The interpreter at the embassy was right, Jimmie thought.
Lucette glanced at the soldier’s rifle on the ground near his feet. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
“Never,” the soldier said. “My unit will continue to fight, after we regroup with Allied forces in England.”
Lucette shifted her weight. “My fiancé is with the Five Hundred Third Combat Tank Regiment. Do you know anything about his tank group?”
“Non,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Lucette lowered her eyes.
Ruth placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“If you’re headed to Saint-Nazaire,” the soldier said, “it’s best that you keep moving. I was told by my superior officer that the evacuation at Saint-Nazaire won’t last long. You will need to get there within six days, or risk not getting out.”
“We will.” Jimmie shook the man’s hand. “Merci.”
The soldier nodded, gathered his rifle, and left with his unit.
They returned to their spot at the stream’s edge, and Ruth grabbed her bag and retrieved the map. She placed it on the ground and studied it while the others gathered around.
“This is where we are.” Ruth placed her finger on the map and drew an imaginary line to Saint-Nazaire, a harbor town on the coast of Brittany. “This is where we need to be in less than six days. I think we can make it.”
A smile spread over Lucette’s face. “We’re going to get you home, Jimmie.”
But you and Ruth will remain in France with the enemy, and we still need to find a way to get Aline and Pierre on board a ship to England. Jimmie nodded, hiding his disquietude. I’ll figure things out when we get to the coast.
“Let’s get something to eat and get on the road.” Ruth looked at Aline. “Get your grandpapa while I prepare the food.”
Aline nodded and stepped away.
Ruth put away her map and unpacked three shriveled turnips and a minuscule piece of dry-cured ham, which she placed on a large flat rock.
“Time to eat,” Aline said, approaching Pierre.
Jimmie retrieved a pocketknife and handed it to Ruth, who opened the blade and sank it into a turnip.
Aline kneeled to Pierre. “Wake up.”
Ruth cut a slice of turnip and handed it to Lucette, who took a nibble.
“Grandpapa.” Aline nudged his shoulder.
Ruth lowered her blade, looked up, and her face went pale.
Jimmie turned and his eyes widened.
Aline leaned over Pierre and pushed on his chest. “Grandpapa!”
Jimmie shot forward. River rock dug into his bare feet as he sprinted toward Aline and Pierre.
Ruth dropped her knife and ran with Lucette.
“Please wake up!” Aline cried.
Jimmie, his pulse pounding in his ears, fell to his knees and patted Pierre’s cheek. “Pierre—can you hear me?”
Ruth kneeled, clasped Pierre’s wrist, and lowered her cheek to his face. She looked at Lucette. “No heartbeat and he’s not breathing.”
“Non!” Aline sobbed.
“Holger Nielsen method,” Lucette said.
Lucette and Ruth rolled Pierre onto his stomach with his head to the side. They took turns lifting Pierre’s arms and pressing on his back.
Jimmie felt helpless as he watched them struggle to resuscitate Pierre. He wrapped his arms around Aline, whimpering and her body trembling.
Ruth and Lucette worked on Pierre for several minutes, then rolled him onto his back and checked for a pulse and respiration. They repeated the process two more times and eventually crossed Pierre’s arms over his chest.
Tears flooded Ruth’s eyes as she looked at Aline. “There’s nothing more we can do—I’m so sorry.”
“Non!” Aline cried. She pushed away from Jimmie and fell to her grandfather’s side. “Please wake!”
Lucette lowered her head into her hands and sobbed.
“Wake!” Aline bawled.
Jimmie’s vision blurred with tears as Aline lowered her head to Pierre’s still chest and wept.
