For the next forty-five minutes, they drank tea and ate bread and cheese, and Uzi spoke about the country’s challenges and miracles. Arthur’s body calmed as he listened. He could concentrate, Uzi thought. Life in a kibbutz, an industrious life of physical work, would suit him. How unfair it was for Arthur to waste months waiting for an indifferent world to act. How unfair that after six million Jews had been killed, the world held the survivors in its clutches so those who had barely made it out alive still had to seek its approval to rehabilitate themselves.
After Arthur departed, Madame Therrien showed Uzi a small item he’d left on the table: the mezuzah.
As Uzi scooped it up, he understood. The boy didn’t need more promises or dreams.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Claudette
Château de Valençay, France
Summer 1945
Reaching the château in the midst of a storm, Claudette was shocked to discover that the expansive area outside the front gate was filled with wooden huts. The former grassy plaza, once ringed by the stately orangery, immaculate horse barns, and elegant sentry lodging, looked like a Barcelona slum. As Father Hugo drove his horse-drawn covered cart through the wrought-iron gates, Claudette saw through the sheets of rain that even inside the château’s grounds, the formerly beautiful gardens were crisscrossed with laundry lines.
In his office, Monsieur Vincent told Claudette, “I protected everything I could. I had sworn loyalty to the late duke and to his ancestors’ legacy, and I would have given my life to protect the estate and its assets.” He wheezed when he gulped air. “I’m proud that all the treasures we hid are intact! They are being transferred to the conservancy of the state, which will preserve their history.”
“I’m talking about my baby whom you promised to—”
He cut her off. “The Boche confiscated the herds and the horses. Without laborers, I couldn’t cultivate the vineyards, orchards, and fields, so I let the women and children harvest whatever grew wild. Yet they still went hungry. We were eating rutabaga—animal feed!” He coughed.
“But my baby!” Claudette yelled, a monumental transgression. She would not be intimidated; she was a mother wild with grief. A lioness searching for her cub. “How could you? You knew that I was with the duchess! You knew that I would come back for him.”
“You have no idea what was going on here! The villagers fled to the château grounds so I could negotiate for their safety in supposedly German territory. Who could care for an infant?”
“Who took him? Where is he?” she cried.
Monsieur Vincent’s tone was pleading: “It was complete chaos. Léonie had been killed. Father Sauveterre was dying. Our remaining men had been sent into slavery in Germany. Hunger—do you know what that is like? That’s what we had here. You were living in comfort in Spain. Here, the Boche soldiers settled in our homes, stealing everything—a piece of rope, a single parsnip. We’d hardly reconciled ourselves to their presence when a murderous regiment advanced toward us, scorching the earth and massacring everyone in every village along the way. What was anyone supposed to do with your bastard baby?” He spat out the word. “Luckily, some childless couple took him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. We were just grateful someone did, given what you’d done to him.”
“What did I do to him?”
“A tattoo of a Jewish star? Were you mad?”
“It was supposed to be tiny.” She swallowed. “Who got him? Where did Benjamin go?”
“Sorry. I wasn’t in the church that day. I was here, dealing with more than enough for one person.” Monsieur Vincent straightened in his chair. “I managed to convince the general of the Waffen-SS to keep his soldiers from entering the château grounds because it belonged to a German duke. I saved the treasures and I saved the townspeople sheltering here.” He pulled out a handkerchief and coughed into it.
“Who in the village facilitated the adoptions?” Claudette asked.
“The midwife.” Monsieur Vincent stopped and gazed at Claudette as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Was it she who tattooed his foot?”
Claudette nodded. A muscle in her back spasmed.
“Now I get it. I knew you weren’t that stupid. It’s proof that Madame Duchamp was losing her mind even before she stopped making sense altogether. The last time she assisted a woman in labor, she walked out in the middle of the delivery, forgetting why she was there. Luckily, a neighbor saw her wandering in the street, heard the birthing mother’s screams, and rushed inside. She saved the young woman’s life.”
“Where is Madame Duchamp now?”
“Maybe in an asylum, although I can’t imagine who operates one. Even if she’s alive, no one will get anything out of her.”
Claudette’s entire being collapsed. She gasped for air. Benjamin was lost to her. How could she accept that he was gone forever?
Outside, heavy clouds went on emptying their gray, low-hanging bellies.
“Claudette, at least he’s alive, something I can’t say to many mothers. I’m sure that whoever adopted your son is giving him a good home. It was in the middle of the war, so they must have been rich people of influence who could provide him with everything or they wouldn’t have taken him.”
Her loud sobs almost drowned out his words.
“I’m so sorry.” Monsieur Vincent went out and returned with a glass of tea. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
She managed to speak through her tears. “My baby’s father is supposed to come looking for me. Has anyone asked?”
He shook his head.
“He’ll come. His name is Raphaël Baume. His father is Isaac Baume. He may come too.”
“How did you get yourself involved with them?”
“Whatever you think of Jews, these men are very decent people.” She tried to control her trembling voice. “When they come, please let them know where I am.”
“And where is that?”
She had no home. No one to turn to. “I’ll let you know.” She wiped her face with her sleeve. “My suitcase was stolen. There might still be trunks of old clothes in the upstairs chambers. May I look so I can fashion myself something?”
He exhaled. “You helped store centuries’ worth of uniforms and evening gowns of the duke’s ancestors, so you know they must be preserved. But you may check for items that can’t be salvaged from dampness or moth.”
