She glanced at him, then turned her eyes to the yard. Her voice dripping with loathing, she spoke in French.
Adam righted two of the chairs, then dropped into one of them. Now what? The Cerviers were gone. They would most probably be killed. How would he, Elisa, and Adin escape the same fate?
Her face a mask of despair, Elisa's gaze took in the room, then rested on the cavity where they had hidden. “Why did they not see it?”
“I don't know. Arnaude is a good carpenter. He made it sturdy.” Adam stared out the window, then said softly, “I think God answered my prayer.”
Elisa nodded half-heartedly and rested her cheek against her son's dark hair. “I hope he hears the Cerviers' prayers also.”
“They are good people,” Adam said. He turned and looked at Elisa. “Now we need to figure out how to stay alive.”
Elisa wiped at her nose. “Arnaude gave you a piece of paper?”
Adam reached into his pocket and unfolded the scrap. Two names were written on it. One he recognized as a town that lay near the coast, and the other was a person's name. He handed it to Elisa.
“He must have meant we are to go to Abbeville and meet someone named Jacques Billaud.” Her eyes brightened. “He must be the one who will help us.” She shredded the paper.
“How far is Abbeville from here?”
“Many days travel.”
“I'll get my BAR,” Adam said, as if using the name often used by servicemen would fuel his confidence. The Browning Automatic was a heavily built rifle, powerful and considered dependable. However, in these overwhelming circumstances, it was probably about as helpful as a popgun. One man, a woman, and a child against the Nazis had little hope of success. “While I'm out there, I'll fill the canteens.” Adam started for the door.
Elisa nodded. “Arnaude and Nadine will not be back. We can take what we need.”
“You really believe they have no chance?”
“No. And for this I am sorry.” Elisa headed for the kitchen cabinet.
With a heavy sigh, Adam said, “I'll get some eggs too. If I stuff my pack with straw, that ought to protect them.”
“Ah, yes. That is good.”
Adam hesitated. He knew Elisa must be feeling the same sense of hopelessness he was feeling. “Everything will turn out all right,” he said, trying to encourage her. “We'll find Jacques. We'll make it to England. I know it. God will take care of us.”
Elisa faced him, anger and torment touching her eyes. “God? I have not seen him. I pray your belief will be enough.”
Adam had no response. What could he say? God did seem far away.
Adam stopped to glance at the throbbing fireball in the sky. He mopped his face and neck. He wouldn't have expected this kind of heat in September. He gulped down a few mouthfuls of water and handed the flask to Elisa, who shared with Adin. The three continued on, careful to stay off the road whenever possible. The enemy might appear at any moment.
Evidence of the German occupation was everywhere. Empty bomb canisters, shell casings, German helmets, and food rations littered the way. More than once Elisa kicked at a piece of refuse, watching with satisfaction as it sailed away.
Although Adam had never experienced the same degree of persecution as Elisa and her son, he remembered the hurt and hatred he had felt growing up as an orphan. He and the other boys in the orphanage had never known when the overseer, Eli Hersch, might decide to parcel out his special punishment. Eli had taken pleasure in brutality.
Living in fear, never knowing when torture might come, had cut deeply. Adam understood the hopelessness that accompanies an agonizing situation that seems to have no end. He remembered hatred so deep that it engulfed him and how he'd clung to and nurtured it. That hatred had placed a wedge between himself and God. He prayed Elisa and Adin would not fall prey to the same snare.
Elisa slowed as they approached a village. Even the friendliest-looking person could turn out to be an enemy. On the outskirts people worked farms, and Elisa explained how, like the Cerviers, these people would not be allowed to keep what they grew but would be forced to hand over all but a small amount of their crops to the German army.
They walked into the hamlet. It was clear that the French and Germans had battled over this piece of ground. The town had been destroyed by shelling. Adam wondered how many French had died defending their homes.
He itched to photograph the damage but didn't dare expose his camera to probing eyes. Portions of stone walls stood like dead remains; they were all that remained of homes and businesses. Some buildings had two or three walls still standing while others were no more than piles of rubble. A few had windows and rooftops. A gust of wind sent grit into the air and into Adam's eyes and nose causing his eyes to water.
Adam stopped in front of a stairway that for all intents and purposes led nowhere. The stone steps stood alongside a wall, but the rest of the building had been blown away. It was a disturbing site and gave him an empty, horrified sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Gripping his rifle, he cautiously moved through town. No one remained, except for an occasional woman or child searching through debris. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the air smelled of rain. Adam studied bulging black clouds moving across the farmland toward them. “We better find shelter.”
Elisa resettled Adin on her hip. “It will feel good to get off my feet.”
Adam nodded and offered Adin a smile.
The boy held out his arms to the American.
“Ah. He likes you,” Elisa said, offering her son to Adam.
He draped his rifle over his shoulder and took the youngster, swinging him onto his shoulders. “A building back there looked pretty stable. At least it had part of a roof.”
Moving back to the building, he picked his way through fallen rock, mortar, and glass that littered the street. When he reached the bombed-out structure, he set Adin on the ground, motioned for the boy to stay with his mother, and proceeded into the dark gaping shell. His skin prickled with tension.
A main room was cluttered with the usual assemblage of rock and mortar. He also spotted an overturned table and a broken chair. He peeked inside a small side room. It was empty. Moving back into the central area, he stopped in front of a crumbling doorway that led to a bombed-out room. A sign saying “toilette” hung over the entrance. “Hey, at least we have a lavatory,” he called.
Elisa joined him. “Ah, yes. And it will stay fresh as a summer breeze, no?” She chuckled.
Adin was asleep before nightfall. With his stomach full of bread, cheese, and a raw egg, he'd snuggled into a blanket beside his mother. She kissed his forehead. “I wish I could tell Nadine how much I appreciate her gifts.” Sorrow robbed her dark brown eyes of their richness. “It is evil...what the Germans have done. Even the little ones suffer.” She smoothed Adin's hair. “This is not for him. He deserves a better life.”
“He'll have it,” Adam said with an assurance he didn't feel.
