They’d stayed a day with the mysterious French woman who most assuredly had been sent by God. While there, she regaled them about her experience of hearing His voice during her prayers telling her to go outside and hide whomever was in the yard. She insisted she was not of the Resistance but simply following instructions from her Lord.
Skeptical, Gerard had been jumpy during their entire stay. But there seemed to be no other explanation than a miracle as to how she would have heard them in the darkness and then offered them sanctuary. Emily shook her head. If she lived to return to America, she would tell everyone about the extraordinary event. Well, as long as it didn’t conflict with her vow of secrecy.
Under cover of darkness, they’d been picked up by another French woman, this one a Resistance member who agreed to pass them through the network to the border. Gerard found her after a long night of guarded conversations with the barkeep at a small pub. She drove them in a rattletrap car to a tiny cottage into the village. Four days had passed since their arrival, and two days since Gerard slipped out the front door claiming he’d be back soon.
His new disguise suited him. If possible, he was even more handsome than when they first met. He’d shaved his head, and the two-day growth on his jaw lent an air of piracy to his countenance. His blue eyes flashed whenever Emily and he were together. His jaw seemed permanently set in determination.
Noise sounded from below. Had he returned?
She rose and grabbed her borrowed clothes from the back of a chair. Dressing hurriedly, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the bureau and blinked. Would she ever get used to herself as a blonde? Emily fingered a lock of hair, dry and brittle, and sighed. So much for her Jean Harlow look. More like a clown.
More bangs and bumps under her feet. She slipped on her boots and strode from the room to make a quick trip to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. After clomping down the stairs to the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway.
No Gerard. Her heart fell. Was he still alive, or had he been caught? Would she ever see him again?
Francoise, or whatever her real name was, stood in front of the stove stirring a pot of oatmeal. A skillet of scrambled eggs sat on the counter. She jerked her head to the loaf of bread. “Please cut a couple of slices. Breakfast is ready.”
“Where did you manage to get eggs?”
“A small basket of food was left on the back stoop this morning. Apparently, someone decided to share from their bounty. Perhaps your petit ami?” Her left eyebrow rose as she cocked her head.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Her cheeks warmed.
“Your red face belies your words.” Francoise dished out their food then picked up her plate and bowl. She sat at the table and began to spoon the porridge into her mouth. “Sit. Eat. I received a message that you must relay.”
Emily’s head shot up. “Why did you let me sleep? Information must be sent as soon as it arrives.”
The woman’s shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. “There is no need for alarm. It came only a few minutes ago.” She pushed a slip of paper across the table and continued to eat.
Emily coded the message then dragged out the radio and transmitted the secret missive.
Francoise laid down her fork. “After you’ve eaten, we’ll head to the market. There’s little food in the house, and with any luck we’ll hear something of value. You’d be surprised at how loose-lipped my fellow citizens are.”
“At home, the government issues posters about that. They were everywhere. Bus and subway stations, groceries stores, just about anywhere you looked.”
“It’s hardly the same situation. Saying the wrong thing here can get you killed. Not likely to happen in America.”
“Perhaps not in the U.S., but something said there could be conveyed over here. If this war has taught me nothing else, it is how small the world is. The incident at the farmhouse is a prime example. Thousands of troops, and I run into a fellow college student.”
“You Americans have had it easy in this war. Oui, you’ve lost troops, but your forces are only here because the Japanese dragged you into the conflict. There are many of your people who don’t want to be part of this conflict. You can’t possibly understand what is like for us. Pearl Harbor is nothing compared to the death and destruction in France since the Germans arrived.”
Emily bit the inside of her lip. Truth be told, the woman was right. The Depression had been difficult for many in the U.S., and she’d been old enough to see the impact on schoolmates, but personally, her family had not suffered. And America was not being run roughshod over by a ruthless army. “Then tell me. Help me understand.”
Francoise narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because it is important to you.”
“What?”
“Look, I hear the bitterness in your voice because the struggle has been long and grueling, and the French must feel abandoned, but I don’t have to experience the hardship to want to be part of the solution, to fight the evil that penetrated your country. I love France. I learned the language, studied here, and taught French and your culture to my students.”
“I don’t know if I can take you at your word about loving my country, however genuine you appear. Perhaps you are only here because of the attractive man who accompanied you.”
Emily huffed and crossed her arms. “I am not here because of Gerard. He was my instructor, and our superiors deemed it necessary for us to pretend to be married. It makes no sense to me, but I follow orders.”
Francoise winked. “You must admit, it is easy to profess to love someone so gorgeous.”
“You think I would risk my life because of some man? How shallow do you believe me to be?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then stop making assumptions. We don’t have to be adversarial. We’re on the same side.” She frowned. “How about we focus on the mission?”
“Suit yourself.”
Show her grace, My child.
Emily closed her eyes and sighed. Once again, her temper caused her mouth to run away with her words. Forgive me, Lord. She looked up at Francoise. “Whatever you think about my countrymen is your prerogative, but please know that I am here because I want to help France and her people get out from under Hitler’s tyranny. I will do what I can to gain your confidence, but I understand if you choose to withhold your trust. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to transmit messages and work with you however you need. Or I will stay in the house and out of sight.” Emily rose and took her dishes to the sink. She turned on the spigot, cleaning the soiled plate and bowl. “Whichever you prefer.”
“Unfortunately, I trust very few people.” Francoise’s voice was soft, uncertain.
“Understandable, but for the Resistance to succeed there must be some element of collaboration…er…bad choice of words, but you know what I mean.”
“Oui.”
“And Francoise?”
“Hmm?”
“Gerard is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met, but if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll claim you’re lying. Are we clear?”