Page 52 of The Librarian Spy

“You are Resistance?” Sarah pressed.

The two women stared at one another, a silent battle waging for trust, powered by fear and the threat of betrayal.

“Oui,” Elaine replied at last as she scooped up the last precious bit of the strawberry jam. The spoon clinked against the glass jar as she scraped at what was left, the smear of translucent red flecked with minuscule seeds.

Saliva filled her mouth at the tart, sweet scent as she set what was to be her own dinner onto the table with a muffled clink of china against the wood.

Sarah’s stare was part bravado, part fear. “Oui, we are Jewish.”

Noah’s eyes widened at the food in front of him, but he did not reach for any until Sarah gave him a slight nod. He immediately claimed a piece, taking a bite as big as his small mouth would allow.

Elaine poured a mug of chicory coffee for herself and Sarah. Noah devoured his slice and took a second.

“I’ve already eaten,” Elaine lied. “Please help yourself.”

Sarah inclined her head with gratitude and accepted some food from the plate, chewing slowly.

As she ate, Elaine gathered the remnants of bread on the cutting board into a neat pile and removed a tin from the shelf to carefully swipe the crumbs inside to join a collection of others. It was a habit formed at the start of the ration as suggested in one of the women’s magazines. Those little bits of bread, once thrown away, could make such things as eggs and milk go further in recipes and offer an extra bulk that might make one feel satisfied after a meal.

Or as close to satisfied as anyone could be these days.

“You said your husband was in America.” Elaine joined them at the table with her own mug as Noah gleefully consumed his fourth piece, sticky red jam glistening around his cherubic lips. “Why are you not with him?”

Sarah took a sip from her chicory coffee. “We were all supposed to flee Paris back when rumors indicated Hitler might attempt to pass the Maginot Line. Before we could go, my mother became ill. From what we understood, it was only the men who were in danger of the Germans, and so I insisted Lewis go on without us. We didn’t know...”

They didn’t know how the Bosche would strip away a Jew’s freedom until they were relegated to a cramped life. Until they were sent away. Until those remaining had no choice but to hide in order to survive.

Sarah glanced reverently at her right hand. “My mother died several months later. Before the roundup in Paris. An organization helped us to Lyon, but that was as far as they could take us. It cost me my mother’s ruby ring but was well worth the expense.” She rubbed at the base of her finger where the jewelry had likely been. “We did not expect to be stranded here, but then the Nazis occupied the Free Zone.”

She smoothed her son’s hair from his face as he reached for the final piece of bread. “Those who aided us wanted to take Noah somewhere safe, saying it would be easier to protect him than it would be both of us together.”

The little boy looked up at his mother with affection gleaming in his eyes.

“It is selfish to keep him with me, I know, but we suffered many losses before we finally had Noah.” She studied her son as he took an unabashed bite of the food. “I’ve heard terrifying tales of organizations with children being captured, the little ones too noisy and chaotic to properly conceal.” Pain shone in her eyes. “I also know there is a possibility that if I let him go, he might never come back to me. He is too young to remember his name as well as those of myself and my husband. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Noah.”

Elaine and Joseph spent their marriage anticipating that she might eventually become pregnant. When a babe had failed to take root in her womb, neither of them had been overly distraught. Now she understood that perhaps they were fortunate to avoid having a child in a world such as theirs.

“Our family is broken apart.” Sarah’s voice was thick with emotion. “I want to be with my husband, all of us reunited once more. Do you know anyone who can help us?”

Elaine shifted her focus into the dark, murky brew in her cup. It was one thing to find a place for the two, but quite another to manage a transport for them to America.

“Please,” Sarah said when Elaine had been silent for too long. “I haven’t been able to get word to him after his arrival in New York when he wrote to give the address he secured for us. It has been over two years since we last corresponded.” A tear spilled down her cheek, but she abruptly swept it away. “I yearn for him. Every day without him cuts deeper into my soul until it feels as though my heart has been ripped out.”

Elaine knew such loss. She pulled in a breath that made her lungs and chest ache.

There had been no word of Joseph since his departure for the camp. And while she tried hard not to let her despair debilitate her, he was never completely gone from her thoughts, keeping the flicker of hope alive.

It was that same hope that now glimmered in Sarah’s watery eyes. In her lap, Noah shoved the last of the bread into his mouth, chewing groggily, his lids gradually falling closed.

“I will ask around tomorrow,” Elaine said at last, resolved to bring the matter up with Marcel. “In the meantime, you should rest.”

The floor of the narrow room used for identity cards and stamps was hard and frigid, but still more comfortable than if Elaine attempted to sleep in the drafty openness of the warehouse. At least being in the vicinity meant she would wake upon Marcel’s arrival.

He gave her a quizzical look as she emerged from the small room that next morning. She ran a hand subconsciously down her short blond hair. “I need to speak with you.”

“Did the bedding area flood again?”

She shook her head and Marcel’s features relaxed. The building was subject to the plight of all older construction with faulty electricity, dampness and cold managing to always creep in. And, of course, the occasional flooding.