CHAPTER ONE

  Spring 1943

  “Sara? You awake? It’s me, Vivienne.”

  Every time I heard a noise, I would freeze. I’m not sure if the Beaumiers knew that, but they always made a point of identifying themselves when they entered the barn. The wall of hay that Jean-Paul had constructed served its purpose, keeping my little room out of view, but there was a spot I could slide through by turning sideways to help my visitors climb up. I also used this slim doorway as an extra window, to peer down and imagine how luxurious it might be if I could simply descend and explore the barn a little.

  At the sound of Vivienne’s voice, I peeked out.

  “Bonjour, ma petite,” she said in greeting, holding up two market sacks.

  “Bonjour, Madame Beaumier,” I replied politely.

  She hesitated, looking mildly uncomfortable. Realizing my mistake, I tried again. “Bonjour, Vivienne.”

  The corners of her mouth curled up immediately. “That’s more like it.”

  I leaned down and accepted her parcels so she could climb up and join me. Under cover of darkness, the Beaumiers had quietly moved a few pieces of furniture into the hayloft for me. The lavender-scented blanket was now spread across a simple hay mattress. A small selection of books was arranged in a few carefully stacked potato crates. Vivienne directed me to set her bags down on an old wooden table they had hoisted into the hayloft a few nights earlier. She joined me at it, sitting in one of the two mismatched chairs.

  “Any news?” I asked as she began pulling items from the bags. Each day there would be food and a few more things to make my space homier. Today she had brought half a loaf of crusty bread, a wedge of cheese, and some apples. I gratefully accepted these items, though my hunger to hear about my parents was actually what gnawed at me the most.

  Vivienne pulled out a book and a pair of tin plates. She set these items down and sadly shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sara. I wish I could tell you something—anything!—but I am afraid I can’t today. I’ve asked everyone I can think of. As you know, there are many people I cannot ask, for fear of having them discover our secret.”

  “Of course,” I replied, remembering what Julien had told me about their next-door neighbors, the Nazi collaborators. “Thank you for everything,” I added, trying not to sound too despondent.

  “I only wish we could do more,” said Vivienne, patting my arm. “Jean-Paul is trying to make arrangements for your safe transport. We had hoped he could convince some friends to take you with them across the border to Switzerland. Their plan is to leave as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like that plan will work.”

  “Why not?”

  Vivienne sighed. “The Germans have opened a new headquarters—they call it a Kommandantur—in Dannevilliers. Before, we would hear about them marching and setting up their strongholds in the cities. It all seemed so far away. But now they’re here, and there are Nazis everywhere.”

  She got up from the table and went over to a boarded-up window, where tiny beams of light broke through gaps between the boards. She leaned forward and looked out, taking in my only view of the world outside.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing that you can’t see much from here,” she finally said. “But take my word for it. Every road in and out of the village is heavily guarded. Even if we could get you to our friends’ home without being detected, their car is sure to be searched when they try to leave. It’s simply not worth the risk, because if they find you…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?” I asked.

  She forced a smile. “We’re just not going to let that happen.” Then she asked brightly, “Would now be a good time to attend to your hygiene?”

  “Yes, please.” This was quickly becoming a ritual of ours. Each day, she would remove my bucket, clean it out, and return it. If this was disturbing or even disgusting to her, she never showed any sign of it.

  Once a week, she would also bring up an extra pitcher of fresh water. Then I would sit on the floor and lean back against a chair while she washed my hair in a basin she had provided for this purpose. The water was never particularly warm, as it came from a hose, but I was grateful nonetheless. Those moments, feeling her hands gently caressing my scalp, were some of my most peaceful ones in the hayloft.

  “Vivienne?” I asked, closing my eyes to keep the soap out.

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there any way you could sneak me into your house?”

  Vivienne was silent for a moment. I opened my eyes, fearing that I had offended her in some way. The last thing I wanted was to seem unappreciative, after they had so kindly made a hiding place for me. But I couldn’t help wishing I could be in a real house, for so many reasons. In a real house, other people would be around, so I wouldn’t have to jump at the slightest sound. In a real house, the walls wouldn’t have gaps and holes that let the chill winds find me. In a real house, I could use a real toilet, wash myself from a faucet, sit in a comfortable chair….

  But it was immediately clear from her face that if I felt bad for asking, she felt worse for not being able to say yes.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Vivienne. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But our neighbors, the Lafleurs…” She shook her head. “We just can’t trust them. It’s horrible to say, but I think it’s true: The Nazis have gotten to them. And now they are spies.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  Vivienne poured a little more water on my hair and resumed her massaging. “I suppose you could call it a woman’s intuition. The funny thing is we used to be friends, Madame Lafleur and I. That is, we weren’t close friends, but we were neighbors and we got along and helped each other. Our house is part of the same building, you see. If you were facing it, we would be on the left and they would be on the right.”

  I closed my eyes again, picturing a tidy brick house—not fancy but well maintained, with different-colored shutters for each side. Let’s see…I would make the Beaumiers’ side have cheerful yellow shutters and a matching front door, in the same shade as Mademoiselle Petitjean’s scarf. And the Lafleurs would have light blue shutters and a matching door. I imagined a man and a woman standing at the second-floor window. In my mind, they didn’t look like spies. But what did spies look like? Wasn’t the point that they could be anyone…even a married couple living in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere?

  “The Lafleurs are a good bit older than us, so Jean-Paul and I went out of our way to check in on them and be of assistance when they needed it. When Madame Lafleur started using a cane, I noticed and made a habit of picking up some things for her when I went to the market.”

  “That was nice of you,” I said. I adjusted my mental picture accordingly, adding a cane and gray hair to the woman and thinning hair to the man.

  “It was not a big deal,” replied Vivienne. “And she seemed to appreciate it, so I kept doing it. I was going anyway, and it was easy for me to pick up their milk and other items. But as time went on, things changed. That is, they changed. They stopped speaking to me. To any of us. They keep to themselves and almost never go out. They just sit at their front window all day like a couple of sentries. It’s sad, really.”

  Again the image in my head shifted. Now the older couple seemed sinister. They were still at the window, but they were whispering and frowning. The man looked down at Vivienne, pointing as she went out her front door. The woman furrowed her brow and nodded. Clearly, they were of the belief that the Beaumiers were up to no good.

  “All set,” said Vivienne, wrapping a towel around my hair. I got to my feet awkwardly and plunked myself into the free chair while Vivienne poured the gray sudsy water from my hair-washing basin into my toilet bucket.

  “So you stopped bringing them things?” I asked.

  Vivienne gave a little laugh. “I probably should. But I told myself that whatever their problem is, I won’t let it become mine. I still bring them their milk each day and leave it on their front step, and they take it inside without a word. And now that you’re here, I feel like it would seem odd to stop delivering it. The last thing I want to do is change my routine in any way that might give them a reason to be suspicious of us.”

  “That makes sense,” I admitted.

  “No,” said Vivienne. “None of this makes sense. But I have come to accept that certain battles are not worth fighting, even if one is right. That is why I will keep smiling at the Lafleurs. I will do everything in my power to keep them from seeing you.”

  I knew she was doing the right thing. But I couldn’t help feeling frustrated and angry. I wanted to confront those awful Lafleurs and yell at them. How can you hate me and want to send people like me away? I would say. You don’t even know me! I’m just a kid! The thought of running out the door, feeling the sunshine on my face, and yelling those words at the Lafleurs’ frowning faces made my heart race with excitement.

  And terror.

  I could do no such thing. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t even leave the barn.

  All I could do was wait, and pray for the war to end.

  * * *

  —

  I spent a lot of time waiting. Waiting for darkness, which felt less safe in some ways but safer in others. Waiting for often- elusive sleep to come, while staring up at the barn roof…or rather, staring at the holes in the roof. Waiting for Vivienne to appear, as she did daily. This was especially hard when I was hungry, or my bucket began to smell particularly pungent. Or both, which was frequently the case.

  One day, it seemed to me that Vivienne might be running late. I had no clock, so I couldn’t tell for sure. But the sun appeared to be higher in the sky, and I felt hungrier than usual. I had begun doing some daily exercises to keep my body strong, so I told myself that perhaps that was the reason for my increased appetite. But with each passing minute my worries grew. Had the Lafleurs turned her in? Had she been detained? Were the Nazis on their way to put a swift end to my stay in the barn?

  “Sara? Allô? C’est moi!”

  I felt a wave of relief. Quickly, I dashed over to the hayloft’s edge.

  “Bonjour, Mada—” I caught myself. “Bonjour, Vivienne!”

  She beamed happily. Her smile lit up the gloomy space.

  “Bonjour, ma petite!” she called. “Here, can you take these?” She handed me her bags, and within moments she was beside me. “Sorry to be so late today,” she told me, placing a hand lovingly on my cheek. “I needed to find a new route.”

  She unpacked a bowl of stew and unscrolled a napkin to reveal two jam-filled crêpes. My stomach growled with anticipation.

  “A new route?” I asked between bites of crêpe. Mmmm! Red currant preserves—my favorite!

  “Mm-hmm.” Vivienne pulled a few more things from her magic sack. She held both hands behind her back, asking me to choose one.

  I went with right. Vivienne produced a deck of cards.

  “Fancy a game of belote?” she asked.

  “Yes, please!”

  “Ah, but there’s still the other hand,” she reminded me. She extended her left arm and showed me the other item she was holding.

  “A pencil!” I could hardly contain my excitement. It used to be that I couldn’t go a day without drawing, but now that I had endured many such days, I knew otherwise. Yet somehow Vivienne had known. Or, more likely, Julien had told her how deeply I loved to draw.

  “I couldn’t get you any paper just yet, but soon, I hope. I also got you this.”

  From her skirt pocket she produced a small eraser. I accepted this item as well and spontaneously hugged her.

  “Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Vivienne smiled. “I’m glad. I wish I could bring you so much more. Hopefully, soon.”

  “Soon?” I pounced on the word. “Is there news? Has anything changed?”

  She sighed. “No, chérie. But no news is good news, n’est-ce pas? And it is also good news that things have not changed for the worse. So—shall we play?”

  “Sure,” I said, thankful for the distraction. She dealt, and we played in near silence for a while. I held my cards with one hand and spooned stew into my mouth with the other. If Maman could have seen me now, she’d most certainly have had something to say about this. In normal times, at home, Maman would never have let me play games at the table or eat meals while playing cards.

  “No slouching, Sara,” she would often say, looking at me pointedly over her glasses.

  “And no slurping,” Papa would add.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Maman would agree.

  But these were not normal times, and however homey the Beaumiers had made the hayloft, it was not a home. Vivienne seemed to sense these things and found ways to make my days more bearable. It wasn’t just the food and the small gifts she brought me. It was her. She was a ray of sunshine.

  “Ah! You win, chérie!” she cried. “I demand a rematch.”

  “I suppose…if you insist,” I joked. We both knew I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  It was my turn to deal, and as I did, I realized that Vivienne had not exactly answered my question. “Isn’t your house across the road, on the other side of the big field?” I asked, picturing it from the night I first arrived.

  “It is.”

  “Then…what did you mean, ‘a new route’? Isn’t there just one way to get here?”

  “Not exactly,” said Vivienne, picking up her hand of cards and studying it. “With the Lafleurs next door and their eyes always on the street, I needed to get a little, shall we say, creative.”

  “Ohhh….” This hadn’t occurred to me, but it made sense. If she walked out the front door with her bags filled and made a beeline for the barn but returned with empty sacks, she’d certainly arouse suspicion.

  “My route, until today, has been to go to town, as I always have done, and do my shopping. I try to do it as quickly as possible, to leave plenty of time for our visits. Then, when no one is looking, I take a side street that leads away from town in the direction of the Mernuit.”

  “The forest!” I couldn’t help letting my alarm show. She couldn’t be serious—could she?

  “It’s fine, really,” Vivienne assured me, taking her turn. “There’s a little winding path, through a section that’s not particularly dense. And it leads to the grove of trees on the back side of the barn. From there, I can enter the barn without being seen. There’s a hole in the wall that I always used to remind Jean-Paul to patch. But he never got around to it, and now I’m glad he didn’t!” She laughed, and I smiled, too. Her warmth was infectious.

  “But—how did you change your route today? And why?” I asked. I was distracted by the image of her in the forest, walking through thick fog. I didn’t like the idea of her putting herself in the path of a wolf for any reason. Vivienne had to point to my hand of cards to remind me that it was my turn.

  “When I went down the little street I always take,” she answered, “I was watching over my shoulder to make sure no one noticed me. I practically crashed into someone, and when I looked up, I realized it was a German soldier. The Nazis had set up a new checkpoint, right there.”

  “Vivienne! That’s so scary,” I said with a shudder.

  “It was fine. I just pretended I was lost and retraced my steps. Then I took the next street over and backtracked to get to the forest a kilometer or so later.”

  “A kilometer? How far out of your way is this route taking you?”

  “Not far at all,” insisted Vivienne. “Just three kilometers or so. It’s fine, really. I like to walk. It’s good exercise.”

  I envied her her freedom. How I wished I could take a walk anywhere. Walk to the Beaumiers’ house. Walk to my own house, for that matter. Better yet, fly there like a bird!

  “Ah!” said Vivienne as I played my cards. “You win again, chérie!”

  I looked down with surprise. I might as well be a bird, since my head was off in the clouds so often these days. These visits from Vivienne helped, though, to ground me.

  “I demand another rematch. Tomorrow, shall we say?”

  “I’m very busy tomorrow,” I replied. “But perhaps I can squeeze you in.”

  Her eyes sparkled at my joke. Then she gathered her things, kissed me, and climbed down from the hayloft.

  “Can you hand me my sacks?” she called up to me.

  I obliged, bringing them over to the edge. One sack, as usual, was still heavy with the grocery items Vivienne was going to take home for herself, Jean-Paul, and Julien. As I passed it down, I must have let go too soon.

  Crash!

  I looked down to see the bag on the ground, its contents spilled. The items included two milk bottles—one of which had shattered in the fall.

  “I’m so sorry!” I cried out. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” Vivienne replied. She picked up the intact milk bottle and wiped it off on her skirt. “No harm done. I’ll just pass by the dairy on the way home, don’t you worry.” She went over to the corner and returned with the broom.

  “The…dairy?” I looked down at her, confused. Occasionally, I could hear the sound of a cow lowing in the distance. But if there was a dairy close by, I think that I would have known. The sounds—and smells—of a dairy are pretty distinctive.

  Vivienne nodded. As she stooped and began picking up the larger pieces of glass carefully, she explained. “To keep the Lafleurs’ curious eyes from spotting me, I go home the same way that I get here. Through the back of the barn, then the path through the forest, and back by side roads to the market square.” She stood up and got to work with the broom. “If the dairy is open, I’ll pick up more milk. That way, I’ll have enough for us and the Lafleurs. If the dairy is closed, the Lafleurs can have our milk today. We’ll make do.”