She was carrying Thomas’s baby. The thought echoed in her head again and again like a favorite song, soothing and thrilling her. This meant that a piece of him was still here. But she’d lost the first baby—what if she was fated to miscarry again? Losing this baby too might just destroy her. She felt a sudden, desperate need to protect the life in her womb at any cost. But how could she bring a healthy child into the world when she could scarcely survive herself?
She sat with her hands on her belly for the next few hours, imagining a future with Thomas and the child they now shared. She knew—with the same certainty that she’d known her first baby would be a boy—that this child would be a little girl. She could see Thomas laughing and chasing a pigtailed daughter through the poppy fields with the sky clear and blue and perfect above them. Ruby would watch from the porch, her heart filled with joy, as she thought about how far they’d come. The war would be over, the world would be right again, and everyone she loved would be safe. Charlotte would be there too, sitting beside her on a rocking chair, finally protected from all the forces that could hurt her.
“Are you okay?” Charlotte’s voice jarred Ruby awake sometime later. Ruby didn’t remember falling asleep, but darkness had fallen.
“Oh, yes,” Ruby said, struggling upright. “I must have been more tired than I realized.”
Charlotte frowned. “You’re feeling all right?”
“Yes.”
Ruby was suddenly aware of how much older Charlotte looked lately. She was fifteen now. The innocent girl Ruby had first met nearly five years ago had vanished, replaced by a young woman. Would Charlotte’s own parents recognize the person their daughter had become?
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Charlotte asked, sitting down beside Ruby.
Ruby lowered her eyes and shook her head. When she looked up again, the girl was still staring at her knowingly. Charlotte’s gaze moved to Ruby’s belly, and Ruby was startled to realize that her own hands had returned there, apparently of their own accord, as if she could shield the baby against all the evil in the world.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Charlotte’s tone was gentle.
“What?”
“You’re pregnant.”
“I—I didn’t even realize it myself until a few hours ago,” Ruby said, her voice shaking. “How did you know?”
Charlotte looked sad. “Because you’re peaceful. Just like you were the last time. It’s like—” She paused, searching for words. “It’s like it doesn’t matter what’s going on around you. You’re just calm.”
“Calm,” Ruby repeated. And as implausible as it sounded, she understood what Charlotte meant. Over the past month, she’d felt her energy turn inward. She had worried less about the pilots and the state of the war, and had concentrated more on the memories that she carried with her, as if they would provide her a means of survival. Now she recognized what Charlotte had already seen—that she’d been nesting before she even knew there was a need. “I’m very frightened, Charlotte,” she said after a moment. “What if I lose this baby too?”
“You won’t.”
“How can you know that?”
“I just do. This is what’s meant to be, Ruby. You’re meant to raise a child with Thomas.”
Ruby half-smiled. “You don’t judge me for having . . . relations with him?”
“Of course not! You would marry him right now if you could, wouldn’t you?”
Ruby could see in her mind’s eye a church somewhere—maybe in England, maybe in California—a white dress, and Thomas standing handsome and tall at the altar in an RAF dress uniform, waiting for her. Her favorite love song, “Cheek to Cheek,” would play afterward as all their loved ones celebrated, and they’d hold each other and dance long into the night. “Yes, I would.”
“Then God knows how you feel. This war, it has changed everything about the world. But our most important lives are still on the inside, aren’t they? What matters is what’s in your heart.”
“When did you get so wise?” Ruby’s eyes were suddenly wet.
Charlotte leaned forward and kissed Ruby on her cheek, then she placed a hand gently on Ruby’s belly. “Someone I love very much set a good example for me.”
“You mustn’t tell anyone, Charlotte. Not even Lucien. I—I don’t want anyone to know until I’ve told Thomas.”
“Your secret is safe—at least until your belly begins to grow. But maybe the war will be over by that time, and Thomas will have returned.”
There was a knock at the door then, and Charlotte went to peer out the peephole. “Another pilot,” she said, and Ruby nodded, wiping her tears away.
She took a deep breath and stood, ready to greet the newest fugitive. Their work had to go on. It was her duty to do everything she could to build a better world for the child she already loved with all her heart and soul.
THE NEW ARRESTS BEGAN IN March.
At first, there was the rumor that a man who had worked on Aubert’s original escape line had been arrested and executed for trying to smuggle pilots out of France. Soon after, Laure was picked up, questioned, and released, but she got word to Ruby through a friend of Lucien’s that she wouldn’t be working as a courier for the new line anymore, because she was certain the Germans were following her. She could think of no other reason why they would have let her out so quickly.
Ruby, whose belly was just beginning to blossom, grew increasingly nervous. She knew Laure hadn’t talked, but what if the authorities had been following her long before they picked her up? What if they’d seen her coming and going from Ruby’s apartment? The risks seemed enormous, but after a few weeks passed and no more arrests were carried out, Ruby began to relax. Perhaps the first arrest had been a terrible fluke and Laure’s had been a mistake. Besides, by early April, there was buzz about a possible Allied invasion in the next few weeks. Surely the Germans would be more worried about that.
“We still need to lie low,” Ruby said to Charlotte and Lucien over dinner one night. “Even if things seem to be turning in favor of the Allies.”
“You mean stop taking in pilots?” Charlotte asked.
Ruby hesitated. Her gut was telling her yes, but what would happen to the men who needed refuge? She couldn’t simply abandon them. “We just need to be more careful, I think.”
Lucien and Charlotte exchanged uneasy looks. “Ruby,” Lucien said after a moment, “I can take in pilots in my apartment for a while, just until things blow over. In case your apartment has been compromised.”
“No,” Ruby said firmly. “We have the perfect setup here with Monsieur Savatier looking out for us and with the hidden closet in my bedroom wall. We just need to hang on a little longer, and the Allies will be here. We’re nearly at the end. I can feel it.”
Within a few weeks, Ruby was escorting pilots on foot to the Montparnasse station. Though it put her out in the open, it just made sense now that Laure was unavailable; it lessened the traffic in and out of her apartment, nearly eliminated her contact with others on the escape line, and allowed her to see the pilots safely off on the next step of their journey.
In fact, Ruby wondered why she hadn’t started doing this sooner. Fewer people involved in the line meant fewer chances for something to go wrong. And now that the threat of Allied invasion was looming, the German troops in Paris seemed distracted anyhow. Surely they wouldn’t notice a woman who was simply out for a stroll on a spring afternoon.
Her charge the second week of April was an American pilot named Christopher. He had graduated from the University of Florida before joining the Army, and he was as clever as he was friendly. When he’d first shown up at her door, two days earlier, Ruby had assumed that he was French, because he had somehow managed to acquire a set of worn clothes that fit perfectly, as well as a Frenchman’s particular way of holding a cigarette. He’d even greeted her in French, and it had taken several seconds for her to notice his American accent. Perhaps that was why, as she strolled down the rue Letel
lier on a bright morning, trailed by Christopher a half block behind, she hadn’t thought to worry. Some pilots were more foolhardy than others; some resisted listening to a woman’s counsel; some were simply clumsy and nervous. But Christopher was a model guest, and Ruby was sure she’d have him to his train in no time.
She was so confident, in fact, that when a large black car drew to an abrupt halt beside her, she hardly noticed. But then three men jumped out, all dressed in the uniform of the German police, and Ruby’s heart shot into her throat. Surely they weren’t here for Christopher. She reminded herself to continue walking, to keep her head down. But two of the men stepped directly into her path, and the other cut off her only potential route of escape by coming up behind her. “Identity papers,” said the broader of the two men in front of her. He had a nasty scar across his cheek and a short, dark mustache that made him look like Hitler.
“Yes, of course,” Ruby said, trying to sound calm. From the corner of her eye, she could see Christopher turn down a side street behind her. The police didn’t seem to notice him, which filled her with some relief—but it was short-lived. Why were they stopping her if it wasn’t because of the pilot?
She rummaged in her purse and withdrew her papers—she carried only her real ones now, the ones that identified her as Ruby Benoit. She was sure that even if the Germans had something on her, they wouldn’t execute her for fear of reprisal from the U.S. government. It was her trump card, but perhaps she was being overly optimistic.
“This says you were born in the United States,” the mustached officer said, glaring at her. “What are you doing here?”
“I am French by marriage.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just out for a stroll.” She could tell by the look on his face that it was the wrong answer. “I needed to stretch my legs.”
He frowned. “What is your address?”
“Twenty-four, rue Amélie.” She gave him the old address without hesitation, because she didn’t want anything to lead to the new apartment. Charlotte was there, and Ruby wouldn’t put her in danger.
“Most people out for a stroll would walk toward the river,” the officer said.
“I wanted to be alone,” she replied. “There are crowds near the river on a beautiful day like today.”
“So you were not going to the Montparnasse station,” he said with a smirk, “to aid in the escape of Allied pilots.”
Ruby could feel her mouth go dry, but she forced a neutral expression. “What? Of course not.”
“And you’re certain that’s the story you want to stick with?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
He grabbed her handbag and began to rifle through. Her mind spun as she wondered whether she’d mistakenly left anything incriminating in it. She didn’t think so, but a moment later, he withdrew a bundle of ration tickets.
“You live with your husband?” His expression told her he already knew that Marcel was dead.
“No. He died in 1941.”
“Yes. I am aware. The traitor Marcel Benoit.”
Ruby swallowed hard. So she hadn’t been stopped on a whim. They had sought her out. This was much worse. “My husband wasn’t a traitor. The evidence against him was false.”
The officer guffawed. “Madame, we do not make mistakes. But you, it seems, have made a serious one. Why do you have so many ration tickets if you live alone?”
She thought quickly. “I offered to pick up some supplies for neighbors.”
“Ah. And these neighbors—as you call them—are not Allied pilots trying to escape from France?”
“Of course not!” Ruby tried to appear indignant.
“Ah yes, I’d nearly forgotten. You’re merely out for a walk.” He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the car. The other officer, who’d been in front of her, took her other arm, while the man who’d been behind her walked around to the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” Ruby demanded. “I have rights!”
The men laughed as they shoved her roughly into the back of the car. The mustached man climbed in beside her. “Unfortunately for you, madame, that isn’t true at all.”
AT THE POLICE HEADQUARTERS, RUBY was thrown into a small cell by herself and told to wait. She spent the day worrying about Charlotte. What if the police found out where Ruby lived now? What if Charlotte was arrested? Ruby still felt confident that her own American citizenship would spare her from execution. But if they found Charlotte, it would be only a matter of time until they realized she was Jewish. How had Ruby allowed her to participate in something so dangerous? The guilt overwhelmed her, and she sat on the floor sobbing until nightfall, when a guard came to retrieve her, yanking her to her feet and hauling her into a room that looked like an office.
Inside, she found two uniformed guards waiting for her. “Tell us everything you know,” one of them said without preamble. “If you lie to us, you’ll be shot first thing in the morning.”
Ruby struggled to keep a neutral face. Her hands went to her belly. Breathe, she reminded herself. Stay calm. They have nothing on you, or you’d already be dead. “I haven’t done anything,” she said evenly. “You have made a mistake. I am American. You can’t execute me.”
The guard shrugged. “Have it your way.”
A female guard entered a moment later with a bologna sandwich and a cup of water, and though Ruby worried that the food had been drugged, she wolfed it down; she was starving. Soon after, another guard came in and dragged her to a cold, damp cell with a straw mattress on a dirt floor. “Get some sleep,” he said, not unkindly, and then he closed and locked the door behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
April 1944
“Ruby has been arrested.” Lucien’s face was pale when he arrived at Charlotte’s door that night, far later than she’d expected him. She had been pacing the apartment, worried sick that Ruby hadn’t come home. The last Charlotte had heard, Ruby was on her way to deliver Christopher, the American pilot, to the Montparnasse station. Had he been careless? Followed her too closely? Drawn unwanted attention to both of them? Charlotte had been bracing for the worst as the hours rolled by with no sign of Ruby, but Lucien’s words still broke her.
“No, no, no.” Charlotte was suddenly unable to breathe. “There must be a mistake. Lucien, tell me there’s a mistake.”
He shook his head slowly. “There is no mistake, my dear. The Feldgendarmerie picked her up hours ago. She’s to be turned over to the Gestapo in the morning.”
“No. Lucien, how did this happen?”
Lucien didn’t reply until after he’d stepped into the apartment and she’d closed the door behind them. “Someone must have betrayed her. They knew exactly who she was when they stopped her. From what I understand, they didn’t even notice the pilot tailing her. He made it to his rendezvous point at the station; he’s the one who told us of her arrest.”
“Did they hurt her?”
“I don’t know.” He took her hands. “But, Charlotte, Ruby is strong. She will survive whatever they throw at her, and they won’t dare execute her, because she is an American. She will survive.”
“But she’s pregnant,” Charlotte whispered.
All the remaining color seemed to drain from Lucien’s face. “What?”
Charlotte began to cry; she had promised Ruby that she’d keep her secret, but things were very different now. “If the Germans find out . . .”
“Thomas is the father?”
“Yes.”
“The pregnancy isn’t visible yet?”
“Not really.” Ruby’s belly had begun to swell, but not enough that someone who didn’t know her would take notice.
“That’s good. But if she’s sent east . . .” Lucien’s voice trailed off, and he and Charlotte exchanged horrified looks.
“They kill the pregnant ones first,” Charlotte said, her voice hollow. “That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Let’s just hope for now that it
does not come to that. I will try tomorrow to find out everything I can about her situation.” He paused. “In the meantime, I think you should stay with me. If they’ve arrested Ruby, it’s only a matter of time before the trail leads to this apartment. I will speak with Monsieur Savatier about removing anything incriminating, but for now, Charlotte, we must go. Quickly.”
Charlotte wiped her eyes and nodded. It was only a place, after all. What was important was that they all found a way to survive.
“I will do everything in my power to make sure she’s okay,” Lucien said, as if reading her mind.
“Thank you,” Charlotte replied. But the words felt hollow, because she knew he could do only so much. For now, Ruby was on her own, and her fate rested in the hands of the increasingly hostile German authorities.
CHARLOTTE COULDN’T SLEEP THAT NIGHT, but she dozed off after dawn, falling into an abyss of nightmares. At first, she could see Ruby at the bottom of a dark hole, crying out for help. And then she was on a crowded train car headed east. In the third dream, she saw Ruby delivering a stillborn baby in a dirty jail cell. When Charlotte awoke, sweaty and panting, Lucien was gone and she was alone.
He returned late that afternoon, his expression grim. “I’ve spoken with Monsieur Savatier,” he said. “We cleared out the hidden closet. If the Germans come, they won’t find anything out of the ordinary. Monsieur Savatier will contact me if Ruby returns or if anyone comes looking for her.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte hesitated. “Is there any word about what has happened to her?”
Lucien cleared his throat. “She has been moved to the prison at Fresnes.”
“Fresnes?”
“I’m afraid so.”
They didn’t say anything for a moment, but Charlotte knew that Lucien was thinking the same thing she was. This was a bad sign. The conditions were reportedly horrific; people passing by could hear the screams of tortured prisoners.
“Have you learned anything else?” Charlotte asked.
The Room on Rue Amélie Page 25