Leduc got out of the car and walked into the pharmacy without waiting for the boys. He wanted to be rid of them as soon as possible. The refugees passed from hand to hand like hot potatoes, or more like live, hot coals wrested from flames. Helping a Jew—the slightest touch of the coal—could lead to incarceration or deportation. Fear is an irrational anguish. Once firmly rooted in the human heart, it stays until destruction is complete.
Jacob and his brother crawled out from the back of the van and stood at the pharmacy door, watching Leduc arguing with a man inside the building. Then Leduc brushed by them with hardly a glance, got into the van, and drove away.
The pharmacist motioned for the boys to enter. He flipped the sign on the door to show Closed and kindly asked them to follow the spiral staircase to the upstairs apartment. They soon found themselves in a small living room, where they took a seat on a comfortable leather couch and studied their surroundings and their new host.
The house was small but pleasant, nicely decorated. The pharmacist Magné was about sixty years old, with gray hair, sideburns that went down almost to his chin, and deep blue eyes. He seemed calm and quiet despite the recent argument. Smiling, he said, “I’m sorry, nothing like this has happened to us before. Before the occupation, we all just minded our own business. Many of us fought in the Great War and came back alive, but we’re simple civilians. Fear moves about unchecked. Sometimes we fall into its grip, and it can send us over the edge. But don’t worry. I’ll carry out the promise from your contact in Paris. I don’t even know you, but I can’t let you stay this far away from your goal. I just hope Leduc can calm down and get back to Versailles safely, or else we’ll all end up detained.”
“Thank you, Mr. Magné,” Jacob said, starting to breathe evenly again. He tried his best to remain calm, but he was nothing more than a frightened, abandoned child.
“My wife will return from church in half an hour. She’ll fix you something hot to eat and give you pajamas and a clean set of clothes. Our appearance is important. Our occupiers see Jews and those they call ‘asocial’ to be mere animals. So as much as we can look like respectable humans, the better for us.” He sighed, the weight of it all sagging his brow, and said, “I’m so sorry, children.”
Jacob tried to cheer up their current savior. “Mr. Leduc brought us this far. We’ll make it; we’ll reach our destination. We’re so grateful for your hospitality.”
Magné nodded and stood. His spotless suit was of very fine cloth. Despite the heat, he had been wearing the jacket, which he removed and placed over a chair. He went to a room off the living room and returned with a large box that he placed on the floor.
The children looked up, curious about what it might contain. The pharmacist carefully opened the cardboard lid. Jacob and Moses were delighted at what they saw inside: toys. Beautiful, new toys.
“My sons left to study at the university in Orleans a long time ago,” the pharmacist explained. “One joined the army right as the war began and is a prisoner in Germany. The other is trying to finish his studies. They were very careful with their things, and we’ve kept them.”
Moses let out a whoop. They could be children again. He and Jacob threw themselves onto the floor and started pulling the figurines out one by one. Their eyes shone with a happiness that momentarily flushed the sadness out. The pharmacist smiled and got down on his knees as well. The three of them played at the Napoleonic wars until they heard the door open.
Mrs. Magné looked younger than her husband. Her heart jumped at the scene before her. Time had rewound and there were her husband and boys giggling and playing on the floor. She did not interrupt. She watched a moment, then went to the kitchen and started heating up the food. She returned wearing a white apron and intending to send the boys to take a bath, but she just watched them for a while instead. Finally, she interrupted. “Boys, you’ll need to wash up before supper.”
Jacob and Moses looked up, smiling and relaxed. A pretty woman in an apron was telling them to get cleaned up, and they felt as if they were with their mother again. But Mrs. Magné was thinner, her hair dark brown, and her face a darker complexion. She was not their mother. “You may call me Marie,” she said, her smile lighting up her face.
“I’m Jacob, and this is Moses.”
“How about I help Moses with his bath, and then it’ll be your turn,” she said, still smiling. Moses looked to Jacob for confirmation. At his brother’s nod of approval, he took the woman’s hand. It was soft and warm, like a mother. He gratefully let himself be led to the bathroom and saw the large white tub. Marie put in something that made bubbles form under the faucet and let the warm water fill high. Moses made little clicks of excitement, his eyes dancing as he watched.
Marie helped him undress, then picked him up and gently let him down into the tub. The brief moment of being lifted in the air recalled the muscle memory of his parents, the enjoyment of being held by someone who loved him. The water seemed too hot at first, but the bubbles and steam worked their way into his bruises, cuts, and all the pent-up tension, relaxing him.
Marie washed his white skin like fine china. Moses could sense her tenderness. A gentle touch spoke more than a thousand words of cheer, the language coming through fingertips and the thrill of nerves that respond, alive again. Moses closed his eyes and let his breath out. Time had stopped for him in that forgotten spot in France, halfway to his destiny, yet still so far from his parents. He opened his eyes to see the woman’s face right in front of his, tears coursing down her cheeks in transparent rivulets.
“Are you all right?” the boy asked. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”
“Dear, you couldn’t bother me even if you tried. It just makes me remember taking care of my boys when they were young. It’s hard work to be a mother, but very gratifying. We give everything we’ve got for the new life, and then we have to learn to let it fly away. Real love means letting your children go.”
Moses could not follow her train of thought, but her words sounded pretty, like a summer sunset when the sky seems to burn up until the darkness cools the flames.
Moses stood, and Marie helped him get out of the tub. She dried him thoroughly, her eyes drinking in every detail of his face. “Mothers are alike, my boy. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t my son. I can’t not take care of a child who shows up and needs help.” She helped him get into a white nightshirt and asked him to call his brother.
Jacob entered, hesitant. He was twelve and knew how to give himself a bath. Marie smiled knowingly and, as she got up from the wooden stool, said, “Never fear, I just wanted to tell you to take advantage while the water’s hot. Here’s a clean towel. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”
Jacob looked at the tub and had to rub his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real. After Marie left, he got in slowly, leaning back and closing his eyes. Time passed, and he thought of nothing. He was exhausted from thinking all the time.
When he finished, he found his brother and the Magnés sitting at the table. Waiting for them on the blue tablecloth were bowls of boiled potatoes, peas, corn, and stewed beef. The boys ate cautiously under the smiling gaze of their hosts.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Moses asked them.
“We’ll eat later,” Magné answered. He put his arm over his wife’s shoulder and pulled her a little closer to him.
After supper, they sat on the couch again, and Magné read a few chapters from Jules Verne’s Dick Sand, A Captain at Fifteen. Marie then led the children to a bedroom. “I hope you rest well. The angels are watching over you.”
“They watch over Jews too?” Moses asked. Jacob elbowed him under the sheets.
“Of course they watch over little Jewish boys,” she said with a chuckle.
Alone, and despite their exhaustion, the brothers whispered together. The extreme ups and downs of the day made it difficult to fall asleep.
“Mrs. Magné is really nice. She reminds me of Mother,” Moses said.
“M
e too. It feels like we’re in a real home again.” Jacob could sense Moses nodding. “But we should sleep. There’s still a long way to go.” He snuggled up to Moses, knowing that his brother needed human contact in order to sleep well. Smelling the clean sheets, ancient memories of their house in Germany flitted before him, vague recollections of things being good, having enough of everything. It made no difference to him that his parents were impoverished foreigners. Jacob just wanted to be with them and feel safe again.
Chapter 11
Nouan-le-Fuzelier
July 21, 1942
A rooster crowed, waking Jacob. He looked at the darkness still lying thick over the room, turned over, and went back to sleep. It was a gentle sleep, without the startled anxiety of the past few nights. His weary body recognized that it was safe again. The shutters were mostly closed, but eventually sunlight broke into the room, and Jacob sat up, stretching in bed. Moses’s angel face was still in the world of dreams. Their mother always said that true peace was a sleeping child’s face. Jacob envied Moses in a way. His younger brother could still dwell in the mysterious land of his imagination, where reality was relative and details mattered little. Moses could still pretend he was in other places or simply reinterpret his surroundings into a fantasy that insulated him from the cruel facts. Jacob fiercely wanted to protect his brother’s innocence and stretch out the time of sweetness that never returned once it passed.
Moses, too, stretched in bed, and the sheet fell away. Jacob covered him back up, but it did not last. Moses sat up and reached his arms high, smiling the wide smile he had not shown in quite some time. “I’m hungry,” he pronounced.
Jacob laughed, his chin propped between his hands, elbows resting on the bed. “You’re always hungry.”
“Look who’s talking!” Moses shot back.
They picked up the clean clothes folded over the chair—practically new shirts and two pairs of shorts with suspenders. They were most pleased to see the dark brown shoes, which were nicer than any they had ever worn.
They left the spare bedroom and headed for the kitchen, drawn by the delicious aroma of crepes Marie was making. The boys smacked their lips as they sat down at the table already set with two glasses of milk, bread spread with jam, and a bit of coffee.
“Do you drink coffee, Jacob?” Marie asked.
The boy was unsure how to answer. The truth was he had never tried it, but he nodded and watched as Marie poured just a touch into his milk, hardly even enough to change the color. She then flipped the last of the crepes out of the skillet and set the steaming plate on the table. “And do you boys like chocolate?” she asked.
Their heads bobbed, as if controlled by an automatic spring. She drizzled a robust portion onto the crepes and sat down with them.
Jacob and Moses set about the task with concentrated dedication, hardly pausing to breathe until they were stuffed. Then they leaned back against their chairs, hands on their contented bellies, and sighed with a somewhat dazed look.
“So I take it you enjoyed your breakfast?” Marie chuckled. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve cooked crepes. Pierre, that is, Mr. Magné, doesn’t care for them, and our boys live far away.” As she explained, her eyes grew troubled with the anxiety that accompanied the memories.
“They were amazing!” Moses said, his face stained with chocolate.
Jacob wiped his brother’s face, then took a sip of the milky coffee. It tasted bitter at first, after the crepes, but Marie offered him a pinch of sugar, and he loved the combination. Perhaps growing up meant having new experiences and making decisions. Jacob longed to grow up, to become an adult, yet he was still drawn to so much from childhood, and he did not want to give up his playing.
“Mrs. Magné, I thought we’d be leaving soon, but no one came to wake us up this morning.”
“Pierre is totally tied up. We had not been planning on taking a trip, you see. With the way Mr. Leduc . . . Well, it’s been an unfortunate occurrence. We’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
“Have you been helping . . . people . . . for a long time?” Jacob asked.
“Since the Germans arrived in France. Once the Nazis entered Paris, countless people fled to the south. They were afraid of retaliation. Nearly every rural area swelled up with refugees, but after the first few months, most Parisians returned home. Since then, there’s been a constant trickle of people who needed to escape or just preferred to be in the unoccupied zone, or Allied pilots the Nazis have shot down. Someone comes through our home pretty much every week. We don’t usually keep people here. We have a small farm just outside of town. If we house someone here, people start asking questions and meddling, but what happened yesterday was an exception. On the other hand, children don’t stand out as much. They’re practically invisible to most adults.”
“Children are a nuisance,” Moses said with all seriousness.
“But why would you say that?” Marie asked, with a curious smile.
“We’re just a burden. Adults think we’re loud, wild, and inconvenient.” Moses spoke with utter sincerity.
“Dear me, well, that must be because the adults don’t remember when they were children,” she answered.
“When do you think we’ll leave?” Jacob asked.
“Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after next, at the latest. Are you in a hurry?”
Jacob shook his head. “No, but our parents are waiting for us.”
Marie nodded with a long face, then got up, served herself some black coffee, and looked out the window. It was cloudy. Dark storm clouds moved in from the north, making the hot air feel stifling. “It’s going to rain,” she said at last. “Probably tomorrow as well. Pierre will tell us when it’s best to leave. He also wanted to make sure Mr. Leduc had not been captured or given anyone away.”
She took another sip of steaming coffee, then fished in her white apron, pulling out a small key that she contemplated for a moment.
“Would you children like to see the playroom our boys used to use?” she asked, her voice chipper once again.
Despite their eagerness, Jacob and Moses were slow to get to their feet, the bounteous breakfast having required most of their energy. They followed Marie to a stairwell, listening to their collective footfalls on the wooden steps that took them to a spacious attic. Inside they saw a fully assembled electric train set up to run through a model town. There were swords, armor, and all sorts of toys.
“Why don’t you play up here until lunch?” she suggested. “No one will hear you. The house next door is vacant.” She left them to their imaginations.
Jacob and Moses raced to the train and spent the morning lost in play.
“Wow,” Moses finally said, unable to shake the feeling of disbelief. “I’ve never seen a room like this.”
Jacob nodded, his hands busy with everything they could touch. “But we should leave tomorrow. I don’t want to get there too late.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, we don’t know how long Mother and Father will be in Valence. Maybe they’ll have to flee from there and, if they learn that Aunt Judith is dead, maybe they would try to go look for us,” Jacob said.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” The seriousness had returned to Moses’s voice.
“If we leave two days from now, I hope we get there before the end of the month. It’s just that news travels faster than we can.”
“What will we do when we get to Bourges? It’s not even halfway there.” Despite the toys, Moses was discouraged again.
“We’ll figure something out. We’ve got some money. Maybe we could take a bus or the train.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
“I’m guessing that things are a little better in the unoccupied zone.”
The boys sat on the attic floor and were suddenly hungry again. The gray light coming through the window depressed them.
Then Moses asked, “Do you think Joseph is okay?”
“Yeah, sure, he wa
nted to be with his family.”
“But what will happen to all those people?”
“I have no idea. Maybe they’ll go to Germany.” Jacob wished the subject would change.
“If they capture us, will they send us back to the velodrome?”
“They’re not going to capture us, Moses. I promise you.” He put his arm around his brother, as much for his own sake as for the younger boy’s. Sometimes Jacob needed to feel his brother close.
At the sound of Marie calling them for lunch, they pounded down the stairs, washed their hands, and sat hopefully at the table.
The Magnés seemed to be in very good moods, smiling, friendly, offering to help. The food was again delicious and plenteous. They all moved to the couches again before Magné returned to the pharmacy.
Jacob once more voiced his constant thought: “When will we leave?” No sooner had he spoken than the first flashes of lightning sparkled and the sky opened up with thunderous rain. The rushing sound and the heavy humidity held them in silence for a while. It was pleasant to hear the splatting against the exterior of the house as the sky watered the dry land all around.
“In a few days. Storms are very troublesome for driving,” Magné answered.
His vagueness did not satisfy Jacob. The boy wanted detailed plans and was not content with general ideas, but he also did not want to press further. He decided to wait until dinner.
The afternoon was pleasant. Marie turned on the lights, and the boys played contentedly, noting how the heat abated some with the rain. Magné returned just before six in the evening.
Marie emerged from the kitchen, where she had spent the past few hours, and called to the boys. “Take your baths before supper.”
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