Moses smiled, recalling the delicious experience of his bath. Marie got a clean towel, filled the tub, and called Moses, and they repeated the proceedings from the day before. Moses closed his eyes and nearly fell asleep in the comforting water.
“Would you like to stay with us a bit longer?” Marie asked.
Moses opened his eyes, looked at Marie’s sweet face, and asked, “But would my brother stay as well?”
“Of course, I was meaning both of you. You could stay with us for the summer. In the winter we could take you to the city where your parents are. After the raids in Paris, the roads are being heavily watched. If we wait for things to calm down a bit, it’ll be safer for everyone. You two can play every day, and we’ll tell the neighbors you’re the children of one of Pierre’s cousins. We can go to the farm on the weekends. We’ve got horses, and sheep . . .”
The idea sounded marvelous to Moses. He was tired of traveling, of meeting new people, of being terrified by the sight of German uniforms. Spending summer vacation with the Magnés seemed like the perfect idea.
Marie helped Moses get out of the tub, dried his hair carefully, and helped him get dressed. Jacob followed but did not take long to get cleaned up and ready for supper. When they got to the dining room, the meal was already served: carrot soup, codfish, and apple pie for dessert.
“How has the afternoon been?” Magné asked.
“Great! We played upstairs the whole time,” Moses said. His face was relaxed, the tension and sadness having been replaced with contentment.
“Mr. Magné,” Jacob began, “after lunch you said we would set out in a couple of days. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but we’d like to leave tomorrow. We want to find our parents as soon as we can.” His wide eyes turned fully upon the pharmacist.
Marie threw a worried look at her husband and gently squeezed his elbow. The man cleared his throat and said, “We were thinking you might stay with us for a time. I’ve learned that the roads are being watched to hunt down and capture every possible Jew. The Germans are out in full force. Traveling through occupied France is extremely dangerous.”
His words did not deter Jacob, who took a few sips of soup and then spoke again. “I’m really sorry to cause trouble, but I’m afraid our parents will try to look for us in Paris when they hear what’s happened in the city. I don’t want to lose their trail. If we get there and they’ve left, I won’t know where to look for them next.”
“I understand.” Magné nodded. “We could contact them. We have ways, and that way they could know where you are.”
“Mr. Magné, the timing isn’t the only thing. It’s that we haven’t seen them for over a year. We miss them and need to be with them,” Jacob said, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. It was the first time he had spoken aloud what he had felt for so long in his heart.
The couple was quiet, unsure how to respond.
Moses, who had been silent up to then, said, “But we could stay for the summer. We’re safe here.”
Jacob cut him with a glance. How could his brother say such things? “We are not staying. A few toys may be all you need, but our parents are worried about us.”
Moses was quiet, then his eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“It’s not Moses’s fault,” Marie intervened. “I mentioned to him it would be better for you to stay for the summer. It’s so dangerous to travel right now.”
Jacob jumped up so forcefully his chair fell backward. “We’re not toys to keep you entertained, Mrs. Magné. We have a family. If you can’t take us, we’ll leave tomorrow on foot,” he declared.
In agony, Moses looked at their benefactors, stood up, and followed his brother to the bedroom. Jacob lay stiffly on the bed, faceup, his arms crossed and his lips pressed tightly together. Moses sat beside him and, swallowing back his tears, said, “I’m sorry, Jacob.”
“You’re just a kid. No way can you understand.”
Crying again, Moses repeated, “I’m sorry.”
“Here you’ve gotten kindness and safety, so of course you don’t want to leave.”
Moses nodded and said, “But Mother and Father are probably scared, and they’ll think something’s happened to us. You’re right, we should go tomorrow.” He slid down next to Jacob, who put his arm around him. They stayed that way on top of the bed until sleep overcame them.
The next morning, before sunrise, Magné knocked on their door. They had a simple breakfast, packed their bookbags with some provisions, and headed down the spiral staircase in silence. Before opening the door to the street, Jacob put his hand on the pharmacist’s shoulder.
“I want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. We’re just so worried. And we’re so grateful for your hospitality and that you’d put yourself at risk for us.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re happy we can help,” Magné said, though without feeling.
“Please tell Mrs. Magné thank you. She’s been so kind to us.”
Magné nodded, and they went out to the street. The ground was still wet and the morning slightly cool. Magné opened a door, took a gray covering off his car, and pulled it out into the street. He got out again, closed the garage door, and motioned for the boys to get in. It was a Renault Juvaquatre, shiny and seemingly new. They were unaware of Marie watching them from behind the curtains upstairs. Her heart was heavy for them—so alone, so helpless. She hoped they would find their parents but knew that the war had already taken so many loved ones. Europe was wandering aimlessly, led by a few fanatics crazed for power and wealth while millions raised a collective lament to heaven. She thought of her own sons, tried to imagine seeing them safe and well again; attempted to believe that happy, peaceful times would come once more, that life would flow effortlessly toward the immense ocean of all the good feelings and goodwill that make the world a livable place.
Chapter 12
Nouan-le-Fuzelier
July 22, 1942
They drove most of the way in silence. Jacob and Moses intuited that the Magnés simply missed their sons and had wanted to shelter these new boys as long as they could. In a way, it would have been a good choice. They had no way of knowing if their parents were still in Valence, if they had perhaps gone to look for the boys in Paris, or if they had ended up sailing to South America. If Jana and Eleazar were still in Valence, there was no guarantee they could take care of their children again.
From the back seat, Moses stared at the forests and lakes that little by little gave way to wide, cultivated fields and empty prairies. As they approached Bourges, the impressive towers of the cathedral began to grow in the distance. The building was the pride of the entire region and one of the most breathtaking churches in France.
“We’re almost there,” Magné said.
The children were openmouthed at the sight of the medieval city with its half-timbered houses with plaster walls. They turned off the main road and came to a small plaza near the church of Saint-Pierre. They parked the car, one of the few visible in the area, and walked toward an ancient-looking house. Magné took great strides, as if anxious to rid himself of a troublesome burden. With two fingers he knocked with the rusty knocker on the door.
They heard footsteps on a wooden floor, then the door creaked open loudly. An elderly woman with a face crisscrossed in wrinkles received them with little to-do. Magné, Jacob, and Moses followed her down a narrow hallway. The dusty, musty walls had seen better days. The woman led them to a small room, muttering something they could not hear.
“The collier Bonnay is a good man,” Magné said at last. “He’s a widower. His wife died two years ago, and his sons are around your ages. I don’t think you’ll be able to stay long, but he will help you figure out how to get into the unoccupied zone and then to Valence.”
“Thank you, Mr. Magné. Again, please tell your wife how grateful we are,” Jacob reiterated.
The small room was stiflingly warm, and the thought of
staying there long put Jacob on edge. He would rather spend the night, then leave immediately the next day.
The collier was busy with deliveries at the moment, but a dark-haired boy poked his round, cross face through the door.
“Father won’t be back ’til lunch,” the boy said, pronouncing the words rather awkwardly, as if a toddler were speaking through the body of an older child. He was a bit shorter than Moses but looked hardy enough.
“What’s your name?” Moses asked, eager to see someone near his age.
“Paul,” the boy answered.
“I’m Moses.”
The old woman, who up to now had remained silent, said, “You boys go play out back ’til your father gets here.”
Moses ran, following Paul out to the small yard, but Jacob preferred to stay and wait.
“You can go out too,” the woman said.
“Thank you, but I’d rather wait here,” Jacob answered.
She turned to Magné. “Sir, you can go now. My son will take charge of the boys.”
Magné hesitated a moment, then put his hat on and knelt to say goodbye to Jacob.
“I want you to know we’re not angry with you. We understand what you’re feeling. You have a noble desire. But if you ever need any help at all, write or call us. Here’s our address and phone number. If you find yourselves in trouble, though, destroy this paper. Do you understand?”
Jacob sighed and tried to hold back his tears. The Magnés were some of the kindest people he had ever met. Their home and family had been a refuge in the midst of danger.
“I will, Mr. Magné. Thank you.” He stood and hugged the pharmacist, who, tense at first, eased into it and returned the embrace.
“You and your brother are good boys, and things will turn out for you. It may be that this world just gets messier, but you’ll always be able to find good people in it. There are more generous hearts than we might think.”
Magné stepped out of the room and covered the distance through the hallway to the door with his great strides. He was tempted to try to take the boys to Valence himself, but he knew it would be impossible. If the Germans did not stop him at the checkpoints, then the gendarmes would. It was better to let fate play out as it would.
For hundreds of years, the confident stone church of Saint-Pierre had seen generations come and go, all the while safeguarding its grandeur and mysteries. It now seemed to laugh at the smallness of Pierre Magné and his goodwill. But in Jacob’s eyes, looking through the dirty windows of the Bonnay home, the man was a veritable giant.
At noon, the grandmother served them a light lunch of soup with noodles and beef sausage that was past its prime. It was nothing like the delicacies at the Magnés’ home. The collier’s children slept in a damp room with a large straw-mattress bed and a broken mirror. There were no toys besides a slingshot and a sort of scooter their father had put together with wheels and a wooden steering wheel.
When they heard the front door, Paul tore down the stairs and threw himself into his father’s arms. Bonnay was a middle-aged man with a beard and a blue sailor’s cap. His shirt was blackened with soot from the bags of coal he transported all day.
“You’re going to stain your clothes, son.”
The boy, heedless, nestled his face further into his father’s neck. Jacob and Moses felt hollow as they watched. How long had it been since they had hugged their father?
“And you two are the boys?” Bonnay asked with his deep voice.
“Yes, sir, good afternoon. I’m Jacob, and this is my brother, Moses.”
“You’re here a bit later than I expected. Unfortunately, just yesterday a small group of refugees crossed over into the unoccupied zone. They were hidden in a transport truck and made it near to Vichy, but the truck has come and gone, and there’s no way they can take you now.” He sounded annoyed.
“It wasn’t in our control,” Jacob apologized.
“Of course not. You can stay here as long as you need to. We’ll find a solution. You’ll go with my son Marcel to help me at work, and the younger two will stay here at home. From now on your names are Jean and”—he pointed to Moses—“Martin.”
Marcel stepped forward from his father’s shadow. He was taller than Jacob and had much wider shoulders though he was slightly younger. His blue eyes and long, curly blond hair were dazzling despite the soot stains on his face.
“You boys go play a bit before supper. Tomorrow we’ll have to be up very early, but it would be better for you not to go out in those nice clothes. People will wonder. Grandmother will get you some of Marcel and Paul’s clothes,” Bonnay told his guests.
Jacob and Moses changed quickly. They were eager to get out and run through the streets of a new town, a new place to explore. The sons of the collier would be the perfect hosts. Paul opened the front door, and they all four ran down a narrow road toward the Auron River. Huge trees separated the old road that followed the river’s edge toward an old mill with a waterwheel. The boys sat on the bank and started throwing rocks into the water.
“Where are you from?” asked Marcel, who—with a clean face and clean clothes—now looked like an eleven-year-old boy.
“We lived in Paris, and now we’re going to the unoccupied zone,” Jacob said.
“Everybody wants to leave, and I don’t get it. Beyond the fields of Bourges, the grass is just as green and the sky is just as blue as here.”
Jacob knew Marcel was right. He had never understood what borders did, much less one that split a single country into two parts.
“Well, we don’t really care what they call that side of France. We’re just looking for our parents.”
“Why did they leave you?” Marcel asked, grabbing a handful of dry grass and choosing a piece to chew.
Moses frowned. “They didn’t just abandon us. They left us with Aunt Judith.”
“Where’s your aunt?” Paul asked. Paul had already decided Moses was the best thing to happen to him.
“Um . . .” Moses looked down, preferring to avoid the truth. “We’re not sure.”
“You want to go into the mill? You can see the river really close from the window, and it’s a good spot to aim at the birds in the trees,” Paul said, trying to cheer his new friend.
The boys ran to the old stone bridge. The arch looked weary, but it had withstood the current of water for hundreds of years and would endure many more.
The walls of the building itself were barely standing, and the roof had fallen in ages ago. The old millstone was the last remaining vestige of the place’s one-time function. They went up to the window and watched the current. In the summer, the river flowed more slowly, and the boys could see the rocks at the bottom, even under the thick shade of the trees.
Marcel aimed at a bird perched on a branch overhead, but Jacob jostled his arm to wreck his aim.
“Hey, what’d you do that for?” Marcel complained.
“That bird didn’t do anything to you, and you’re not going to eat it. So why do you want to kill it?” Jacob’s tone took Marcel aback.
“Well, why not? It’s just a bird. There are thousands of them.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.” Jacob huffed.
“Oh yeah? Says who?” Marcel stuck his face right into Jacob’s and bumped the older boy with his chest.
“Quit fighting,” Paul intervened. “I’ll tell Father.”
“You little snitch!” Marcel turned and pushed Paul hard. The boy lost his balance and fell through a gap in the wall to the lower part of the millhouse, to where the old waterwheel still turned with its paddles. Only a few teeth remained in the wheel, but Paul’s shirt got caught in one, and the force of the water started to lift him. “Help me!” he cried.
Not stopping to think, Jacob threw himself into the water and caught Paul by his clothes. But the wheel kept turning and pulling him upward, where he would eventually be trapped within the gearworks.
Marcel watched, helpless, from above. He did not know how to swim, but he
rummaged among the remains of the millhouse until he found an old rope. He tied it to one of the standing wooden supports of the building and threw it into the water.
Jacob grabbed the rope and yanked hard on Paul, but his shirt was stuck in the wheel. Paul tried to rip the shirt, but the fabric wouldn’t budge.
Moses tossed them a stick to jam up the wheel. It would not withstand the force of the water for long, but maybe it would give them a few seconds. Jacob jammed the stick in, and the wheel groaned to a halt. It gave Jacob both the time and the leverage to yank Paul free. The younger boy clung to him as Jacob hoisted them both back into the millhouse with the rope.
Despite the heat of the day, Paul trembled with cold and fright. Marcel folded him into his arms. “Thank you,” he said, looking at Jacob. “I owe you.”
Just then they were startled by the sound of footsteps. The four boys withdrew to the darkest recesses of the millhouse. They heard voices, then two blond boys appeared and went up to the window.
“It’s the Germans,” Marcel whispered in Jacob’s ear.
“Germans?” Jacob’s blood froze.
“The sons of the commander and the captain of the garrison. They’ve come for the summer,” Marcel explained.
“Do you know them?”
“Nobody goes near them. We call them the dirty Germans. Normally their nanny or a soldier is with them. I’ve never seen them alone before.”
The German boys said something in their language and then laughed, but they were startled into silence by the sound of a board creaking in the shadowed part of the millhouse. One of them pulled out his slingshot and fired into the dark.
“Ouch!” Moses yelled, when the pebble whacked his neck.
“Who’s there?” one of the German boys asked in a thick accent.
Marcel stepped out into the light with his slingshot raised. He was much bigger than the two German boys. “What are you doing in our hideout, you little Deutsch maggots?”
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