It had taken her an hour to study and test out the rudimentary device, which she had never used before, and another to trace the first seal she would need. Once it was embossed in the gel, though, she’d been able to imprint the false stamp on twenty-one blank birth certificates in quick succession. The second stamp had taken less time, and then it had just been a matter of giving the children new names and birth dates, and signing the documents in an illegible scrawl. As she’d worked, her mind had wandered to the fate of the children’s parents—and to her own father. How many of them were already doomed? She’d had to pause a few times to wipe away tears before they smeared the ink on the new papers.

“Well?” Rémy asked as he walked into the library, carrying a small bundle that smelled delicious. “I’ve brought you a bit of cheese and a potato. Have you finished some of the documents?” He set down the bundle, and Eva’s stomach rumbled.

Eva bit back a smile. “Oh, a few.”

“Out with it, then. How many?”

Eva held up the stack of documents. “Twenty-one and counting.”

Rémy stared first at her, then at the papers in her hands. “In a day’s time? But that’s impossible.”

“See for yourself.” She handed him the stack and dug into the food, moaning as she bit into the potato, still hot from the oven.

Rémy ignored her as he flipped through the papers, examining the first few in wide-eyed detail and then shuffling hurriedly through the rest.

“But…” He looked up, his voice trailing off. “They’re perfect. How did you do these so quickly?”

She was already bundling up the remainder of the cheese and half her potato; she would take them to her mother. “I’m sure I don’t know. I’m just qualified to be your lowly assistant, yes?”

This time, she couldn’t hide her smile as she stood, gathered her sweater, and headed for the door. She was halfway across the dark church when she heard footsteps behind her. Rémy appeared at her side and put a hand on her arm. “Wait,” he said.

She turned.

“I’m—I’m sorry I said that. You’re—you’re clearly quite good at this, especially considering your lack of training.”

“Well, you went all the way to Paris for me, didn’t you? Perhaps we can call it even.”

“Will you show me how to do it?” He lowered his voice. “If we can work together…”

“Of course.” She hesitated. “On one condition.”

“All right…”

“I want to keep a list of the children we are falsifying documents for. They belong to someone, all of them.”

“Surely Père Clément has told you how dangerous it would be to record any of their real names.”

“Then help me to find a way to make sure it’s not,” she said, catching his gaze and holding it. “We owe it to them. We owe it to their parents. Please.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

Eva looked away and thought again of her mother’s despair. They are erasing us, and we are helping them. “Because someone should remember. How else will they find their way home?”

Rémy opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I can’t promise anything. But I will think about it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “And thank you for the food. Would you see to it that Père Clément receives the documents?” As she walked away, she could feel his eyes following her until she slipped into the quiet twilight.

* * *

“Where have you been?” Mamusia was pacing, her face flushed, when Eva let herself into the room. Her overcoat was on, and both suitcases were packed and lined up neatly by the door.

“Mamusia, what is this?” Eva stopped in the doorway and stared.

“I have decided we are going back to Paris,” Mamusia said firmly. “Though now we will have to wait until tomorrow, of course. We’ve already been delayed enough.”

Eva looked from her mother to the bags and back, then she closed the door softly behind her. “Mamusia, we can’t go to Paris.”

“Of course we can!” her mother huffed. “I’ve thought long and hard about it. We need to be there when your father comes back. How else will he find us? If we are in Switzerland, he won’t know. No, Paris is the only way.”

“But, Mamusia,” Eva said gently. “Tatu? is not coming back.”

“How dare you say such a thing?” Mamusia’s voice rose to a shriek. “Of course he is! His deportation was a mistake, and as soon as they realize the error—”

“Mamusia,” Eva repeated, more firmly this time. “It wasn’t an error.”

“Your father will find a way to—”

“No.” Eva cut her off. “He won’t. He is gone.”

“You’re not saying he’s dead?” her mother screeched.

“No,” Eva said quickly, though in the depths of her heart, she knew it might well be true. The thought had been nibbling at the corners of her consciousness all day, a voice whispering in her ear as she diligently wrote names and birth dates that would perhaps save a few lives. “No, I’m not saying that, Mamusia. Just that he’s not coming back right now.”

“You don’t know that! No, Eva, we are going to Paris, and that is final.”

“Mamusia, Paris isn’t the city we left behind. We can’t even return to our own apartment.”

“You’re not making sense. Whyever not? It’s ours!”

Eva took a deep breath. She hadn’t told her about their old neighbors yet; she had hoped to spare her the pain. But it was too late for that now. “Because the Fontains have already moved in.”

Mamusia looked at her blankly. “Eva, you’re speaking nonsense. The Fontains have their own apartment, just down the hall.”

“Ours is bigger, nicer. Madame Fontain has no doubt had her eye on it since the start of the war. And what do you think would happen if we went back and tried to claim it? You don’t think she would call the police right away, have us arrested?”

“She’s living in our apartment?” Something in Mamusia’s face changed. “So we should just let that horrid woman have it? Despite the fact that we worked hard and paid for it honestly for decades? We should just roll over like the dogs she believes we are?”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but we don’t have a choice.”

Mamusia pressed her lips together, the skin around them going white with anger. “We always have a choice. And it seems to me that you’re choosing to forsake what is ours—and to abandon your father.”

“Mamusia, we aren’t abandoning him. We’re trying to survive. It’s what he would want.”

“How would you know?” Her mother choked out a sob. “We failed him, Eva! Can’t you see that? We let them take him! You let them take him! You knew they were coming and you just stood there and did nothing.”

Eva hung her head, accepting the blame. She should have tried harder to persuade her father to flee. She would never escape the weight of that on her conscience.

“And now what?” her mother demanded. She began pacing again, punctuating her words by jabbing the air. “Now you just want to start our lives over, pretend that Paris isn’t our home? You never even asked me if that’s what I wanted!” Her words dissolved into a sob.

Eva blinked back tears. “Mamusia, our old life is gone.”

Her mother frowned and studied her in silence. “Fine. So we will go to Switzerland, then. That’s what your father told you to do, yes? He will meet us there when he resolves his situation.”

Eva averted her eyes so her mother couldn’t see the pain in them. Did Mamusia really think that Tatu? would somehow negotiate his way out of a German camp and find his way back across the continent? “Yes, we’ll go, Mamusia. But there are some things I need to do here first.”

Her mother stared in disbelief. “Some things? Forgery, you mean, just like the lies that got us out of Paris without your father.”

“Mamusia—”

“Lies, Eva, they’re all lies!” Spittle sprayed Eva. “And you’re telling lies to yourself! How can you be so selfish? Why does it mean more to you to stay here and work with strangers instead of doing what’s right for your own father?”

“Because I can still help them!” Eva shot back. “Because they are not a lost cause!”

She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth, but it was already too late. Mamusia’s face was red, her eyes blazing, her lips set in a thin line. She barreled past Eva, knocking her aside on her way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Eva demanded as her mother strode into the hallway. Mamusia didn’t answer; she just stormed away, nearly colliding with Madame Barbier, who had presumably come to see what all the yelling was about.

“I’m very sorry,” Eva mumbled to Madame Barbier as she started after her mother.

Madame Barbier stepped in front of her, blocking Eva’s path. “Let her go,” she said. “You, dear, are trying to find your way forward, but your mother, she can only look back right now. She’s in too much pain to see anything other than what she has lost.”

“But—”

“Give her time,” Madame Barbier said, her tone as soothing as a lullaby. “I will do what I can to help. In the meantime, you need to get some rest.”

Finally, Eva nodded and turned back into the room. Her whole body ached, and her head throbbed from exhaustion, but she already knew she wouldn’t sleep until her mother returned.

Chapter Fourteen