The Room on Rue Amélie(95)
Without a watch, and without guards barking orders about where she needed to be, it was impossible to keep track of time, so it might have been thirty minutes later, or it might have been ninety, but eventually, Ruby saw a farmhouse on a hill just off the road a quarter mile ahead, backlit by the glow of the moon. She picked up her pace, her mind spinning. It was late; she couldn’t just knock and ask for refuge, could she? Besides, what if the people who lived there called the authorities? But there was a small barn next to the main house, and Ruby reasoned that at the very least, she could sleep for a few hours in the hay before moving on prior to daybreak.
But as she approached a few minutes later, walking across what appeared to be a cornfield, the front door of the house opened, and a man emerged, holding a lantern. “Wer ist da?” he called into the night. Ruby cowered in the darkness, hoping he wouldn’t see her, but her clothing must have caught the moonlight, for a moment later, he came striding directly toward her, barking a string of threats. Or she thought they were threats, anyhow; they sounded just like the tirades the guards went on at Ravensbrück just before they pulled prisoners out of line to beat them.
Ruby considered running, but she was so weak, and she knew the man would overtake her quickly. So she stumbled backward a few steps and then began to cry, her hands raised. “I mean no harm!” she said in English, switching to German to add, “Ich werde dich nicht verletzen,” which she thought meant roughly the same thing.
And then, before she could say another word, the man was standing a foot away, shining his lantern in her eyes. She shielded her face from the light.
He asked her something in German, and although she couldn’t understand the words, she realized he sounded less aggressive now. He had a head of bushy red hair and a full beard and mustache to match, and he was huge—easily more than six feet tall with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He asked her another question in German, more gently this time, and she answered in English, “I don’t speak German,” and then repeated the same words in French.
The man stared at her for a moment more before replying. “You speak French?” he asked in French.
She blinked, weak with relief, and replied in French, “Yes. I live in France. You speak French too?”
“Yes. We are not so far from the French border here.” He paused and looked her up and down. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I’m . . .” She trailed off, unsure of how to answer. What if he was in collusion with the Nazis?
“Don’t worry,” he said a moment later, as if reading her mind. His tone was gentle, and there was something about him that reminded her of Herr Hartmann. “I will not hurt you. Are you running from the Nazis?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You will come inside, then. You must rest. I think perhaps you have come a very long way.”
“Yes.” But she hesitated, not sure if she could trust him.
“Come.” He placed his hand on her arm. The motion was gentle, supportive. “My name is Fritz. My wife is just inside.”
Ruby finally relented, letting the farmer lead her toward the house.
Inside, she found a fire blazing in the hearth and a woman about her age with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes cutting a piece of meat in the kitchen. The woman turned as she entered and said something in German, but Fritz spoke quickly, and the woman changed effortlessly to French.
“You are an escapee, no?” the woman asked, and Ruby glanced at the man and then back at the woman. Was this a trap after all? But before she could reply, the woman added, “Don’t be frightened. We want to help you. We do not believe in the same things the Nazis believe in.” The woman exchanged looks with her husband. “We are, how do you say, fighters for freedom.”
Ruby blinked back unexpected tears. She didn’t know whether the woman was telling the truth, but her instinct was to believe the words.
“And you, the Nazis have done much to hurt you?” the woman asked.
Ruby nodded, wordless.
The woman’s eyes filled. “We are so very sorry. Please, have some food, and get some rest here. We will figure out tomorrow how to help get you to safety.”
“Why?” Ruby whispered. “Why would you help me?”
“Because no one deserves what has happened to you. Now come. Sit. Eat. Tonight, you worry about nothing.”
AFTER FEEDING RUBY A SMALL dinner of sausage, bread, and ale, Fritz’s wife, who introduced herself as Eva, showed Ruby to a small bedroom that looked as if it had belonged to a child. Ruby awoke some time later with a sharp pain in her abdomen. When she blinked into the unexpected daylight, she realized Eva was there beside her, holding her hand.
“You are pregnant?” the woman asked gently, and Ruby struggled to sit up. Doing that made her hurt even more, and her heart thudded. What had she gotten herself into by coming here?
“Why do you say that?” Ruby wanted to get up, to run away, but the sharp pain in her abdomen was back, and she cried out, inadvertently squeezing Eva’s hand. The woman held tight to her.
“Because you are in labor,” Eva said gently. “The baby is coming now.”
Ruby blinked up at her. “No. No, that cannot be. I must keep the baby inside.” Images of her tiny dead son in the Dachers’ apartment flooded back, and she was terrified. The urge to protect the child in her womb was the only thing that had gotten her this far. If she failed now too, how would she go on? What was there to live for?