Never Turn Back

by Lorna Lee

  “It is. I think it could work. Now, Meri, tell me about Michel?”

  Meri blushed. Relieved that she did not have go into details about a relationship that confused her, she told Siri she had to start her long trek back to the Dorval residence.

  “You have time to tell me something.” Siri leaned forward in her chair, her eyes as wide as her smile.

  “He’s under a great deal of pressure. His business is suffering, yet Madame spends money as if it grows on all of the trees on their estate. The Mesdames rule the house, so he feels less of a man in his own home. He hates all the Nazi talk but must listen to keep peace in the house. I suppose helping me with Jeannine—finding Annabelle and supplementing the cost of her care—is his way of asserting independence over his wife. I think, too, he likes me. I know he thinks of Jeannine like a daughter or granddaughter he never had.”

  “What about how he feels about you?” Siri knew how to get to the heart of the matter.

  “I wish I knew for sure. At first, I thought he wanted to protect me like a father protects his daughter. He certainly reminds me of my Papa. I’m not so sure now. He’s revealed a vulnerable side of himself to me and hugged me a few times. He asked me to call him Michel, which seems more like something a man would ask a woman to do, not a fatherly request at all.”

  “Has he made any advances toward you?” Siri touched Meri’s forearm.

  “Non. He’s always been a proper gentleman with me…and there were many times when he could have—well, you know.”

  “When did you start calling him Michel?”

  “Simon’s arrest upset him. I came to him asking for help. He broke down like a little boy crying on his Mamma’s shoulder. He asked me to tell no one. I promised.” Meri stared at Siri. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone, Siri.”

  Siri nodded. “Who would I tell?”

  “Good. He said he felt helpless and alone. He’s frightened of the Nazis and of his wife and her family. All he wants in the world is to make beautiful fashions, have a loving family, and live in peace. His world is crumbling around him and all he has is me and Jeannine to cling to. Siri, he told me he would die before he let anything happen to us. It’s as if Papa is finally with me all the time. But this time, Monsieur…Michel had no solutions to offer me, and that’s when he began to sob.”

  Siri fell silent for a moment. Quietly, she finally said, “Or maybe your papa sent him to you. Maybe he would leave his mean German wife for you.”

  Meri shook her head. “She would never let him go. Even if I allowed myself to think about Michel as a man other than my employer or papa, I’m not lucky enough to have such a fine man choose me for a wife. Imagine me, the wife of a Parisian fashion house designer! Non. I’m not that lucky.”

  “You may not feel very lucky, Meri, but you are. I wish I had a ‘Michel’ to look after me.”

  Meri thought about what her friend said about her luck and the possibility that Michel could be interested in her in that way. She patted her on the leg, stood up, and smiled. “I have to go now. It’ll be close to curfew by the time I get back.” Meri took Siri’s hands in hers and squeezed them. With tears forming in her grey eyes, she said, “Merci. Your idea about the convent is divine.”

  Siri shook her hands free and hugged Meri, smiling and crying at the same time. “You’re my friend and I was there when Jeannine was born. I’m just happy my idea might help you.”

  “I’m sure of it. Michel will know of a convent close to us. Jeannine will be safe because of you.”

  The two friends hugged and kissed each other goodbye. Neither knew they would never see each other again.

  §

  On the walk back, Meri’s thoughts were occupied with the conversation she would have with Michel about convents and fees for Jeannine’s care. She didn’t see the German soldier until she nearly bumped into him. He was tall, blonde, handsome, and very young. Beside him was a shorter, older, decidedly less attractive French police officer.

  The German smiled at Meri and removed his military cap.

  Meri curtsied and gave a shaky smile back to the young man.

  The French police officer was not so polite. He did not remove his cap, and he demanded to know why she was out and to see her papers. Since she was carrying a dress in a garment bag, she struggled to retrieve her papers from her coat pocket. The German officer offered to hold the dress for her. She smiled in gratitude.

  As Meri fished in her coat for her documents showing her Finnish citizenship, she explained, “I work for Monsieur Michel Dorval. He’s a fashion house owner. This is a dress he designed for Frau Bauer.” She handed the documents and the item Michel had given to her to the police officer.

  He studied both. “What is this?” He waved a photograph in front of Meri’s face.

  “Monsieur, it’s a picture of the people I work for. I’m a nanny for the Freels’ children, Herr Ernst Freels?” Meri was speaking to the crack in the sidewalk.

  “What do I care whose children you—”

  The German soldier kicked the police officer’s boot and, with his free hand, snatched the photograph away from him. “Ah, Herr Freels,” he said as he studied the portrait, nodding his head and making his face even more handsome by smiling. “How did you come to have this in your possession?”

  “I work as a domestic for the Dorval family as well. Madame Dorval and Madame Freels are sisters. The portrait was taken for the Freels’ family. Karla, the little girl you see in the picture is fond of me and wanted me to have it.” I hope he doesn’t know the Freels family well enough to check my story.

  The soldier nodded. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle.” His French was laden with German, but Meri was used to hearing German-infused French.

  The police officer scowled but returned Meri’s documents to her. Once she tucked them away, the German officer gently handed her the garment bag.

  Meri curtsied once again, mostly to the German soldier, and walked quickly down a side street. As she walked away, she heard the two men arguing. Meri smiled.

  Meri arranged to talk to Monsieur Dorval as soon as possible after her trip to see Siri.

  “Your friend is very clever. I wish I had thought of this solution and had been the one to save the day.” Michel paced as he spoke. “No matter. It is a wonderful idea, and I will find a Catholic convent willing to take Jeannine as soon as possible. Annabelle will be so relieved.”

  Meri watched him as he paced. He is a handsome man. He’s not that much older than I am. I wonder if he would ever leave his wife….

  Within a week, Michel gave Meri the news. The Sisters of Charity ran a convent and orphanage very close to the Dorval residence. They provided both Catholic and standard instruction. Jeannine’s room, board and tuition were costly, so Michel offered to continue his arrangement of supplementing Meri’s payments with his own to cover the costs of Jeannine’s care.

  “You are too generous, Michel. What can I do to pay you back for all that you’ve done for me and my Jeannine? I don’t want to be your charity case.”

  “Nonsense, Meri. I want to do this. If I had a daughter, I would be paying her tuition at a much more expensive private school.”

  Meri finally spoke the question she had rattling around in her head for quite some time. “Michel, you owe me nothing. Why are you so generous with me?”

  “Is it a crime to be generous, especially to someone I’m so fond of?

  Meri shook her head, her eyes downcast. Where is this leading? Does he want sex with me as his payment? Should I offer? It might lead to something good? “Non, Michel. Still, I feel I owe you something in return.” Meri could feel her heart fluttering around her chest like a bird trapped in a cage.

  He paused and rubbed his chin. Finally he said, “There is something I have been thinking you could do for me, if it would not be an imposition…”

  Meri looked up at him. Here it comes… “Oui, Michel?”

  “I have been short-handed at my shop and cannot afford to hire more s
eamstresses to help me with all the repairs to German uniforms and the occasional request for a designer gown for a French or German dignitary’s escort. Would you be willing to take on some extra sewing work for me?

  Meri stared at her employer. He wants me as his seamstress, not his lover? I must be getting old!

  He waved his hand. “Forget I asked. It is too much, and I could not pay you since my extra money is going to Jeannine’s tuition at the convent.” He turned away from her.

  “Non, non, Michel!” Meri grabbed his arm before he turned completely around. “I’m just surprised by your offer. You know I’ve longed to work in a design house in Paris. This may be as close to my dream as I will ever come. Oui! I would love to help you with mending, sewing, deliveries…anything you need.” Meri stopped, her face turning serious. “I’m wondering about Madame. What will she think?”

  Michel face transformed from disappointment to elation. Meri noticed it most in his blue eyes. They had been cloudy and now they were sparkling. “You let me deal with my wife.”

  §

  True to his word, Michel Dorval found the Sisters of Charity convent on 140 Rue du Bac, less than five kilometers from their residence. He told Meri the cost for boarding Jeannine and for her education was only slightly more than what she, or they, were paying Annabelle. Because it was wartime, the Sisters of Charity were willing to be charitable and charge the same amount Annabelle had been getting, with the understanding the child’s parents attended Sunday services each week and tithed appropriately. Monsieur agreed to their request.

  The only person unhappy with the arrangement was Jeannine. Even though Annabelle had become reclusive and bitter, Jeannine had grown to love her and the familiar routines within the Barouche home—even without Simon. She pouted, pleaded, cried, and screamed when Meri packed her few belongings. Annabelle hugged her and then left for a walk, leaving Meri to deal with her aggrieved child. Since there was no reasoning with her seven-year-old, hysterical daughter, Meri tried to ignore her and complete the task of moving Jeannine to the convent. It’s for the best. Meri told herself. She’ll be safe. Nothing else matters. After the war, we’ll be together.

  Meri looked into Jeannine’s red, teary eyes before they left Annabelle’s house, her words as ominous as any storm brewing in a dark, cloudy sky. “You’ve had your private fit, young lady. We’re in public when we leave this house. We must walk a long time on streets under German and French patrol. If they see a young girl crying or screaming at the hands of her mother, they might arrest us. Do you hear me? Arrest us! Do you want us to disappear like Simon did?” Scaring Jeannine with this kind of talk seemed cruel to Meri. How else will I get this stubborn girl to cooperate with me? Fear, unfortunately, is an effective motivator.

  Shoes walking on the pavement and an occasional sniffle—these were the only sounds accompanying them on their journey to the convent.

  “I don’t want to stay here,” Jeannine cried, clinging to Meri’s skirt while the old nun firmly gripped the little girl’s arm.

  Meri watched the nun, whose eyes gave nothing away. “She’s usually not this difficult. I explained everything to her.”

  “Her reaction is quite common. They all settle down eventually. The girl will learn to fit into the convent life. All good Catholic girls come to find comfort here.” The nun’s voice never wavered as she successfully pulled Jeannine away from Meri.

  Meri assessed Sister Agnes. She’s an imposing woman for a nun. Her voice is stone-cold. She appears to be in her late sixties, and she is stronger than me. Those vestments she wears, they scare me. I wouldn’t want to live here. Poor Jeannine! I hope she’ll adjust. At least my half-Jewish girl will be safe in a Catholic convent.

  Sister Agnes straightened her posture and had a vice-like grip on Jeannine’s chubby hand. Her black robe flowed all around her, masking all traces of the woman underneath. A white “bib” covered her shoulders and bodice, guarding any womanly form beneath the abundant layering of fabric, appearing more like a shield than a fashion element. No rosary necklace or cross adorned her. All Catholics nuns should wear a crucifix, shouldn’t they? What kind of nuns are they? Meri would be hard-pressed to recognize Sister Agnes outside of the convent without her uniform. The nun only revealed her hands, wrinkled with fingers slightly twisted at odd angles. Her facial features, all plain and withered, were both exaggerated by the cowl tightened around her head—obscuring her hair (if she had any)—and dwarfed by the enormous, white-winged wimple distinguishing the Sisters of Charity from other orders of nuns. How do these silly hats stay on during a windy day? She could not help smiling at the thought of several of these nuns lifting into the air on a gusty Parisian spring day.

  Meri’s grin vanished as her daughter screamed.

  “Mamma! Don’t make me stay here. I’m afraid. She’s scary! I want to stay with you. Please? Please, Mamma?” Jeannine sobbed real tears.

  “Sister, s’il vous plait! One moment with my child.” Meri had to crane her head up to speak directly at the woman at least thirty years her senior. Either I’m too short or Sister Agnes is freakishly tall. Perhaps both.

  “Non.” Sister Agnes said, “I’ll take her now. Indulging Jeannine in histrionics serves no one.”

  Jeannine went mute, except for the deafening, yet silent, scream in her wide, tearful eyes aimed right at Meri’s equally wide, still dry, eyes.

  Meri watched as the robust nun dragged her seven-year-old daughter into the stark, dim hallway leading to doors that marked the inner sanctum of the convent—the place beyond which no visitors passed. Meri turned to leave, trying to erase two disturbing sounds: Jeannine’s shoes scrapping against the stone floor and heavy breathing. Sister Agnes is dragging her, Mon Dieu! The heavy breathing reminded Meri of her childbirth breaths: heavy, filled with fear, and meant to push her child away from her. Meri stopped when she realized the heavy breaths were hers, not Jeannine’s. What am I doing to my child? Will she ever forgive me? I keep becoming my Mamma. Aren’t you proud of me, Mamma? I hate the life you cursed me with. It’s your fault nothing good happens to me.

  Meri heard the wooden door close with a thud, reverberating down the long hallway and through every bone in her body. She ran from the convent choking on the flood of tears she had been holding in since she tore Jeannine away from her beloved Annabelle. What choice do I have? I can’t be weak and cry in front of my daughter. She won’t respect me. No one respects a woman who cries while making decisions.

  On her way back to the Doral residence, Meri felt the familiar feeling of being tugged in different directions. I know my daughter is safe, and I don’t have to worry about her being carted off by the Gestapo. Assuring her protection makes me a good mother, right? Why, then, do I feel such guilt? I can’t get her screams and the vision of that big nun dragging my little girl away from me out of my mind. Once again, I’ve left my daughter in a place where she may not be cared for very well. I abandoned her, making me just like my Mamma—a bad mother. She wiped the last of her tears from her face and blew her nose. I have to get ahold of myself before I go back to the Dorval residence.

  Meri wanted to speak with Michel at about her impressions of the convent. Perhaps he can reassure me that not all the nuns are like Sister Agnes… I need someone to share my feelings with. Michel was now her only confidante, and she felt the desperate need to lighten the burden of her mangled thoughts. Upon approaching the back door to the kitchen, she knew she would have to wait. He was not alone and in no mood to talk to her.

  Chapter 16: Sleeping With the Enemy

  “Don’t think there are no crocodiles because the water is calm.”

  Malayan Proverb

  “My Ukko, what are you doing outside?” Meri ruffled Soldat’s ears. He rubbed his large head against her, seemingly soothed by the sound of her voice and the Finnish words she spoke with love. She had been calling him her “old boy” for the past year. No longer the rambunctious handful he used to be, now he moved slowly. The gentleness
in him saddened Meri. Just when he becomes so loving and easy to handle, he’ll leave me.

  Meri found it odd that Soldat was out on a cold October evening. Something in the Dorval household is wrong. She let him inside. “Come on, Soldat, you need your supper.” He perked up at the word “supper,” wagging his enormous tail and whimpering. Meri smiled.

  Meri heard raised voices and general pandemonium as she entered the house. Her smile vanished. Meri efficiently fixed Soldat’s meal while trying to discover what was going on. Claire and Elyse ran through the kitchen several times with worried looks, never saying a word. Philippe had disappeared from his own kitchen.

  Even though Meri wasn’t officially on duty, she still had to take care of the children if Madame Freels was not “up to it.” The children were older—eleven and seven—so Ilsa relied on Meri less than before. The children insisted, “We don’t need a baby sitter because we’re not babies.” The Mesdames, however, still required that Meri be available. Meri suspected Ilsa resented the fact her children, especially Karla, preferred Meri’s company. Jeannine clinging to Annabelle and talking so fondly of the older woman, gave Meri some empathy for Ilsa. Meri, however, did not consider herself like the German woman. She deserves to be jealous of me. Madame Freels chose to give her children to me. I didn’t have a choice. Let her suffer the shame of being a bad mother. I’m not a bad mother, only a practical one.

  Meri decided she would use her caretaker role as a ruse to find out the cause of the ruckus. I need to speak with Michel as quickly as possible, so I must find out what’s happening to upset things around here.

  “Excusez-moi. I’m back and came to check on the children.” Knocking on Madame’s study door and opening it without being told to come in took courage for Meri—courage fueled by urgent curiosity.

  No one heard her knock anyway. The room buzzed with cross-conversations between Ernst and Greta, Ilsa trying unsuccessfully to soothe Karla, who sobbed uncontrollably, Kurt jumping and cheering, and Michel speaking loudly to no one in particular. Two German soldiers stood guard near the window. Why? In case someone tried to jump out? They stared straight ahead, which meant they focused now on Meri.