Lana's War

by Anita Abriel

  “It’s a Caran d’Ache fountain pen. It’s a Swiss brand; they’re my favorite pens.” He took it out of the case. “You can use it to write to your mother.”

  “It’s beautiful, but you didn’t have to buy me anything.”

  “Good work should be rewarded,” Guy answered. “I ran into Natalia in Nice. The Petrikoffs are having a dinner party in two weeks, and I said we’d go.”

  “Of course.” Lana nodded, sipping her coffee.

  “I better hurry.” Guy ate the last bite of grilled tomato. “I promised Pierre I’d help him fix the boat. Then I have an appointment with the tailor. I got a small tear in my dress shirt, and I’m going to order a new one.” He chuckled. “The Resistance work is taking a toll on my wardrobe.”

  Guy left, and Lana filled the sink with dish soap and hot water. The clock in the living room struck eleven, and she turned off the faucet. The sun streamed through the window, and puffs of clouds floated over the horizon. It was a beautiful day, and she was going shopping at the market. Then she was going to the narrow house on Rue Droit for an indoor picnic with Odette.

  Lana remembered how lonely Odette had been the last time she visited her. Sylvie was so frightened for Odette’s safety. Guy wasn’t the only one who felt better now that the mission was over. Lana somehow felt lighter, and she wanted to help the two people who needed it most.

  * * *

  Lana strolled along the cobblestones of the Cours Saleya. The street was covered with canopies and tables overflowing with fruits and vegetables. Vendors sold jars of spices and buckets of flowers.

  For once, the German soldiers were absent and the air hummed with the sound of people chattering in French. Neighbors greeted one another, reminding Lana of the markets in Le Marais that she and Frederic frequented early in their marriage.

  Her shopping bag was filled with pears and oranges. She had a tin of ham and a bunch of carnations for Sylvie. She’d bought a vanilla crème and milk and sugar for coffee for Odette.

  Boom.

  Lana dropped the bag on the ground. Her heart hammered; she looked around for a shooting. As she bent down to retrieve her bag, she noticed a man beside her.

  Lana looked up and recognized Charles Langford. He wore a navy sweater over gray slacks.

  “Lana!” He bent down and handed her the bag. “This is a wonderful treat. What could be better than running into a friend?”

  “Charles,” Lana said, feeling glad to see him. “I’m not usually that clumsy. I heard a bang and thought someone fired a rifle.”

  “That’s the noon cannon shot, haven’t you heard it before?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Lana shook her head.

  “It’s fired from the town hall every day to announce the lunch hour.” Charles’s face broke into a grin. “It’s one of the most civilized traditions on the Côte d’Azur.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Lana said, feeling calmer. “We seem to run into each other everywhere.”

  “The Riviera isn’t a big place.” He shrugged. “We have our own market in Menton, but it’s so close to the mountains, the fish isn’t fresh. Here the fishermen unload the catch and bring it straight to Cours Saleya.”

  “It feels like Paris before the war,” Lana commented, glancing around. “Everyone is in a good mood, and no one is looking over his shoulder.”

  “The Germans don’t like the outdoor market, they’d rather have their meals served on a plate,” Charles said. “You must be thirsty. Why don’t we sit at a café and I’ll buy you a lemonade.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” Lana wavered.

  She didn’t have time to sit with Charles. She needed to take her purchases to Odette.

  Charles took her arm and steered her toward a café. “I told you that Menton is boring. I’m not going to lose my chance to sit in the sun with a pretty young Parisian.”

  They sat at an outdoor table, and Charles ordered two lemonades.

  “Tell me everything you’ve been doing in Nice,” Charles said when the waiter brought their drinks.

  She reached into her bag and brought out a book. “I stopped at the bookstore in the Palais de Justice. I bought The Stranger by Camus and Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past. I’ve never read it. My mother is a huge reader and says it’s not to be missed.”

  “I thought you were going to switch to lighter reading,” Charles teased her. “Proust is one thousand pages, and his writing can be quite melancholy. But I understand your mother’s love of reading. My parents are the same way. They used to host literary salons at the house in Menton. That American writer F. Scott Fitzgerald would come, and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor attended whenever they were on the Riviera.”

  The Duke and Duchess of Windsor were supporters of Hitler. Was Guy right and were Charles’s parents Nazi sympathizers? And what about Charles?

  “Your parents know the Duke and Duchess of Windsor?” Lana asked in awe.

  “The Riviera used to be the place to be seen. That’s where the jet set was born,” Charles reflected. “But everyone is gone. The Hôtel du Cap is closed, and the Germans have requisitioned every hotel in Nice.” He sipped his drink and looked at Lana. “You must know that. You were talking to Von Harmon at the casino.”

  “I told you we weren’t together.” Her cheeks flushed. “Von Harmon was just seated next to me at the blackjack table.”

  Lana slipped the book into the bag and another book spilled out.

  “What a coincidence, The Jungle Book. I always loved Rudyard Kipling. It was one of my favorite books as a child!” Charles picked it up. “I even named our dog Mowgli.”

  Lana froze. She had bought the book for Odette because she thought it might lift Odette’s spirits. Lana had read it years ago and fallen in love with the tales of Mowgli and his animal friends in the jungles of India.

  “It’s a gift,” she said hastily. “For the daughter of the concierge in my mother’s building.”

  “You’re sending a book to Paris?” Charles inquired.

  “You can’t shop in Paris these days; it’s so cold, and there aren’t any taxis. The bookstores hardly have any stock, and everything is overpriced.”

  Charles nodded and handed her the book.

  “We are lucky on the Riviera, at least we have sunshine,” he agreed. “Actually, I’m having a party next Friday night, and I’d like you and Guy to come.”

  Lana shook her head.

  “I don’t think so. Guy is very busy.”

  Guy was suspicious of Charles. Guy would never agree to attend his dinner party.

  “Lana, no one is that busy on the Riviera.” Charles gave a small smile. “Please. It would make me happy, and I think you’d enjoy it.”

  Lana couldn’t think of another excuse.

  “All right, we’d love to,” she accepted. “Thank you, this has been very pleasant.” She stood, eager to get to Rue Droit. “Guy is expecting me home.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Charles offered.

  Lana had been planning to walk to Sylvie’s, but now she would have to pretend to drive away.

  Charles whistled when they arrived at Giselle’s car.

  “This is a beauty,” he said. “You must be quite the race car driver.”

  “Hardly.” Lana laughed. “It belongs to a neighbor. I only have it for a few days.”

  Lana stepped into the driver’s seat, and Charles closed her door.

  “I’ll call with the address for the party,” he said, resting his hand on the window. After Charles left, Lana reparked the car on the Promenade des Anglais and walked to Rue Droit. She glanced around to make sure no one had followed her and knocked on the door.

  This time it was Sylvie who answered the door after Lana whispered her name. She seemed even thinner than Lana remembered. Her face was pale, and the circles under her eyes were more pronounced.

  “Lana, what are you doing here?” Sylvie ushered her inside.

  “I brought some things for Odette. A
nd flowers for you.” Lana showed her the bag. “I had to come. I can’t stop thinking about how hard it must be for you and Odette.”

  “These are lovely, and you have been so kind. If you hadn’t brought Odette home that day, she might have been stopped by German soldiers.” Sylvie accepted the carnations. “But you shouldn’t be here. If anyone sees you entering the home of Jews, we may all be shot.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve been careful,” Lana assured her. “If Odette can’t go outside, I thought we’d have an indoor picnic.”

  The look of desperation in Sylvie’s eyes softened, and she nodded toward the kitchen.

  “Odette is upstairs. I was just making tea. Would you like to join me?”

  Lana followed Sylvie into the kitchen and sat at the table.

  “I’m afraid we have to share a tea bag,” Sylvie apologized. She poured tea into a cup and handed it to Lana. “I’ve used all my rationing coupons.”

  “I’ll bring tea bags from the villa.” Lana accepted the cup. “And coffee. We have a whole basement stocked with coffee.”

  Lana noticed Sylvie’s look of surprise and couldn’t help feeling guilty. Guy’s wealth afforded them little luxuries. Life was so different for Sylvie and Odette. Jacob was dead, and Sylvie struggled to find work that hired Jews. They had to exist with the barest necessities.

  “A whole basement full of coffee!” Sylvie’s eyes widened.

  “I know I’m lucky and…” She stumbled, but Sylvie seemed to sense her distress and smiled warmly.

  “We’re very grateful.” Sylvie poured her own cup of tea and sat opposite Lana. “Why are you being so kind?” she wondered out loud. “You don’t even know us.”

  Lana remembered seeing Odette cowering between the buildings when the woman’s dog was shot. The fear in her eyes had reminded Lana of her terror when Frederic was murdered. And Odette had seen her father gunned down in front of her. How could Lana not feel close to her when they both experienced the worst thing imaginable?

  Lana studied the way Sylvie’s shoulders were almost concave and the sharp planes of her cheeks.

  “This war isn’t fair to anyone, but it’s worst for the children. I can’t bring back Odette’s father or allow her back in school. I have to find some way to help. So that one day Odette will look back on this time and instead of just remembering the terrors of war, she’ll also recall little kindnesses,” Lana tried to explain.

  Sylvie made a choking sound, and her body shook with tears. Lana handed her a handkerchief, and Sylvie wiped them away.

  “I’m sorry, I know I should be stronger. But it’s so hard without Jacob. I’ve never been alone.” She hiccupped. “Sometimes I hear Odette’s footsteps outside my room at night, and I put a pillow over my head so she doesn’t hear me cry.”

  “Where are your parents?” Lana asked.

  “They’re dead,” Sylvie replied. “I was born in Alsace, near the German border. In 1940, the Germans annexed Alsace, and my parents decided to join me and move to Paris. I was already living there and married to Jacob.” Sylvie twisted her wedding band. “They were killed in a German bombing raid walking in front of their apartment. Now Jacob is dead too.” She gulped. “Who knows what will happen to me and Odette.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lana touched Sylvie’s hand. “But you mustn’t talk like that. You and Odette will be all right.”

  Sylvie blinked and kept talking.

  “We moved to Nice in 1941. Jacob got a job at the Hôtel Negresco in Nice, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. On the Riviera, Jews were still allowed to work, and Odette could attend school.” Sylvie’s eyes darkened. “But then the Germans took control. Jacob wanted to escape to Italy, but I was afraid. If only I had listened to him, Jacob would be alive.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Lana said. “Escapees going over the Alps are captured all the time. You and Jacob could both have been killed and Odette would be an orphan.”

  “Jacob and Odette shared a special bond,” Sylvie continued. “They did everything together. Odette misses him so much.”

  “Odette has you. She’ll be all right,” Lana comforted her. “You can read to her and teach her how to sing.”

  Sylvie seemed to wilt like a flower parched with thirst.

  “I barely get any afternoons off. And what if something happens to me? The Germans have turned a blind eye on Jews singing in the cabaret because they don’t want to miss their entertainment.”

  “I can visit Odette in the afternoons,” Lana volunteered. “I’ll watch out for her.”

  “Why risk your life to help us?” Sylvie asked.

  Lana wanted to say so many things: That she knew what it was like to lose the person she loved most in the world. That she considered having a family the greatest gift, and that if she couldn’t have one with Frederic, she could help another one. But revealing anything about her past could put them all at risk.

  “Because I’m here and I can.” Lana stood up and gathered her bag. She held out the book she’d purchased at the market. “I brought Odette a book. Is it all right if I go upstairs?”

  Sylvie jumped up and hugged Lana.

  “Sometimes I think God has forgotten us. But maybe I’m wrong. He’s too busy trying to fix things that it takes time for him to reach us.”

  Odette was sitting at her desk when Lana opened the door. She seemed to be staring off into space, but she turned at the sound.

  “What are you doing here?” Odette asked suspiciously.

  “I thought we could have an indoor picnic,” Lana said, and handed Odette the book. “I bought this for you. It’s one of my favorite books.”

  Odette put it on the desk. “Thank you. I used to read every night before I went to bed, but my mother doesn’t let me turn on the light. Even with the curtains closed, she thinks the Germans can see that someone is home. We creep around in the dark. It’s as if we’re already ghosts.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Lana said.

  “Why not?” Odette challenged. “This house is a coffin if I can’t go outside.”

  “Odette, you have to listen to me,” Lana said sharply. “When you’re young, everything seems like it will last forever. But one day the war will end and life will return to normal.”

  Lana noticed a large map on the wall where Odette had been looking when she entered.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s a map of England.” Odette rubbed her eyes. “I had an English pen pal named Bernadette. My father wanted to show me where she lived. I can’t write to her anymore because my teacher, Madame Blanche, mailed the letters, and I don’t go to school.”

  “I could try to mail your letters,” Lana offered.

  “How would you do that? The Germans control everything, even the post office. I heard my parents talking about it. Germans read every letter.”

  Lana shouldn’t have said anything. There would be another raid soon, and Pierre would take the boat to Algiers. He could mail the letter from there. Odette was so miserable; she had to do something to make her feel better.

  “Why don’t you give them to me,” Lana suggested.

  Odette jumped up and went to her bedside table. She removed a stack of envelopes and handed them to Lana.

  “We used to have so much fun writing. Bernadette has a pony named Puddles. She was going to send me a photo, but I don’t know if she ever did,” Odette commented. “You can read them if you like. Madame Blanche always read them to correct the spelling.”

  “We’ll find out.” Lana slipped the envelopes into her bag.

  “Do you really think she’ll get my letters?” Odette asked eagerly. “If I had someone to write to, I wouldn’t be so lonely.”

  Odette’s eyes sparkled, and Lana thought she looked so pretty. Her cheeks glowed, and her hair framed her face.

  Lana stood up and took Odette’s hand. “Now why don’t we go downstairs and eat that vanilla crème.”

  * * *

  After they ate all
the food, Lana walked quickly to Giselle’s car. As she prepared to drive away, she saw a man in a long coat and a hat hurrying toward her. He opened the passenger door and stepped into the car.

  “Don’t say a word, just start driving,” Guy barked. Fear turned to anger as she recognized him.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “I said don’t talk.” He looked behind them. “Just drive.”

  They drove through Old Town in silence. Guy used his hands to give her directions. Lana turned onto the main road. He glanced in the rearview mirror, and his features relaxed.

  “There aren’t any cars behind us, we’re safe now.” He took off his hat. “You can slow down, I wouldn’t want to plunge to our deaths because I made you take the turns too fast.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Lana said, easing up on the gas pedal. “Why were you following me?”

  “I wasn’t.” Guy unbuttoned his coat. “I was standing in the tailor’s with sewing pins digging into my neck and saw you leaving a house.” He looked at Lana. “Who were you visiting?”

  Guy had seen her leaving Sylvie and Odette’s.

  “It doesn’t matter to you,” Lana said stiffly. “You don’t know them.”

  “Everything you do affects me and Pierre and the mission,” Guy reminded her. “I’m guessing there aren’t any members of the Russian aristocracy living in narrow houses on Rue Droit. They own villas in the hills with manicured lawns and views of the Mediterranean.”

  Lana’s heart beat so fast, she thought it must burst.

  “All right. It’s a Jewish family. Sylvie, and her daughter is Odette,” she admitted. “Odette’s not allowed to go outside, so I brought her some things.”

  “You must see why it’s dangerous for you to visit Jews,” Guy said calmly. “What if Captain Von Harmon had you followed to make sure he could trust you? If he saw you coming out of a home occupied by a Jewish family, he’d have you shot.”

  All of a sudden she didn’t care about anything except telling Guy about Frederic and the reason she was in Nice. She pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. The Mediterranean was a turquoise bracelet far below and the sun melted into the horizon.