In This Hospitable Land (39 page)

“Why?” Geneviève gasped.

The postman looked over his shoulder. High on the ridge of the mountain as they were, they could see a great distance and therefore be seen.

“The Resistance has begun to take action. The other day they raided the offices of Le Service du Travail Obligatoire to burn draft cards and destroy furniture and equipment. Also a train was blown up.”

“Oh my!” Denise cried.

“When will they come?” Geneviève demanded.

“Soon I think.”

The women nodded. Then Geneviève begged, “Any word of our husbands?”

“Sorry. But today you may be in greater danger than they are. Now I must go,” he said dolefully. “I’m afraid you’re not the only refugees I need to warn.”

As soon as he had left, the sisters looked at each other.

“Now what?” Geneviève asked, numb.

“We need to start packing.”

“What about the animals?”

“Others will surely want them,” Denise stated flatly. “But we’d better make arrangements. Who knows how long we have?”

Denise marched up to the house and straight to the girls’ room. Geneviève hurried after.

“We’ll start with the children’s clothes,” Denise said, opening cupboards and sifting through small mounds of clothes on the shelves. “Pack them into the little sacks we came with. Sweaters and coats. We’ll only have room for a few summer items.” She laughed ruefully. “It’s good we left something behind each step of the way. There’s hardly anything we have to figure out what to do with.”

“What about the silver and whatever we can’t carry?” Geneviève asked. “We can’t just leave it on the veranda or we certainly won’t ever see it again.”

“Into the big metal trunks,” Denise replied. “Someone will hold them for us.”

They packed sacks rapidly, leaving out what each child needed to wear for a few days.

“What do we tell them?” Geneviève asked.

“Nothing until we have to.”

The children raced into the house chattering excitedly.

“Two chickens got loose!” Philippe shouted.

“But it’s okay,” Ida hastened to explain. “We got them back again.”

“But it was hard,” Christel said proudly.

“We led them into the pen with corn kernels!” Katie crowed.

Later, Denise added dried broom bush branches to the fire and stirred the soup in the big kettle on the quickly heating stovetop. Geneviève laid out the big table with the silver service. She turned the large serving spoon in her hand, examining its details as if hypnotized.

“What are you doing?” Denise asked gently.

“Just thinking we should enjoy some of our finer things one last time before packing them away. Funny how inanimate objects can tie us so completely to life before the war.”

After supper the Freedman sisters put their children into their rooms and shut the doors. Then they went into the nearest barn to retrieve the old metal military trunks from Great War days.

Back in the farmhouse Denise gathered clothes they would have to leave behind. Geneviève began covering the kitchen table with everything else they would pack away.

Starting to fill the trunks, Geneviève said, “If these things aren’t here when we get back…”

Denise cut her off. “They’re just things. They’re not important.”

“They’re important to me.”

“What’s important is that we survive,” Denise said pointedly. “Not this stuff.”

Suddenly Geneviève broke down.

“I’m through making decisions!” she cried. “I’m tired of trying to figure out everything and of taking everyone else into consideration. All I want is to be safe. To live a quiet, simple life in a little house where I can enjoy what I have instead of packing it up. Without having to worry that the next person to cross our threshold might take us away.” She collapsed into the big chair with its heavy wooden arms, put her head into her hands, and began to weep. “I can’t live with never-ending fear. We don’t even know where we’ll be tomorrow.”

Denise knelt before her, clasped her knees and looked up at her steadily. “It’s going to be all right,” she said with conviction. “As long as we have friends in this region—and as long as we keep up our courage and strength—we’ll be fine, I promise.”

Geneviève wiped her eyes and managed to give her sister a little smile. Then they started packing again, together.

Soon the trunks were filled. The sisters stuffed an extra layer of sweaters on top of each to keep the silk, linen, and silver in place. They carried the trunks into the shed behind the kitchen. After returning, they sat down across from one another at the kitchen table, near the stove. The wind blew forcefully outside, penetrating and swirling about the interior, chilling every inch.

“I was hoping to have a little party for Philippe’s fourth birthday,” Geneviève said, more resigned than sad. “At that age it’s such a special day.”

“We can still have a party,” Denise insisted.

“What if we have to leave first? Even though his birthday’s not quite a week away.”

“We’ll hold the party early. Marking the end of a phase for us all.”

“Then we’d better start planning,” Geneviève said firmly. “Best not waste another day.”

Katie and Ida were terrifically excited Thursday morning. Monsieur Molines had promised to take the class outside to teach how animals survive winter. That afternoon was Philippe’s premature birthday party.

At breakfast Philippe insisted he already knew how animals survive winter. Katie taunted him into saying, “We put them in the barn and feed them.” Then he stuck out his tongue at her—when his mother wasn’t looking.

All the children were surprised as Geneviève shaved bits of leftover ham into each bowl of bajana. Stranger still, she doled out unusually large portions of the long grainy bread and then gave them extra cheese.

“Maman,” Katie asked suspiciously, “why are you being so generous?”

“Because it’s cold outside,” Geneviève answered icily. “Eat well so your bodies stay strong.” Putting slices of ham next to the bread and cheese she added, “Let’s just say it’s a special day,” and walked away.

A few moments later Ida went to the bedroom the Freedman sisters now shared to ask her mother a question. Drawing near, she overheard Tante Geneviève explain to Denise about giving the children the ham they’d been saving. “Well, we may not be here Sunday and we can’t take it with us.”

“Let’s be sure to eat well at supper tonight too,” Denise said, “just in case.”

Tante Geneviève sank down onto the bed, sniffled, and said, “Maybe going through this will make us more like Alex and André.”

Denise asked, “You think it’s okay for Ida and Katie to go to school today?”

“If they don’t someone might become suspicious.”

“I’d better pick them up right when school lets out,” Denise said, “just in case.”

Ida wondered,
Are we going to Spain?
and
In case of what?
But before she could learn any more the bedroom door opened and she hurried back to the kitchen, completely forgetting what she wanted to ask.

Patrick Molines sat in front of his class considering how much his work and the schoolhouse itself meant to him. Katie and Ida entered in a rush, took off their coats, and quickly settled on the bench closest to the great round stove.

The schoolmaster rose to add several branches of dried broom bush to the gentle fire that warmed only the center of the room. Ordinarily he did that habitually, absentmindedly. Now he was intent on noticing everything, even the way the branches crackled as they settled over the glowing coals and burst into flame.

“Attention please, children,” the teacher called. When they closed their varied reading-level books, he said, “I’m sorry but we won’t be going out today.” A chorus of disappointment sounded. “I know you were looking forward to visiting the barn down in the village. Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow. Today I want to focus on the mountains, streams, trees, and vegetation all around us. I want you to know how they were formed and shaped, how to find your way around them, even how to stay alive in their midst if you ever get lost.”

That was foolish,
he immediately thought.
I mustn’t frighten them. But time is of the essence. Perhaps if they’re a little afraid, they’ll pay attention.

Time was of the essence as much for Patrick as anyone. He knew that an intensive roundup was about to begin since he had been warned by those members of the Resistance who trusted him that he too was in danger. Just thirty-eight years old, he had only been spared in the Vichy government’s rafles because as an educator he had been exempt from the march of forced labor. But soon like so many before him he would have to leave the village he loved, disappear into the mountains, and join the Resistance.

Till then he was determined to give his charges practical knowledge of their surroundings: the paths through the woods, the secret places known only to locals. He wanted to point out springs it was safe to drink from, tasty and wholesome berries, edible mushrooms and those which must not be touched. Reading, writing, and arithmetic were important, but not as important as knowing how to survive.

Patrick kept recess short to use every available minute for instruction. Besides he wasn’t sure it was safe to let the children play in the yard for extended periods anymore. What if the Milice came to snatch away one or more of them? Swift as these little ones might be he doubted they could outrun full-grown vicious men.

Not that Patrick could protect his students if the Milice came in to get them.

Instruction wound down as the fire in the stove burned away to ashes and the children put on their coats to keep out the chill. Patrick called for early dismissal. Most of the youngsters scattered quickly, happy to get home to their chores and to enjoy the warmth of their homes before the late-winter darkness fell. But Ida and Katie Sauverin requested and received permission to wait for Ida’s mother to walk them home.

When Denise knocked and entered, Patrick rose from behind his desk to greet her.

“May I stand by your stove for a moment?” Denise asked, moving closer to it.

“I’m afraid there’s not much heat left,” the schoolmaster apologized.

“Any will help.”

Patrick stepped up beside her. “May I talk to you?” he asked softly, somberly. “Alone?”

“Ida? Katie?” Denise immediately called. “Through the hedge, at the next cottage where the smoke is coming from the chimney—doesn’t one of your classmates live there? Maybe you can go play with her for a few minutes.”

“But we don’t want to be late for the party!” Katie objected.

“You won’t be. I promise.”

After Ida tugged at Katie’s sleeve and led her away, Denise explained to the schoolmaster, “My nephew turns four on Sunday. We’re going to celebrate a little early.”

Patrick gave Denise a look of intense worry. “So you know?”

“Know what?”

Patrick waited, hoping Denise would guide him through this minefield. Since she said no more he took the lead.

“It’s becoming more dangerous here for you and your family. I have received reliable information that the Germans now insist all refugees be taken away, even women and children.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“Let’s just say my source is trustworthy. There really is reason for concern. It’s quite likely they’ll also come for me.”

“When?”

“Soon. Very soon I’m afraid.”

After an unsettling silence, Denise took Patrick’s hand. “Thank you,” she said warmly.