In the pews were only Rosalyn and half a dozen elderly women, all dressed in black. Looking around at them, she realized she was starting to long for color.
Chapter Thirty-six
Lucie
I have neither seen nor heard from Émile for a very long time.
In one large pit of thecrayèresis a chapel with pews made of champagne cases. There is a virgin here, rescued from the ruins of the cathedral. Each champagne pew is full every Sunday. The priest tells us that Champagne—both the region and the drink—has become a symbol of France’s determination to survive. But despite bringing in the harvest, and setting up schools, and having enough food and shelter to survive, we are miserable.
Together we recite the Lord’s Prayer:
Notre Père, qui es aux cieux,
Que ton nom soit sanctifié,
Que ton règne vienne,
Que ta volonté soit faite
Sur la terre comme au ciel....
As my mother would say, before we start thinking we are particularly devout, it should be noted that our underground cafés and bars are full as well. And throughout the caves, many people become drunk on the only thing we have plenty of, champagne. I do not judge.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Donne-nous aujourd’hui notre pain de ce jour.
I felt great joy, not long ago, when I married my beloved, Monsieur Émile Paul Legrand. My mother, now ailing in earnest, stood up with us, as did my brother. Topette was my flower girl; despite my admonishments, she snuck out one day to gather wildflowers and made me a crown of white and yellow blossoms. The baker managed to create a few dubious-looking cakes from flour made of potato and turnip, but somewhere he found a bit of sugar, and they were much appreciated. Many of our cave-dwelling neighbors joined in the festivities, and of course, we drank our fill of champagne.
Émile and I spent our wedding night together in my little cave within a cave. Our dubious bridal chamber, complete with gargoyle.
But our happiness was short-lived. After we’d spent only a few brief days together as husband and wife, Émile was called back to duty. We mounted the one hundred sixteen steps hand in hand toward what we call the mouth of hell—but is hell at the top of the steps or below?
We kissed, and then he turned to leave. My husband looked over his shoulder and smiled at me as he walked away through the rubble.
My heart felt like it shattered.
We repeat the Lord’s Prayer when the shells fall and thecrayèrestremble, raining dust down upon us in a grisly parody of the priest tossing earth upon a casket at burial.
Pardonne-nous nos offenses,
Comme nous pardonnons aussi
À ceux qui nous ont offensés.
Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation,
But it is the last I recite whenever I think of my beloved Émile facing what no one should ever have to face:
Mais délivre-nous du mal.
Deliver us from evil.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Rosalyn pulled up to the gas pumps, dismayed to see the store was closed.Again.Why? What possible reason could there be for closing today? It was a random Thursday, for heaven’s sake.
At least this time she wasn’t running on fumes. The gas could wait until tomorrow.
