“I want to build you a better France, Eva,” he said softly. “One where you have a home. I can’t do that if I stay here.”

“Promise me you’ll wait before you make any decisions.” She held her breath.

He held her gaze for a long time. “I promise.”

* * *

That evening, over a meal of watery beef broth with thin noodles, Mamusia stared at Eva with narrowed eyes while Eva made small talk with Madame Barbier and tried not to worry about Rémy and the decisions he was making without her. After they’d cleared the table and Madame Barbier had gone upstairs, Eva stood elbow to elbow with her mother at the sink, drying dishes while Mamusia washed.

“You’re throwing away a God-given opportunity, moje serduszko,” Mamusia said suddenly, breaking the uneasy silence between them.

“What opportunity?”

“Joseph Pelletier, of course.”

“Mamusia…”

“It’s plain to see the young man has feelings for you. He said it himself: you’re a catch. Are you so immersed in your little forgery operation that you don’t see it? He’s perfect for you, Eva. And surely it is fate that brought him here.”

“Actually, I believe it was the Resistance,” Eva muttered.

“Make all the jokes you want, but you can’t run from God’s will. He has delivered Joseph to your doorstep. What more do you need to see? Can you imagine how happy your father would be if he returned from Poland to find you happily married to a young Jewish man whose parents we knew?”

“I think Tatu? would be happy enough just to return and find us alive.”

“Can’t you for once listen to me, Eva? I know you think I don’t know what I’m talking about, that I’m just an old fool. But tradition means something. Sticking together in hard times means something. Our faith means something, though you seem bent on abandoning it.”

Eva threw down her dish towel and blinked back tears. “I’m not abandoning my faith, Mamusia!”

“You act as if you think I’m blind, Eva, but I see it, the way you still talk about that Catholic boy. I warned you, and you didn’t listen.”

The words, delivered coldly and with shame, felt like a slap across the face. Eva could feel her cheeks flaming, her blood surging with guilt and confusion. “Mamusia, you don’t even know him. Rémy is a good man.”

“There are lots of good men, Eva, but you want to waste your time with a papist? You think you’re better than where you’ve come from, but you can’t run from who you are.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“Oh, Eva, you’ve been running since we got here.”

As Eva turned to look at her, she was suddenly startled to see how thin her mother had gotten. How had she not noticed before now? Her shoulder blades were like birds’ wings, her collarbone a sharp point beneath the neckline of her blouse. Eva felt a surge of concern, even through her anger and hurt.

“Mamusia, I’m not running. I’m just… I’m feeling things I didn’t expect. But nothing has happened.”

Mamusia’s face reddened. “So you admit it, then? You love him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, just remember this. Your father and I left Poland when we were young in search of a better life—for ourselves and for the child we hoped to have one day. You, Eva, were that child, born into freedom because of the sacrifices we made. If you throw that away, you are betraying us in a way you can never take back.”

“Mamusia—”

But her mother was already heading for the door. “I’m disappointed in you, Eva, more disappointed than I’ve ever been.”

Eva stood rooted to the spot and stared after her for a long time after she’d gone, her mind swirling, as she wondered why it felt as if everyone she loved seemed hell-bent on breaking her heart.

* * *

Eva was working alone the next afternoon when Père Clément appeared in the doorway of the small library. “How’s the work coming?” he asked.

“The new papers are helping.” Eva gestured with a sigh to the thick stack of documents she’d already made it through. “I—I wouldn’t be able to do this without Rémy, you know.”

“I’d like him to stay, too,” Père Clément said. “But the underground may need him elsewhere. He has proven himself to be a smart courier, and he could be useful to them in other ways, too.”

“He’s useful here. I can’t do this alone.”

Père Clément sighed. “They would likely send someone in his place to do the work with you.”

Eva blinked at him in disbelief. How could he think that anyone could fill Rémy’s shoes? “Père Clément—” she began.

“The work you’re doing here is so very important, Eva. You know that, don’t you?”

She hung her head. “Yes, but I—”

“Eva,” he interrupted, “can you spare an hour or so? I’d like to show you something.”

She hesitated and nodded. Without another word, he led her out of the tiny library into the church, and then out the door into the afternoon sunshine.

In silence, they walked through the center of town. Icicles hung from eaves, sparkling in the clear light, and pristine snow caked the clay roofs. Père Clément nodded politely at a pair of Nazi soldiers leaning against the side of a building, and Eva averted her eyes. There had been more of them lately, their uniforms stiff, their gazes menacing. They stuck out in the small town, where newcomers—even those without German uniforms—were something to be stared at.

“Can I ask you something?” Eva said as they made their way away from the square down the quiet rue Girault.

“Anything, Eva.”

“Do you think I’m…” She trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m betraying my religion? My parents?”

He looked at her in surprise, and they both paused in their conversation to wave to Monsieur Deniaud, who was standing outside his butcher shop, deep in conversation with a uniformed gendarme Eva had seen around town. Monsieur Deniaud looked distracted as he waved back, and the gendarme didn’t acknowledge them.

“Eva, of course I don’t think that,” Père Clément said as they ducked down a dark, narrow alleyway between two stone apartment buildings. “Why do you ask?”

Eva was embarrassed to feel tears in her eyes. “My mother,” was all she managed to say.

“Oh, Eva.” Père Clément’s eyes were sad as he looked down at her again. A mangy cat whose ribs stood in sharp relief against his patchy fur slunk out from a shadowy doorway, darting behind a snow-caked bicycle propped against a wall, and Eva felt a surge of sadness for the animal. He’d starve out here, or freeze, if someone didn’t catch him first.

“Maybe she’s right,” Eva murmured. “I don’t pray like she does, and I know I should. The traditions have always meant more to my parents than they do to me, and I think I should be ashamed of that, especially now. Especially as the Germans try to erase us.”

Père Clément sighed. “Eva, there’s something to be said for following the rules of a religion to a T. Goodness knows that rules like that are a big part of a priest’s life. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned since the start of the war, it’s that as long as we believe, we take our faith with us, whatever we do, wherever we go, if our motives are pure.” They turned onto the rue Flandin, a small residential street with a view of the snowy hillsides. “I think what matters most is what’s in your heart. Do you still believe in God?”

“Of course I do.” The question caught her off guard, because even in the midst of such darkness, even when she was wondering whether he was listening, she had never doubted him.

“And have you become a Catholic while working in the church?”

She gave him a sharp look. “Of course not!”

He smiled. “That’s your mother’s concern, isn’t it? That you’ll spontaneously become one of us?”

Eva hesitated. “Yes. She—she talks about Catholicism as if it were one of the worst fates that could befall a person. I’m sorry,” she added hastily.

Père Clément shook his head. “Eva, she’s merely frightened. And I don’t blame her. You’ve found a way to help, to do some good, but think of how powerless she must feel, especially with your father gone. You can’t fault her for worrying that she’s losing you, too. And if it would help ease her mind, you could try to pray with her more often. Maybe you’ll draw some comfort from that, too. But above all, remember to listen to what’s in your own heart. You shouldn’t be swayed by her words—or mine. Only you know what your relationship is with God, and you should never let anyone take that from you.”