Two hours later, Ruby had delivered some soup to the Dachers and was just finishing scrubbing dishes when there was a knock at the door, so tentative that at first she wondered if she’d imagined it. But then she heard it again, stronger this time. Ruby’s eyes went to the clock. It was past curfew. A chill ran down her spine as she considered the possibility that it was a Nazi soldier, here to arrest Marcel for whatever he was doing. But when she peered out the peephole, it wasn’t a German uniform she saw; it was what appeared to be a greenish-gray jumpsuit. And the man wearing it—dark blond hair, six feet tall or so—was bent down on one knee in the hall, breathing heavily.

Ruby backed away from the door, puzzled. A moment later, he knocked again, and when she didn’t answer, there was a pause, and then she heard a series of strange noises from the hall. It took her a few seconds to recognize the sounds as sobs. The man began to mumble to himself, and she inched closer to the door, hoping she could catch a few words. She nearly fell back when she realized he wasn’t speaking French or even German. He was speaking English. “Have to get to . . .” he was muttering. “They said it was here . . .”

Before she could second-guess herself, she pulled the door open. The man nearly lost his balance, tripping into her apartment before scrambling to his feet and backing away. “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss. I’m sorry. I mean, er, Je suis déso . . .” He trailed off, apparently unable to remember the final syllable in the French apology. “I’m, um, just really sorry, miss. I don’t speak much French.”

“Who are you?” she asked in English, which seemed to startle him.

“You—you speak English? Oh, thank heavens. Dexter. My name is Dexter. And, um, forgive me, but I’ve been walking for two days, and I haven’t had anything to eat at all, and I’m afraid that the small wound I have on my shoulder has perhaps gotten a bit infected, so—”

“You’re British?”

He nodded again. “And you? You’re not French, are you?”

She didn’t reply. “What are you doing here, Dexter?”

He hesitated, which was just long enough to make up her mind. She didn’t know how he had arrived at her front door, but she had the feeling it had something to do with Marcel. And in the time that Dexter had been babbling, she had spotted the RAF patches on his chest. He was a British pilot, or at least he was dressed as one. And that meant that both of them would be in danger if anyone saw them together.

“Well, miss, you see, I was flying over northeast France, or at least I thought I was, when—”

“Come in,” she interrupted. “Quickly. Before someone spots you.”

He blinked a few times. “Thank you. Thank you so much, miss. I—”

She grabbed his right arm and pulled him inside, but as she began to hurriedly close the door behind him, she realized she was already too late.

Charlotte was down the hall, in the sliver of her own open doorway, staring at Ruby and the British pilot, her mouth open in an O of surprise.

Ruby could feel the blood draining from her face, but she managed to put a finger to her lips. Tell no one, she mouthed to Charlotte. Please.

Silently, Charlotte nodded and slipped back into her own apartment, closing the heavy door behind her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

August 1941

Ruby was helping Allied airmen?

Charlotte stood with her back to the door for a long time. Her apartment was silent, her parents in bed. She’d heard a commotion in the hall and had gone to the door to investigate. Perhaps it was Monsieur Benoit, up to no good again, she’d thought. If she could see what he was doing, she would have something to share with Ruby. But instead, when she peered out, she realized there was a strange man in the shadows outside Ruby’s apartment, knocking insistently. She had opened the door a crack, intending to tell him, in her firmest possible voice, to go away, for Ruby already had so much to deal with. But then Ruby’s door had opened and the light spilling into the hall had revealed his uniform. Charlotte had frozen, terrified.

At first, she’d thought the man was German. After all, she’d gotten accustomed to seeing German uniforms spreading across her city like a growing mold. But his voice sounded different, and as he spoke in low tones to Ruby, she made out a few familiar words—Sorry. Flying. Thank you—and she’d realized he was speaking English. So he was British, then, or perhaps even American. He had to be. And he must be a pilot too. There was no other reason an Allied soldier would be in Paris.

Before she’d stopped going to school, Charlotte had overheard gossip from her classmates that there were Resistance networks sprinkled throughout Paris, French citizens who smiled to the Germans’ faces and behind their backs helped pilots who’d been shot down. She knew, too, that the penalties were stiff for those who were caught working against the Nazis. The men were most often executed, the women shipped off to prison camps in Germany.

But Ruby was helping? Why hadn’t she said anything? Charlotte had thought she and Ruby were friends, but friends confided in each other. Friends trusted each other. The only explanation was that Ruby saw her as merely a child. But Charlotte was twelve and a half now, old enough to help out, old enough to make a difference. Besides, she could keep a secret. Even from her parents. Ruby could trust her. Charlotte was determined to prove it.

She snuck into the kitchen, where she packed a small bundle for the airman: a little cheese, some stale bread, sardines in a can. Ruby’s rations weren’t any more plentiful than hers, and though she knew her parents would probably notice the missing items, she vowed she’d simply eat less over the next week to even the scales. If she arrived at Ruby’s door with food for the fugitive, surely Ruby would see how serious she was about joining her secret mission.

Charlotte checked on her parents before she left to make sure they were sleeping soundly. Maman was curled on her side, her shoulder rising and falling, and Papa was on his back, snoring loudly. They were both deep sleepers; there was no way that she would wake them now as she slipped out of the apartment.

A moment later, she knocked on Ruby’s door. She heard shuffling inside, but no one answered. She knocked again, but there was still no answer, only silence from within. Finally, she rapped for a third time and said quietly through the door, “Ruby, open up! It’s Charlotte! I know about your airman.”

There was a moment of quiet, and then Charlotte could hear footsteps. The door swung upon to reveal Ruby, red-faced, staring down at her.

“Charlotte!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing up?”

“I know about your airman,” Charlotte repeated, presenting her carefully assembled bundle. “That’s what he is, right? I’ve brought him some food.”

Ruby’s face went blank, though Charlotte noticed her cheeks were still flaming. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no airman here.”

“Ruby,” Charlotte said slowly, her feelings hurt, “I saw him.”

“Charlotte—”

“No! I’m tired of everyone treating me like a child! Maman and Papa act like I have no idea what’s happening, but I see it every day. I understand way more than they think I do. And you! I thought we were friends. But friends don’t keep secrets like this.”

Ruby blinked a few times. “Come in.” She put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “But you must be quiet. And you mustn’t breathe a word of this. It could get us all killed.”

Her heart thudding, Charlotte stepped into the apartment and looked around as Ruby closed the door. The pilot was nowhere to be seen. “Where is he?” Charlotte asked.

Ruby sighed. “Charlotte, dear, I’m not keeping things from you because I believe you’re a child. I know you’re not; this war has forced us all to grow up. And I feel that we’re friends too. But some things are better not to discuss.”

“Why?”

“Because if you’re ever questioned by the police or by the Germans, you could be in danger. I’m American, so they might be more careful in the way they treat me. But you’re—” She stopped speaking.

“I’m Jewish,” Charlotte filled in. “That’s what you were going to say.”

“Yes. Yes, Charlotte. And if there’s ever a problem, I want you to be able to say you haven’t seen anything.”

“But I have seen something. I saw the airman!”

Ruby turned away, placing her hands on the kitchen counter and staring out the window into the darkness beyond. Finally, she turned back around. “Honey, if the Germans come asking, you need to be able to deny having any involvement in anything illegal.”

Charlotte held up the care package. “I’m already involved. See, I’m feeding your airman.”

Ruby eyed the bundle. “Your parents will notice.”

“I’ll tell them I ate the food myself. They’ll be angry, but it will be okay. It’s better than him starving, isn’t it? I know you don’t have enough food.”

“I have some.”

“And now you have more. If he’s injured, he’ll need his strength back, right?” Charlotte could see Ruby wavering, so she pressed on. “Ruby, I hate being helpless. There’s not much someone my age can do to assist the Allies.”

“It’s not just people your age, Charlotte. I feel helpless too.”

“Then let’s help together.”