Ruth’s chest ached. She looped her arm around Lucette’s elbow.
“I don’t want you to have any regrets,” Lucette said. “Regardless of how things turn out, you shouldn’t waste a chance to tell him what’s on your mind—and in your heart.”
Ruth glanced at Jimmie, walking like a father beside Aline. She wondered, although briefly, what it might be like to create a life with him, and have a family of their own. Her heart desired to be with him, but her brain prodded her with logic. We’re fighting a war and France is falling. It isn’t in the cards for us.
Lucette unhooked her arm and lengthened her stride.
“Where are you going?”
“To walk with Aline on the final leg of the trip,” Lucette said. “I’ll send Jimmie to join you.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I do.” Lucette quickened her pace, weaved her way around a group of refugees walking with bicycles, and disappeared.
Minutes later, Jimmie worked his way through the crowd to Ruth. He settled in next to her and matched her walking pace. “Lucette filled me in on your conversations with French soldiers.”
Ruth nodded. An odd feeling of nervousness, much like what she felt before performing onstage, grew in her stomach. “Did you learn anything from the BEF?”
“I did.”
For several minutes, Jimmie told her about his conversation with BEF soldiers, whose unit avoided the lines of Panzer tanks that surrounded most of the British troops in northwest France. “They were told that the evacuations at Saint-Nazaire began yesterday.”
“Do they know how long it will last?”
“They’re not sure—they suppose it will continue until the Germans invade the area.”
“We’ll be there in a few hours—in time to get you aboard a ship.”
He nodded.
“How does Aline seem to you?” she asked.
“She’s hurting a lot, but she’s talking, which I think is a good sign.”
“I agree.” She glanced at him. “She has grown fond of you.”
“Same.” He adjusted the sling, holding his cast-covered arm. “It feels wrong to leave you. I’m hoping that when we get to Saint-Nazaire, you, Lucette, and Aline will change your minds and get on a ship to England.”
“I wish it were that easy,” Ruth said.
“It can be,” he said.
“In Toulouse, we’ll have Lucette’s family to help us care for Aline. Besides, what would happen to Aline if we went to England?”
“I don’t know. But I do think that you’ll be safer if you were out of France.”
“I appreciate you looking out for us.” She shifted her bag on her shoulder. “Our minds are made up—we’re going to Toulouse.”
“I don’t like it,” he said, “but I respect your decision.”
“That’s all I ask for,” she said. “Merci.”
They traveled around a bend in the road and the dark, bluish-gray water of the Loire came into view. The silt-covered riverbank contained countless footprints, as if an army had traversed along the waterway during the night.
Ruth thought of her conversation with Lucette, and her anxiousness grew. “There’s something that’s been on my mind that I want to talk to you about.”
“Of course,” he said.
“Let’s stop for a second.” She led him away from the crowded road. At the riverbank, she put down her bag, faced him, and looked into his eyes. She drew a few short breaths, attempting to dispel butterflies in her stomach.
“It’s all right,” he said, touching her hand. “You can tell me anything.”
She swallowed. “I wish I had been more open about—”
A grind of plane engines broke the air. On the road, soldiers and refugees raised their heads to the sky.
Ruth’s breath stalled in her lungs.
A horrid crescendo of shouts and screams came from the crowd, which was followed by the piercing shriek of Stuka dive bombers.
CHAPTER 37
DONGES, FRANCE—JUNE 16, 1940
Several thousand feet above them, six German Stukas dived toward the ground. Their sirens blared, flooding Ruth’s body with fear. Oh, dear God!
Jimmie grabbed her hand and pulled her along the riverbank. Soldiers and refugees scattered from the road in search of cover.