Arnaude spoke.
“It is to be a secret,” Elisa explained. “If we do not know, then we cannot say...no matter what might happen to us.”
Adam nodded. It made sense. He looked at Arnaude. “Merci.”
With a bob of the head and a smile for Adam, Arnaude spooned soup into his mouth.
Adam felt hope growing. Maybe he would make it home. He dipped bread into his potage and took a bite. The blend of vegetables and beef stock had a sturdy, wholesome flavor. “This is good,” he told Nadine. “You are a good cook.”
Nadine started to say something when the sound of a vehicle backfiring carried in from outside. They heard the grinding of gears. Arnaude went to the window and peered out. “Milice!” he hissed. While sliding the table toward the center of the room, he fired orders in French.
Adam caught sight of a German truck turning into the drive. It would take them no more than a couple of minutes to make their way from the road.
Everyone knew what to do. Seven-year-old Abella cleared off the extra dishes, rinsed them and set them in the cupboard. Five-year-old Lynette and the youngest, Claire, each moved a chair out of the way, while Nadine grabbed another chair and threw back a rug lying beneath the table, exposing the wooden floor. She slid her fingers beneath a hidden groove and lifted a door.
Adam stared at a hollow in the floor. He'd never have seen the trap door.
Arnaude yelled something.
“Get in!” Elisa grabbed Adin and climbed into the small cavity. Adam clambered in beside her. The two lay side by side with Adin tucked between them.
Arnaude hastily scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to Adam. “He will help you. Let no one see it,” he said in French, and Elisa quickly interpreted. He fixed his eyes on his guests for a moment, then put a finger to his mouth and lowered the door.
Fear and darkness encased the fugitives. Adam strained to see while listening to the sounds of the table and chairs being returned to their rightful places. Clinking of flatware against porcelain told him the family members had reseated themselves and were now doing their best to eat.
Adam could feel the tension in Elisa's body and the tremble of her limbs. Adin whimpered. Elisa spoke gently. The little boy turned still. Adam laid a hand on hers and squeezed; then barely breathing, he turned his eyes to floorboards only inches above his head. He was certain the thudding of his heart could be heard.
A rap on the front door boomed. Adam nearly jumped.
A chair scraped overhead, followed by casual steps moving across the floor. The door creaked on old hinges as it was opened. “Bonjour,” Arnaude said.
A sharp German command cut into his greeting. The rap of boots moved into the house. A long pause hung over family and intruders. Finally a man spoke gently and evenly in German.
Like a snake tasting the air before it strikes, Adam thought.
Arnaude answered in broken German and with a smattering of French.
The German spoke again, only more sharply.
Arnaude answered. Adam thought he'd said Juden but wasn't certain. Both men were speaking rapidly.
Demanding steps traveled across the room, followed by a staccato of harsh angry German.
Nadine's plaintive cry interrupted the intruder's discourse. A child's sob stabbed at Adam. What if it were William who was terrified?
More orders were given. Elisa gripped Adam's hand and tightened her hold on Adin. A mix of German and French was shouted back and forth, then anguished cries from Nadine. Then weeping.
Something crashed to the floor. What sounded like the table being moved sent prickles of fear through Adam. His pulse accelerated. He felt as if massive amounts of blood were flooding his veins and overwhelming him. If only he had his rifle. Why had he left it in the barn? If they were discovered, what would he do? He tried to work out a plan. There was no way he could attack the soldiers without being killed first. Would he go quietly? And to what? His execution? A prison camp? And what of Elisa and Adin? Father, hide us. Keep this place secret.
Someone stomped on the floor directly overhead. It held firm, with no hint of hollowness. Arnaude had done well. The hidden door remained tightly closed. Then they heard more shouts, breaking dishes, and the clatter of falling furniture and unnamed objects. Above the uproar, Arnaude's voice carried, calm and entreating. Elisa pressed her face against Adam's shoulder, and he felt wetness. She was crying.
Nadine's voice pleaded. The children cried.
Everything in Adam screamed for him to stop hiding and help. But to do so would mean death for Elisa and Adin. He couldn't do that to them. He squeezed his eyes closed and forced himself to remain still.
A sharp order was given and quiet enveloped the house. The command was repeated, and footsteps marched toward the front door, then moved outside and across the porch. No more protests were heard. Everything turned quiet.
Adam felt as if he and the house had been swallowed up in a pervasive silence. Now he knew what it was like to be buried alive. Sounding far away, an engine fired and drained the last of Adam's hope. No! Not these good people!
The vehicle moved away.
Only silence and the sound of his own breathing remained.
Adam, Elisa, and Adin remained, still and waiting. After a while Adam heard the rhythmic breaths of sleep. Adin had fallen asleep. Good, he thought, envious of the child's trust.
Several minutes passed. They remained silent and motionless. Finally Adam whispered, “They're gone. I don't think they're coming back.”
“We wait a little more,” Elisa said softly.
More time passed and still no sounds came from above. Finally Adam fumbled in the darkness for the latch, unhooked it, and pushed open the door just a few inches. A wedge of light cut into the darkness.
He peeked out. No one was there. He lifted it fully and stood, gazing at the room. The rug had been thrown back and the table moved. Chairs lay on their sides, shelves were stripped, their contents littering the floor. The front door stood open.
Adam glanced down at Elisa and Adin. “You wait,” he said, climbing from the hideaway. Staying low, he crossed to the window and peered out. Unbelievably, the world looked normal. Chickens clucked and pecked at the ground, the cow stood in the corral lazily swishing her tail, and the wheelbarrow filled with potatoes remained where Arnaude had left it. Even the pitchfork Adam had jabbed into the ground stood.
With Adin cuddled against her, Elisa joined Adam. Her face was stricken. She'd seen this before. Her eyes rested on the wheelbarrow. “They took no food. They did not come for food.”
Adam rested his hand on her shoulder.
