Which left only Blaise. Zelie turned to her son, still amazed that this had beenhisidea, and drew him in again. “I am so proud of you, Blaise.”
His arms wrapped around her, squeezed. “I’m proud ofyou. Don’t worry about us. I’ll take care of Elise.”
“I know you will.” He’d sprouted up to her nose since October. She kissed his forehead and then rested hers on it. He could be taller than her, next time she saw him.Ifshe saw him again. “I love you. Every night, when you look outside, find the moon and know I’m looking at it too and saying I love you.”
Blaise grinned, shook his head. “There are nights the moon hides its face. I’ll think it when I see the stars. You do the same. We love you. I’m proud to be your son.”
Her precious boy. She smoothedhishair down too and stepped away. “Go with God. Mind yourgrand-maman.”
“Go with God, Maman.”
She turned back to her Citroën before she could convince herself to linger any longer, keeping her shoulders straight by sheer force of will. She would drive away, not look back.
As if she could. She sat there, instead, while Maman turned her old Peugeot back onto the road and watched until they were out of sight. Then she rested her forehead on the steering wheel and let the sobs come.
Soon, she would drive back to Marseille. She would let herself into Charlotte and Germain Laurent’s house one last time. Pack up her few belongings, sleep in the narrow bed that had been her betrayer’s, and put everyone’s precarious future firmly in the Lord’s hands.
Tomorrow, she’d drive out to the small hotel owned by an agent’s brother and see if perhaps it could be their new headquarters.Reach out to the remaining sectors, the Maquis, perfect strangers, and start rebuilding.
What shewantedto do was the one thing she wouldn’t—find Marcel and let him soothe the ache inside.
Marcel sat at the table in his aunt’s kitchen reviewing sheet music he was considering for the orchestra’s spring lineup. Lothar would be stopping by on Wednesday morning to approve his selections... though at this rate, he’d have to help him choose. Familiar as he was with all the music, he couldn’t think about any of it. Couldn’t weigh the pros and cons of each. All he could think about was Blaise and Elise, who had, he prayed, made it safely into Switzerland by now with Lizette.
And Zelie, who would be feeling their loss so much more deeply than he was.
His aunt and uncle and parents were all next door, playing a game with a few other neighbors. Marcel knew that Zelie would come here, gather her things, and close herself off to mourn. He knew she’d leave tomorrow and not look back, focusing instead on her next steps for Alliance.
He couldn’t let her grieve alone though.
When the front door opened, he sat up straight, listening. Definitely Zelie’s light tread on her new cork-soled shoes from Spain. He shuffled his music back into a pile and stood just as she turned into the kitchen.
“Oh.” Surprise saturated her voice, along with something else he couldn’t put his finger on. Wariness? Relief? “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
He offered a small smile as she clutched at her lapels. “I won’t stay long. Just wanted to make sure you were all right. How did things go in Vichy?” The easier question, he knew.
She nodded and shrugged out of her coat, though when he reached to help her, she stepped clear of him as if his nearness scalded her and draped it over the back of a chair. “Better than expected. They believed my story and accepted the half million. Slapped my wrist and let me go.”
Marcel let his hands fall to his sides and moved to the workbench, leaning against it to give her space. Then folded his arms, anchoring his hands to keep from reaching for her. “I knew you’d succeed. And today?” This he asked quietly, knowing it would have been the harder of the two tasks.
Her throat bobbed, and she focused her gaze on the table. “I saw them on their way this morning. Now, I... I just have to trust they made it safely. Maman will send a wire to the hotel tomorrow with a question about rates, to let me know they’re with her friend.”
He knew the plan. Prayed that telegram would come on schedule. “But how areyou?”
Her fingers curled around the back of a chair. “I’m fine. I have to be.”
“Oh, Zelie. No, you don’t.” Not right now, not with him.
“I do. This was the right choice, the best way to keep them safe today and give them a future tomorrow.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t keep his arms folded, though he caught himself before he stepped toward her. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You’re allowed to feel it.”
“Don’t you see?” Her head snapped toward him, gaze burning... and clouding with tears. “Ican’t. I can’t, or it will break me, and I cannot afford any more cracks. There’s too much at stake, too much to do, and I... I...” A wild shake of her head, but it did nothing to keep the tears from streaming, her shoulders from shaking with sobs.
He didn’t mean to move. But how could he see her fall apart without trying to bring comfort? A few steps and he was at her side,though then he stopped, hand outstretched. Hehadto offer... but her signals had been clear. She didn’t want him, not outside the careful box she’d been building since her return.Here, and no farther. This, and no more.So he let his hand hover over her arm and forced out a half-broken, “May I?”
When she turned those weeping eyes on him, met his gaze, something inside him came undone. When she turned into him, wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his shoulder, he felt her grief in his own soul.
“What if it’s all for nothing?” Her fingers dug into his back. “What if I fail, can’t rebuild? What if they find us all out and kill everyone? What if this is a fool’s errand, and I’m not clever enough to hold the pieces together, and I’ve sent my children away fornothing?”
