makes no damn sense.”

Emma drew herself up. “Your papers are correct, sir. The signs are a lie.”

The pleasure it gave her to say that sentence surged through Emma like a blush. It felt as if she were reclaiming her native countryside, the unimpeachable jurisdiction of her hometown.

“I can tell you more than this,” she continued. “I have lived here all of my life. I know where their machine guns are located, the mortar installations. I know their fuel depot, where the barrels are stacked three and four high.”

“I’m listening,” he replied, and indeed all of the men were leaning closer.

“They travel the main roads,” Emma said. “But I can show you shortcuts they know nothing about. They possess many weapons and no mercy, so you must not underestimate them. But they are also vain and self-important, and therefore vulnerable.”

Captain Schwartz gave her a long appraising look. “Are you some kind of spy? Or with the Resistance?”

“I am a survivor. Who helps others to survive.”

He nodded. “What is your name?”

“Emmanuelle.”

“I can see what they did to you, Emmanuelle.” He gestured at her face. “Maybe you are too smart for them?”

She stood straight, shoulders back. “Let us all hope so.”

He smiled. “You are one plucky gal.”

“Very,” Mémé growled, and when they turned to look at her she glared back as if she might charge at any moment.

The captain began giving orders, directing his men one way or another. As they organized, he turned back to Emma.

“We’re going to establish a perimeter east and west on the town road, and in the pucker brush by the well over there.” He pointed past the barnyard door. “When we get back, I’m hoping you could identify those forces you described on these maps, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Mémé pointed at the paratrooper in the wagon. “Him?”

Captain Schwartz scratched his jaw. “Look, we don’t have a medic among us, or a radio to call for one. We’ll help you get him set up. After that, I don’t know. I have orders. If you could stabilize this soldier for the time being . . .”

They did, Monkey Boy hovering as they carried Corporal Bronsky inside and laid him on Mémé’s couch. The paratrooper kept thanking everyone, but he grimaced when anyone moved him. As soon as he was settled, Bronsky closed his eyes. Monkey Boy sat by the wounded corporal, taking his hand. And did not leave his side till morning.

Emma and Mémé went back to the barnyard, watching as the soldiers divided in groups.

“We will be back in fifteen minutes,” Captain Schwartz told Emma. “And not sixteen.”

He gave the command, and one group headed up the town road, the lane by which the Kommandant and his aide always arrived, another marched down the road in the other direction, from which the convoys typically came, and the third struck out past the eastern well and down the hedgerow beyond. In a few seconds, they were all swallowed by dusk.

“They came,” Emma said.

Mémé drew near and they fell into each other’s arms, embracing as if one of them had spent a year at sea.



Thalheim’s timing could not have been luckier, to find them that way. Three minutes earlier or twelve minutes later, and Captain Schwartz’s men would have welcomed him. As he slunk through the barnyard door and hugged the wall like a shadow, Emma thought for a moment that the Goat was still alive.

But when he stepped out of the darkness, she eased Mémé aside. “Dear one, leave me with him.”

Instead her grandmother moved between them, raising her fists. Thalheim hesitated, his helmet gone and uniform untucked, then clasped his hands as if in prayer.

“Hide me,” he said. “Conceal me in the hayloft. Please.”

Mémé gave one cold laugh and sneered. Emma shook her head as if to clear it. “You are asking us for help? After all you have done?”

“I was following orders.”

“Look at my face.” She stuck out her chin. “Was this an order?”

“I lost control. And don’t say you didn’t provoke me.”

Emma snorted. “You said you were going to kill me.”

“A threat only. You are so insolent. Any other officer—”

“You promised to rape me.”

“I did not want your body, I wanted your obedience.” He snuffled. “I could not have done it anyway. I am a virgin.”