The Room on Rue Amélie(52)
“Well then, the only thing that has changed is what you’re wearing. Am I correct?”
Charlotte glanced down at the yellow star. “Yes. But—”
“But nothing,” Ruby interrupted firmly. “You should be proud of who you are, what you are. You don’t think I stick out here every day because of my terrible French accent? I know people are mocking me.”
Charlotte allowed herself a tiny smile. Ruby’s accent was pretty awful, though her vocabulary was nearly perfect. “Yes,” she said after a long pause, “but no one spits at you in the streets for being American.”
Ruby put an arm around her and squeezed hard. “Charlotte, you know as well as I do that it’s what’s inside a person that counts. And sometimes, you have to walk through fire in order to find your true self. Maybe this is your fire.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that sometimes, we only discover our calling in life when things are darkest.” Ruby grasped Charlotte’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Use this experience to make you stronger.”
Charlotte stared at her lap for a long time as she thought about what Ruby was saying. She knew the advice was sound, but taking it was easier said than done. Finally, she looked up. “I think it’s bothering my father very much too.”
Ruby’s expression softened. “That’s very good of you to worry about him, Charlotte. But your papa’s a very religious man, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then trust that he will find solace in that. That’s one thing faith is especially good for: giving us strength in times of crisis.”
“How do you know?” Charlotte didn’t mean to sound rude. “You’re not Jewish.”
“No, I’m Catholic. And in the end, Catholicism isn’t really so different. Believing in God is at the core of our faith, just like yours, and as things have gotten more difficult for me, Charlotte, I’ve learned to pray harder. It’s brought me comfort.”
“How? Prayers are just words.”
“But they’re words that remind us that there’s something out there greater than ourselves. And they’re words that lead us to be the best versions of ourselves.”
Charlotte looked at Ruby for a long time before nodding. “Okay.”
Ruby pulled the girl into a hug. “Things are always darkest before the dawn, my friend.”
“I know.” But what Charlotte didn’t say was that sometimes, the dawn never came at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
July 1942
The pilot who came to Ruby’s door in mid-July, a twenty-three-year-old American from Boston named Samuel Sullivan, arrived after the curfew, which Ruby knew was dangerous. The French police had been cracking down on violators, and if Samuel had been picked up near her apartment, he might very well have given her away. Ruby welcomed him anyhow and made a mental note to speak with Aubert about it later. They’d taken to meeting every two weeks in the back of an abandoned dance studio on the rue d’Estrées, and sometimes, Laure would join them. Ruby had never asked her about the journey south with Thomas because she knew the rules; they weren’t to speak of the pilots after they’d departed. Ever. But she was still envious of the time the beautiful raven-haired guide had spent with the kind, charming pilot. Ruby had assumed at the beginning that she would forget about him as the months went on, but he was still the first thing on her mind each day when she awoke.
“Something’s going on out there tonight, you know,” Samuel said after Ruby had given him some bread, cheese, water, and fresh clothes.
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure, honestly. But there’s a lot of police activity on the streets. You don’t think they’re gearing up for a raid, do you?”
Ruby felt a ripple of fear. “Where were they? Only in this neighborhood?”
“No, miss. It’s what took me so long. There were police out all across Paris tonight.”
“German?”
“French, I think.”
“Hmm.” What Samuel was describing sounded unusual. After all, the French police rarely did things on their own; they were the Germans’ puppets. If they were out in force, there was no question that the Germans were behind it. But was Samuel exaggerating? Ruby didn’t know him at all, so it was impossible to tell. “I’m sure things are fine,” she said after a long pause. “None of them spotted you, did they?”
“No. I was very careful.”
“Good. Now, let’s get you settled for the night, shall we? I’ll come get you in the morning once the building is quiet, and we can talk about the next step.”
“It’s very kind of you to help me.”
“It’s not kindness. It’s my duty.” It had become her line lately, and she meant it. She really wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. In fact, if anything, she feared her role on the line was selfish, for it filled her days so she didn’t have time to worry about whether Thomas was still alive. Nor did she have time to wonder why she cared so much.
She stepped outside her front door, listening to the silence of the building. When she was sure the coast was clear, she hurried Samuel into the hall closet, which she had filled with freshly laundered blankets just that afternoon. He’d be comfortable there for the night.