The Invisible Woman

by Erika Robuck

  The sound of the little locomotive that has been making runs to Chambon—the one line she ordered the Maquis not to cut so the Jewish children still had an escape route—startles her. She walks slowly toward it, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. When it comes to a stop, the door opens, and two women and a boy emerge. One of the women is flanked by the others, on either side, each supporting her as she hobbles along.

  It takes a moment, but Virginia recognizes the gray hair of the older woman, then the dark eyes of the younger woman, and finally the spring in the step of the boy who has a face like Louis. For a moment, she thinks she must be dreaming, but when she sees the dagger the boy wears, she knows she isn’t.

  It’s as if she’s been fired from a cannon. She cries out, taking off toward them, moving as quickly as she’s able, calling to them through her tears. The three stop, seeking the voice they know on the figure they do not.

  “It’s me!” Virginia says. “Diane!”

  As each of them recognizes her, their faces break into grins, and when she reaches them, she nearly knocks them over with her embrace. The four of them laugh and cry and hug and talk over one another.

  “Mimi,” says Virginia. “I thought . . . You’re all right.”

  “I will be,” Mimi says, eyes wet with tears. She looks down at her son. “I am.”

  “My God, look at you,” Estelle says to Virginia. “They already speak your name like you’re legend. When they see you now, they’ll be beside themselves.”

  “Please, you flatter me,” Virginia says.

  “Diane,” the boy says, motioning up and down from her head to her toes, “now that’s what we were expecting.”

  They break into fresh laughter and hugging, and Virginia helps Mimi find a bench. She can’t imagine what tortures Mimi endured, nor does she want to. All that matters now is that she’s here and alive. Estelle and Virginia sit on either side of Mimi. The boy asks if he can join the children along the parade route, and Mimi allows it. Once he’s gone, Virginia stares at Mimi in wonder.

  “I’m sorry,” Virginia says. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

  “I know,” says Mimi. “There were days I didn’t think so.”

  “Is Lavi all right?” Virginia asks. “Has he seen you?”

  “He has, my friend, but he’s not well.”

  “Was he injured in any battles?”

  “No, but he lost thirty-five men.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear it,” says Virginia. She thinks of the angry man, and the explosives expert, and the tree they blew into the shape of a V.

  “Do you have any news on Louis?” Virginia asks.

  “The last we heard, he and hundreds of agents were deported to Germany, but we don’t know precisely where.”

  Virginia shakes her head. The Allies are liberating France, but Nazi Germany still stands.

  A movement on the platform draws Virginia’s attention back to the train. A column of frail, pale people emerges, one at a time. They squint from the sunlight.

  “Who are they?” asks Virginia.

  “Jews from the camp at Drancy,” says Estelle. “The last ghost train to Chambon.”

  “Oh, Estelle, how will they . . . ?”

  Virginia can’t finish the words.

  “How will they learn to live again?” says Estelle. “Sometimes, all we have is to begin again. But that’s a beautiful gift.”

  The people from the train look like skeletons, like walking ghosts. But they aren’t ghosts; they are alive. They made it to the liberation.

  The parade rounds the street to where they sit. Virginia feels someone staring at her and scans the vehicles until she finds the source. It’s Bob. Grinning, he salutes her.

  With the music playing and the crowd cheering and the tricolors moving in the breeze, Virginia stands, unwinds the orange scarf from her wrist, and waves it in the air.

  Chapter 41

  Liberation does not happen all at once. It’s many small swells leading up to the crest of a wave breaking on the shore of freedom. Then it retreats and builds again, crashing over and over. And though the Haute-Loire is liberated, the war continues.

  On August 31, they’d gotten a fright when a boy from town came running, crying out that tanks were coming. Hearing the distant rumble growing closer, Virginia’s men armed and mobilized quickly, preparing a bazooka and tearing down the road in their trucks at breakneck speed to intercept it. When they saw the flag, they screeched to a halt. The tanks flew the tricolor, and when they reached the main street and started throwing gum and chocolates, there was another parade.

  General de Lattre de Tassigny of the Free French Forces officially read the proclamation of liberation over the town of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. The French liberated by the French. The townspeople laughed and cried, and then they watched in wonder when they spotted the African soldiers, the first people of color in the village. Virginia wondered if those men had volunteered for service or if they’d been conscripted. She couldn’t imagine what their war looked like.

  On September 2, Lyon was liberated. The demons who’d possessed that magnificent city of Virginia’s first mission had been exorcised, cast back to hell with the Allies on their tails. How she longed to join the chase, to find and free Roger, to put the bullet into Klaus Barbie herself, to hunt Abbé Alesch.

  The first of the Jedburgh drops in the region came too late to liberate, but having officers now to command the FFI frees Simon and many among his groups to join General de Lattre de Tassigny’s ranks and head north. Upon learning Simon and his men left, hers grow even more restless, eager to join the fighting. She is, too, but HQ has asked her to receive one more Jedburgh drop in Chambon before leaving. The officers being sent to her specialize in arms and infantry, and with what they’ll bring in the way of talents and funding, le Corps Franc Diane—as her men persist in calling themselves—will be able to form their own fighting unit.

  Under the first full moon of September, Virginia and her men await the Jedburgh team of Hemon, Raphael, and the region’s new wireless operator, Electrode. Because she knows her days here are numbered, Virginia is especially mindful of the gorgeous night views. The enchantment deepens when, far in the distance, from a farm somewhere on the plateau, the sound of a lonely violin reaches their ears, teasing out the strains of “Clair de lune.” The music is hesitant and imperfect yet, somehow, all the more perfect because of it.

  She knows she’s needed elsewhere, but Chambon will always have a special place in her heart. HQ approved money from what the Jeds will bring to fund bankbooks for the orphans ages sixteen and under. Dolmazon will oversee the distribution and record keeping during the long process of finding their surviving families.

  They get ahead of themselves, though. The war is far from over.

  When the shadow of a plane appears in the far-off distance, it’s clearly fighting the persistent winds. The team take their places and, as they shine lights to the sky—no sense in changing procedure now—she pulls out the S-Phone and calls the pilot. The connection crackles, even as he draws nearer, and she isn’t able to make contact. To her frustration, the plane veers away from them. She curses as she sees the parachutes open far across the river, disappearing into the night.

  “What do we do?” says Bob. “They have to be least thirty kilometers away.”

  “If the area weren’t liberated, we’d have to find them,” says Virginia. “But we’re clear, so they’ll just have to find us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Virginia gives Bob a look. He raises his hands in the air in surrender.

  “They have our code names and phrase,” she says. “If we’re going to allow any of these men to join le Corps Franc Diane, they better prove they’re resourceful. Come on.”

  * * *

  —

  Virginia can’t sleep. First, she can’t shake t
he face of the undernourished girl who stays with Danielle, who looks like her niece. What will become of the child if her parents are dead? Will she have distant family to raise her, or will she stay here, in Chambon? Will any of the ghosts? Also on her mind are the Jeds she abandoned. She doesn’t feel guilty for not searching for them, but she doesn’t want to wait days for their arrival. Restless, she and her men are anxious to be useful again to France. Blood is in the air, and they long to join the hunt.

  As the first glimpse of the sunrise peers over the mountains, Virginia pulls on her uniform shirt and leaves it untucked over her dirty trousers. She doesn’t bother to pin her hair and grabs her laundry before heading down to the hidden cove Dolmazon showed her. Protected by pines and beech trees, it’s nestled in a secret swell of the river, and Virginia has been washing in its cool waters. Once there, she removes her uniform, her stump sock, and Cuthbert, and uses a walking stick for balance as she hops, leaving the stick on the riverbank before wading into the Lignon.

  Born of melted snow at mountain peaks, the cold water is a shock on the skin. Once she adjusts to the temperature, she scrubs her laundry clean and hangs it on the bough over the water. Then she washes herself, taking time to enjoy the fragrance of the English tea rose soap Vera sent. The shafts of sunrise make a cathedral of the cove. Virginia floats on her back, staring up at the forest canopy and listening to the birdsong, wondering when she’ll be able to do this at Box Horn Farm.

  After a while, with great reluctance, she readies herself to leave. She’s scheduled to meet Edmund for transmission at nine o’clock, and she can’t be late. When he is, she never lets him hear the end of it.

  She combs out her wet hair and lets it hang long and loose over her shoulders to dry, before toweling off her body, attaching Cuthbert, and dressing in the parachute frock Dolmazon made for her. It will be nice to wear on a summer day, while her uniforms dry. Nice to wear one last time before she resumes the fight.

  It takes her a moment to realize the forest has become silent. The birds no longer sing. The hair on the back of her neck rises. She scans the understory, alert to any movement, but sees none. She pulls out the knife she packed in her laundry bag and quickly gathers her wet clothes.

  Butterflies rise from the meadow as she walks back to the Salvation Army house, looking over her shoulder the whole way. Is her paranoia just that, or was someone there? Will she ever be able to stop watching her back?

  By the time she returns and finishes hanging her laundry to dry, Edmund is in the barn waiting for her. Lacking power and needing to save her battery for when they take to the road, they’ve resumed transmission with Edmund’s bicycle generator. He taps his wristwatch and gives her a look of reprimand.

  “It’s eight fifty-six, I’ll have you know,” she says.

  “You once told me five minutes early is late.”

  “For a drop to receive humans,” she says. “Not for transmission.”

  “Will you forgive me for insubordination when I give you this?”

  He presents her with a plate of scrambled eggs, a warm croissant, and grape jam.

  “A croissant!” she whispers. “How did Léa manage it?”

  “Dédé gave her yeast and sugar from the boches’ stores.”

  “Yes, you’re forgiven,” she says, devouring her breakfast, eating with her fingers and—much to Edmund’s delight—feeling no shame at licking a blob of jam off the plate when she finishes.

  They begin transmission, Virginia alerting HQ that they await the Jeds, who went off course in the drop. She says the conversation aloud to keep Edmund up to speed.

  —Once they arrive, permission to prep men to head north? she taps.

  —Denied. Must await Electrode drop.

  —Why wasn’t he dropped with the others?

  —Equipment malfunction. Drop set for 8 September.

  “Argh!” says Virginia. “We have to wait another three days before we can even begin to prepare to leave?”

  “More time in this lovely mountain place,” says Edmund.

  “The men are getting restless.”

  “Not just the men,” he mumbles.

  She rolls her eyes and continues her transmission.

  —Why not drop Electrode tonight?

  —Bad weather in London. Also, need to prep more containers.

  “More containers,” she says aloud. “God, they’re trying to kill me with inventory.”

  “More supplies are always good, right?” asks Edmund.

  “Stop trying to look on the bright side,” she snaps.

  —Anything we can put in that drop to make you feel better? taps HQ.

  “Sure,” she says aloud. “I’ll take a bottle of fine French wine, delivered by a handsome, roguish man to distract me from my woes.”

  “I’m shocked,” says Edmund. “I’ve never heard you speak that way. You could have your pick from any of us under your command.”

  “I said, ‘a man,’ Edmund. Preferably one of shaving age.”

  He pushes her while she laughs at him, but a creak in the barn door causes them to stand on alert, guns drawn. They keep them pointed at the face peering around the corner.

  “How long since you’ve had a farmhand?” he asks. His voice is deep, and his French is perfect.

  They lower their guns, and Edmund motions with his head for the man at the door to walk in. He’s slender, with dark hair, light eyes, and a five-o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. He wears civilian clothes that look worse for wear, but his skin is tanned and healthy. When his gaze meets Virginia’s, he breaks into a grin, as if he’s known her a long time.

  “I can’t help you with that bottle of wine, just yet,” he says. “But I’ve been shaving for years.”

  Chapter 42

  Recruited for the OSS F Section, Hemon—the first Jedburgh to find them—was born and raised in France and lived in Paris with his family until he turned fourteen, when he moved to the United States. Though his family returned when he was eighteen, he elected to stay on in New York, a city he’d grown to love.

  Raphael had followed shortly. He was equally spry and friendly, and Virginia was impressed by how quickly the two Jedburghs got to work, falling in with her men as effortlessly as if they’d been there all along. They’d been dropped with several containers, and helped find, unpack, and store them before the early afternoon.

  “The American pilots need a few lessons from the RAF,” says Virginia. “They keep going off target.”

  “Don’t be too hard on ’em,” says Hemon. “The RAF have had a few years’ head start on operations.”

  “At least they sent us capable men. I like how you two work.”

  “Only the best and hardest working for Diane’s network. You’re legendary in intelligence circles, you know?”

  “She certainly has a legendary temper,” says Bob.

  She punches Bob in the arm, and they enjoy a laugh while packing into the truck.

  Léa has rooms prepared for the newcomers, and invites them to dinner, along with Virginia and her core team. On the way, Virginia drives them around town while Bob and Edmund regale Hemon and Raphael with their tales of treachery and adventure, pointing out the key places and players in the theater of their war. It’s a relief to have English speakers in conversation when one has been used to thinking and talking in another language for so long. She teases Bob and Edmund for their poor English accents, which gives them all a good laugh.

  When they arrive at Léa’s, Virginia is pleased but sobered to see Danielle, her two boys, and their guest child. Danielle is pale and quiet but smiles briefly when she sees Virginia. She sits near where the children play tag with Dédé in the grass. After introductions, Hemon heads straight for the kitchen to help prepare dinner for fifteen.

  “He’s quite a cook,” says Raphael. “That’s the main reason I stick with him.”<
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  Virginia smiles.

  “How will there be enough?” he wonders aloud, looking at the group.

  “It’s loaves and fishes around here,” says Léa. “I never have enough, but there are always leftovers.”

  After their game of tag, Dédé takes the children out in the barn to see the litter of Brittany puppies born five weeks ago. The brown-and-white pups tumble over one another, nibbling the clothes and fingers of the children, to their delight, providing a glorious distraction from the heaviness around them.

  Virginia, Edmund, and Raphael help set the table and fetch ingredients from the cellar, all while Danielle sits pale and blank at the kitchen table. Hemon pours sun tea in a tall glass over chipped ice, adds honey and a mint leaf garnish, and brings it to Danielle. Virginia can’t hear what he says to the woman when he kneels before her, only sees him take her hands, wrap them around the glass, and help her drink. It’s such a small gesture of kindness, but it awakens Danielle. She smiles and assures him she can drink the rest on her own.

  By the time the meal is ready, the sun is beginning its descent through the lavender sky. Two long tables are set outside, overlooking the meadow. The children pick wildflowers and place them in preserve jars, and Bob hangs lanterns from the trees. Léa brings the bread, potato cakes, and salads, and Hemon, now wearing Léa’s floral apron, follows carrying a gorgeous, fragrant rack of lamb.

  After Edmund offers prayers, they dig in with relish. Conversation flits between them like fireflies. Praise for Hemon and Léa for the feast, praise to God the region is free of Nazis, praise to Virginia and her men for helping bring it about. Toast after toast, echoing in the twilight, allowing them all to forget the war, if only for an evening.

  “I raise my glass to you,” Virginia says, holding hers up to Léa and Danielle, two single mothers with homes and farms and children to care for, who may never again see their men. She doesn’t say the words, but the group senses them. They raise their glasses and toast the women.