All Things New

by Felicia Mires

  Jacob stopped for a breath, and the priest leaned back in his seat. "I see you've given this a lot of thought. Why don't you tell me what you think it means?"

  "I think God's forgiveness is a free gift to all. You can never deserve it, or Jesus wouldn't have had to die. And if you can never be good enough, then it doesn't matter what you've done. He forgives everything. He even told us to be like him…to forgive everything."

  Father Mercier looked down for a moment as sadness filled his eyes. "How can one forgive the rape of one's country?"

  "The same way one forgives the rape of one's daughters…one day at a time with God's help. I don't have God's capacity to forgive. I struggle with hate of the Nazi rulers and hatred of a nation so deceived they would wipe out an entire race…the Jews. But when someone seeks forgiveness, how can I turn them away? God never turns them away. His Word says He even embraced the prostitutes, the fallen women."

  "Why did you really come here today?"

  "God is calling you to teach your people how to forgive. I think we can, if we look at others through the eyes of God. I'm trying to, anyway." Jacob stood. "I have to go now, but I hope you'll think about what I've said…even pray about it."

  The priest followed Jacob to the door and held out his hand. "Go with God, Jacques Conran."

  "And you, Father Mercier."

  They shook hands and Jacob left to walk around the town for a while. He received a few curious glances, but no one spoke to him. People were afraid to speak to strangers.

  As he scrambled over the castle ruins, he searched for a way to reach the remains of the tower. He found one place where so many stone blocks had fallen on top of each other that he could jump across the water without getting wet. With great care, he scrambled across the ruins to the main structure. The special room had been on the second story. Even if the closet panel of push stones was intact, there was no way to reach them.

  He circled behind the tower, searching for Chloe's window. The scarlet cord would have been burned in the fire, but maybe he could find a trace of it. He saw two windows near the top and studied them awhile. A breeze came up, and Jacob could have sworn he saw a fragment stuck in the corner of one of the windows. Could it possibly be the remains of the scarlet cord? He wanted to whoop with joy. The treasure would remain intact until after the war. That would be good news to Chloe.

  Chapter 17

  Remy and Rachelle had aged over the last two years, but Chloe's presence brought them to life. They touched her as they talked and laughed, overjoyed to be with her again. Words tumbled out as they strove to learn everything of her life.

  Jacob felt right about leaving her with them. She needed her parents, and they needed her. She would be much safer in Cachet. Though he continued to tell himself that, he struggled with the reality of living without her. With a heavy heart, he followed her upstairs to bed.

  Chloe lay against Jacob's arm, sure that he had fallen asleep. They had both resisted sleep for awhile, but the hours of exercise on the bicycle took their toll. Jacob drifted into a restless sleep while Chloe clung to his side.

  She was doing the right thing by setting him free. Wasn't she? He would get over the feelings he had for her when he regained Marie-Madeleine. Then his family would be restored to him. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes and dropped against Jacob's chest.

  "Chloe?"

  She ignored the quiet voice.

  "Chloe, I'm not asleep. Why are you crying?"

  "For so many things, Jacob. But don't worry. I'll be fine."

  "I love you…so much."

  She nuzzled against his neck. "I love you, too. Now, go to sleep."

  When she woke, she found a note next to her pillow.

  Darling Chloe,

  You were so beautiful, asleep in my arms. You made it very difficult to leave. I want to start out while it's still dark, so I didn't wake you. You've helped make my life worth living again, so off I go to make a safe place for us to live, for our children. I don't believe you'll never have children again. Nazis lie. Besides, God can do anything He wants. Don't ever give up, my love. Our dreams will be a reality. Let God's love and mine comfort you while we're apart.

  Your husband, Jacob/Jacques

  Chloe cried. He was right. All her dreams were now tied up in him, but she would probably never see him again. How was she going to live through the pain this time? To love someone then lose them, when hope was so close to fruition…It felt like dying.

  At least the love he'd lost in Marie-Madeleine would be returned to him. Chloe could give him that. Jacob had brought her back from the brink after the Nazis had almost killed her. But who would save her now?

  Chloe couldn't bring herself to tell her parents what she'd decided, so she let them think she was merely lonely for Jacob and waiting for his return. After a week, she had received no word and tortured herself with the thought that he'd reunited with Marie, or worse, been captured. Her weight dropped dangerously low. Her mother did everything to coax her to eat, but Chloe couldn't seem to find her appetite.

  In the second week of her separation from Jacob, the village priest showed up at the house. Rachelle ushered him in to see Chloe. "I can fix you some tea, Father."

  "Non, I just want to speak with Chloe, if you'll excuse us, Rachelle."

  Rachelle left the room, and Chloe found herself facing the priest who'd rejected her and told her she had no value to God. She expected to feel resentment, but there was nothing. Jacob had taught her none of that mattered. She was free. She actually believed what Jacob said about how God really felt about her. She looked down at the floor. God loved her. That was truth! Whatever the priest said didn't matter.

  The priest was apparently having a struggle of his own. He stared off at a place over Chloe's head as he turned the brim of his hat round and round.

  Chloe leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to talk to God. I love you, God. I want to understand you the way Jacob does. Please help me.

  When Father Mercier eventually found his voice, she jumped.

  "Chloe, I met a man recently that showed me some things I don't like about myself."

  There were probably several things she didn't like about him. What in the world had that to do with her? "I don't see…"

  "It's very difficult for me to find words that explain what I mean. If you could give me a few minutes…" He cleared his throat. "Since the occupation, several things have happened in our country that will take a long time for us to get over. Frenchmen betray their own countrymen for a crust of bread or for the sake of a bag of silver." His voice held bitterness and remorse. "I've been guilty of hating everything associated with the Nazis. They took away my town, my life…my freedoms." He sighed. "But they shouldn't have taken away my compassion. I gave that away myself. Can you forgive me?" His eyes filled with unshed tears. "I don't see how you can. When you needed me, when you sacrificed your life for me, I rejected you. You know, Chloe, you're a lot like the Savior that still loves you. 'He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.'" The passion of his newfound conviction strengthened his voice. "Why do you think he went to the woman that lived in sexual sin with a man that wasn't her husband…even though she'd already had five husbands? Because his own received him not. Because…he loves us all, no matter what. You know, if he hadn't gone to that woman first and performed a miracle in her heart, her town might never have believed in Jesus? If you hadn't sacrificed yourself for this town, we'd all be dead. You lost Jean-Claude. Your family suffered that we might have life, and I turned you away." His voice trailed off, and he sobbed before her. "Chloe, the Savior will never turn you away. You are precious to him."

  The truth radiated in Chloe's heart. She was precious to the Savior. He hadn't turned her away just because she'd gotten dirty. She'd always been dirty, and Jesus had always wanted her. "I know it, Father. I met a man that taught me the truth. I
believe Jesus has forgiven me."

  Father Mercier held out a tremulous hand to her, and Chloe took it. Then he prayed for her, that God would protect her and her family, and that he would restore all that had been taken from them, that he would give Chloe a large family to make up for the past.

  "Why did you ask God to give me a large family?"

  Father Mercier shook his head. "I don't know. It seemed what God wanted me to say, so I said it."

  As the priest stood at the door to leave, he turned back to her. "I would have been over to see you sooner, but I just found out you were staying with your parents. Two weeks ago, I received a visit from an odd young man. He seemed to know the history of our disaster, though he never referred to it. He reminded me that the harlot Rahab was an ancestor of Jesus. Then he disappeared. I never saw him again."

  "Did he tell you his name, Father?"

  "I believe he said it was Jacques. I'm sorry, but I don't remember anything else."

  Jacob. Jacob had gone to the priest for her. He had made the way for Chloe to be accepted in her town. The tears slipped down her face again. Was there no end to his sacrifices for her? Chloe ran up to her room and talked to the Savior she had just made her own.

  Jacob left Chloe in Cachet, but with each step he took away from her, the loneliness increased. In the pre-dawn stillness of that summer day, he reminded himself and God of the promises in His Word.

  God, you have a purpose for my life that will ultimately bring blessing for me. But…what if I'm not strong enough to make it through the right now of waiting? I'm so tired. We're all so tired. Please give me strength and endurance to run the race set before me. Protect my wife and show her great and marvelous things that the mind of man cannot comprehend without your grace. Show her your salvation, Lord.

  When he was about ten miles from Lyon, he felt that urging in his spirit that something was wrong. Should he forsake the bike and take to the woods or was he going to meet up with some disaster to the Alliance in Lyon? Either way, he should have his travel story in place. Without a reason for traveling, his travel papers wouldn't mean anything.

  For once, his mind was a blank. He kept coming back to Chloe. Was Chloe in trouble? No, that wasn't it. He was sure of it. But something, somewhere, was wrong. He stopped and made radio contact with London.

  "Stronghold, this is Lion."

  "Stronghold here. Are you safe? Stop."

  "Yes. What happened? Stop."

  "Many Resistance operators took to the streets on D-Day, thinking it meant D-Day for them as well. We've lost many lives. Protect yourself. Stronghold out. End."

  Jacob broke the radio contact and continued to Lyon. What did he do now? What if his associates had been taken? Help me, Lord.

  He had almost reached the Darnell farmhouse, when a group of Gestapo officers surrounded him. They trashed his suitcase, finding the radio inside, but they didn't find the secret compartment of incriminating documents. Lord, help me destroy the evidence before they find it.

  Maybe the soldiers just got lucky when they found him, and they didn't know the Alliance had headquarters in the area. They immediately hammered away at him. Who was he? Where was he going? Where were the other members of the Alliance? Jacob cringed inside. They were looking for the Alliance.

  They didn't know he was a Jew, and they didn't know he understood German. From what they said, he learned that certain areas blocked their location finders. Although they could tell a radio was operating, their sensors couldn't pinpoint it. They thought his radio must be the one they'd been looking for. That meant Sibelius was safe a while longer.

  "Who are you?" asked the leader, buffeting him about the head.

  "You're too insignificant for me to tell you."

  "How long have you been in France?"

  What lies could Jacob tell them to throw them off?

  "I parachuted in right before D-Day."

  "Are you British?"

  "Yes."

  "What's your name?"

  Another soldier pulled out Jacob's identity cards. "His name is Jacques Conran."

  "Obviously that's a false name," Jacob confessed. "It was chosen by my superiors in England because there's a real Jacques Conran."

  He had to protect Chloe. If there was any way to connect Jacques Conran with her, he had to make them think it was accidental.

  "Where were you going just now?"

  "To blow up the rail lines."

  For that, he received another cuff to the head then the leader shoved Jacob inside the car to protect him. His men were bent on violence. A short while later they decided to take him to their barracks. Jacob was unfamiliar with any barracks in the area, so he had no idea where he was going. It wasn't a long drive, maybe twenty minutes, in which they constantly pestered him with questions.

  "There's no reason for you to hide your identity. After all, you're already here. Tell us who you are."

  They must think him a complete idiot. "As I have already commented, you aren't important enough to bother with."

  "Who were you going to meet? You can't blow up the railroad by yourself."

  "I'm very good. I can blow up just about anything by myself."

  They were more impressed with Jacob than he was with them. "Our chief is arriving in the morning. You can tell him all about it. But it would save you a lot of trouble if you were to tell us now. He's not a patient man and has various painful methods of extracting information."

  "I prefer to wait. It wouldn't be right for me to confess to someone as small as you."

  They arrived at the barracks. From what Jacob saw, it wasn't well fortified. He looked for any opportunity that might bring escape, but he was hemmed in at all times.

  The leader of the pack took him into a holding area. "Why aren't you afraid?"

  "I'm doing what I'm supposed to do."

  "We could probably help each other quite a lot. Let's discuss business arrangements."

  Jacob gaped at the man. He was expected to play at being a turncoat. The leader wanted to split the proceeds with him. "I have no arrangements to share."

  "That attitude doesn't help either of us. Who are you?"

  "Let's not waste time with that again."

  The officer scowled at Jacob and stomped out. Moments later, two unsavory, beefy-looking soldiers came inside. When they dragged Jacob to a vat, he knew the water torture would begin. One guard held him under until he was close to suffocation while someone else beat his feet. They picked his head up and beat him about the face before they dunked him under again. Jacob feigned unconsciousness. It took all his willpower not to thrash about or respond. They threw him on the floor and held a discussion about what they should do to him next.

  "I say, wait until he wakes and give him the gyro treatment."

  That didn't sound promising.

  At that point, their leader returned to check on Jacob. He lifted Jacob's head and slapped his face until he opened his eyes. "I see they've been working on you. I told you it would be to your advantage to make me your friend. Come now, I'll put you in a cell until morning."

  He hoisted Jacob off the floor and helped him inside a corner cell that reeked of rotten body odor and urine. He threw Jacob's suitcase onto the side of the cot. "Here, you can put on some dry clothes. Would you like me to leave a light on?"

  "No, I'll sleep."

  The Gestapo man furrowed his brows. "Most British officers kill themselves as soon as they're alone. Are you going to kill yourself?"

  "With what? You've taken all my things."

  Jacob thought of the L-pill hidden in his signet ring. He would only commit suicide as a last resort. Even at the cost of his life, he had to protect Chloe and the Alliance.

  "You're sure?"

  "I give you my word."

  What a fool! How had this man made it in the Gestapo?

  "All right, then. Would you like a cigarette?"

  With a cigarette, he could destroy his documents. "Yes, thank you."

  Jacob a
ccepted a lighted cigarette then the officer turned out the dim bulb hanging overhead and left the room. After waiting five minutes, Jacob felt he couldn't delay any longer. He opened the suitcase and pulled up the corner. He yanked out papers and held them to the bars of his window to set them on fire. He blew, making the smoke leave through the window as he held the burning papers through the bars. It took almost ten minutes to burn everything, and despite his precautions, thick smoke filled the cell. When the job was completed, he replaced the false bottom in the suitcase. There was no sense in giving the Nazis any ideas.

  Should he sleep now? He'd need his wits about him to withstand more of their torture. The more he thought about standing up to more beatings and interrogations, the more hopeless he felt. He rubbed the ring on his finger. Should he end it now or wait until they came for him?

  He watched the trails of smoke as they exited through the window. Could he escape? Jacob jumped up to the window to examine it more closely. There was a board nailed in place over most of the window. Undoubtedly that was to keep prisoners from communicating with anyone outside. He checked the time on his watch, one o'clock in the morning. When did the guard change?

  He listened intently to his surroundings once more then dragged the cot to the window. If he could grasp the bar in one hand and swing his foot up to the window, he might be able to kick out the board. Before going to all that trouble, he should see if his head would even fit between the bars.

  He stood on the cot and put his head against the opening. There was only one bar that allowed his head to go through. Not all the way because the board blocked him, but he was sure his head was smaller than the opening. Jacob held on and tried swinging one leg up in the air. He tried several times before he caught the window with his foot. He panted, trying to keep from crying out. His foot wasn't in the best of shape after that beating, but if this was the only way…

  He held the bar with all his might and shoved his foot against the board. It was nailed securely in place, but what could be hammered in could be knocked out. Jacob kept pushing at it until his arms were ready to give way and his fingers were almost numb with pain.