“We've been supplying arms to the allies,” Adam said, knowing the United States could have done more, or at least done something sooner. “We're still fighting our way through Africa. We can't just step into a war. An army needs weaponry, planes, and ships. The Japanese nearly destroyed our navy. We're building planes, but it takes time.”
“Oui. I know. I am sorry…I am grateful.” She forced a smile, but the gesture only made the sorrow eating through her more palpable and more painful to watch.
Adam couldn't look at her. He placed his last bite of bread into his mouth. It was stale and slightly moldy, but it had quieted his hunger. Still, they would need more than old bread if they were going to make it to Britain.
As if reading his mind, Elisa said, “We will find more to eat. Maybe we can catch a rabbit? Or find eggs at a farm?”
“You mean steal eggs?” Adam teased.
Elisa did not see the humor in his remark. “I will do whatever I must.”
Keeping his eyes on the road, Adam asked, “Why do you speak such good English?”
“My parents. They were educated and believed their children also should be. I also speak German. It may be of help.”
“I hope we won't need it.”
She glanced up the road.
“So, you know people in Amiens?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think they will help us?”
“If they can. They know many people, maybe some in the resistance. But…” She shook her head. “It is very dangerous.” Elisa rested a hand on her son's head. “He is all I have. I will do anything to protect him.” Her expression tormented, she added, “If we are caught, we will be killed.”
He'd heard the stories. There'd been accusations of atrocities committed against Jews, but they seemed inconceivable. He'd hoped they were exaggerations. “You've got to get out of the country.”
“Oui. But how? I was hoping you would know something or someone.”
“I don't. Believe me, I would do something if I did.” Adam pushed to his feet. “Now, we've got to find water.” He glanced at Adin. “I can carry him.”
“He does not trust strangers.” She looked at her son. “But he is getting heavy.” She spoke to him in French. The little boy eyed Adam suspiciously but allowed himself to be handed over to the American. At first Adin studied Adam, holding his body stiffly away from him. Finally he settled his head against Adam's shoulder and returned to sleep.
“I have a son, William. He'll be five in December.”
“Adin is almost three.”
“Three?” Adam said, unable to contain his surprise. The child barely looked two. A fresh rush of sympathy hit him. What kind of deprivation had this woman and little boy withstood? “He's a beautiful child.”
“He is.” Elisa caressed Adin's cheek.
By late afternoon they came upon a small lake, and Elisa filled her flask, and all three drank their fill before moving on. The August sun basted the travelers, dust adding to the discomfort. With each step it puffed into the air, coating their lungs and settling in their eyes. Feeling vulnerable they continued, often traveling parallel to the road, making their way through fields and groves of trees.
“Tell me about your home,” Elisa said, breaking a long silence.
“I live in Alaska. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes. I am educated, remember?” She managed a small smile. “Alaska is very far north on the American continent, and it is cold.”
“Actually, it's only cold in the winter. Summers are mild, and we get a lot of sun.” He gazed at an open field dotted with haystacks, which looked very much like a painting he'd seen once and admired. In the painting the stacks of hay had merely been splotches of yellow paint dropped on a canvas. “I live in a broad valley with lots of farms.”
“So, it is like here?”
“Yes, but not so open. We have mountains and thick forests surrounding the valley. It's beautiful there.”
Elisa scuffed the earth, and a dusty cloud lifted. “Here we have mountains, but they are far away. I have visited them. They are…” She sought the right word. “Formidable,” she said with reverence.
“The Alps?”
“Yes. One day when the war is over, you must go to see them.” She looked at Adam with a penetrating gaze. “You have a family?”
“Yes. My father and mother died when I was a baby, but I have a wife, Laurel, and a son, William. Plus, Laurel's family feels like my own.”
“Why are you here?”
“Most American men are fighting, except for the old or the ones who are too sick. I'm not actually in the army or the air corp. I'm a journalist. My job is to write about the war and take photographs.”
“Is that what you were doing when the plane was shot down?”
“Yep. I was just a passenger on a bombing run. All I was supposed to do was record history.”
“I saw you and the others in the sky. I thought you would be killed.”
“I thought so too,” Adam said, sadly remembering the men who had died. “I don't know why I made it.” He felt a shadow of confusion. It didn't seem right that he had lived and the others had died.
“You are not to blame,” Elisa said gently. “You did not kill those men.”
