Children of the Stars Page 19
The gathered crowd stood and applauded while the government officials remained seated. Jacob watched Theis’s face and then Trocmé’s. The men were euphoric, as if they had just won a hard-fought struggle.
Bach and Lamirand made a hasty exit, and silence ensued. Theis leaned over to Trocmé and said, “They’re out like the devil’s after them.”
“They’ll be back, Edouard. We must prepare for the worst.”
Jacob did not understand the pastor’s words, but as soon as the officials were out of the church, the crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief and began talking again. Trocmé stood before them and motioned for silence.
“Moderation, restraint, and prudence! Let us not provoke. We have many people to protect.”
The gathered crowd calmed down and, bidding farewell to their pastors, left the church little by little. Making his way against the current of those exiting, a man with long, unkempt hair, rings around his eyes, and a face as pale as death came up to Trocmé.
“Pastor Trocmé,” he said, “My name is Albert Camus. I’ve been in the village a few days now. I came to heal from some medical problems with my lungs. I want to congratulate you.”
Trocmé raised his brows. “I’ve done nothing extraordinary. It was Pastor Jeannet who spoke.”
“But I know what you’re doing here, in this place. I admire and respect you for it. I hope your example spreads to the rest of the country.” The man’s smile pleasantly counteracted his pallid expression.
“My dear Albert, look around at these people,” Trocmé answered, gesturing to the crowd as they dispersed from the church. “They are the real heroes: the baker, the pharmacist, the hotel owner, the day laborer, the peasant. They lead tranquil lives. They could get through this war without upheaval, but they have chosen to love. Love is always risky.”
“Absolutely, especially in the tides of today, the fascist plague that besieges us,” Camus answered.
“That’s not even the main problem. The real tide—the plague, as you call it—is hatred in the human heart. The only way to fight it is with love. We detected this wave of hatred several years ago, when Hitler rose to power in Germany, but no one wanted to listen. Now we can barely contain it. They’ve sown their hatred and violence everywhere and have shaped an entire generation with it. Let us withstand the wave and sow love, my friend.”
Albert Camus smiled again, despite the heaviness in his diseased lungs. Trocmé’s words rekindled his hope. In the past few weeks he had sensed death’s proximity so acutely. He shook the pastor’s hand, then left the building with the rest of the congregation.
One of the caregivers from Jacob’s boardinghouse came up, patted Trocmé on the back, then smiled at Jacob. “The Arnauds are here, and they’ve brought Moses. Would you like to see him?”
Jacob’s face lit up. The few hours of their separation had felt like an eternity. Outside the church building, the Arnauds came up to them. “This is Jacob, Moses’s brother,” the caregiver said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jacob. I’m Martha, and this is my husband, Lorik. We’ll take good care of your brother. You can come see him whenever you’d like,” said the blond-haired woman, who wore an austere black dress.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jacob said. At a nod from his caregiver, Jacob ran off toward Moses.
“Jacob!” Moses cried for the whole world. “It’s my brother!”
They hugged and stood talking together while the crowd continued to disperse. After a few minutes, the caregiver motioned for Jacob to return to the boys’ home, and the brothers said goodbye.
Jacob and the caregiver walked toward the boardinghouse, enjoying the pleasant evening. The afternoon sky was lit up with a special brilliance. “Your brother will be all right,” the caregiver said. “The Arnauds are Darbyites, from the Plymouth Brethren Church. They live very simply, but they are good people and hard workers.”
Jacob smiled at him. Since their arrival in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, he had not stopped thinking about Anna. He had looked for her in the crowd that day but had not spotted her. He asked, “Do you know a woman and her daughter who came just a few weeks ago? They’re Dutch. Maria and Anna Emdem?”
The caregiver turned a surprised face to the boy. “Anna will be one of your classmates at school. You’ll see her tomorrow morning. How do you know her?”
“We happened to meet in Valence and became friends.”
The rest of the short walk passed in silence. Jacob could not wait to see Anna the next day. He felt the strange combination of his legs turning to jelly and his body floating through the air. She had been right: This village really did seem like a paradise, somewhere to forget the war and all the fear.
Chapter 22
Le Chambon-sur-Lignon
August 25, 1942
A loud knock on the door woke Jacob with a start. He looked all around. It was still dark outside, and he hurried to get dressed by feel and go downstairs to see what was happening. A few caregivers and some of the older boys were in the living room, as well as Auguste Bohny, a caregiver from another boardinghouse.
“First, they came to the children’s house and asked for Mr. Steckler,” Bohny was saying. “I told them he wasn’t there, that he was at the Wasp’s Nest. Then they went there, found him, and ordered him to get dressed. I took that opportunity to get the children in our house ready and hide them. When the gendarmes returned, they were furious. They wanted to see the children. I came to see you as soon as I could. You’d better take them all into the woods.”
“But our school has protected status with the government,” one of the caregivers objected. “I don’t see how they could come and make demands here.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. The prefect from Le Puy has sent the gendarmes. He wants to find the foreign Jews and turn them over to the Germans. If he doesn’t meet a certain quota, it will look bad for him, and he knows we’ve got many sheltered here.”
Jacob was coming down the stairs as he heard Bohny. He had his pants and shoes on but was still buttoning his shirt.
“Boys, lead the younger kids into the forest. Don’t come back until someone gives you a signal.”
Jacob was startled. “But what will happen to the children being housed with families?”
“I don’t think anything will happen. The gendarmes are searching schools, children’s homes, and boardinghouses.”
“But my brother is really close to one boardinghouse, the Shelter.” Jacob’s voice trembled as all the old fear returned.
“We can’t alert all the homes and farms because there are dozens of them. If the gendarmes go to the Arnauds’ farm, Martha and Lorik will know what to do,” Bohny said. They had no more time to waste talking.
Jacob finished buttoning his shirt and went outside. Heedless of the dark, he ran as fast as he could toward the Arnaud farm. Despite what Bohny had said, Jacob had to make sure nothing happened to Moses.
“Where are you going?” one of the older boys called after him.
“I’ll meet back up with you when I make sure my brother’s okay,” Jacob called back. He ran down several streets. Windows in some of the hotels were lit up, and Jacob saw their inhabitants rushing half-dressed into the woods. There were a couple small buses parked in the town hall square. Then he heard voices and whistles being blown. His heart was beating nearly out of his chest, and he was running out of breath, but he pushed on until he reached a dirt road. The house at the end was not very big. It was a one-story, slate-roof house with a shed right beside it. Before he reached the front, he heard voices and saw the reflection of lantern lights. Jacob took cover. Two gendarmes were walking right up to the house.
At first Jacob was paralyzed with fear. The gendarmes would soon knock on the door. There were no lights on inside, and the family had not been warned of the raid taking place in the village.
After hesitating a moment, Jacob ran and tripped up the hill a bit away from the dirt road, among the trees. By the time he managed to re
ach the barn, the gendarmes were just a few yards from the door. Jacob made a dash for the back of the house and climbed in through an open window.
“Moses?” he whispered, but there was no answer. Jacob had climbed into the kitchen. He ran to a bedroom and opened it. The farmer’s children were sleeping peacefully. The farmer and his wife were in the other bedroom. Jacob realized Moses must be sleeping in a room in the barn. Though they had seen each other several times since their separation, Moses had never mentioned where he slept, perhaps so Jacob would not worry. Jacob climbed back out the window just as the gendarmes began beating on the door. He slipped through the narrow area separating the two buildings and entered the barn, creeping blindly toward the middle. He started to call for his brother.
“Moses. Moses,” he said as loudly as he dared. Outside, he could hear the noise of voices and furniture being moved.
“Jacob? What’s going on?”
“Get dressed, we have to get out of here now!” Moses threw on his clothes as they heard the sound of voices approaching. Jacob climbed the ladder to where his brother was.
“Is there another way out?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes, through the window.” Moses pointed to a small opening. He shimmied out first, and Jacob followed. They had just thumped down to the ground when they heard the gendarmes enter the barn. As the boys fled up the hill, the tall grass grabbed at their legs. They tripped over rocks and fallen branches, but they did not slow down. The sound of dogs barking reached them from below. The gendarmes must have found Moses’s clothes in the barn and were coming after them.
Jacob had spent several afternoons wandering the hills and forests with his classmates, but it was still dark, and he was too scared to gather his bearings. His only thought was to get farther in.
The barking of the dogs grew louder now. Moses tripped and cut his leg badly. Tears came, and he whimpered, “I don’t think I can walk.”
Jacob spied a house not too far away, up the hill. He helped Moses stand and, hobbling, they reached the door. They knocked, and shortly thereafter an elderly woman opened up. “What is it, boys?” she asked.
“The gendarmes, they’re after us.”
The woman took in Moses’s leg at a glance and ushered them in. She moved a cupboard, and they saw a door hidden in the wood paneling of the wall. She opened it and said, “Go up the stairs and don’t make a peep.”
The boys went up as fast as they could and entered a long, low room. They could not even stand upright, and they were not alone. An elderly couple waited at the back. Jacob could not see their faces, but he could hear them breathing.
Below, they heard the gendarmes beating on the door. The woman took her time in opening.
“What’s all the fuss so early in the morning? Has there been a fire?” she asked, put out.
“We’re looking for some fugitives. They came up the mountain, but the dogs have lost their trail,” one of the gendarmes said.
“And what does this have to do with me? I’m an old widow who lives alone. You’ve scared me half to death.”
“May we come in?” the same gendarme asked.
“I’ve told you, there’s no one else here, but the police don’t believe the word of decent folk anymore. Come in and have a look around. I’m going to make some coffee.” She left the door open and went to the kitchen. Keeping her cool, she made the coffee as strong and fast as she could to throw off the dogs’ noses.
The boys and the couple crouching upstairs could hear the boots of the gendarmes clomping over the wooden floor. The police searched for a good while. The smell of coffee filled the house as the coffeepot hissed.
“Would you like some coffee?” the woman asked.
“Thank you, ma’am. We left Le Puy at three o’clock this morning. A cup would do us good.”
She poured them steaming mugs. The gendarmes sent the dogs outside and stood in the doorway. One of them addressed the woman.
“Don’t think it’s easy for us to go after innocent people. Most of them are children, or mothers and elderly folk. It breaks our hearts to arrest them, but it’s our duty.”
The woman replied, “We must always act according to our conscience, no matter our occupation.”
Jacob heard a drop of liquid nearby and then a rush. With horror, he realized the poor woman near him had lost control of her bladder due to the fright. The urine spread out over the wooden floor and entered the cracks between the wood. Jacob peered through a tiny hole down into the living room. The gendarmes stood talking with the woman, their backs to the living room. Jacob looked in the other direction and saw the first drops fall from the ceiling onto the table.
“Oh no,” he whispered, then clamped his hand over his mouth, terrified of being heard.
“Thank you for the coffee, and I’m sorry we disturbed you,” the first gendarme said, nodding and replacing his cap. The woman was closing the door when the other officer turned and ran back to the table with the mug in his hand. He set it down and said, “Forgive me, I nearly walked away with your cup.”
Drops of yellow liquid fell just inches from the cup, but the gendarme seemed not to have noticed. But the old woman did. Her eyes flicked from the table to the ceiling, and she turned pale, gripping the door for stability. The gendarme ran out and she closed the door behind him, leaning on it and letting out a long sigh.
A few minutes later, after watching the gendarmes walk sufficiently far away, she whispered for them to come down. The children came first, followed by the elderly couple. The man had to help the woman. She was still dressed in her nightgown and looked both angry and ashamed. Her husband turned gentle eyes toward her.
“It’s all right. We were frightened, and your body just reacted that way. It couldn’t be helped.”
Tears of exasperation coated her cheeks. “But I wet myself like a little girl!”
“Don’t worry about it. Come, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”
The couple went toward the bedroom while Jacob, Moses, and their hostess watched.
“What’s the point of staying alive?” the old woman bemoaned. “I’m just a clumsy old fool, good for nothing. We should’ve stayed in Lyon. Just let me die once and for all.” Her husband embraced her and started to cry as well.
“Sweetie, sweetie, no, don’t say those things. We’re together. We’ll always be together.”
“Just let me go. Let me die!”
Jacob and Moses were stunned, and their eyes pricked with tears. The desperation was like that in the velodrome: terrified people crammed together with no water, no privacy, and oppressive heat.
Their hostess closed the bedroom door and looked at the boys tenderly. “This time we’ve had a miraculous escape. God is good. Shall I serve you some milk? Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am, but don’t go to any trouble. You’ve already done so much for us,” Jacob answered.
“God help me if you leave here without a proper breakfast. I’ve lived alone since my husband died, and we never could have children, but my nieces and nephews used to come visit in the summer. Do stay for a bit.” She brought out milk and a breakfast cake. As the fright subsided, the boys’ stomachs awoke. They ate quietly until the woman spoke again.
“Are you all alone in the valley?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Moses said.
“Well, you’re handsome young men. I believe I saw you in church on Sunday. I never thought the gendarmes would be so brash, coming all the way from Le Puy to rob us of our peace . . . You could knock me over with a feather.”
They finished eating and thanked the woman again before leaving. They felt calmer in the daylight. Though Moses’s leg was still sore, he could walk on it. Jacob recognized one of the paths as leading toward the cabin up the mountain, and they followed it for a long time until they arrived. They were exhausted and cold in the chillier mountain air, but the sight of the sturdy wooden structure filled with the children from the boarding homes cheered them.
“I went to look for Moses, and it’s a good thing I found him. The gendarmes were searching the Arnauds’ farm.”
“I’m still scared,” Moses said, burying his face.
“Lucky for him, he was sleeping in the barn, not the house,” Jacob explained.
“In the barn?” The caregiver’s voice lilted up, perplexed.
Jacob had not had time to think much of it, but now he was puzzled at why Moses had not mentioned it.
“I had wet the bed a couple times, and Mr. Arnaud was angry with me. He told me that if I did it again, I’d have to sleep in the barn. He didn’t want his kids to get dirty because of me. And he said that real men don’t wet the bed.”
Jacob gave a look of exasperation and put his arms around his brother.
The caregiver spoke up. “You’re not a man, Moses; you’re a kid. Mr. Arnaud shouldn’t have done that. You can stay in our boardinghouse from now on. We’ll make room.”
Moses flashed him a big smile at the best news he had received since arriving at the village. He would never have to leave his brother again.
They heard footsteps and looked up to see André Trocmé and Edouard Theis approaching the cabin. The caregiver went out to meet them. “How are things in town?” he asked.
“The gendarmes have gone. They took only Mr. Steckler and one other person. I was in Le Puy yesterday, talking with the chief of police. I told him most of our boardinghouses are under the protection of the Red Cross and are considered Swiss territory, but the Vichy regime cares little for international law or human rights,” Trocmé said with a sigh.