I watched from the window as the Bernsteins slipped outside to a truck that had pulled up in front of the house. It was army green and nondescript, with no markings, and in the back were what appeared to be many sacks of produce. The rabbi turned and gave one final wave in our direction.

  “Vive l’humanité!” he cried.

  “Vive l’humanité!” I heard Monsieur Lafleur whisper, like a prayer.

  While the driver idled the engine, another man helped the Bernsteins onto the back of the truck and arranged empty potato sacks to hide them and their belongings from view.

  “How long will it take them to get to Jerusalem?” I asked Madame Lafleur.

  “I wish I knew,” she replied. “We’re told their initial destination will be Trieste, in Italy. If the situation there doesn’t get worse, they’ll be transported to Palestine next.”

  Together, we watched the truck pull away. “Come with us,” said Madame Lafleur when we could no longer see it. “We can wait for Vivienne upstairs, where the Bernsteins have been living.”

  Determinedly, she used her cane to climb the stairs, Monsieur Lafleur and I following behind her. In the attic was a basin like the one I used for washing myself in the barn. She filled it with water and set it on the floor, then encouraged me to put my cut-up feet into it.

  Then the Lafleurs sat with me, and I told them about my encounter with Vincent.

  Monsieur Lafleur winced when I got to the part about Vincent hunting me, in the barn and the woods. “We heard the gunshots,” he said. He and his wife exchanged a look. “We thought maybe they had come for us,” he added.

  I continued my story, recounting how the wolf had appeared out of nowhere and attacked Vincent, killing him. It seemed like something out of a dream, or one of my childhood nightmares, I told them, yet for reasons I could not explain, the wolf left me completely unharmed.

  “The wild beasts of the Mernuit are dangerous and unpredictable,” said Madame Lafleur in a grave tone of voice. “You are very lucky to be alive, my dear.”

  I knew she was right. However, I also knew that the most dangerous and unpredictable beast in the forest that day was not a wolf. Feeling considerably more relaxed, I went on to tell them everything that had happened to me since the day of the roundup at school. As I explained about the lengths Vivienne and Julien had gone to in order to avoid being seen by the Lafleurs, they both shook their heads in disbelief.

  “To think, this whole time, the Beaumiers were as mistrustful of us as we were of them,” said Madame Lafleur. “Every day, she would walk into town!” She shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I assumed she was meeting with the Germans.”

  “How do you know Rabbi Bernstein?” I asked Monsieur Lafleur.

  “We served in the infantry together in the Great War,” he replied. As he proudly continued, he seemed to sit a little taller in his chair. “He was like a brother to me. When he needed a place to stay, I did not think twice. Damn the Nazis to hell.”

  “How are your feet now, chérie?” asked Madame Lafleur, coming over to check on me.

  “Oh, they’re fine,” I told her. “I didn’t even realize how cut up they got.”

  “Sara!”

  At the sound of my name, Monsieur Lafleur rose and went to the attic window. He beckoned for me to join him, and when I did, he pointed at the barn.

  “It is Vivienne,” he told me, though of course I knew from her voice. “She’s looking for you in the barn.”

  I waited at the window for what felt like an eternity until Vivienne finally emerged. She looked drained and hopeless—at least until she looked up and spotted me waving frantically from the attic window. I could see the relief in Vivienne’s eyes when she saw me. She had probably imagined the worst.

  I stood by the attic door, and eventually Vivienne appeared. Before I could say anything, she grabbed me and held me tight.

  “Oh, Sara, thank God,” she cried.

  I clung to her and she to me. I didn’t want to let go, in part because I was so relieved to see her again, but also in part because with every passing minute, I was losing hope for Julien.

  Finally I pulled back and faced her. “Vivienne, there’s something you need to know. It’s about Julien, and—”

  As her eyes met mine, I stopped talking. It was clear from her face: she already knew.

  Vivienne sat down, looking defeated. She stared off into space and began to explain what she could about the awful events of the morning. “When Jean-Paul arrived at work today, a coworker told him he had seen Julien taken by soldiers.”

  A lump formed in my throat as Vivienne continued. “Jean-Paul came home and picked me up. We drove first to the Kommandantur, but they knew of no arrests that morning. Then we drove to the Milice headquarters, but they told us nothing. Not only that—they laughed at us.”

  “Barbarians,” muttered Madame Lafleur.

  Vivienne nodded. “But as we were leaving, one officer told us they had arrested some hospital patients this morning. Jean-Paul went to see what he could find there. I came back to check on Sara.” She sighed and leaned on her elbow, looking despondent. “It makes no sense. Why would they raid a hospital?”

  “Why would they raid the orphanage in Izieu?” asked Monsieur Lafleur. “Why would they slaughter those three hundred Italians in Rome? Because they can. That’s why.”

  Vivienne rubbed her temples. “The officer suggested we try bribing the guards…but with what? We have no money.”

  “Ah!” said Madame Lafleur brightly. “With this, at least, we can help. We have some savings.”

  Vivienne looked startled. Then she burst into tears.

  “Oh, Madame Lafleur! How can I ever repay you?” she asked.

  Madame Lafleur waved her hand in the air as if wiping away the suspicions that had clouded the air between the two families for so long. “Quick, you must go now!” she urged. “These things cannot wait.”

  “I can drive,” offered Monsieur Lafleur. “What’s more, I know a shortcut. There’s a military road through the mountains we can take.”

  “Please, can I come?” I begged. If Julien was in danger, I needed to go to him.

  All three adults shook their heads. “Too risky, Sara,” Vivienne told me. “You need to stay here, and stay out of view. I wouldn’t even want you to return to the hayloft right now—it’s too dangerous. Vincent’s unit might come looking for him—his motorcycle is parked next to the barn, and for all we know, someone saw him go inside.”

  Frustrated, I returned to the window. I looked as far as I could, in the direction of the mountains, hoping in vain to catch a glimpse of my one true love.

  As I looked out, something caught my eye. A small white bird, which bore a passing resemblance to—I reached into my pocket to confirm that it was still there and tightly closed my hand around it—the small carved bird Julien had made for me.

  It felt like a sign. The good kind of sign: an omen, not a sign in a shop window telling me I was not welcome. This sign told me I was more than welcome. Follow me, the bird seemed to say, like birds in my dreams often would. So I closed my eyes and put all my wishes and prayers—indeed, my very soul—onto the wings of that small white bird.

  Though the attic window remained as closed as my eyes, I felt myself taking flight. I soared over the mountains of the Mernuit. As I circled the area, I looked down below me.

  I saw a winding road. And a truck. And soldiers beside it, standing guard at some sort of crossroads.

  “Turn back,” one of the guards told the truck’s driver. “This road is closed.”

  “We’re transporting prisoners to Aubervilliers,” the driver replied.

  The guard scoffed. “What idiot ordered that? There’s no room for new prisoners! Who are they, anyway?”

  “Sir, they’re from the hospital in Dannevilliers. The facility needed to make room for wounded Germans.”

  The guard swore under his breath. Then he told the driver, “Get rid of them—quickly!”

  “Okay, everybody out! Everybody out! Out! Hurry up!”

  I circled lower. The truck was open at the back, and I could hear the prisoners talking among themselves.

  “Wait, this isn’t Aubervilliers,” said one man, who remained seated. “Why are we getting out?”

  “They told us we were being transferred to a better hospital,” another man added.

  “This road is blocked,” the driver replied. “We have to take a long detour, and the commander wants you to take a bathroom break. Get out.”

  The prisoners looked at each other. Slowly, they began to climb off the back of the truck. One of the last ones off, I could see, was Julien. He was holding a crutch and being lowered down by two other prisoners. I felt a surge of joy and relief at the sight of his face, and I tried to keep him in view at all times. It was hard because of all the soldiers and their guns. I caught at least one looking like he wanted to take a shot at me.

  “Follow me!” a guard ordered the prisoners. “Do not attempt to flee or you will be shot.”

  Julien and the two men who had helped him down exchanged worried glances.

  “It’s so obvious they’re going to shoot us,” whispered one of the men. “Might as well make a break for it.”

  The other man nodded in agreement. “If we all run at once, some of us might get away.”

  “You two! Stop whispering!” yelled a guard, pointing his rifle at them.

  With armed guards at the front and back, the group was marched into the woods.

  “Walk to the thicket up ahead,” one of the guards at the back ordered. “You can do your business there.”

  “We’re making a run for it,” one of the men whispered to someone else in the group. “Pass it on.”

  “No talking!” screamed a guard at the front.

  Two of the guards in the back exchanged disparaging looks. “Where’d they find these sorry misfits, anyway?” one asked the other.

  “Most of them came from the loony bin” was the other guard’s reply. He got a laugh in return.

  “Good target practice, eh?” said the first guard, raising his rifle.

  I didn’t need to hear any more. At the risk of becoming a target myself, I lowered my head and swooped down. I hovered carefully, positioning myself just behind Julien’s right ear.

  Julien, can you hear me? I whispered.

  I fluttered higher, surveying the situation. Could I do anything to distract the guards? Perhaps, but if they shot me, my efforts would have been in vain. I glanced around, hoping to see Monsieur Lafleur’s car come into view. Certainly they were rushing to be here. Yet they were nowhere in sight.

  But looking down, I saw that the prisoners were reaching an overgrown patch of bluebells, which gave me an idea. I dropped back down to Julien.

  How high will you fly? I asked him.

  No response. Perhaps he didn’t even notice I was there. Frustrated, I darted in front of him.

  “As high as the sky,” I heard him say softly.

  “Hurry up now!” yelled a guard, gesturing with his rifle. “To the thicket! To the thicket!”

  The prisoners quickened their pace. But at the same time, a murmur of conversation went through them. I heard a man instruct the others, “When I say ‘run,’ run.”

  How fast will you go? I asked, hovering above Julien’s head.

  “As fast as a crow,” he replied.

  “A little farther…,” muttered the man organizing the escape. Julien did not appear to be listening to him. He was at the back of the pack, hobbling along with a single crutch.

  Just then I heard the sound of a car approaching. Monsieur Lafleur! I circled back to try to tell them to hurry. I swooped down, hoping the sight of me would be enough. But I wasn’t sure Vivienne and Monsieur Lafleur noticed me. They were in conversation with the guards and appeared to be at an impasse.

  “The road is closed,” they were told. “Turn around.”

  “But I have money for my son’s release!” begged Vivienne from the passenger seat.

  The guards exchanged a quick look. One winked and the other one held out his hand. “Give it here.” When Vivienne passed him the money, the guard pocketed it and waved to the other soldiers. “Okay, let her through.”

  Vivienne and Monsieur Lafleur looked at each other. The road was still blocked, so the guard’s meaning was clearly that she should proceed on foot. Alone.

  Vivienne got out of the car and began to walk around the military convoy truck. She looked unsure of where to go. A soldier called out to her.

  “They took them into the woods,” he said. “But you shouldn’t—”

  Something about his tone of voice made Vivienne turn and begin to run toward the forest. “Wait! Please!” she cried, even though she was nowhere near the group.

  I knew it was up to me. I flew back to Julien.

  Then close your eyes….

  Julien finished my thought: “…Time to rise.”

  I heard the sickening click of a guard’s gun. It was now or never.

  Everything began to happen at once.

  I flapped my wings, beating them as hard as I possibly could to lift not only my small body but what felt like the weight of the world. A man yelled, “Run,” and the prisoners began to scatter in all directions, trying to get away from their captors. There was shuffling and yelling and chaos….

  RA-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

  And gunshots. So many gunshots, echoing through the forest.

  RA-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

  RA-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

  “Noooo!” cried Vivienne at the sound of the bullets flying.

  “Julien!!” I screamed hysterically. Madame Lafleur wrapped her arms around me, trying to comfort me, but it was no use. I was trapped in that attic with feet of clay, unable to do a single thing to help my beloved Julien. I cried and cried in her arms, inconsolable.

  Somehow, Madame Lafleur got me into a chair, and we sat there together for a long time. In my lap, I held the little carved bird Julien had made me, petting it gently as if I could bring it to life with my touch.

  “Don’t lose hope,” said Madame Lafleur.

  But I shook my head. Because I knew. Somehow, I just knew. We were connected that way, so it was as if I had been there. And it felt as if a part of me had died, too. I closed my eyes in sadness and frustration. As Madame Lafleur tried her best to reassure me, I felt increasingly numb. I let her words wash over me. And in my head, I tried to replace the awful images my brain was concocting with more peaceful ones. I pictured Julien walking, gaining speed, and dashing—almost floating—in the forest, through the magical field of bluebells. Then I saw golden rays of light raking through the trees. The light found him and wrapped him in its embrace. Julien kept leaning forward, reaching, and something inside him began to separate and change. He had no wings, and yet his feet left the ground. It was as if his soul rose up, free of his body and all his earthly limitations, and took flight.

  Free as a bird.

  * * *

  —

  “They never found Julien’s body,” Grandmère told Julian. “Whether that was because the Nazis covered up their dirty deed or the forest buried one of its own, we’ll never know.”

  “Wasn’t there a grave?” Julian asked. “When you took us to see your village, didn’t we go to a cemetery?”

  Grandmère nodded. “There is a grave marker at the spot where Julien’s parents are buried. And their marker is for Julien, too, even though the Nazis never admitted what they did to him. And even though Vivienne bribed a guard, they stopped her before she got to the woods. They sent her home, but she kept asking questions and trying to get to the bottom of Julien’s disappearance. She found out later that the reason the roads were being cleared that day was to make way for a German battalion heading north from Mende. The battalion was headed to Normandy, to keep the Allies from landing on D-Day.

  “But the Maquis attacked them. So the Germans launched a massive counterattack. They bombed the woods and the villages around the woods. The maquisards were outnumbered ten to one. They fought bravely. But over two hundred of them died in the mountains. Many of their bodies, like Julien’s, were never found. Vivienne also discovered that the other men on the truck with Julien had been taken from a mental hospital. They were memorialized with a plaque after the war. Julien’s name was not put on the plaque, since it could not be proven he was there. But I knew, and so did Vivienne.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Late Spring 1944–January 1946…and Beyond

  “Sara? Sara!” Vivienne called as she returned home from the market. I ran downstairs to greet her. Now that my hiding place had been shifted from the barn to the house, I could move about slightly more freely. I could even go into the Lafleurs’ apartment. But mostly I stayed out of view, because one never knew when soldiers might arrive unannounced.

  “I ran into an old friend,” said Vivienne breathlessly, “and she told me her sister was there when the soldiers arrested Julien. She also said she’s heard rumors that a lot of Jews are being hidden in the town of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. So it occurred to me that perhaps, if Julien escaped…”

  “But wouldn’t he try to contact us?” I asked gently. While I believed in my heart that Julien was gone, I didn’t want to rob Vivienne of her hope. It was all she and Jean-Paul had left.

  “Perhaps,” she allowed. “But if he was wounded, he might not be able to.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” I said.

  She sat down wearily at the kitchen table. “I just wish they had let me go to him.”

  She said this often. It seemed like this was, for her, the hardest part about what had happened to Julien—that she was so close to him when the shooting broke out, and yet she was unable to save her child.