The Room on Rue Amélie

by Kristin Harmel

  Charlotte rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “A walk?”

  “Past the old apartment. Just to see.”

  “But I thought you said it was too dangerous for me to come with you.”

  “It’s cold out. You’ll wear a hat and a scarf, and we won’t get close enough to encounter old neighbors. Besides, I can’t leave you alone.” In fact, since news of the arrests had come down, Ruby had barely let Charlotte out of her sight. She knew she was probably driving the poor girl crazy, but what choice did she have?

  “Do you think it’s very cold where my parents are?” Charlotte asked as they walked briskly south through Passy a half hour later. German transport vehicles full of soldiers rumbled down the avenues, and Nazi flags stained the city red, like a bad rash.

  Ruby hesitated. “Yes. But I think they are all right.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Sometimes you have to believe in things you cannot see.”

  Their breaths were clouds of air. “Like religion,” Charlotte said at last. “Like the way we must believe in God even when we can’t see Him.”

  Ruby glanced at her. They hadn’t spoken of God much; it seemed a dangerous topic in these times, and Ruby herself wasn’t exactly a dedicated churchgoer. But she agreed with what Charlotte was saying. “Yes. Much like that, Charlotte. Faith.”

  “Faith that in the end, we’ll all be okay.”

  Ruby nodded, but she was suddenly too choked up to reply. She did believe in God—she always had—but she’d been struggling lately to understand how He was letting this war happen.

  They reached the rue Amélie more quickly than Ruby had expected. As they rounded the corner onto the street where their lives had first intertwined, Ruby reached for Charlotte’s hand. The girl was trembling, and Ruby had the feeling it wasn’t just from the cold. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said, her voice strong and clear. “It’s just that living across the river makes me feel as if we’ve reinvented ourselves. But here, you are still you and I am still me, even if we’re pretending to be something different. It means we have to face what we’ve left behind.”

  Ruby squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  They slowed as they walked by the building, but they couldn’t stop; they couldn’t make themselves stand out. The tip of the Eiffel Tower appeared ahead of them, grand and beautiful, and Ruby was reminded of the early days of her marriage, when she’d sat on her tiny terrace, rejoicing in the knowledge that she was really here, really in Paris. But the tower no longer meant what it used to, and the view also triggered memories of staring out the window after the baby died. This apartment had been the site of much sadness, but it had also been the place where she’d met Charlotte and Thomas. The bitter always came with the sweet.

  “Are you thinking about Thomas?” Charlotte asked as they reached the end of the block. “I know you think of him often.”

  “I suppose I’m thinking of all the things that happened here. I was lucky to have lived here. I was lucky to have met you.”

  This time, it was Charlotte who squeezed Ruby’s hand comfortingly. “And I, you.”

  They circled the block twice more, but there was no movement in or near the old building. It was merely a ghost of another time and place.

  They were mostly silent as they made their way back across the Seine. “Do you really believe they’ll find us if they come back?” Charlotte asked as they turned left onto the rue Boissière. “My parents? Thomas? The people from our old lives?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Charlotte looked at her. “But how can you be so sure?”

  “Because fate isn’t so cruel that it would return them to Paris and keep them from us,” Ruby said. She just wished she could believe her own words.

  When they rounded the corner of the stairs on the second floor of their new building some twenty minutes later, Ruby was startled to see a young man waiting for them on the doorstep. For a moment, she thought it might be a pilot. But then he turned, and she realized he was at least a few years too young. He was fifteen, maybe sixteen, with a curly mop of dark hair and piercing, hooded green eyes.

  “Where have you been?” Charlotte asked, quickening her pace and embracing him. His eyes met Ruby’s over the top of Charlotte’s head.

  “Hello,” he said calmly. “I’m Lucien.”

  Charlotte pulled away, her face red, and glanced at Ruby.

  Ruby raised an eyebrow. “You’re the forger. The one Char—Hélène—told me about?”

  His smile widened a bit. “Ah, so she speaks of me? This is good news.” They both glanced at Charlotte, whose face had turned an even deeper shade of red as she was studying the floor. “Yes, I am the forger. Among other things. Today, though, I am a messenger. May I come in?”

  Ruby hesitated. The boy seemed nice enough, but there was something about him that made her uneasy. Or was she just reacting to the way Charlotte was behaving? This was no time for idle crushes. Especially not for a child. Ruby shook the thought off quickly. She wasn’t being fair. “Yes, of course. Come in.”

  Lucien held out his hand and gestured for Charlotte and Ruby to enter the apartment first, then he followed them in.

  “What is it?” Charlotte asked once they were inside. “What’s wrong, Lucien?”

  He hesitated, and in the silence, Charlotte and Ruby exchanged worried looks.

  “Is it my parents?” Charlotte asked, her voice small.

  “What? No. No, I have no word about your parents.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte’s shoulders slumped in relief.

  “It’s about Philippe.”

  Aubert’s code name. Ruby could feel the tension crackling in the air, and from Lucien’s suddenly downcast eyes, she knew that something was terribly wrong. “What’s happened?”

  Lucien looked up to meet her gaze. “He was arrested.” His voice was flat, but Ruby could see the storm in his eyes. “Several days ago. One of the men in Urrugne gave him up, along with several others who were part of the operation.”

  “Oh, no,” Ruby breathed. Charlotte looked as if she was about to cry, so Ruby put an arm around her shoulder and tried not to break down.

  “Is he okay?” Charlotte asked.

  Lucien hesitated, and before he spoke, Ruby knew what he was going to say. “I’m afraid he’s gone,” he said softly. “Firing squad. He refused to talk, and they didn’t have any leverage against him. He doesn’t have any family; there was no one they could threaten to arrest. He’d covered his tracks well.”

  “He’s dead?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes.”

  “My God.” Ruby hung her head and said a silent prayer. “Laure is all right?” She was surprised how concerned she felt for her.

  “Yes, as far as I know. But I’m afraid the line has been compromised too greatly. There won’t be any more pilots sent to us for now.”

  Ruby let the words sink in. “Should we relocate? Is there a chance the Nazis know about us?”

  “No.” Lucien’s answer was firm. “You’re safer here; you haven’t lived here for long. Monsieur Savatier will help protect you.” His gaze lingered on Charlotte. “I will too. I will be nearby. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His last words were spoken directly to the girl.

  “Perhaps it’s better if Charlotte and I leave the city,” Ruby said.

  “No,” Charlotte replied immediately. “If we leave, how will my parents find us when they return?”

  Lucien glanced at Ruby, and she could see in his eyes that he shared her fear about the Dachers’ fate.

  “I can’t put your life in any more danger than I already have,” Ruby said after a long pause.

  “I don’t think either of us will feel complete if we’re not doing something,” Charlotte said. “But what can we do? Our part of the line is dead.”

  Lucien cleared his throat. “There are others trying to establish a new escape route. The British a
re behind it.”

  Ruby closed her eyes for a moment. How easy it would be to simply remove herself and Charlotte from danger by taking a step back. But then she’d be letting the Nazis win, wouldn’t she? Aubert’s death would be in vain. Everything she’d worked for would be in vain. “Please,” she said at last, glancing at Charlotte, “keep us informed.”

  “I will.” Lucien nodded at her and held Charlotte’s gaze for a long time before making his way to the door. “I’ll be in touch. I’m very sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  February 1943

  “I’m afraid Ruby no longer believes that we’ll be able to help,” Charlotte said to Lucien one cold winter night two weeks later. Ruby had gone to bed early, and Lucien, seeing her bedroom light go out, had stopped by. It had become a habit of his: waiting thirty minutes or so after Ruby had turned in and then tapping lightly on their front door. Ruby hadn’t caught them yet, but then again, they weren’t really doing anything wrong. Lucien hadn’t even kissed her; they merely sat and talked for hours. But Charlotte had never had a boy look at her the way he did, and she’d never felt her heart race like it did when they locked eyes.

  “Why do you say that?” Lucien asked. He was sitting just inches from Charlotte on the couch, close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

  “She talks now about how useless she feels. How she fears that by doing nothing, she’s letting the Germans win.”

  Lucien scooted a bit closer. “You understand, though, don’t you, that I’m reluctant to place you in harm’s way?”

  “Why?”

  Lucien looked into her eyes before looking down. “Because I’ve come to care for you very much.”

  Her heart skipped. “And I for you. But there is no future for us if the Germans are allowed to remain here.”

  “Charlotte . . .” Lucien didn’t complete his thought.

  “You know I’m right. I’m Jewish, Lucien. The Germans wouldn’t even let us be friends.” She summoned her courage and added, “Never mind more than friends.”

  “More than friends?” The corner of his mouth turned up into a half smile. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Does it matter? As long as the Germans are here, it is impossible. Everything is impossible.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Charlotte,” he said softly. She loved it when he called her by her real name. He and Ruby were the only ones who did; the handful of others who knew her, including Monsieur Savatier and his wife, knew her only as Hélène.

  “Lucien, I can’t help it. There’s no place in this society for people like me.”

  “Well,” he said after a moment, “I have no desire to be part of a society that would turn its back on you. So that makes two of us who would find it impossible to make a home here.”

  She blinked back tears. The strange thing was that she knew he was telling her the truth. Lucien was complicated, but he never lied. Not to her, anyhow. “Thank you,” she said. “But there’s no point in us talking about that now. We need to talk about how we can make things better. Ruby and I need to help.” She had abandoned calling Ruby by her code name when speaking with Lucien. Charlotte had discovered a few weeks ago that Lucien’s father had been the one to forge Ruby’s new identity papers when she started working with the line, so he’d known her name all along.

  Lucien didn’t say anything. After a moment, he got up and began to pace. “Charlotte,” he said at last, “it is very dangerous. The Nazis don’t have morals. Do you know they sent the police to arrest children at an orphanage this week? Children, Charlotte, some as young as five!”

  Charlotte went still. “That can’t be. What reason did they give?”

  Lucien laughed bitterly. “They needed some more Jews to fill up their train cars.”

  Charlotte looked at her hands. Reports like that terrified her; she’d been mostly sheltered from the news about the Jewish arrests because her main link to the outside world was Ruby. And of course it made sense that Ruby would try to protect her, but Charlotte wanted to know the truth. She wanted to be aware of the horrors. “I need to help.” Her tone was resolute this time, and she hoped that Lucien could hear that she wasn’t frightened. “The Allies have to win, Lucien. They have to. I can’t do nothing while the Germans take everything.”

  He sighed and sat down beside her again. This time, their knees were touching. “I’ve heard rumors of a new escape line, but it’s not operational yet. They’re still trying to work out the details. In the meantime, some of the pilots are simply being held in place, mostly in the countryside. If someone were to be sent here, he might be with you for a very long time.”

  “We could handle that.”

  “And we don’t have extra ration cards now.”

  “That’s fine.” Charlotte smiled at him. “I know a forger who might be able to help us with that.”

  Lucien smiled. “Sounds like he’s a good person to know.”

  Charlotte held his gaze. “He’s the best.”

  The air around them seemed to freeze. Then he leaned in and his lips landed softly on hers. When he pulled away—too soon—his cheeks were splotched with red. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I—I have to go.” Lucien stood up. His face was still flushed, and he looked nervous. “I’ll see what I can do.” He kissed her once more, on the cheek, and then he was gone, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Charlotte sat in the living room long after Lucien had departed, thinking about a future that would quite possibly never come. She knew she couldn’t tell Ruby; Ruby would say she was too young to be having these feelings for a boy. Ruby still saw Charlotte as a child, no matter what Charlotte did to prove otherwise—and she was wary of Lucien. “How would your parents feel about you getting involved with a forger like him?” Ruby had said once.

  “I’d like to think they’d be proud,” Charlotte had replied.

  But the truth was, Charlotte didn’t know what her parents would think. Lucien wasn’t Jewish, and she knew that both Maman and Papa had always imagined she would follow in their footsteps, marry a good Jewish boy, raise good Jewish children.

  Then again, the world Maman and Papa had dreamed of was long gone. Maybe the only thing to do was to follow her heart.

  ONE NIGHT IN LATE JULY, Charlotte and Ruby were sitting on the small terrace of the apartment on the rue de Lasteyrie. Charlotte’s parents had been gone for a year, and there’d been no word of their whereabouts since they departed from Drancy. The roundups in Paris had slowed, and the city had fallen into a strange rhythm of false normalcy. Parisians went about their daily business, heads down, while the Nazis lounged in cafés and strolled the grand avenues as if the city had been theirs all along. Just last week, though, Lucien had brought news that twenty-one Jewish families had been arrested on the Boulevard Beaumarchais for no reason at all; the police had simply swept in and carted them away, sobbing and screaming, children and all. Charlotte knew such things would continue to happen, and that even with her cover as Ruby’s Christian cousin, she was always in danger.

  The risks had made Ruby into a bit of an oppressor, actually. Charlotte knew that her friend was just worried about her, but it was difficult living with someone whose protection felt so burdensome. Ruby forbade her from going out at all now, insisting that Charlotte was much safer in the apartment, where no one could see her and get suspicious. But it was summertime in Paris, and Charlotte longed to stroll the streets, smell the flowers, feel the grass beneath her feet. Then again, it wasn’t the Paris of Charlotte’s childhood anymore. And as long as Ruby was protecting her—and as long as Ruby herself seemed so miserable—Charlotte felt she had no choice but to respect her wishes, even if the confinement filled her with loneliness and longing.

  “Do you think of your parents often?” Charlotte asked abruptly as twilight fell over the city. The sky in Paris turned an almost magical shade of blue most nights, especially in the summe
r. The French had always called it l’heure bleue, and Charlotte had been startled to learn from Ruby that across the Atlantic, Americans didn’t feel the same way about the final hour of daylight. Perhaps the sky was more beautiful here than it was anywhere else, but Charlotte had begun to doubt that. Surely there was something better out there. Besides, the blue hour had also come to mean something else; it was what the French called the end of innocence at the dawn of the Great War. Charlotte hadn’t been alive then, but she thought she understood now what France had lost.

  “My parents?” Ruby asked. “Why yes. I do. Very often.”

  “But you never speak of them.”

  Ruby didn’t say anything for a moment. “It is painful for me, Charlotte,” she said at last. “I think often of how cruel I was to simply leave them behind.”

  “You weren’t cruel to leave, Ruby. You were living your life. I’m certain your parents would have wanted that for you. You couldn’t have foreseen what was to come.”

  “But I should have. My father always spoke of the instability in Europe. I thought he was just being overly cautious.”

  Charlotte didn’t reply. She was thinking about her own parents, who had so steadfastly refused to leave Paris. If her father had listened, she might be with them in the Unoccupied Zone right now. Or perhaps they would have secured safe passage out of the country, to Spain or the United States. “Sometimes, though, our parents are wrong. That is why it is up to us to forge our own paths.”

  Ruby turned to look at her. “Do you think of your parents often too, Charlotte?”

  “Every day.” The sky was turning darker now, and Charlotte wondered what it looked like in the east, in the place her parents had been sent. “But I think they are dead by now.”

  “Charlotte! What would make you say such a thing?”

  “Lucien has told me what goes on in the concentration camps.” She wouldn’t repeat it aloud. She couldn’t. “My mother has always had a weak constitution. I can’t imagine she could tolerate the conditions Lucien has described. And my father, he has such a firm sense of right and wrong. I can’t believe so much time could have gone by without him standing up for someone at the risk of his own life.”