Luis shook his head and spoke to Tony.
“We are right where he was told to wait,” the pilot said. Even in the moonlight, Sarah could see for quite a distance. Not a single ship waited nearby.
One of Luis’ brothers had gone back to the docks to notify his contact of the change in plans. She hoped he had made it. Sarah was running out of time.
A few moments later, the water a few meters away stirred.
“What is that?” Sarah said.
“That, my dear, is our ride.” Tony said. “Word of my injury probably prompted a change of plan.”
A dark shape rose up out of the water. A submarine! The small boat rocked in the wake.
She heard a deep bang, saw the silhouette of a man climb out. A voice called out, “Lieutenant Farley, I presume?”
“Ho!” Tony yelled. “About damn time.”
A flurry of movement erupted from the opening in the submarine as others climbed out to assist. A man on the sub tossed a rope toward them. Sarah caught the line and reeled them in.
“We’ll need help getting him aboard,” she said. “He’s injured.” Two sailors clambered down a rope ladder into the rowboat to assist Tony. Sarah shuddered at the sight of the rope ladder, remembering her experience disembarking from the M.V. Calais.
Once Tony had been hoisted up to the sub’s deck, she turned back to Luis who waited, his face betraying nothing. She took one of his hands. “I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you and your uncle. Thank you.”
He nodded as if he understood.
When she started to climb up the ladder, a sailor held up his hand. “Sorry, miss. Only the Lieutenant.”
“Let her aboard,” Tony yelled from above. “We don’t want her to end up in the wrong hands.”
21
2020 hours, Tuesday, August 4, 1942, Vichy, Allier Department, Vichy France
Rosette stepped off a train in Vichy, wearing a faded gray frock she had stolen from a clothes line back near Perillos and a pair of women’s oxfords left to air out on a porch a few doors down. The M22 and night vision goggles had been hidden beneath an old broken-down tractor on an abandoned farm, wrapped in the uniform she had to leave behind. She had felt naked without the weapon at first.
Although the new ensemble did little to announce her sense of style, the plain clothes provided a more suitable costume on the train than the adaptive camouflage uniform and heavy boots she had worn back at Hiram’s camp. As she walked down the packed dirt road towards her home in Brugheas with her lower legs showing, hips accentuated by the shape of the frock, and hair pinned back on the top with an inward curl resting on her shoulders, she remembered what it felt like to be a woman. Not my best, but at least I won’t scare Garon or the children.
The oversized shoes rubbed the back of her heel raw as she walked. She refused to slow down. Her family waited. She could not wait to feel Garon’s arms around her or Sophia’s warm breath on her neck as she held her tight. And Leverette, who looked so much like his father, would rattle on about everything that had happened in her absence. She predicted a short stay, considering the number of policemen on the lookout for the missing maids. Any time she could have with her family, she would take. She walked faster.
As she approached her home, she noticed candle light flickering through a neighbor’s curtains. All the lights should be out at night. I will be sure the Dumont’s are reminded, but not until I see my little ones.
Rosette slipped through a break in the houses and headed around back. The back door always stayed unlocked. Careful not to step too close to the Dumont’s house and set off their old, blind, and almost deaf hunting dog, she walked wide around their back door. She took hold of the door handle, released the catch, took a deep breath as the door swung open, and tiptoed into her home.
After taking off the Oxfords, she ascended the stairs with light steps hoping not to wake the children. Not yet. I want to see them sleeping snug in their beds, oblivious to the dark turn of the world around them.
She stepped into the quiet nursery but found Leverette’s bed empty. The quilt she had stitched for him spread out over the made bed, not a ripple in sight. For a moment, Rosette panicked but then thought the child may have taken refuge with his father. The boy had been known to have nightmares on occasion. She walked over to Sophia’s crib, but the foot board shadowed the sleeping area making it impossible to see anything inside. Rosette reached into the crib and ran her hand across the cool fabric searching for her little girl. The crib was empty. She closed her eyes and took a breath before heading to the master bedroom.
As she passed the stairs, she heard a voice from the main floor. She moved down the stairs, no longer worrying about waking anyone. Garon stood in the doorway of the kitchen, silhouetted by the candle burning on the table.
“Rosette?”
She ran to him, wrapped her arms around his thin body. “It’s me!”
He hugged her loosely for a moment, then pushed her away. “You-you shouldn’t have come here,” he said.
“I missed you all terribly. I know I won’t be able to stay long. Where are the children? Have you left them with Mabel? I was hoping to see them before I had to leave.”
“The children are with my sister,” he said. “Where it’s safe.”
His sister lived on a farm, far from the towns that had been targeted by attacks from the enemies of those who occupied France. Hiram had told her of the destruction brought about by the war, after all that was why she was here. “I suppose that is best for now. But you will need to get away from here, out of France if you can help it. Get the children and go as far away as you can.”
“I am in no danger here.”
“You don’t understand. The whole area, all of Occupied France, is under attack. Not just from the Germans you see. The Allies are preparing to destroy all those who support them. Everyone is in danger. You need to leave.”
“Impossible,” he said. “I have nothing to fear from the Allies. Vichy will protect us.”
“Think about the children, Garon. Your sister is less than one hundred kilometers from here. Not far enough away from what’s coming.”
“You should get back to the work camp. Someone will know you are here. If you really wanted to protect me, you wouldn’t have come here.”
“I cannot go back to the work camp. They were going to kill us, all of us.”
“A little hard work isn’t going to kill you.”
“It’s not the work that is going to kill us. They are going to gas everyone. Everyone at the camps is being shipped to Auschwitz. Hiram called it an extermination camp.”
“Hiram?” Garon said.
“He helped us to escape.”
“There are more of you?”
“Yes, but they are safe. Garon, I need you to listen to me. Get the children and get away.”
Garon stood and made his way over to the stove. “I understand. Why don’t we sit, have a cup of coffee? You can go with me to get the children and we will get out of France together◦– as a family.”
She nodded, relieved. “What about the check points? The police are everywhere.”
He approached the stove, loaded a small amount of coal inside, and struck a match to set it ablaze. “You let me worry about the police. Sit down and relax your weary feet.”
Rosette sat, watching the man she loved work the kitchen. He should not know how to do these things so well. She had been gone too long. Months had passed with this hard-working man caring for himself. Yet, she did not jump to help him.