by Anita Abriel
“Guy told me about Odette’s parents when he came to see me earlier,” Pierre said. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
“I know you will, but I can’t help but worry about everything. What if someone sees the yacht leave with the refugees on board?” Lana asked anxiously. “Or if Guy is followed here?”
“The dock is quiet as a tomb, and Guy knows what he’s doing,” Pierre answered. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Besides the German patrol boats and the soldiers who shoot anything that moves.” Lana shuddered.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Pierre assured her. “It wasn’t safe for Odette on the Riviera.”
Lana nodded, even as her eyes filled with tears.
“I know, it’s just… since Odette arrived we have all been happy: Odette and Guy playing backgammon and eating sandwiches together. It’s as if we were a family. And you were right; Guy is so good with children. He gave Odette his full attention.”
Pierre looked at Lana curiously.
“You’re falling in love with Guy, aren’t you?”
The sound of Odette’s footsteps drifted up the staircase, and Lana’s heart felt as heavy as the thick ropes that tied the boat to the shore.
“I’m falling in love with both of them.”
* * *
Lana sat up sleepily and glanced at the clock in the villa’s living room. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, and it was past midnight. Guy was supposed to be back by now. She wondered if the yacht had left the harbor yet.
She was about to get up when there was a sound in the entry. Guy appeared in the doorway. He looked suddenly older. His shoulder sagged, and his movements were stiff. He unwound his scarf and walked straight to the sideboard.
“It’s so late, did something happen?” she asked.
“It all went smoothly.” Guy poured a shot of vodka. “The Natalia is on its way to Algiers.”
“Thank God.” Lana felt as if she hadn’t breathed properly in days.
“I’m getting too old for this kind of thing.” Guy groaned. “I can’t run as fast as I used to, and my back aches. I tripped over a refugee’s prayer shawl and almost sprained my ankle. I wouldn’t be much use on the next escape if I’m limping.”
Lana sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“You’re not old at all! And the mission was a success.”
Guy turned and stroked the fabric of her blouse. He put his thumb on her mouth and kissed her.
“I don’t feel old now.”
Her body melted against his, and she kissed him back.
“I’m sorry. I fell asleep and forgot to run the bath,” she said when they parted.
Guy rose and pulled her up. He drew her close and they walked to the staircase.
“I’m glad you forgot the bath,” he said when they reached his bedroom. “That’s one less thing that stands in the way of getting you into bed.”
Their lovemaking was tender and urgent. Afterward, Guy slept and Lana slipped on a robe and stood on the balcony. Guy’s cologne lingered on her skin. She wondered what Odette was thinking. Did she miss Lana, or was she imagining her life in England?
Frederic would say that she had done the right thing. Because of Lana, Odette would be safe and well cared for. But what if Odette was miserable? She hoped she made the right decision. She remembered standing outside the convent and watching Frederic lift Esther Cohen out of the piano. At least Odette was on her way to England, away from Brunner and his men. She had to content herself with that. Because thinking about anything else—when she would see Odette again and what the future held for her and Guy—filled her with despair.
She pulled the robe tighter and leaned against the railing. How could her heart could be so full and feel like it was breaking at the same time?
Chapter Twenty
Nice, December 1943
Three days later, Lana sat at her dressing table. It was almost noon. The villa had never been so quiet. Odette was in Algiers by now, and Guy had driven into Nice to see if Pierre had returned with the boat.
Guy and Lana woke early and sat in bed, talking about the war. In the last month, the Allies and Russians had claimed several victories. An RAF bombing raid over Berlin had resulted in one thousand German casualties, and the Nazis had lost 140 fighter planes in a dogfight near Emden. The Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia signed a mutual assistance treaty, and the Italians and Allies were fighting together along Germany’s Winter Line.
She was glad that the war was turning, but at the same time it filled her with dread. She feared Brunner would only step up the raids and they could only thwart so many before they were discovered.
At least Odette was safe. Lana brought to mind Odette’s dark hair and the freckles on her nose and already missed her. But it was better that Odette was far away than hidden in the attic.
The front door opened, and she ran to the top of the staircase to see who was there. Guy entered the living room and walked to the sideboard.
“Did you see Pierre?” She descended the stairs and joined him.
“He wasn’t home, but his boots were there, so he made it back from Algiers,” Guy answered. “The escape was a great success, over fifty Jews were saved. I heard a rumor that the next raid will be on the Cimiez neighborhood. It has some of the finest houses in Nice. It will be a nice bonus for Brunner that the Jews leave behind oriental rugs and crystal chandeliers. He’s probably figuring out how to dispose of them on the black market.”
Just thinking about Brunner made Lana anxious.
“It’s almost Christmas,” Lana urged. “I thought we could take a break.”
Guy glanced up and his eyes softened.
“You’re right, we both deserve a holiday.” He walked over and kissed her. “Why don’t we spend a couple of nights at the Hôtel de Paris in Monte Carlo?”
“Monte Carlo!” Lana repeated. “But I don’t like to gamble.”
“The hotel has a spa and an indoor swimming pool,” Guy said. “Or we don’t have to leave our room at all. We’ll lie in bed without worrying whether the phone is bugged or Gestapo officers will rap at our front door.”
“That does sound good.” Lana leaned into his arms. “The other night I dreamed that a German soldier was inside my bedroom. In the morning I checked the closet and under the bed. I don’t remember what it’s like to fall asleep without wanting to keep one eye open.”
“The concierge is a friend, I’m sure he’ll give us his best suite,” Guy said, and poured Lana a glass of water. She was about to take it when the front door opened.
Pierre appeared in the doorway with a small figure beside him. It took a moment for Lana to realize it was Odette.
“Odette!” Lana and Guy said at once. “What are you doing here?”
“Odette decided she didn’t want to go to England after all,” Pierre announced. “I found her in a closet on the yacht long after I’d left Algiers.”
“You hid in a closet!” Lana exclaimed. “You could have suffocated. And what if Pierre left the boat when he reached Nice and you were trapped inside?”
“It wasn’t closed all the way, there was space to breathe,” Odette replied. “I could have stayed in there for a while.”
“But why?” Lana asked. “You’re supposed to be in England.”
“I was cold, and there was a fur coat inside.” Odette twisted her braid. “Then I decided I’d rather stay in France than go to a new country. Don’t you see? If all the Jews ran away, the Germans would succeed at what Hitler is trying to accomplish. I’m French. This is where I belong.”
“You’re twelve years old, you can’t fight the Germans,” Lana spluttered.
Odette’s eyes filled with tears. She looked like a young child rather than a brave twelve-year-old. Odette hadn’t hidden in the closet because she wanted to fight Hitler. She hid because she was terrified of being far away and alone.
Guy put down his glass and turned to Lana. His expression w
as serious. He took a long breath and pointed to the staircase.
“Why don’t you take Odette up to the attic,” he suggested. “Let me talk to Pierre.”
Lana and Odette walked silently up the stairs. The blankets were still folded in a corner next to the little table.
“Don’t make me go back on the boat,” Odette pleaded. “I tried to be brave, but I couldn’t do it. I don’t care what happens, I can’t be so far from home. My mother said staying together was the most important thing. As long as you’re with the people you love, everything will be all right.”
Lana hugged her tightly. Odette’s heart beat rapidly, and her shoulders were shaking.
“Don’t worry,” Lana soothed her. “We’ll think of something.”
She descended the stairs and found Guy sipping a drink in the living room. Pierre had gone.
“I didn’t think I’d need one of these so early.” He raised his glass. “If we survive this war, I’m going to take a year off from drinking Scotch. I used to enjoy it, but now it tastes like misery.”
“We can’t force Odette to go to England. She was terrified. She’ll run away again.” Lana sat beside him. “But how will we keep her safe?”
“We’ll take Odette to Monte Carlo. I have a connection there who can get her to Italy.”
“Italy!” Lana exclaimed. “But she doesn’t want to go. She wants to stay here with us.”
“She can’t,” Guy said firmly. “Either she goes to Italy, or she has to go to an orphanage.”
They couldn’t send her to an orphanage. She might get deported to a camp. Lana would have to explain to Odette that there wasn’t any choice.
“But how would she get to Italy?”
“My friend Renato has a way. It will take longer, and it might cost a few hundred francs, but she’ll get there safely.”
“I don’t believe it,” Lana said stubbornly, thinking about what Charles had told her. “All the escape routes to Italy have been cut off.”
“There are always new routes.” Guy ran his fingers over the rim of his glass. “That’s what the Resistance does.”
“Why can’t you take her to Switzerland like you did Raoul?” Lana persisted.
“I’ve been to the border too many times, someone will get suspicious.” Guy shook his head. “You have to trust me; in a few days Odette will be eating pasta and sleeping in a warm bed.”
“That isn’t good enough.” Lana’s voice was choked. How could she send Odette away without knowing what was going to happen to her? And what if Odette refused to go? But Lana was the adult, and Odette was a child. She had to make Odette see this was the only way for all of them to stay alive.
“I wish things were different.” Lana said stubbornly. “I wish she could stay in Cap Ferrat.”
Guy looked at Lana for a long time. He picked up a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear.
“You’ve done as much as you can. Odette has a good head on her shoulders; she’ll adjust. First, we’ll all have a few days in Monte Carlo.” He reached forward and kissed her. “I’m going to spoil you from morning to night.”
Guy’s kiss tasted sweet, and she laughed.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Guy refilled his glass and leaned against the sideboard.
“I want to do what any man does when he is with a beautiful woman,” he offered. “Have candlelight dinners and buy her pretty things and tell her he’s so lucky to have her. We’ve been so busy making sure no one gets killed, there isn’t time.”
Lana’s voice choked. She hadn’t seen Guy get so emotional.
“I don’t need pretty things, and just being with you is enough.”
He walked over to her and pulled her close. The kiss was long and tender. When they parted his face held a serious expression.
“Is it enough?” he wondered out loud. “I thought it was too. But lately I’ve felt something different.” He paused. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Lana caught her breath. Why would Guy say that now? Was it simply the tension of the morning, or was it because he just realized his feelings for her? She studied his emerald-green eyes and the shape of his chin and knew it didn’t matter. She felt exactly the same.
She leaned forward and kissed him again. “I’m falling in love with you too.”
* * *
The Hôtel de Paris was the most glamorous hotel Lana had ever seen. Grand balconies overlooked the harbor, and there was a rooftop restaurant. The wine cellar held more bottles than any hotel in the world. Fragrant orchids dotted the public spaces.
They told the concierge that Odette was Guy’s niece visiting from Switzerland. For two days they ate room service breakfasts of omelets and swam in the pool. Guy and Odette had backgammon matches that lasted for hours, and in the evenings Lana and Guy listened to jazz in the Bar Américain.
Lana’s happiness frightened her. That evening, Guy’s contact, Renato, would arrive and take Odette away. The thought of anything happening to Odette made her stomach turn.
The hotel’s dining room reminded Lana of the lobby at the Paris Opera. Red velvet banquettes were scattered atop marble floors. French doors opened onto a balcony. Lana sat across from Odette and tried to look relaxed. Guy had slipped away before dinner and still hadn’t returned.
“Would you like a wine with dinner?” the maître d’ asked. “The Hôtel de Paris maintains the finest wine cellar in Europe.”
“I’m waiting for someone, thank you,” Lana said absently.
Two German officers passed their table, and an icy chill crept down Lana’s spine. But they kept walking, and she let out her breath.
Guy appeared in the doorway. Their eyes met, and he joined them at the table.
“Where’s Renato?” she asked quietly.
“Renato isn’t coming,” he replied, placing his napkin in his lap.
“Why not?” Lana inquired. She sipped her water and pretended they were having a normal conversation.
Guy glanced around to see if anyone could hear them. His eyes returned to his plate and he lowered his voice.
“Because he’s dead.”
Lana opened her mouth and closed it. She couldn’t ask questions while German officers smoked cigars nearby. She picked up her soupspoon, but her hand trembled.
Odette was telling a story about the history of the hotel, and Lana tried to listen to what she was saying. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Renato, wondering what had happened.
“When the Empress Sisi of Austria stayed here they suspended a trapeze from the ceiling of her room so she could exercise,” Odette announced. “A grand duke used to bring his own gardeners.”
“How do you know these things?” Lana asked.
“I made friends with the concierge,” Odette said, leaning forward. “You can’t imagine what goes on in a hotel. It makes my mother’s old romance novels seem like children’s books.”
“I’d better have a word with the concierge.” Guy chuckled, and Lana wondered how he could seem so relaxed. “I’ve had a similar experience, the concierge has been very helpful. I asked for a razor and shaving cream, and the hotel barber came to the suite and personally gave me a shave.” Guy touched his cheeks. “I feel like a new man.”
Lana was about to say something when two Gestapo officers approached their table.
“Good evening.” The blond officer nodded. “We couldn’t help but notice your beautiful family. I’m Captain Von Buren and this is Captain Heinemann.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Guy said in a clipped tone. His eyes roamed over the red armbands and medals on their chests.
“Your wife can’t be old enough to have such a charming daughter.” Captain Von Buren tipped his head at Lana. “She’s almost a girl herself.”
“Odette is my niece from Switzerland,” Guy said briskly. “And this is Countess Antanova.”
“Ah, a Russian countess. No wonder she outshines every woman in the room.” He turned to Lana. “I had a
grandmother in Saint Petersburg. She used to send me fur hats before the revolution.”
“My mother left Russia during the civil war,” Lana answered, wondering what the officers wanted. “We hope one day to return to Russia.” She smiled flirtatiously. “That is, when Hitler wins the war and gets rid of the communists.”
“Well informed and beautiful too.” Captain Von Buren smirked. “Don’t worry. Hitler will defeat Stalin and his army so brutally they’ll wish they were run over by their own horses.”
Guy busied himself sprinkling salt on his plate of vegetables. He looked up, and his expression was calm but firm.
“Chatting about the war is fascinating, but perhaps not in front of my niece,” Guy said pointedly. “I hope you don’t mind if we get back to our dinner.”
“Of course, our apologies.” Captain Von Buren turned to Guy. “If we could see your papers.”
“We’re in Monaco, it’s a neutral country,” Guy remarked.
“Technically, yes. But the casino is losing customers because no one wants to gamble among Jews.” He noticed Guy’s dinner jacket and gold cuff links. “You’re a successful businessman. You can understand the owner’s concern.”
Guy reached into his pocket and produced his papers. Lana took hers out of her purse and handed them to the officer.
“Thank you, Monsieur Pascal and Countess Antanova.” He returned them. “And for your niece.”
Lana’s stomach dropped, and she glanced at Guy.
“I told you, she’s my niece from Switzerland. Her mother sent her to the Riviera for the sunshine.”
“She’s very pretty, but she still needs papers,” Captain Von Buren countered.
Guy picked up his knife and buttered his bread. His expression turned contrite, and he looked at the Gestapo officers.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Guy admitted. “My niece isn’t here on holiday. My sister’s husband left her for some damn RAF nurse. She can’t afford to raise her alone and asked me to care for her.”