She shook her head no, her brown eyes holding Adam's. “You came from the plane?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled with moisture. “I hoped...maybe...there were American soldiers. I think maybe they are waiting for you.” She sat and transferred her little boy into her arms. He remained quiet. Holding him against her chest, she rocked. “There is no hope for us.”
Adam expected German soldiers to appear at any moment. He scanned the trees and the fields. “I have to get out of here. I've got to go. They're probably looking for me.”
The woman continued to rock. She didn't look up.
What should I do? Adam wondered. It wasn't right to just leave her and the boy. He couldn't do anything for them. “Sorry I can't help you.” Guilt settled over him like a weight. He checked his compass. He'd head northwest. Staying low, Adam started across the field to the nearest grove of trees.
“Wait. Monsieur, wait. Please wait.” With the little boy in her arms, the woman ran after him. “I will go with you. You will help me. Yes?”
“No, I can't help you.”
“But if I do not escape France, they will kill me and my son.”
“Why? You're French, aren't you?”
“Oui. I am French.” She stared at the ground and appeared to be thinking. When she looked at Adam, her dark eyes challenged him. “I am also a Jew.”
Adam had heard that Jews were being exterminated, but he hadn't found any hard evidence to prove the rumors. He sat and propped his rifle between his knees. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he looked at her. She knows French. That'll be a help. “All right. You can come with me, but I don't know what I can do for you. I need to get out of France. Do you know your way around this country?”
“Oui.”
“Do you know anyone who would help an American?”
“I do not know. Maybe...I can find someone.” She scanned the field and the forest. “Come. We go this way.”
Adam stood and followed, wondering if he was doing the right thing.
Chapter 13
THE ONLY THING OVERRIDING ADAM'S HUNGER WAS HIS THIRST. HE WISHED Elisa had chosen to follow the river he'd seen from the air. Hopefully, they'd pass by a stream or river soon; he watched for one.
Already they'd been walking for hours. Elisa continued on without complaint, revealing no sign of fatigue. Her stoicism quieted Adam's own grievances. Even her young son did not complain. Adam wondered at his age. He was small, but the look in his eyes gave him the appearance of being older than a child. Part of the time Adin traveled in the pack on his mother's back, and at other times he walked. His legs looked more like sticks than limbs, but he managed to keep up.
Elisa led the way, trudging steadily northward on a dusty road. Adam remained alert to danger, but from time to time he studied his uncommon partner. Although obviously sturdy, she looked critically thin; her colorless, ankle-length dress nearly swallowed her. A belt cinched at the waist was the only thing providing a glimmer of the curves that had once been. Perfectly arched brows and a pallid forehead framed dark, serious eyes that reminded him of large, iridescent opals. Well-defined cheekbones angled softly toward full lips that held no sign of happiness.
A bell jangled in the distance. It hung from the neck of a brown-and-white milk cow that grabbed mouthfuls of grass, then chewed contentedly. She surveyed her domain, a broad green pasture that rose and reached out beyond a knoll. At one end a band of sheep grazed. Beyond a cross fence a farmer and a boy, whom Adam assumed to be his son, piled hay into the back of a wagon. The man lifted his hand in greeting. Elisa and Adam returned the gesture.
“Could we get something to drink or maybe eat here?” Adam asked. They'd seen few people, and those they had passed had either ignored them or eyed them with suspicion. This might be their only opportunity.
“Not here. Soon we will have water. I know a place. And I have a little food.”
They moved on, and with the passing minutes Adam became more and more pessimistic about making it back to England. How would he ever be reunited with the allied forces? Although he was certain the fatally wounded bomber had been spotted, there would be no rescue. He would have to find his own way out—but how?
The roadway divided into two lanes, one continuing west and the other turning north. Elisa stopped. She seemed indecisive.
Adam waited for a few minutes, then asked, “So, which way?”
A cooling breeze played with Elisa's dark hair. She brushed it off her face. “This road leads to Le Havre on the coast. The other will take us north to Amiens.” She paused. “I have friends near Amiens.” Shaking her head, she continued, “But I do not wish to put them in danger.” She looked at Adam.
The intensity of her dark brown eyes bore into him. It was unsettling.
“I do not know if they will help. They have children, three little ones.” She paused. “If they were arrested…it would break my heart.”
“Can we get help in Le Havre?”
“I know no one there. It is a large township. It sits along the coast, but the Germans are very vigilant. The channel is closely guarded. I do not know how we could cross.” She was unable to hide her despair.
“Maman.” Adin tugged on her skirt and said something to her in French.
Elisa spoke to him in gentle tones, then looked up at Adam. “He is hungry. Always hungry.” Her eyes teared. “I have only bread.” She scooped up the little boy and, cradling him against her chest, headed off the road into a grove of oak. Making sure they were well inside the copse, she sat and reached into a knapsack. She brought out a paper bag and retrieved a chunk of dark bread. Breaking off a portion from the softer insides, she handed it to her son. He pushed it into his mouth and, with his cheeks bulging, nuzzled close to his maman and chewed. Huge dark eyes so much like his mother's stared at Adam. Elisa tore off another piece, picked off a spot of mold, and offered it to Adam.
He nearly refused, knowing he was taking from their meager supply, but his empty stomach ached. Accepting the offering, he said, “Thanks.”
They ate the meager meal in silence, alert and listening for German soldiers. Adam kept his rifle in hand. The Browning automatic, known as a BAR by servicemen, gave him some comfort. This was a soldier's weapon of choice. It was powerful, accurate, and held twenty rounds in the magazine.
“Monsieur, why is it you Americans wait so long?” Elisa asked, ending the silence.
“Wait so long for what?”
She chewed and swallowed. “Your army has not come to help us. We wait and hope, but the Germans, they take over our towns, kill our people—and still the Americans do not come.”
“What do you think those planes were all about? Those were U.S. bombers. They were sent to take out German targets. We can't just traipse in and take over,” Adam said incredulously, unable to push down his defensiveness. “And we weren't at war. This wasn't our war.”
She glared at Adam, her brown eyes black. “And so you cannot be troubled? Our children are dying, our husbands…” Her voice caught. “…are dying.”
