Eva put her hand over her mouth. “Geneviève, I didn’t know. I’m terribly sorry.”
She waved away the sympathy. “Sometimes, when I’m tempted to step away from the work we’re doing, to just go somewhere and live an ordinary, simple life, I think of them—Jean-Luc, my mother, my father—and I know I can’t stop. If the Germans hadn’t arrived, Eva, my brother would be home tending our farm alongside our father, and my mother would be in the kitchen baking bread and worrying about when I would give her grandchildren. Maybe I would even have children already, and I’d be putting them to sleep at night singing ‘Au Clair de la Lune,’ just like she sang to me every night when I was a little girl. The Germans have already taken so much from so many people. We have to save those we can—because we couldn’t save the people we loved.”
It was the most Geneviève had ever said about her reasons for being here, and Eva was moved. She had never known that the other woman had suffered losses similar to her own. “I couldn’t save my father, either,” she admitted. “He was taken by the Germans.”
“I know,” Geneviève said. When Eva looked at her, she added, “Gérard mentioned it. But you didn’t fail to save him, Eva. There’s nothing you could have done.”
Eva shrugged, though she was a bit bothered by Joseph sharing her tragedy with Geneviève so easily. “If I had tried harder to persuade him to go underground… If my eyes had been more open…”
“I feel the same about the past. We can’t blame ourselves, though. We can only take the responsibility of preventing the same things from happening to others.”
“Do you think we’re making any difference?” Eva asked after a long pause. “Sometimes, it’s still hard to feel as if we’re part of any meaningful resistance. There are days when I forget there’s a whole world outside these walls.”
A day later, though, everything changed. Eva was cleaning up the tiny library to head home for the evening—hiding the stamps and inks, concealing the blank and forged documents in a hollowed-out dictionary, sliding the Book of Lost Names into its unassuming spot on the shelf—when Père Clément appeared at the door, his face pale.
“Is Geneviève with you?” he asked.
“No, she’s already gone for the night. Is everything all right, Père Clément?”
“I’m afraid not, Eva. Come with me.”
In silence, she followed him through the empty church to his small office behind the altar. As he ushered her inside, she saw Erich waiting for her in a chair with a grave expression.
“Is it—?” she asked, and then instantly stopped. She had been about to ask about Rémy, but she didn’t know whether Erich knew about him yet, and she certainly didn’t want to give Rémy away to a German, even if Erich had proven himself an ally. Besides, the question had been foolish. Would she even be notified if anything happened to him? Perhaps it was ridiculous that nearly a year after she’d seen him last, he still occupied such a large portion of her thoughts, her heart. But she thought of him constantly, worried about him, wondered on the darkest nights whether she would even know if he’d died. She knew instantly, as she looked back at Père Clément, that he’d understood exactly what she’d been about to say.
“No, Eva, our old friend is fine, as far as I know,” Père Clément said quickly, gesturing to the chair beside Erich. “Please, join us.” She sat, her unease growing, as the priest took a seat behind his desk.
“Eva, we’re worried,” the German said immediately. As was the case the last time she’d seen him, he was out of uniform, and but for his accent, he could easily have been one of them, a friend, a neighbor. “I believe my superiors are very close to infiltrating your network.”
“What? Why do you think that?”
“They have some names—not yours, not Père Clément’s, as far as I know—but I believe arrests are imminent.” Erich and Père Clément exchanged looks. “I don’t know who’s talking, Eva, but the children are in danger.”
“The children? Which ones?”
“All of them.” The words sat between the three of them, stark and frightening, before Erich continued. “They now have the addresses of all sixteen homes in town where children are being held, and the seven farms in the countryside. Raids could begin as early as the day after tomorrow. They have names, Eva. Names of the children, names of the people helping them. That’s why we have to move them, as soon as possible. I think it’s over, Eva.”
Eva’s head spun as she stared at him. “Over?”
“All of it. Somehow, your cell has been compromised.”
She turned to look at Père Clément in disbelief—surely Erich was wrong. But the priest was nodding gravely. “What will we do?” she asked.
“I need you to start on documents for the children and their keepers immediately.”
“Of course.” Eva paused, dazed. “Geneviève and I have been working only on the maquisards for the past two weeks. We haven’t completed papers for any of the children.” Then she put a hand over her mouth. “My God, Geneviève. Someone must warn her. If we’ve been compromised…”
“I’ll go,” Père Clément said.
“What about my mother?”
“There’s no reason to think anyone knows about her. As soon as I can locate Faucon, I’ll ask him to send someone to look out for her. We need you here, though, Eva. There’s no time to waste.”
Eva nodded, her heart racing. “And then what? What do we do after we get the documents done?”
“I think it’s time for us to disperse. So work on any supporting papers you and your mother might need, too. She’ll finally get her wish to head for Switzerland.”
“And you?”
Père Clément’s eyes were sad, his smile grim. “I’ll stay here and do what I can. It’s in God’s hands now.”
* * *
Geneviève never showed up at the church, and Père Clément returned briefly to tell Eva that he couldn’t find her; she wasn’t in her apartment, though it was past curfew. When Père Clément mentioned that he hadn’t located Faucon, either, Eva breathed a bit easier; certainly the two were together. Yes, Geneviève’s absence would leave Eva to do all the work that night, but if they were all to flee Aurignon tomorrow, it was good that Geneviève was getting one last night of sleep.
In the morning, though, Geneviève still hadn’t arrived at the secret library, and Eva began to worry. She’d been up all night and was nearly finished with the documents, but she could have used help with the finishing touches and to ensure that there were no errors.
Surely Geneviève had been told by now of the impending storm; Joseph would have been notified as soon as possible. Perhaps they had already fled together, but Eva couldn’t imagine Geneviève leaving without a word, without at least a visit to the library to ensure that Eva didn’t need her. Still, perhaps Joseph had insisted. Perhaps he had promised to check on Eva later in the day once he had Geneviève settled safely.
But Joseph never came, either, and by the time the ink was dry and she had given each of the identity cards a final once-over, Eva’s stomach was in knots. She hurried through the empty church to Père Clément’s office and found him pacing, looking just as worried as she felt. He looked up when she entered and attempted a smile, but it didn’t erase the sadness in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Eva,” he said before she had a chance to say a word. “I got you involved in all of this in the first place.”
“Please, don’t apologize. This past year and a half has meant the world to me. I’m certain this is exactly where I was meant to be.”
“But the danger…”
“I knew from the start that there would be risks.”
He studied her for a long time before sighing. “Eva, there is one more thing I must ask of you.”
“Anything.” The way he was looking at her tied the knots in her belly even tighter.
“I’m afraid the network needs another person to escort children to the border. Your name has been suggested.”
&nbs
p; She stared at him. “You want me to go? But I’ve never made the crossing before.”
“I know. They’ll pair you with someone experienced. They’re short one woman. Men traveling alone with groups of children look like passeurs, Eva. Couples traveling with children look like parents. I’d prefer to ask Geneviève, but she’s gone already. Gérard has promised me that he’ll come for your mother himself and make sure she gets to Switzerland safely.”
Eva’s mind spun. “You found Gérard? Geneviève is gone?”
“He assured me she was taken care of.”
Eva shook her head. It wounded her a bit that Geneviève had left without saying goodbye, but Eva was glad that the other woman was safe, at least. “And he will bring my mother?”
“Yes. She will meet you in Geneva in just a few days. The two of you will remain there.”
“But you need me here, Père Clément.”
He smiled sadly. “As Erich said, the cell is blown. It’s very likely that the Germans already know exactly who you are. They won’t rest until they find you. And you’d be tortured and executed, Eva.”
“Perhaps I could go elsewhere, start another forgery operation…”
“Please. Take this opportunity to get out. If we need another forger, we will send for you. You’ve already done so much, though. I would never forgive myself if the Nazis found you.”
“And you? You still plan to stay?”
He nodded. “My place is here, at the church.”
“But if they have your name…”
“Whatever happens is God’s will.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. “Will I see you again?”
He reached for her hands, and this time when he smiled, his eyes were bright and clear. “I feel certain we will meet again, Eva. After the war. And in the meantime, I will pray for you.”
“And I for you.” Before she could cry, she reached into the deep pocket of her faded wool dress and handed the stack of children’s documents to Père Clément.
He accepted them with a nod. “You’ll need to make a new set of papers for yourself; you’ll be Lucie Besson, wife of André Besson, a textile trader doing business in Switzerland. He has already been given his papers.”
“Made by another forgery bureau?”
Père Clément hesitated before nodding. “You should make another set for your mother, too, just in case her identity has been compromised.”
Eva closed her eyes. How would she live with herself if she had put her mother in danger? “You don’t think…”
“We’re just trying to be cautious, Eva. I feel certain that your mother will be fine.”
Eva relaxed a bit. “Père Clément, before I leave, I need to go see her.”
He sighed. “I know. Just be careful that you’re not followed. I’ll need you back here before one o’clock. You’ll be meeting your ‘husband’ tonight in Lyon.”
* * *
“So you’re leaving me.” Mamusia didn’t turn around when Eva entered the room they shared twenty minutes later, but even so, Eva could feel her mother’s scowl, the anger rolling from her. “Madame Barbier has already explained everything. You’re abandoning me here.”
“Mamusia, it’s what you’ve wanted! We’re finally leaving. We’re going to Switzerland.”
“You’re going to Switzerland.”
“Joseph will see to it that you’re brought there safely, too, once preparations have been made. But there are some children who need to go right now, before the Germans find them.”
“And they are more important than your mother?” Mamusia finally turned, her eyes blazing. Eva hardly recognized the woman before her, the woman trembling with anger, the woman whose decision to hold on to a past that would never return had made her into something cold and unfamiliar. “More important than your own blood? I suppose you’ll forget me as easily as you’ve forgotten your father.”
“Mamusia, I haven’t forgotten him!” Eva swiped at her tears. “This is bigger than us. This is about saving innocent lives. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
Mamusia set her jaw, but Eva could see the doubt in her eyes now, the sag of her shoulders. “What matters is that you’d rather be a part of this false family you’ve let yourself believe in. Your father would be so ashamed.”
Eva released her mother’s arms and took a step back. “Do you really believe that? You don’t think Tatuś would be proud that I’m trying to do the right thing?”
“He would have wanted you to be the person he raised you to be.” Mamusia turned her back and waved her hand dismissively. “So go, Eva. Run off to Switzerland with your papist friends and leave me here. Let’s be honest, shall we? You’ve already disappeared.”
Eva stared at her mother’s turned back in dismay. She longed to stay, to make her mother see her point now, but there wasn’t time. They would see each other in Switzerland again in less than a week, and she would explain everything, over and over if she had to. In fact, since her role in the underground would be done then, she would have nothing but time on her hands to make her mother see the truth. “Mamusia,” she said softly.
It took a whole minute for Mamusia to turn, and when she did, some of the anger on her face had been replaced with sadness. As the two women stared at each other, Eva understood that while she had sought solace by finding a purpose, her mother had found comfort by wrapping herself in indignation. It was her armor, her new identity.
“I love you, Mamusia.” Eva took a step forward and hugged her mother, who was stiff and unmoving at first, but who finally sighed and wrapped her arms around Eva, too. “Joseph will take care of you. I’ll see you in Switzerland in a few days, and then it will just be me and you.”
“Is that a promise?”
“You have my word, Mamusia.”
Mamusia pulled away. “Then be safe, moje serduszko.” She hesitated and added, “I love you, too.”
And then Eva had no choice but to turn and leave her mother behind. As she walked out of the boardinghouse after a brief exchange of hugs and good-luck wishes with Madame Barbier, she felt the tears streaming down her face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It took Eva an hour to put together a new set of papers for Lucie Besson, false wife of a man she had never met. As she waited for the ink to dry, she got down on her knees and prayed for her mother, for Père Clément, and for Geneviève. She added a prayer for her father, too, though it seemed likely that his fate was already written. And finally, she asked God for the strength and courage to lead the children across the mountain to safety.
When she stopped by Père Clément’s office to receive her instructions and to say goodbye, he pulled her immediately into a tight hug. She was reminded of the way her father used to embrace her after the war had started, to remind her that as long as they had each other, she would be safe. While it was reassuring to hear the pounding of the priest’s heart, and to know he’d be praying fervently for her, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. No man on earth could promise you more time, better luck, safer passage. Only God could do that.
“Here,” she said as she pulled away. She held out the key to the secret library, the one she had kept on a string around her neck, just to the right of her heart, since he had first given it to her. It hurt her to part with it, but she wouldn’t need it anymore.
Père Clément shook his head and gently lifted the key from her hand. He slipped the string back around her neck and smiled. “Keep it, Eva, as a reminder that you’re welcome here as soon as the war ends. There will always be a home for you in Aurignon.”
She bowed her head, blinking back tears. “Thank you, mon Père.”
“Now, you’re to take the bus to Clermont-Ferrand, and from there, the three o’clock train to Lyon, via Vichy. You’ll meet your husband, André Besson, and children—your sons, Georges, Maurice, and Didier, and your daughter, Jacqueline—at the Lyon train station for the remainder of the journey. The children will b
e traveling with false documents that should pass basic inspection, but they’ll need better ones, so when you meet them, you will give them the documents you’ve made already and your husband will go outside to destroy the ones the children have arrived with. There’s a train that leaves Lyon for Annecy at midnight. The children will be able to sleep on the train, and your husband will explain the rest to you. You’ll cross into Switzerland near Geneva.”
“How will I know the man I’m supposed to meet?”
“Just wait outside the side entrance, to the left of the main door, and you will see him approach with the children.”
Eva nodded, her heart thudding. There was so much that could go wrong. “Mon Père, I’m frightened.”
“I am, too, but the greatest deeds in life require us to rise above our fear. Think of Moses; when God called to him from the burning bush and told him that he must save his people from slavery, he was frightened, too. He questioned God, just as you might be doing now. ‘Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’ he asked. But God promised to be with him, and so he went, for it was his destiny. God will be with you, too, Eva, whatever happens. Just have faith.”
“Thank you.” There was a sudden lump in her throat. “Truly. Thank you for everything.”
“Eva, it has been a gift knowing you.” As he looked down at her, there were tears in his eyes, and this, from the stoic priest, touched Eva more than anything else. “You are brave and strong and courageous, and I know you will go on to live a long, happy life.”
She smiled at him. “I wish I believed you, Père Clément. And I wish the same for you.”
“Until we meet again, Eva.”
“Until we meet again.”
Père Clément pressed train tickets into her hand and a palm to her cheek before turning back to the Bible lying open on his desk. As she turned to go, she heard him clear his throat a few times, and she knew that just as she was, he was trying not to let emotion overtake him. There was still work to be done, and the success of their mission depended upon everyone acting as if their worlds weren’t being blown apart.
The Book of Lost Names Page 24
