Four days later Armand went to Compiègne, in the North of France, to watch Hitler, Goering, and Keitel, Chief of Hitler's Supreme Command, read the conditions of their occupation and officially become the masters of France. It was a ceremony that tore at his soul, and as the band played “Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles,” he thought he might faint, but he smiled valiantly through it all, and in his heart he prayed that one day the occupation would end. He would gladly have given his life at that moment to buy back France from the Germans. And when he returned to Liane that night, he looked worse than she had ever seen him. He was a man who had looked so youthful for so many years, but in the past months she had watched him grow old. And for the first time in many years, he turned to her that night in their bed and touched her with the gentleness and passion she remembered from long ago. They lay side by side afterward, thinking their own thoughts and dreams, as Armand tried to force from his mind what he'd seen that day. He had watched his country, his first love, being raped. Liane sat up on one elbow then and looked down at him, and she could see that there were tears trickling slowly from his eyes.
“Don't, my love …” She pulled him close to her. “It will all end one day soon.” But she wished that he were in Bordeaux with the others, and not dancing on the tightrope he had committed himself to here in Paris.
He took a deep breath then and looked at her. “I have something to tell you, Liane.” She wondered what more he could tell her now, and for an instant there was a flash of fear in her eyes. “I have found a ship for you and the girls. A freighter. She's still outside Toulon. I'm not sure they know about her yet, and she's not important enough for them to care. I received word through the underground. She has stayed off the coast, a good distance out. A fishing boat crossed her path a week ago and told her of the fall of France. And now she waits. She was going to head back to North Africa to serve the government, but there are still others like you here, and this may be the last chance to get out. I'm going to take you to Toulon myself. A fishing boat will take you out. It's dangerous, but it will be far more dangerous for you here.”
“It will be much more dangerous for you, Armand.” She sat up quietly in their bed and looked sadly down at the only man she had ever loved. “Why don't you go to North Africa to serve the government?”
He shook his head. “I can't. They have their work to do there. I have mine here.” He smiled sadly. “You have yours as well. You must leave here, taking my secret with you, and our girls. And you must keep them safe until this madness ends. And then you can come to me again.” He sighed and his mouth formed a bittersweet smile. “I may even retire then.” But who knew when that would be?
“You should retire now.”
“I'm not that old.”
“You've given enough.”
“I will give them my best now.” She knew he would and could only pray that it would not cost him his life.
“Is there nothing less dangerous you can do for France?”
“Liane …” He pulled her into his arms. She knew her husband very well. It was much, much too late to change his mind. She was only glad that he had told her the truth before they left France. It would have killed her to believe him allied sincerely with Pétain. At least now she knew the truth. She would not be able to tell anyone, lest her indiscretion cost him his life, but at least she knew, and one day they would tell the girls, who were too young to understand anyway for now.
It took her a long time to gather up the courage to ask him what she least wanted to know. “How soon do we leave?”
For a moment he didn't answer her, and then he pulled her tighter still. “Tomorrow night.” She gasped at his words, and in spite of her best efforts to be brave, her shoulders shook and she began to cry.
“Shhh … mon ange … ça ne vaut pas la peine … we will be together again soon.” But God only knows when. They lay awake side by side for a long time that night, and Liane wished, as the sun came up, that the night would never end.
hey made their trip to Toulon by back roads in a borrowed car with their headlights off, and Armand's new official papers with them in the car. Liane wore a black dress and a black scarf. She had dressed the girls in slacks and shirts and sensible shoes. They each carried one small bag with their things. The rest they would have to leave in France. They spoke very little on the trip. The girls slept, and Liane glanced at Armand frequently, as though to drink in her last hours of him. She could scarcely believe that in a few hours she and the girls would be gone.
“This will be worse than my last year in school,” she joked in a soft voice as the girls slept. And they both remembered the year they were engaged, when he was in Vienna and she at Mills College in Oakland. But this could go on for much longer than a year, as they both knew. No one knew for how long. Hitler had a firm grip on Europe's throat, and it would take time to loosen his grasp. But she knew that Armand would do all he could to make the end come soon. And there were scores of others just as devoted as he was. Even the children's nurse had astonished her. Liane had told her regretfully that she was taking the girls back to the States, and that they could not take her along. And she had been amazed to find Mademoiselle pleased. She told Liane bluntly that she would not work for one of the followers of Pétain, and then, in a passionate outburst, she admitted that she was going to leave them anyway, she was going to join the Resistance centered in the heart of France. It was a brave admission for her to make, but she trusted Liane, and the two women hugged and wept, and the girls cried when she left them earlier that day. It had been a long, painful day of good-byes, but the worst of all came on a creaking dock in Toulon as Armand handed the girls to the powerful men on the fishing boat. They clung to each other and cried, and then Liane held on to him for a last time, her eyes begging him, her voice beyond control.
“Armand, come with us…. Darling, please …” But he only shook his head, his body ramrod straight, and his arms as powerful as they had always been.
“I have a job to do here.” He looked once more at the girls and then at her. “Remember what I told you. I will get letters to you, censored or not, in whatever way I can. And even when you hear not a single word, know that I am well … be confident, my love … be brave …” His voice began to crack and tears filled his eyes as well, but he looked down at her and smiled. “I love you with all my heart and soul, Liane.” She choked on her own sobs and kissed him on the mouth and then gently he pushed her into the men's hands. “Godspeed, my love … Au revoir, mesfilles….” And without waiting a moment more the boat pulled out and left him there, waving in the night in his pin-striped suit, his mane of white hair blowing in the summer breeze. “Au revoir …”He whispered it again as the little fishing boat was swallowed up by the dark of night. “Au revoir …” And he prayed it was not adieu.
s it turned out, it took them two days, not one, to meet the freighter, the Deauville. She had had to move farther out several days before to avoid detection, but the fishing boat from Toulon knew exactly where she was. They had been making this same trip all week, each time stopping on the way back to fish, so that they would have something to show for their absences if they were stopped. But the Germans were too busy enjoying France, and the Resistance had not gotten under way in full yet. There were cafés and girls and boulevards to catch their eyes on the shore. And all the while the Deauville sat, collecting passengers that had been arriving on board all week. She had left her cargo in North Africa, and she was traveling light, with the exception of the sixty passengers occupying the fifteen cabins on board, mostly Americans, and two French Jews, a dozen Englishmen who had been living in the South of France, and some Canadians. It was generally an amazing assortment of people, anxious to be out of France and relieved to be on the ship.
They huddled quietly on the deck all day, and sat in the overcrowded dining room at night with the crew, waiting for the ship to set sail. The captain had said that they would sail out quietly, late that night, though he was still expectin
g a woman and two little girls, the family of a French diplomat. And when Liane and the two girls boarded the ship, they discovered that they were the only females on board, but Liane was too numb and exhausted to care. The girls had cried for two days for their papa, and all three of them reeked of fish from the little fishing boat. Elisabeth had been sick the whole way, and all Liane could think about was Armand. It was a nightmarish beginning to their return to the States, but they had begun the journey now and they had to persevere. She owed it to Armand to keep the girls happy until they were all together again, but every time she thought of it, she had to fight back tears of her own. She almost fell into the arms of the crewmen on the Deauville, who half carried Liane and the girls to their room. Both the girls were sunburned and chilled, and Liane herself felt too exhausted to walk another foot. They closed the door and fell onto the bunks, and all three of them fell asleep. Liane didn't wake again until late that night when she felt the gentle pitching of the ship. She looked out the porthole into the night, and she realized that they had set sail. She wondered if a U-boat would catch them before they reached the States, but it was too late to turn back now, and Armand would never have let her anyway. They were going home. She went quietly back to her bunk, after tucking the girls in as they slept, and then went back to sleep until the dawn.
When she got up, she took a shower in the bathroom they shared with approximately fifteen men. There were four bathrooms for the use of the fifteen cabins on the ship, and the lines were long, but not yet at that hour of the day, and she returned to the cabin, feeling refreshed and hungry for the first time in three days.
“Madame?” There was a soft knock at the door and an unfamiliar voice, and she opened it to see a swarthy-looking sailor of the French merchant marine, holding out a steaming mug to her. “Du café?”
“Merci.” She took a careful sip of the steaming brew after she had sat down again, and was touched at the thoughtfulness. As the only woman on board, she was liable to earn courtesies that no one else would share. But that didn't seem quite fair to her. They were all in the same boat. She grinned to herself at the bad joke. And as much as she didn't want to leave France and Armand, she was grateful for the escape. She vowed to herself to do anything she could to help on the ship, but when she and the girls stepped into the dining room, she saw that everything was very much under control. Breakfast was being served in shifts to the passengers on board, and people were quick to eat and give up their seats. The atmosphere was one of camaraderie and helpfulness, and she was aware of no impertinent stares. A number of men spoke kindly to the girls. Most of them were Americans who, for one reason or another, hadn't been able to get home since the outbreak of the war. She discovered quickly that at least a dozen or so of the men were journalists, the two Canadians were doctors, and the rest were for the most part businessmen who for whatever reason had held on in France until the end. There was much talk of Hitler now, and the fall of France, how easily Paris had opened up its doors … De Gaulle's recent speech … Churchill … The room was ablaze with interpretations of the news, bits of gossip were passed around, and then suddenly she saw a familiar form across the room. She couldn't believe it could be him. He was a tall blond man in sailor's garb that didn't seem to fit quite right, his shoulders were straining at the seams, and when she looked down, she saw that the pants were more than a little short. But when he turned to help himself to more coffee from the pot, their eyes met, almost as though he sensed her glance, and he stared at her in equal disbelief until his face broke into a broad smile, and he abandoned his chair at once and came to shake her hand and hug the girls.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Nick Burnham stared down at Liane with a broad grin and then glanced down at the pants he wore. “My luggage fell overboard when I arrived. Damn, it's good to see you all. Where's Armand?” He looked around and then realized the answer, as Liane's face fell.
Her voice was husky as she answered. “He stayed in France.”
“Will he be going to North Africa?” He lowered his voice, but she only shook her head. She didn't have the heart to tell him that he was staying in Paris with Pétain.
She turned her eyes up to Nick's then and shook her head. “Isn't it amazing, Nick? A year ago we were all on the Normandie. And now look at us.” She smiled at his pants, and they both looked sadly around the room. “France has fallen into German hands … we're all running for our lives … who would have believed …” And then she looked at Nick again. “I thought you left long ago.”
“I wasn't that smart. Things were so quiet then, I decided to stick around for another month, and then all hell broke loose, and it was too late to get out. I could have gone back on the Queen Mary in March. But instead”—he grinned— “well, at least we'll get home. Not as elegantly as we arrived perhaps, but what the hell.”
“What news do you have of John?”
“He's fine. I'm going home to rescue him. He's been with his grandmother since he left.” Something unhappy crossed Nick's eyes, they all had such complicated lives, such painful histories they brought along. And then he gestured to three empty seats. “Why don't you three sit down and eat. I'll catch you later and we can talk.”
“No tennis courts this time?” She grinned. It was so strange to see him here, and a relief too. Suddenly the sorrow of fleeing the war was reduced to an absurd adventure. And she could see the same thoughts in his eyes too.
“It's crazy, isn't it? Crazier yet to see you here.” He had been fascinated during the entire day before to learn of how the others had heard of the ship, but somehow, remarkably, they had. It was indeed an interesting assortment on board. Crockett Shipping, via Liane, Burnham Steel, thanks to him, two Harvard professors who had finished a stint at Cambridge the month before and were anxious to get out … the tales went on and on. He went back to his seat to grab his coffee cup, and came back to Liane's table to chat for a moment before he moved on. They would have plenty of time to talk on the trip.
They had no idea how long it would take them to get to New York. It depended on how far they had to wander off course to avoid any dangers the captain feared. Nick had been told the captain's instincts were good—he was sure to keep them out of danger—and he passed the cheering information on to Liane, on the upper deck later on.
“So, old friend, how have you been?” The girls were playing with their dolls in the sun, and Liane sat propped against a ladder, while Nick leaned against a rail. “We seem to meet in the oddest spots. …”
His thoughts drifted back to the year before as he glanced out to sea and then back at Liane. “Do you realize that the name of my suite on the Normandie was the Deauville suite? It must have been prophetic.” He shook his head.
“And do you remember how we talked about the war, as though it would never come?”
“Armand thought it would. I was the fool then.” He shrugged. “And you told me that one of these days I'd have to make a choice about who I sold my contracts to. And you were right.”
“You made the right choices in the end.” It made her think of Armand again. How could she explain to anyone that he was now working for Pétain?
He looked intently at Liane then. “Doesn't all of that seem terribly unreal? I don't know … I feel like I've been on another planet for the past year.”
She nodded, feeling the same way. “We've all been so engrossed in what's happening here.”
“It's going to be very strange to go back, you know. They aren't going to want to hear about what we know, what we've seen.”
“Do you think that's true?” That seemed shocking to her now. The war in Europe was so real. How could the United States go on ignoring that, yet she recognized that in the States everyone felt that they were safe, Europe was so far away. She shook her head. “I suppose it is.”
“Where are you and the girls going to live, Liane?”
It was a question she had debated at great length with Armand on the way to Toulon. He wanted her to go back
to San Francisco—to her uncle George, but she was adamant about that. Washington felt more like home. “Back to Washington. We have friends there. The girls can go back to their old school.” She was going to stay at the Shoreham hotel if she could get a room, and then she'd try to rent some sort of furnished house in Georgetown, where they could wait out the war. She wasn't even sure she was going to tell her uncle that she was back in the States at first but undoubtedly he would find out from her bank, and she knew that she owed it to him to tell him. But she had never felt close to the man, and she didn't want him pressing her to come home. The only home she had recognized for years was wherever she was living with Armand.
Liane glanced at Nick now, thinking of his life. There had been several questions she'd been wondering about. “You're going back to New York, to pick up the threads of your old life?” It was the only way she could think of to ask him about his wife. And he nodded slowly.
“I'm going to bring Johnny back from Boston.” And then he looked at Liane with honest eyes. He had been honest with her before, and there was no reason not to be now. “I don't really know what Hillary's been up to since she left. I wrote to her, I cabled her a number of times. But ever since her cable in September, telling me that they had arrived safely in New York, I haven't heard a word. I suspect she's seen damn little of Johnny.” The green eyes began to burn, and he wanted to tell her now that he had seen Philip Markham's name on the manifest of the Aquitania. He had told no one since it had happened.
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