The Room on Rue Amélie(58)

I must stop being a pessimist, Ruby reminded herself as she walked down the rue Amélie. Surely the Dachers will be back soon. But she’d been thinking all day about Laure’s reports of the Vel’ d’Hiv. Ten, twenty, thirty thousand people packed into the tiny stadium; it was horrific. And a government that would preside over that kind of inhumanity wasn’t the type that would make exceptions for people who didn’t really belong there. None of them belonged there, but that didn’t seem to be stopping anyone.

Ruby turned the key to her apartment door and entered quietly. She almost screamed when a large figure emerged from the shadows and rushed toward her.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Samuel said in his deep, Boston-accented voice as Ruby recoiled, clutching her chest.

“Samuel! You scared the daylights out of me!” As Ruby’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that he was holding the same knife he’d been clutching in the hall closet the night before.

“I swore I would protect the girl,” he said weakly. “She’s in the bedroom. She’s been crying a lot today. I couldn’t comfort her without knowing any French. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure it helped just to know you were here.”

“Did you find out anything about her parents?”

She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Nothing. But the news in general isn’t good.”

“I was afraid of that.” He jerked his head toward the bedroom. “Why don’t you go talk to her? I’ll listen for anything suspicious in the hall. When you’re done, I’ll head back to the closet.”

Ruby nodded. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. If I’d been on the streets last night, I surely would have been rounded up too.”

Tomorrow, Ruby would do more to find out what she could about Charlotte’s parents. But for now, all she could do was try to bring a bit of comfort to a girl who was far too wise to be soothed by empty promises of a future Ruby couldn’t guarantee.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


July 1942

By Sunday, Charlotte knew her parents wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon.

“They’ve already been sent to Drancy,” Ruby told her gently that morning. “Laure has spoken with a few people who saw them just yesterday. They’re in decent spirits, sweetheart.”

Charlotte nodded, trying hard not to cry. She wanted Ruby to confide things like this in her; and she was afraid that if she broke down, Ruby would revert to treating her like a child. “Where will they go from Drancy?”

Ruby hesitated. “There’s still a chance they’ll be released. But I don’t want to get your hopes up. Realistically, they may be headed east, to a work camp.”

“A work camp,” Charlotte repeated flatly.

“Your parents are both healthy. It will be difficult for them, but there’s every reason to expect that they’ll be fine.”

But nothing was fine anymore, and Charlotte was certain Ruby knew that as well as she did. The world had changed overnight.

When Ruby had explained the idea of drawing up false papers to identify her as Ruby’s adopted daughter, Charlotte had begun to cry. Ruby had pulled the girl into her arms, explaining over and over again that it was only a ruse, that it was just to protect her until her parents came home, which would surely be soon. But Ruby had taken it wrong—that wasn’t what Charlotte was crying about. She was sobbing because she knew it was a dire measure, one that Ruby wouldn’t take unless she truly believed Charlotte was here to stay. And there was a part of her that was crying because she knew how lucky she was to have found a home—even under such strange and terrible circumstances—with the bravest woman she’d ever known.

“I won’t be replacing your parents,” Ruby had said firmly as she embraced Charlotte. “Not at all. I would never try to do that. But from now on, Charlotte, I hope you know I’m your family too.”

“But won’t I be putting you at risk by staying?”

“No.” Ruby’s answer had been firm.

“What about the escape line? Can I help you with it now?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t want you involved.”

“But—”

“No, Charlotte. It’s too dangerous.”

Samuel had departed a day earlier, leaving just past dawn with Laure. And Ruby had left at noon for a meeting with some of the others on the escape line, leaving Charlotte at home by herself for the first time since the roundups.

She was walking around the apartment in a daze, trying to imagine how this place could ever feel like home, when there was a knock at the door. She froze. What if it was the police? Then again, perhaps it was a pilot seeking refuge. Maybe she could prove to Ruby that she was capable of helping after all. She tiptoed across the room and peered through the peephole.

She saw a boy around her age, maybe a year or two older, standing in the hall. He had black hair and wore ragged clothes, and despite the fact that his face looked young, he had the broad shoulders of a man a decade older.

Charlotte took a step back, unsure of what to do. He didn’t look like he could be working with the police, but he wasn’t a pilot either; he appeared too young—and too comfortable in his grimy outfit. She was about to turn away when he knocked again.