Inès could only shake her head. Her stomach churned with guilt, anger, revulsion, powerlessness.

Antoine shrugged and turned away, but Inès couldn’t pull herself from the window, even though the poor little boys were long gone. As she heard Antoine begin to snore peacefully in the bed behind her, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about the choices she had made and where they might lead. It took her only a few more minutes to hastily dress, grab her car keys, and head for the door.

? ? ?

By the time Inès made it home to Ville-Dommange in the pitch darkness of a blackout night, she had worked herself into a panic thinking of Céline’s safety. What if Antoine had been lying? What if the authorities were coming tonight after all?

She pulled the Citro?n to a halt outside Céline and Theo’s cottage and jumped out without even bothering to cut the ignition. Theo came to the door holding a lantern, Céline just behind him in a dressing gown wrapped hastily around her. “What is it?” Theo demanded, shining the light in her eyes. “Inès, what’s the matter?”

“I—” Now that Inès was here, she realized she was at a loss for words. What was she to say, that her lover had made her believe that Céline might be in danger? “There’s—there’s been another roundup,” she said.

“Oh dear God.” Céline pulled her gown tighter and clutched her belly as if she’d had a sudden, sharp pain. “Where? Who?”

“In Reims.” Inès found that she could not meet Céline’s eye. “Perhaps elsewhere, too. I—I was concerned about you.”

“Oh, thank you, Inès.” Céline reached out to squeeze Inès’s hands in hers. Her palms were warm and strong, and somehow the contact made Inès feel even more ashamed. “You drove back from Reims in the middle of the night to warn me?”

“I—I was worried.” Inès was too embarrassed to keep meeting Céline’s gaze. What would Céline say if she knew that for months, Inès had been enjoying the high life while things grew more perilous for the Jews of the Marne?

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” Céline’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Céline,” Theo cut in, “we should get you somewhere safe, just in case.”

Céline nodded, turning to her husband. “Yes. Let’s go see Michel. He’ll know what to do.”

She brushed past Inès, already heading outside, and as Theo’s gaze met Inès’s in the lamplight, she thought she recognized something familiar there, an expression of being overlooked, bypassed for something better, just as she had been. But then he turned away, and the look was gone. “Let’s go,” he grunted, and Inès followed him into the dark night.

? ? ?

Michel had been startled to hear Inès’s news, but he’d wasted no time in bringing Céline down to the caves and settling her behind the hidden wall, guarded by the silent Madonna. She stayed there for two days, with Inès bringing her meals and making awkward conversation every few hours. But by the third day, they all felt confident that the roundups were over, and Céline hadn’t been on the list. She had emerged from the cellars, and life had gone on as usual.

Except that for Inès, it hadn’t. The fear she’d felt for Céline had been real and deep, and the more she thought about it, the more she wondered how Antoine could possibly be right. He had so easily justified the Jewish deportations months earlier, and in the moment, his words had made sense. But what if Inès was the fool Michel seemed to believe her to be after all? Had she made a huge mistake by taking Antoine at his word? The questions settled in the pit of her belly, heavy as rocks.

Six days after Inès had fled Reims in the middle of the night, Michel and Theo left early in the afternoon to check on some vines in nearby Sacy, leaving Inès and Céline alone in the cellars, where they were tasked with sorting through the bottles they’d received from their supplier earlier in the week. The quality of the glass had gone sharply downhill, yet another result of the Occupation, and before they could be filled with wine over the winter, they all had to be hand inspected to make sure they weren’t broken, weak, or otherwise compromised.

“Inès,” Céline said after a while, breaking the silence between them. “I haven’t thanked you properly yet for what you did last week, driving from Reims after dark just to warn me. I owe you very much.”

Inès put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. “No, Céline. It is I who owe you.”

Céline blinked a few times. “Surely not.”

“No. I—I fear I have misjudged you.” Inès hesitated, her eyes sliding away. “I’m ashamed to say that for the past few months, I’ve been jealous. It sounds crazy to say, I know, but I thought that perhaps there was something between you and Michel.”

“Michel?” Céline turned red. “How could you think such a thing?”

“I know. I’m terribly sorry. I realize I imagined it, probably because I . . . well, I feel as if I am losing my hold on my marriage.”

“Inès—”

“I have to do something, Céline. I keep making the wrong choices, and I—” Inès stopped abruptly before she could say something she’d regret. She wiped away a tear. “I need to become someone better, that’s all. I know that now. Anyhow, I apologize. I’m sorry for doubting you, and I’m sorry for burdening you with this now. My marriage isn’t your problem.”