In a Field of Blue

by Liviero, Gemma

  I handed him the baby, and at first he seemed reluctant, looking at the child as if it were the first time he had seen him. Perhaps it was then I saw something more, something very wrong about him, and thought about his broken soul, and a small amount of compassion again crept in even during those fearful moments.

  I looked around to see where they could hide. The cellar would be the first place they looked, but there was no closer place and no time to search for another. I turned a barrel on its side.

  “Crawl in!” I instructed.

  He crouched down and crawled into the space with Samuel enfolded into his arms. Once they were inside I pushed the barrel, open side first, against the wall, straining from the effort. I knew that sooner or later Samuel would wake up and cry for milk.

  Someone banged twice loudly at the front door, and I jumped before rushing up the stairs and closing the cellar door. I rested a mop and cleaning rags inside the baby basket and placed it near the back door. The banging started again.

  Captain Lizt stood casually as I opened the door, while he pulled at the fingers of his gloves to release them, gripped tightly in one hand.

  “What is it?” I asked, forcing back my fear. “Is it Helene? Is she all right?” I clutched tightly to the front of my trousers so that he would not see my hands shaking and wondered if he was perceptive enough to see through my attempts to distract him with questions.

  He looked around, his eyes roaming to scour everything his eyesight could reach. I was a bag of nerves but stood still, waiting, hoping he would not notice my breathing quicken.

  “Someone said they saw a stranger on this road yesterday. An Englishman, they suspected.”

  I looked at him and bit down on the inside of my lip to stop it from trembling also.

  He walked around the room and examined things. I wondered also why in all the chaos he was bothered to come here.

  “Don’t you have a war to fight?”

  At the question a loud explosion sounded just south of Bailleul. He looked briefly out the window, and I could see that it rattled him, his mind on that also.

  He turned back to walk around the room, and I spied the milk bottle in the kitchen sink.

  “Why do you think he was English?” I said to distract him again, to turn his eyes on me and not toward the bottle.

  He was smiling suddenly, but the smile did not stretch to his eyes, which were cold and cruel.

  “Someone said they spoke to a man on the road a day or so ago. They said he looked disoriented. That he was rambling in English.” He paused and watched me carefully, and I held on to the table between us. “The penalty for harboring an Englishman is of course death. Just carrying an Englishman’s child is an offense. But you know that already.”

  His tone was menacing. He was not looking for a missing baby, that much was clear, but it did not lessen the trembling. The captain wanted Edgar, and if he found him, he would take the baby, too.

  “Well, there is no Englishman here.”

  “Where is Monsieur Lavier?” he asked.

  My throat felt dry and my breathing fast, and it took every ounce of control to keep my voice steady. “He has gone to see about more food.” I prayed that he wouldn’t ask me where, that he would not head that way.

  He looked at me, and I leveled at him steadily. He would not break me with his stare. He barked an order to one of the men to check the bathroom at the back and another to stand at the door, while he instructed me to open the cellar.

  He commenced to descend the stairs when an explosion sounded closer, shaking hard the ground beneath our feet, which made him retreat and walk to the window. The soldier who had been at the back of the house ran inside and spoke hastily in German. The captain rushed to the front window. He then issued some orders before turning to me.

  “Your sister had a baby, but I imagine you have already heard. Gossip travels and no place more than here. If you should come upon information about the stranger, please let me know. As a reward, she and her newborn will be free to go.”

  I drew a sharp intake of breath from his stare, and then I was freed from it. I waited till the horses were out of view from the window, then went down to the cellar and heaved the barrel as gently as I could. The baby was still curled asleep in the arms of Edgar, who was leaning over his son carefully, taking most of the discomfort for himself. He passed me the child, then crawled out silently, strangely asking nothing about the captain’s arrival, and began to climb back up the stairs.

  “You should stay down here,” I said. I was unsure whether to trust him, whether he might undo us all. And I did not want to be alone with him.

  He looked at me briefly, said nothing, then sat back down on the ground. It was as if I were talking to the dead. I left quickly and shut the cellar door, relieved to be away from him once more.

  I thought of Helene on the bed in the hospital and knew pretty soon she would return to the jail. She was ill. If she remained incarcerated, I did not believe that she would live. At least for now, and possibly thanks to Joan, Captain Lizt was unaware that the baby had been taken elsewhere. He had obviously not been to see Helene the previous night, too busy with the Allied defensive and the wounded soldiers he was accompanying to the asylum.

  But it was because of Edgar that Helene was imprisoned at all. I could not forget that.

  It was almost two hours before Jerome came up the road with the doctor. I took Samuel and his basket into one of the rooms and closed the door. Jerome entered with the newcomer, whom I had seen in the town of Armentières once or twice.

  “Where is—”

  “The stranger is down in the cellar,” I said, not letting him name the patient.

  Jerome looked at me, and I saw that he was both curious and concerned about Edgar being kept in the suffocating room.

  “Once he is fixed, I want him gone.”

  Jerome knew immediately why I had been so abrupt. I could not trust anyone, especially someone like the doctor whom we hardly knew, to think we had any special relationship with Edgar or were on a first-name basis. I had to assume that Jerome had revealed little. I would protect the baby at all costs.

  Jerome helped Edgar up from the cellar and then to remove his trousers. The doctor worked quickly, extracting the shrapnel and sealing the flesh wound with stitches before applying an ointment. Edgar thanked him somewhat sheepishly, as if he deserved no one’s help. Jerome walked Edgar into the bedroom where the baby was, and I hoped that neither would disturb the baby to wake.

  “I wish you well,” said the doctor, who seemed genuine enough, but since I believed that people in the town had betrayed Helene, everyone except for Joan and the nuns was not to be trusted. The doctor tipped his hat and left with Jerome, while I paced and prayed, watching the horizon glowing orange, until my father appeared home again late into the evening.

  “It would have been good for the doctor to check the baby, but at least Edgar will heal,” said Jerome.

  “No one must know about the baby,” I said.

  I did not tell him about Captain Lizt’s visit. I had been thinking about it the whole time he was gone again and imagining sweet Helene returned to us. Fortunately, Edgar also had said nothing about any visitors, not that he was saying much about anything. If Jerome knew what had been proposed by the captain, he would shut down any suggestion of it, and I could not burden him with my own plotting to set Helene free. I knew he would never trade the life of one for another, no matter what the relationship. It was not in his nature, so open and kind for the world to see. I felt guilty at the thought of it, but even so I could picture Helene pining for the baby that she might never see again.

  I was tormented with indecision. I imagined Edgar and me not bound by the ties of my sister but rather us shackled together with heavy, rusting chains, and me with no way to forgive him. I wondered whether, in the best interests of the baby and his mother, my promise to Helene might be justifiably broken.

  That same night when I could stand it no lon
ger, I made an excuse to Jerome that I would ride back into town and see if I could find any more milk supplies for Samuel for the coming days. He did not like that I was going out alone, but he nodded and told me to hurry back while the guns and distant shelling remained silent. Both sides were taking the time to regroup, exhausted from their losses.

  Many houses in the town had been destroyed, the place with only a scattering of pallid lights and near empty of life. I traveled first to the remains of Edith’s to leave some flowers I had picked on the way. With the arrival of Edgar and the chaos, I felt she had been forgotten. I knelt at the site and prayed that she was now joined with her son.

  Next, I went to the German headquarters to seek an urgent audience with Captain Lizt, expecting to find him resting this late after a day of heavy shelling, but was redirected to the tavern. Inside, the only patrons were German soldiers who were surprised by my appearance there. I hated being so close to Gerard, who did not acknowledge me. I had seen him often near the town hall and the German base, talking to the captain, and I wondered what sort of relationship they had. I wondered also if Aloise, his gossiping wife who worked behind the bar, really wanted to still be here, surrounded by so much destruction, with most of their friends missing or killed. She appeared tired and as miserable as her husband serving into the early hours of the morning.

  Gerard appeared to always have food to serve, which had likely been traded for information. If anyone was a traitor to France, it would be Gerard. Felix, his son, however, once my friend, was working there also, collecting the dirty plates. He gave me a secretive wave as I came through the doorway. I did not reciprocate. I had assumed that since he was related to someone I despised, he was likely to be the same now, perhaps had even given evidence against us.

  I asked the soldier near the door if I could have a private audience with Captain Lizt, who seemed to never sleep, maps covering the tables beside him. The soldier bent down to speak quietly in the ear of the captain, who appeared pleased to see me and obviously hungry for what I was about to tell him. I was brought forward and felt the eyes of the tavern upon me. I said a silent prayer and remembered Helene’s request. I want you to promise me that you will look after the baby and Edgar when he returns. She had been so sure he would.

  “I have seen the Englishman you asked about,” I said. “He stopped at our house, and we kept him there for as long as we could.”

  Aloise had stopped washing glasses at the bar to listen carefully.

  “Where is he now?” the captain asked.

  “Heading south of Bailleul. I came as quickly as I could.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I trusted an Englishmen once, and I will not make the same mistake again,” I said as convincingly as possible.

  He watched me curiously for a moment before turning to one of the soldiers and pointing to the front door, and I heard the door open and close behind me. His attention back on me, he chewed his last mouthful fast before wiping his mouth with a napkin. I felt I was made to watch him, and I hated him more in that moment, the division between our positions made clear. Gerard came over to fill up the captain’s glass with more wine.

  Captain Lizt nodded, and one of the soldiers pulled at my arm to leave.

  “Wait!” I said. “My sister . . . You said she could leave.”

  I detected the faint rise at the corners of his tightly pressed lips.

  “You have not heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “The asylum has been destroyed. Your sister is dead.”

  I paused, my heart pounding.

  “And the baby?”

  “We were told by the surviving nurses that the baby died in the arms of its mother.”

  I said nothing.

  “But I am not so sure about the baby. You see, I’ve only just come from interviewing a soldier who had been on duty there, who said two nuns he had never seen before took the baby away someplace else. Would you know anything about it?”

  I shook my head. I could not speak, afraid that my voice would fail me and my knees were about to give way. I kept my lips tightly together to hide any shock. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

  “You should take comfort at least. Your sister was ill and not expected to live. It has reduced her suffering.”

  I wanted to rush at him, hit him. Instead I picked up the glass of wine and threw it in his face as Aloise gasped. One of the soldiers stepped toward me, but Captain Lizt put up his hand to stop him. He calmly wiped his face with the napkin, and I saw no humiliation but satisfaction despite what I’d done. I turned and left, the hurt of this news thundering through my heart and threatening to burst out from my chest.

  Climbing onto Hester, I saw Felix coming out from the back of the tavern and rushing toward me. I turned away from him.

  “Wait!” he said. “Whatever you think of my father, you have nothing to fear from me.”

  I turned back to see that he appeared genuine.

  “Is it true?” I asked him. “Was the hospital bombed? Were people killed?”

  “Some,” he said. “I know that some got out before. I don’t know for certain about Helene or who was killed. I can tell you that Captain Lizt lies to everyone.”

  I wanted to tell him then that I suspected his father was the reason Helene was imprisoned and how much I despised Gerard, but there seemed no point. I thought no ill of Felix. He held the reins of Hester and stroked her face. He had news he was holding on to, unsure whether to reveal it.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I believe that you and your father are not safe. I have overheard conversations . . . They are executing people over the smallest things. And now . . .”

  The wine in the captain’s face had made it worse for Papa and me.

  “You should leave,” Felix said. “And very soon.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He was looking up at me as if he wanted to say more, his brown eyes expressing much fondness.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your family,” he said.

  I nodded, grateful at least that there was still some humanity left inside this building. I thought to go first to the hospital, but the soldiers stationed nearby were watching me carefully. I rode back toward home and noticed that one of the soldiers was following me before the sounds of shelling started again to draw him back toward the town. I jumped from Hester and charged through the front door to tell Jerome what I had heard. I spoke loudly so that Edgar could hear me from the bedroom. I wanted him to know what he had done, how his arrival in our lives had caused Helene to die.

  “I will go and find her if she is still alive,” Edgar said, walking into the living room. “I will trade my life for hers. It is the least I can do to make amends.”

  “No,” said Jerome. “You will get yourself killed.”

  But he was gone, and I heard Jerome calling after him helplessly from the front door. The way I had acted niggled me, but in those times, our characters weren’t our own, changed into sometimes worse versions of ourselves. There was now shame interweaving with my anger, and I wondered if my shaming words toward him were about to cause his death.

  Jerome was shaking his head and sat down, his head in his hands. I felt immense sadness and guilt. He was always trying to do the right thing for everyone. He had not judged Edgar as I had done. He had looked far deeper into his heart.

  Why was there so much death to simply keep the life we had worked for? Why was it fair for others to think they could take something that wasn’t theirs?

  “We will wait another hour, and then we must go,” said Jerome quietly.

  “But where to?”

  He had no answer.

  I looked at Samuel. My heart said to stay, but my head reminded me of my promise to Helene to look after him. And we were no longer safe here.

  We walked outside to see several other French running south. Jerome rushed over to speak to them, then returned, his head han
ging.

  “What is the matter?”

  “The Allied soldiers have taken back some ground, but it will not be a short fight. It will get far worse. We must leave.”

  “We should first go to learn the truth about Helene ourselves,” I said.

  He shook his head, and he watched me carefully.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’ve just been told that the German patients were evacuated before the bombing, but the French patients did not escape. The captain may have been telling the truth. But they won’t let anyone near the hospital to see if there are survivors, perhaps trapped.”

  I handed him Samuel and turned toward the stable.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get Helene.”

  “Do not go anywhere! It is not safe!” But his voice was drowned out in my heavy thoughts.

  I threw myself onto Hester bareback and rode through the paddocks and turned toward the hospital. German soldiers who had grouped in makeshift hospital tents and areas of rest had seen me, but still I kept going, believing they would not shoot an unarmed girl on a horse. It was an impetuous part of my nature that I’ve fought hard to tame. They fired a warning shot in the air, but it just enraged me further, and I continued toward the hospital. I was possessed and unclear of my intentions, I can see now, as well as masking my grief with acts of rage.

  I saw it firsthand, the ruins, smoldering and sending out their last surrendering breaths of pale-gray smoke. No one would have survived. I knew the truth then and reined Hester in, the madness of what I was attempting suddenly upon me. There was no one to save. I was in the thick of danger here, and as I turned Hester to return home, there was another shot, and she stumbled forward. I toppled over her head to land shoulder first onto the ground. A second shot fired at her again. I felt her warm body, kissed her one last time before turning and running back toward the farm, tears streaming.

  Jerome was waiting for me. He did not look angry, but neither did he speak. He knew there was only one reason Hester hadn’t returned with me. He could forgive me for Hester, but if I had been killed, then he would have lost two daughters. For so many years he had tried with his gentleness to calm the wildness I carried within me, that ran through my blood. I sobbed while I helped him load the trap with clothes and a few personal items. He tied Mira to the trap as I looked at the paddocks I had run across, scorched in places, and the orchard with its splintered, burning trees. I pined for Helene and our life before the war came and cruelly took it all away. But there was no time then to fully grieve for the past.