Authors: Lorna Lee
“
Non, non
, Michel!” Meri grabbed his arm before he turned completely around. “I’m just surprised by your offer. You know I’ve longed to work in a design house in Paris. This may be as close to my dream as I will ever come.
Oui!
I would love to help you with mending, sewing, deliveries…anything you need.” Meri stopped, her face turning serious. “I’m wondering about Madame. What will she think?”
Michel face transformed from disappointment to elation. Meri noticed it most in his blue eyes. They had been cloudy and now they were sparkling. “You let me deal with my wife.”
§
True to his word, Michel Dorval found the Sisters of Charity convent on 140
Rue
du Bac, less than five kilometers from their residence. He told Meri the cost for boarding Jeannine and for her education was only slightly more than what she, or they, were paying Annabelle. Because it was wartime, the Sisters of Charity were willing to be charitable and charge the same amount Annabelle had been getting, with the understanding the child’s parents attended Sunday services each week and tithed appropriately. Monsieur agreed to their request.
The only person unhappy with the arrangement was Jeannine. Even though Annabelle had become reclusive and bitter, Jeannine had grown to love her and the familiar routines within the Barouche home—even without Simon. She pouted, pleaded, cried, and screamed when Meri packed her few belongings. Annabelle hugged her and then left for a walk, leaving Meri to deal with her aggrieved child. Since there was no reasoning with her seven-year-old, hysterical daughter, Meri tried to ignore her and complete the task of moving Jeannine to the convent.
It’s for the best.
Meri told herself.
She’ll be safe. Nothing else matters. After the war, we’ll be together.
Meri looked into Jeannine’s red, teary eyes before they left Annabelle’s house, her words as ominous as any storm brewing in a dark, cloudy sky. “You’ve had your private fit, young lady. We’re in public when we leave this house. We must walk a long time on streets under German and French patrol. If they see a young girl crying or screaming at the hands of her mother, they might arrest us. Do you hear me? Arrest us! Do you want us to disappear like Simon did?” Scaring Jeannine with this kind of talk seemed cruel to Meri.
How else will I get this stubborn girl to cooperate with me?
Fear, unfortunately, is an effective motivator.
Shoes walking on the pavement and an occasional sniffle—these were the only sounds accompanying them on their journey to the convent.
“I don’t want to stay here,” Jeannine cried, clinging to Meri’s skirt while the old nun firmly gripped the little girl’s arm.
Meri watched the nun, whose eyes gave nothing away. “She’s usually not this difficult. I explained everything to her.”
“Her reaction is quite common. They all settle down eventually. The girl will learn to fit into the convent life. All good Catholic girls come to find comfort here.” The nun’s voice never wavered as she successfully pulled Jeannine away from Meri.
Meri assessed Sister Agnes.
She’s an imposing woman for a nun. Her voice is stone-cold. She appears to be in her late sixties, and she is stronger than me. Those vestments she wears, they scare me. I wouldn’t want to live here. Poor Jeannine! I hope she’ll adjust. At least my half-Jewish girl will be safe in a Catholic convent.
Sister Agnes straightened her posture and had a vice-like grip on Jeannine’s chubby hand. Her black robe flowed all around her, masking all traces of the woman underneath. A white “bib” covered her shoulders and bodice, guarding any womanly form beneath the abundant layering of fabric, appearing more like a shield than a fashion element. No rosary necklace or cross adorned her.
All Catholics nuns should wear a crucifix, shouldn’t they? What kind of nuns are they?
Meri would be hard-pressed to recognize Sister Agnes outside of the convent without her uniform. The nun only revealed her hands, wrinkled with fingers slightly twisted at odd angles. Her facial features, all plain and withered, were both exaggerated by the cowl tightened around her head—obscuring her hair (if she had any)—and dwarfed by the enormous, white-winged wimple distinguishing the Sisters of Charity from other orders of nuns.
How do these silly hats stay on during a windy day?
She could not help smiling at the thought of several of these nuns lifting into the air on a gusty Parisian spring day.
Meri’s grin vanished as her daughter screamed.
“Mamma! Don’t make me stay here. I’m afraid. She’s scary! I want to stay with you. Please? Please, Mamma?” Jeannine sobbed real tears.
“Sister,
s'il vous plait!
One moment with my child.” Meri had to crane her head up to speak directly at the woman at least thirty years her senior.
Either I’m too short or Sister Agnes is freakishly tall.
Perhaps both.
“
Non.
” Sister Agnes said, “I’ll take her now. Indulging Jeannine in histrionics serves no one.”
Jeannine went mute, except for the deafening, yet silent, scream in her wide, tearful eyes aimed right at Meri’s equally wide, still dry, eyes.
Meri watched as the robust nun dragged her seven-year-old daughter into the stark, dim hallway leading to doors that marked the inner sanctum of the convent—the place beyond which no visitors passed. Meri turned to leave, trying to erase two disturbing sounds: Jeannine’s shoes scrapping against the stone floor and heavy breathing.
Sister Agnes is dragging her, Mon Dieu!
The heavy breathing reminded Meri of her childbirth breaths: heavy, filled with fear, and meant to push her child away from her. Meri stopped when she realized the heavy breaths were hers, not Jeannine’s.
What am I doing to my child? Will she ever forgive me? I keep becoming my Mamma. Aren’t you proud of me, Mamma?
I hate the life you cursed me with. It’s your fault nothing good happens to me.
Meri heard the wooden door close with a thud, reverberating down the long hallway and through every bone in her body. She ran from the convent choking on the flood of tears she had been holding in since she tore Jeannine away from her beloved Annabelle.
What choice do I have? I can’t be weak and cry in front of my daughter. She won’t respect me. No one respects a woman who cries while making decisions.
On her way back to the Doral residence, Meri felt the familiar feeling of being tugged in different directions.
I know my daughter is safe, and I don’t have to worry about her being carted off by the Gestapo. Assuring her protection makes me a good mother, right? Why, then, do I feel such guilt? I can’t get her screams and the vision of that big nun dragging my little girl away from me out of my mind. Once again, I’ve left my daughter in a place where she may not be cared for very well. I abandoned her, making me just like my Mamma—a bad mother.
She wiped the last of her tears from her face and blew her nose.
I have to get ahold of myself before I go back to the Dorval residence.
Meri wanted to speak with Michel at about her impressions of the convent.
Perhaps he can reassure me that not all the nuns are like Sister Agnes… I need someone to share my feelings with.
Michel was now her only confidante, and she felt the desperate need to lighten the burden of her mangled thoughts. Upon approaching the back door to the kitchen, she knew she would have to wait. He was not alone and in no mood to talk to her.
“My
Ukko,
what are you doing outside?” Meri ruffled Soldat’s ears. He rubbed his large head against her, seemingly soothed by the sound of her voice and the Finnish words she spoke with love. She had been calling him her “old boy” for the past year. No longer the rambunctious handful he used to be, now he moved slowly. The gentleness in him saddened Meri.
Just when he becomes so loving and easy to handle, he’ll leave me.
Meri found it odd that Soldat was out on a cold October evening. S
omething in the Dorval household is wrong.
She let him inside. “Come on, Soldat, you need your supper.” He perked up at the word “supper,” wagging his enormous tail and whimpering. Meri smiled.
Meri heard raised voices and general pandemonium as she entered the house. Her smile vanished. Meri efficiently fixed Soldat’s meal while trying to discover what was going on. Claire and Elyse ran through the kitchen several times with worried looks, never saying a word. Philippe had disappeared from his own kitchen.
Even though Meri wasn’t officially on duty, she still had to take care of the children if Madame Freels was not “up to it.” The children were older—eleven and seven—so Ilsa relied on Meri less than before. The children insisted, “We don’t need a baby sitter because we’re not babies.” The
Mesdames
, however, still required that Meri be available. Meri suspected Ilsa resented the fact her children, especially Karla, preferred Meri’s company. Jeannine clinging to Annabelle and talking so fondly of the older woman, gave Meri some empathy for Ilsa. Meri, however, did not consider herself like the German woman.
She deserves to be jealous of me. Madame Freels chose to give her children to me. I didn’t have a choice. Let her suffer the shame of being a bad mother. I’m not a bad mother, only a practical one.
Meri decided she would use her caretaker role as a ruse to find out the cause of the ruckus.
I need to speak with Michel as quickly as possible, so I must find out what’s happening to upset things around here.
“
Excusez-moi
. I’m back and came to check on the children.” Knocking on Madame’s study door and opening it without being told to come in took courage for Meri—courage fueled by urgent curiosity.
No one heard her knock anyway. The room buzzed with cross-conversations between Ernst and Greta, Ilsa trying unsuccessfully to soothe Karla, who sobbed uncontrollably, Kurt jumping and cheering, and Michel speaking loudly to no one in particular. Two German soldiers stood guard near the window.
Why? In case someone tried to jump out?
They stared straight ahead, which meant they focused now on Meri.
Several things happened simultaneously when Meri entered the room. The guards reached for their weapons; everyone turned to the opened door and Meri; Ernst immediately put his hand up—a signal for the guards to release their grip on their pistols; the room fell silent, and all motion ceased. The room then burst into a cacophony, made louder by the prior, albeit brief, stillness.
Immobilized, Meri was unsure whether staying or leaving would be wiser. Ernst blew a shrill whistle before she had a chance to decide. Soldat burst into the room, barking and wagging his tail. Again, the guards reached for their weapons. Meri wondered,
is this all these men know how to do?
Seeing the old, big but harmless dog lick Meri’s hand, the guards relaxed.
Is it the whistle or Soldat’s rare appearance in Madame’s study creating this blissful peace and quiet? I don’t care!
At least I can hear myself think!
Kurt’s laughter broke the seeming trance and the silence. “He would make a fine soldier for our army, wouldn’t he Papa?
Non.
He’s too old. Would we exterminate him, Papa?” Kurt still chuckled when he turned to his father.
Meri could not help herself. She gasped. Immediately she coughed, trying to cover up her reaction. She felt heat rise from her belly to her face—heat born of both anger and fear. “Perhaps I should get Soldat back to the kitchen area…” Meri grabbed the dog’s collar.
“
Non,
wait, Meri. I think you should stay and hear what Herr
Freels thinks about his son’s suggestion.” Monsieur spoke directly at his brother-in-law.
Monsieur is too calm, too measured.
Goose bumps formed on Meri’s forearms, belying the heat inside her.
If I felt conflicted before, I’m more baffled now.
Ernst stared back at Michel. Devoid of all emotion, his voice blew as cold as the October wind howling outside. “Of course, Michel. Your big dog would make a fine soldier because he listens and does as he is told without question. If he is a good soldier, he has nothing to fear. Only rewards will come his way. Alas, Kurt is right. He is too old to be of use in Hitler’s great army.” He turned to Kurt and his voice softened into something more human. “We never exterminate a loyal Nazi, my boy. We take care of our own. We only punish those who seek to destroy us and our supreme leader’s vision of creating a pure, unified, and peaceful world.” Turning back to Michel, he said, “I do not know why anyone would resist such a noble cause.”
Meri watched Monsieur. His hands formed fists with knuckles as white as the Dorval’s finest linens. Madame nodded in full agreement with her brother-in-law while holding her sister’s shoulder. Madame Freels wiped her eyes with a delicate lace hankie, and then dabbed Karla’s tear drenched face, nodding all the while with less enthusiasm. Karla still cried. Karla liked to cry. Kurt revealed his emotions genuinely and ominously. His chin held high, he smiled as brightly as sunshine on a mid-July day. He could barely keep still.
Kurt’s words burst out of him like bullets from a machine gun. “Mamma, that’s why I’m going to Germany, to join Hitler’s Youth. I’m going to be a soldier like Papa, fighting for Hitler and for a pure, unified, and peaceful world for all of us. They can’t do it without me. Papa wants me to go. I want to go and I’m going. Why wait? I’m a good soldier already. I’ll be leading troops before you know it. Maybe even here.” Meri wasn’t sure he took a breath. She did not. Monsieur flailed his arms and shouted “
Mon Dieu!”
Ilsa resumed crying.
Greta gazed with adoration on Kurt and then Ernst. She turned her attention to Meri, speaking curtly as usual. “Meri, your duties will be changing. Karla will be your only responsibility as of next week, so I will be increasing some of your duties.”
“
Oui
, Madame.” Meri curtsied, if only to do something other than stand there and stare.
“Madame has failed to tell you, Meri, that those increased duties will involve tending to more
guests
in what now will become a German office and residence for Herr
Freels and his men.” Monsieur spit the words out.
“Michel, the help need not know
everything
at this moment.” Greta scanned the room, focusing her attention on Ernst and the German soldiers.
“Don’t be shy Greta. Our house is, quite literally, their house.” Michel turned and strode to the doorway where Meri still held Soldat by the collar. He grabbed Soldat’s collar from Meri, spun the old dog around more forcefully than either man or dog expected given the
oomph
that came from both of them, and left the room.
Meri turned to leave, then remembered the children—her responsibility. “Does Madame Freels need me to feed or bathe the children?” She hoped the answer was “no” so she could follow Michel and talk to him. Alas, Meri was used to disappointment in this household.
Neither child ate well. The thought of her brother leaving her made Karla “sick to her tummy.” Kurt could not sit still long enough to eat. His enthusiasm about leaving to become a “real” soldier overwhelmed him. Meri gave up on bathing either of them. Exhausted after they were both in their rooms, Meri said to the ceiling, “Putting them to bed is harder than weaving a rope from sand. Damn those people, I did my job. I have to.” She added silently,
Now, I only hope I can find Michel in his study…
She used the servant’s staircase leading to the kitchen, hoping to avoid the
Mesdames
and Herr
Freels with his guards. Meri knocked lightly on Michel’s study door.
“Go away.”
“It’s me…Meri!” She whispered as loudly as she dared.
“Meri, not now. Tomorrow, perhaps.”
“Monsieur…”
“Go away, Meri.”
This is not good. Non, not good at all.
Meri went back up to her room and worried herself to sleep. She twisted the hem of her nightgown beyond recognition.
§
Meri finished her morning duties with the children and Soldat. She decided to try once again to speak to Michel. This time she had success. She explained what happened when she left Jeannine at the Catholic convent.
“It solves Annabelle’s situation and keeps Jeannine safe. I have heard only good reports about the Sisters of Charity, Meri. Try not to worry about Jeannine. There are more important issues to worry about closer to home.” He gazed out of the window in his study rather than face her. The few remaining leaves on the trees struggled to stay on the branches on the windy late October day.
This is how Monsieur probably feels about hanging onto his position in his own home.
“I agree. Children adjust to whatever comes their way…probably better than we do.” Meri blushed. “I’m sure she’ll get a fine education with the nuns. I’m sorry I burdened you with my worries.”
Michel turned to Meri. A moment of silence passed between them. Meri did not know what to think since Monsieur’s face and eyes were as blank as the back of a pauper’s tombstone.
Shifting from one foot to the other, Meri finally said, “Monsieur? Are you all right?”
Silence.
She bent her head down and whispered, “Perhaps your days of caring about me are over….”
Michel sighed louder than Meri had ever heard anyone sigh.
Was he holding his breath all of this time?
Meri glanced up, her mouth agape. Michel’s blue eyes were swimming in unshed tears…again.
“Of course I care about you, Meri. Perhaps now more than ever. You are my only ally in this house and therein lay the problem. We must be cautious. Madame is not the only one we have to worry about. There are now many eyes and ears watching me closely.”
“Monsieur...Michel. I wouldn’t have come to talk with you if I wasn’t desperate.”
He waved his hand in the air, as if to shoo a fly. His tears receded…waves pulling away from the shore. “I want you to come to me whenever you need me. You are like family to me. Better than my family, in fact. We have to find ways of supporting each other without raising the suspicions of my wife and her German
entourage
who have taken over my home. Do not worry, Meri. I will find a way.” He came around his desk, gave her a brief embrace and a kiss on the cheek, lingering a moment longer than a kiss from a friend might. “Now go and attend to your duties before someone decides we are up to no good.” His smile reminded her of the sliver of a moon before it disappears into the night sky.
“
Oui
, Monsieur.” Unsure if he was teasing or serious, Meri curtsied and smiled a wobbly smile. As she left his study, she was deep in thought.
Who are you to me? “Michel” who could be my illicit lover? Or “Monsieur” who wants to protect me and needs me as his ally? Who do I want him to be? Men and children and wars make life so complicated!
§
Life in the Dorval residence, now the Dorval-Freels residence, took on a new, fairly comfortable routine. In mid-November, 1940, eleven-year-old Kurt proudly returned to Germany with his father to join Hitler’s Youth. In late November, Herr Freels returned to Paris to set up permanent residence with his wife and daughter, compliments of the Dorvals. His promotion to a supervising officer in Hitler’s army overseeing the French occupation, meant he often entertained other German officers also stationed in France, as well as those either visiting or passing through en route to other fronts. Herr Freels never conducted official Third Reich business at the residence. He had a separate office, probably a French government office his army confiscated or one the government handed over to the Germans. Meri, following Monsieur’s lead, was disgusted with how many French citizens supported and even socialized with the enemy.
Regardless of Michel’s hatred for the current situation, his business prospered as a result of the occupation and his brother-in-law’s connections. German officers and soldiers needed their uniforms repaired. The women, French or otherwise, the officers wanted on their arm or in their beds, needed to dress their best when in the company of their escorts. Monsieur Dorval’s fashion house became the designated “place to go,” as long as he employed only “desirable” classes of workers. Michel, against his conscience, made sure all of his workers passed the German standard of “desirable.” His revived business helped Monsieur’s mood. He told Meri in private many times he despised the Nazis and their ideals. He also despised having them and their ilk as his primary customers.
Working keeps him sane and away from this insane house. I’m happy for him. He even smiled when he told me he’s been able to hire back a few of his former employees. Like Papa, Jeannine, Siri, and even Amiel, a smile from him makes me happy, too.