“Non,” he said. “When it becomes evident that Paris will fall to the Germans, I will leave with Aline.”
A memory of Aline, helping her grandpapa take a nitroglycerin pill, flashed in Jimmie’s brain. “Without motor transport, the journey to the coast will be arduous, and twice as long as the route we took to Paris. The bombings will cease if the city becomes occupied by the Germans. Perhaps it might be safer for you and Aline to remain here until the region is liberated.”
“Never,” Pierre said firmly.
“Why?”
“Because I have firsthand experience of how German conquerors treat their captives.” Pierre, his eyes surrounded in dark circles, looked at Jimmie. “I was a prisoner in Lille during its German occupation in the Great War.”
Jimmie clasped his cup.
“I was in my late forties and too old for service in the last war. My wife, Zelia, and I were in Lille with our son, Leopold—he was nine years old at the time—when the German Army seized our city. I was arrested and imprisoned in the Citadel of Lille. Each day, I was forced to march, with my hands and feet in shackles, through the town.” Pierre rubbed his wrist, as if the memory had resurrected the pain he’d experienced. “Putting prisoners on display to the citizens of Lille was the German military’s way of demoralizing us.”
“I’m sorry.”
Pierre nodded. “It was worse for Zelia and Leopold. Thousands of Lille women were rounded up by German soldiers and taken away to farm the French countryside—Zelia was one of them.”
Oh, God, Jimmie thought.
“Leopold found refuge with an elderly woman, but she died soon after the German occupation. To survive, he worked as a stable boy for the German cavalry.”
“I can’t imagine what you and your family went through,” Jimmie said.
“We were lucky to survive. Zelia never spoke about her experience in the labor camp, and I never wanted to know. I was grateful for us to be together to raise our son. After the Great War, we had many joyful years, and we never took our freedom and togetherness for granted.” Tears welled up in his eyes and he wiped them away. “Forgive me. Even though it has been six years since Zelia died, my sorrow sometimes feels raw.”
“It’s quite all right,” Jimmie said. “I can tell that you loved her a lot.”
“More than anyone could care for another soul.”
Jimmie thought of Ruth, curled next to him in a wagon, and the immense contentment that flowed through him. He set aside his memory and took a sip of coffee.
“In this war, a German occupation will be much worse for Jewish people, like me and Aline.” Pierre tapped the side of his cup. “The Nazis persecute Jews.”
Jimmie nodded.
“For years, the Germans have enforced laws which marginalize Jews. But the racism and hate has grown.” He swirled his coffee. “Are you familiar with Kristallnacht?”
The Night of Broken Glass, Jimmie thought. “Yes, it was a riot by the Nazi Party against thousands of Jewish-owned businesses. I read about it in The Times of London.”
“It was far worse than that. They destroyed hundreds of synagogues. Thousands of Jewish men were arrested and sent away to concentration camps, and many people were killed.”
Muscles in Jimmie’s shoulders tensed.
“In Lille, I had a close Jewish friend named Ernst who had family in Berlin. The night of the riots, Ernst’s brother was dragged from his apartment above his clock store. While some of the members of the Nazi paramilitary set his home and business ablaze, others beat him to death with clubs while his wife and children were forced to watch.”
“Oh, God.” Jimmie felt sick to his stomach.
“I tell you this not to disturb you, but to reveal my reasoning for not remaining in Paris if it falls to Germany.” He looked at Jimmie. “I need to protect Aline, and will stay one step ahead of Hitler’s army no matter how far I need to walk.”
Jimmie leaned forward. “Then you and Aline should come with me to the coast.”
Pierre shook his head. “You are searching for an unknown port that is supposed to have a naval operation to remove the remaining military personnel from France. Even if we find it, I doubt that civilians would be permitted to board the boats.”
“I will find a way to gain passage for you and Aline.”
“That’s kind of you to try to help us,” Pierre said, “but I will need to choose our destination based on the direction of the German troops.”
Door hinges squeaked, soft footsteps grew in the hallway, and Aline—holding Piglet—entered the kitchen. “Bonjour.”
“Bonjour, my little cabbage,” Pierre said, putting on a smile. He stood and gave her a hug.
“Did you sleep well?” Jimmie asked.
“Oui,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too,” Jimmie said.
“I made breakfast,” Pierre said. “Fried eggs and bread.”
“Merci.” Aline peeked into the skillet that contained three well-cooked eggs with bits of baguette. “It’s been a long time since we had a real breakfast. We should do something special for Ruth’s aunt and uncle for allowing us to eat their food.”
“I agree,” Pierre said. “Do you have any ideas for how we could earn our keep?”
“We should clean the apartment,” she said, “and do all of the dishes.”
“I’ll wash and you’ll dry,” Pierre said.
She nodded.
