“Is the baby moving now?” Michel asked. She nodded, and he smiled, his whole face lighting up, as he reached tentatively for her belly.
“Sweet baby,” she murmured, “that’s your papa. Can you feel him?”
Michel leaned in and whispered to her womb, “I love you already, and I have not even met you yet, my child.”
When the baby kicked once, sharply, hard enough that Michel could surely feel it, the rush of love Céline felt was enormous. Michel was smiling in disbelief at her belly, his hand still cradling it, his lips still inches away, and she had a fleeting, beautiful vision of a future for the three of them—Michel, the baby, and her. Though the circumstances were terrible, this was what was meant to be.
When Michel finally pulled away, his expression was serious. “Darling, I have news.”
All at once, the clear image of the future seemed to disappear. “What is it?”
“I must go tonight to Épernay.”
“But it’s already two in the morning.”
“Yes. There is something planned for dawn. I will not be back until late tomorrow morning, and I need you to keep Theo away from the caves so he is not aware of my absence. I don’t think Inès will be home until much later, so she should not be a problem.”
“What are you doing, Michel?” Fear rippled through her as the baby went still, perhaps sensing her apprehension.
“It is better that you do not know.”
“But you’ve always trusted me to help.”
“This is not about trust, my love.” He hesitated. “In case things go wrong, I want you to be able to deny knowing anything.”
“Michel, please, don’t do this.” She knew what she was asking was unfair, but the closer she got to the baby’s arrival, the more she selfishly wanted to keep them all safe. Of course they both continued to work with Madame Gaudin, but moving arms on their own property felt somehow different than venturing out in the dead of night, looking for trouble. “Please, think of me. Think of the baby.”
“But I am. There is word that the authorities are planning another round of Jewish arrests. You’re not in danger yet—it’s foreign-born Jews again, the ones they missed last time. We are hoping that by creating a, er, problem for them, we will distract them long enough to get a few more people to safety.”
“What are you planning?” Céline asked. She thought of the rifles that he had delivered to Madame Gaudin just last week. “Please, Michel, don’t do anything that you’ll regret.”
His smile was exhausted. “You know it is too late for that.”
Céline looked away. “Then just come home to me safely.”
Michel leaned in and kissed her then, slowly, tenderly. “My Céline,” he said. “All I want is the chance to come home to you for the rest of my life.”
• • •
Céline couldn’t sleep after bidding Michel goodbye, and she was in the kitchen before dawn, boiling water for ersatz coffee. The sun had just come up when she saw through the kitchen window a vehicle at the end of the lane, driving toward the main house. Her heart leapt to her throat before she recognized Edith’s car. She glanced at the clock. It was barely eight.
She watched as the car pulled up, but Edith didn’t drive away when Inès went inside the house. After a few minutes, Inès reemerged, glanced around, and hurried down the drive toward Céline’s cottage. Céline’s mind spun. Should she claim ignorance about Michel’s absence? Or try to come up with an excuse to explain it?
By the time Inès knocked on her front door, Céline had pasted on a smile. “Good morning!” she chirped, perhaps too cheerfully. “What brings you back so early?”
“Oh. I just wanted to get home.” Inès avoided her gaze. “Is Theo around? I can’t find Michel.”
“Actually, Theo is still asleep.”
Inès checked her watch. “My goodness, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. But it seems strange that Michel is not home.”
“He had to go meet with a vigneron,” Céline blurted out.
“So early? And in January?”
Of course it had been a silly excuse; very little happened in the vineyards when the vines were under a veil of ice. “I’m not sure what it was about, but it seemed important.”
Inès’s eyebrows drew together. “Well, which vigneron was he going to meet? Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No, I don’t know.” Céline expected Inès to shrug and return to her own house then, but the woman lingered in her doorway, biting her lip, and finally, Céline said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Inès didn’t answer right away. “Can I trust you, Céline? I mean, really, really trust you?”
“Why yes, of course,” Céline answered before she could think of the obvious response: that she wasn’t trustworthy at all; she was a monster who slept with other people’s husbands.
“I know you are aware, too, of Michel’s, um, work in the cellars,” Inès said.
Céline swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said carefully. “But Theo is not.”
“I know. That’s why I am hoping you can help me,” Inès said, and for the first time, Céline realized the other woman was nervous, jittery.
“What is it, Inès? Has something happened?”
“I need help hiding something.”
“What do you mean?”
Inès looked at her for a long time. “Please, come with me.”
Puzzled, Céline followed Inès to Edith’s car, which still sat idling in front of the main house. As they drew closer, Céline was surprised to see two people sitting in the back seat, their heads ducked low. Edith was staring at Céline with the expression of a rabbit caught in the headlights. She rolled down her window.
“Inès,” Edith said, her voice tight, “you said you were going to get Michel.”
“He is not here,” Inès said, and Edith’s eyes flicked once more to Céline. “But Céline will help us. Michel trusts her, and so do I.”
This time, Céline could not resist flinching, but she kept her eyes evenly on Edith’s face. “Yes. You can trust me.” She glanced once more at the two figures in the back, a dark-haired man and a dark-haired woman, both with their heads still bent as if avoiding her gaze could make them invisible. Whatever this was, it was dangerous.
Edith’s expression softened, and she glanced at Céline’s belly. “It is just that I do not want to get you involved.”
“I’m already involved,” Céline said pointedly, and though she hadn’t explicitly admitted to working with Michel, Edith seemed to understand.
“Samuel, Rachel, it is all right,” Edith said, and Céline watched as the two figures in the back seat finally straightened. They were younger than she expected, maybe in their early twenties, and the woman looked frightened, while the man looked exhausted.
“Hello,” said the man.
“Hello.” Then, remembering that Theo could awaken at any time, Céline glanced back at Edith. “I’m sorry, but my husband will awaken soon, and it’s better that he doesn’t see you. How can I help?”
All at once, Edith looked worried again. “This is Samuel Cohn, and his sister, Rachel. They’re Jewish, and the Germans are after them. They just need a place to hide for a night or two before we can connect them with an escape line. I tried desperately to find another place, but it seems we are entirely out of options. This is absolutely our last resort.” She cast a look at Inès, her mouth set in a thin line, and Céline wondered what had happened between the two friends. Edith looked back at Céline as Inès turned away, blushing. “If your husband can’t be trusted, though . . .”
“Don’t worry about that,” Céline said. “There are many things here he has no idea about.” She felt a surge of guilt. “It is just that we need to move quickly.”
Edith considered this. “All right. Where shall we put them?”
“There’s a room in our cellars that’s nearly impossible to find.”
“The cave where we’ve hidden the wine?” Inès asked.
“No, not that one. Theo knows about it, remember? We can’t hide the Cohns anywhere that he might stumble upon them. There’s another hidden cave, too, farther back.”
Inès looked confused, and Céline realized too late that she was about to give away one of Michel’s secrets, the small room within a cave down several twisting halls where he sometimes met with other résistants—and where he even occasionally rendezvoused with Céline. But there was no time to worry about that; they needed to get the Cohns belowground before Theo saw what they were doing.
“Very well. There’s an entrance to the cellars through our house,” Inès said. “We’ll just need to move the armoire. Come on.”
Edith and the Cohns tumbled out of the car. “Thank you,” Rachel whispered, touching Céline’s hand briefly as they all headed inside, and Céline forced a smile at the other woman. She glanced once more down the drive to her own cottage, but there were no lights on inside, no sign that Theo had seen anything.
Inside the house, Edith helped Inès push the armoire aside while Céline grabbed a lamp, and then the five of them made their way quickly down the narrow stone steps. Céline led them through the maze of chalky tunnels in silence until they reached the cave that concealed the small room behind the brick wall.
“How did you know about this place?” Inès asked her as the Cohns and Edith ducked inside, and Céline averted her gaze before shrugging.
“I have helped Michel hide some things here,” she said.
“I wish he had trusted me,” Inès muttered.
“He does trust you,” Céline said quickly, but as she and Inès stared at each other in silence, she had the feeling they both knew the words were a lie.
“This place is incredible,” Edith said.
“Michel put it in before the Occupation,” Céline said. “Just in case.”
“But when?” Inès asked, an edge to her voice. “We were all here with him, helping him to prepare.”
“I don’t know,” Céline lied, aware that this wasn’t the time to point out that Inès had spent much of the first half of 1940 working on her hair and makeup, rather than readying the Maison Chauveau for what to Céline had seemed inevitable.
“Well,” Inès said, turning to the Cohns, “as you can see, you will be safe here until Edith can move you.”
“Thank you,” Samuel said, looking Inès in the eye before turning to nod at Edith, and then, finally, Céline. “Truly. I don’t know how to tell you how much this means. I know you’re all putting yourselves in harm’s way for us. I promise, we will repay you someday.”
“That’s not necessary,” Edith said.
“We must stand up to the Germans,” Inès said with a confidence Céline had never heard before from her.
On the way out of the caves, after promising the Cohns they would be back later in the day to bring them some food, Inès took Céline’s hand and squeezed it once. Edith walked ahead of them, and Céline had the strangest sense that she seemed angry.
“Thank you,” Inès whispered to Céline. “I didn’t mean to involve you. I had assumed Michel would be here.”
“It’s no problem.” Céline pulled her hand away. “I wanted to help. But tell me, how have you suddenly become involved with hiding people?” She knew the words sounded accusatory, but she couldn’t reconcile the Inès she’d always known with this new woman who had arrived today with a show of impassioned heroics. It made her uneasy.
“The Cohns came to Edith while I was visiting her. Edith didn’t want to send them here, but she had no other options.” Inès cleared her throat. “I persuaded her it would be all right.”
“Oh.” Céline was still confused. Since when was Edith assisting fleeing Jews? It all made Céline feel disoriented, and despite herself, she wondered at Inès’s motives. Of course, it was clear Inès really wanted to help the Cohns, but why? So she could feel involved in something important? So she could prove to Michel that she was on his side after so many months of flitting to and from Reims like she didn’t have a care in the world?
But maybe that wasn’t it at all. Céline felt a surge of guilt for her rush to judgment. Maybe the war had really made Inès a better person, and Céline hadn’t noticed the transformation.
“Céline,” Edith said a few minutes later, after Inès and Céline had walked her to her car. “I’m very sorry to bring this situation to your door. It isn’t fair of us to put you at additional risk. We simply didn’t have another option.”
“Edith, I’m very grateful to you for helping people like the Cohns,” she said carefully. “And I want to help, too. I know Michel will feel the same way.”
Edith gave her a strange look, and Céline realized that the last line should have been Inès’s—not hers. But Edith kissed her on both cheeks anyhow and bid her adieu before embracing Inès with a whispered, worried thank-you. And then she was gone, leaving Céline alone with Inès, wrapped in a web of secrets that grew more complicated by the day.
twenty-three
JUNE 2019
LIV
The ride to the Maison Chauveau took twenty-five minutes, first on a motorway out of Reims, and then on a narrow country road that led through small towns dotted with vineyards.
The champagne house itself sat on a small hill at the edge of Ville-Dommange, a tiny village whose sign welcomed visitors to a “premier cru” winemaking region. The narrow streets were peppered with cozy cottages and tiny gardens, and the town itself was surrounded by long, neat rows of vines that seemed to disappear into the horizon. At the gates of the Maison Chauveau, which featured the letter C forged in ironwork script, Grandma Edith took care of paying the driver, while Liv glanced around. Though there were houses in sight far down the lane, the Maison Chauveau was isolated, surrounded in front by a small, neatly tended vineyard plot, and in back by a much larger vineyard that stretched all the way down the hill.
“Well, come on, then,” Grandma Edith said, gesturing to Liv as the car drove away. “I suppose we should get this over with.”
Liv followed her up the stone drive to a pair of dark, glossy double doors, which her grandmother pushed open like she’d been there a thousand times before. Inside, there was a small gift shop with a tasting bar attached. A young couple sat sipping champagne, their heads bent close together as they whispered to each other.
“Are you okay?” she asked Grandma Edith. The older woman had begun wandering around the room as if in a trance, and Liv wondered what she was thinking about, what she was seeing in the past. Had she spent time here with her friend Inès, the one who had died during the war?
“What did you say?” Grandma Edith asked, finally turning to Liv and blinking a few times, as if she hardly recognized her granddaughter.
“I was just asking if you’re all right. Maybe we should sit down for a little while.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Grandma Edith glided away, toward an old stone fireplace in the corner, and Liv watched with concern as she reached out, her hand shaking, to touch the mantel. “This used to be . . .” she whispered, her voice trailing off.
Liv started after her, but then she felt her cell phone vibrating in her purse. She pulled it out, checked the screen, and felt her heartbeat accelerate. With one last concerned glance at Grandma Edith, Liv answered. “Julien?”
“Liv.” His voice was deep, certain. “I’m sorry I missed your earlier call. I was in a meeting.”
“I thought you were ignoring me.”
“No, Liv, never. I would not do that.”
Of course he wouldn’t. She realized that now, that he wouldn’t leave her hanging. “Julien, I wanted to apologize. I thought that your wife was still alive, and—”
“Liv,” he interrupted, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for a dismissal. “The misunderstanding was my fault. I assumed your grandmother had mentioned it, but I should have known that I can never count on her to say or do the things I ex
pect.”
Liv glanced at Grandma Edith, who now appeared to be whispering to the fireplace. “That might be the understatement of the year.”
Julien chuckled. “Liv,” he said, sobering. “I thought I felt something between us, but—”
“You did,” Liv cut in. “I felt it, too, but I thought I was betraying your wife, and then when you kissed me—”
“You must have thought I was the worst man in the world.”
“No. I think I was so upset because I wanted you to kiss me. I was angry at myself.”
“You wanted me to kiss you?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. And that’s why I was kind of hoping you’d do it again. Unless I totally scared you off.”
Julien’s silence made her stomach swim until he spoke again. “I’m on my way back to Reims now, actually. Could I take you to dinner tonight?”
“Actually, I’m not in Reims. My grandmother, in typical mysterious fashion, just announced an hour ago that she wanted to tour the Maison Chauveau in Ville-Dommange, so we’re here now.”
“Chauveau?” Julien asked instantly. “Is she okay?”
Liv looked at Grandma Edith again. She was clutching a window frame with white knuckles, staring out toward the vineyards. “Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“I’m just in Tinqueux. I can be there in ten minutes. Would it be all right if I join you? I promised my grandfather that I’d do my best to look after her while she’s in town.”
“Of course.” After hanging up, Liv looked for Grandma Edith, but she had vanished. “Crap,” she muttered, scanning the room once more before heading through the double doors leading out toward the vineyard behind the building.
She was relieved to see her grandmother standing just beyond the back door, gazing into the distance.
The Winemaker's Wife Page 20
