“What about our cellars?” Inès asked suddenly. “We could hide them. It would be perfect, Edith. The Germans would never think to search for them there, and even if they did, they’d never find them. You remember when I first moved to Ville-Dommange and got lost down there myself? It’s a labyrinth.”

Edith frowned. “No, Inès. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But I want to help. I want to be a better person.”

“Inès, your entanglement with Antoine makes you a risk.” Edith softened a bit as she added, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. But how could anyone in our network trust you after seeing you with him?”

Inès felt as if her friend had slapped her across the face. “Do you trust me?”

Edith hesitated. “Yes, of course.” But she didn’t meet Inès’s gaze, and the real answer to Inès’s question was painfully obvious.

Inès forced a smile. “I understand.” But she wondered, as Edith walked her back into the parlor with a blanket and a pillow, whether she would be permanently marked by the choice she’d made with Antoine. Was it possible that one sin could stain your soul forever? Or could one do enough good that a mistake of such magnitude could eventually be erased?

twenty-two

JANUARY 1943

CéLINE

With Inès in Reims with her friend Edith for the night, Céline waited until Theo was snoring beside her before sliding out of bed, pulling on her coat, and slipping into the darkness outside as a light snow fell.

Michel was waiting in the cave where they usually met. He opened his arms, and Céline fell into them, wordless, her swollen belly between them.

“How are you feeling?” Michel asked when she finally pulled away and sat on the stone bench.

“Better,” Céline said with a small smile. “It is extraordinary to feel the baby beginning to move.”

Céline had actually felt the baby’s first kick two weeks earlier, but she’d been careful not to say anything, for she had misled Theo about the baby’s expected arrival date. The baby would be born sometime in May if she went full term, but she had told Theo the arrival date was in June, just in case he stopped to do the math. He had been placing his hand on her belly lately, asking when he might be able to feel the baby, and she had just shrugged, keeping the magical moments to herself for now. The whole pregnancy had felt to her like she was in possession of a special secret, something more beautiful than she could have imagined, but also something potentially ruinous.

Then there was the fact that each time Theo touched her belly, each time he gazed at her with love in his eyes, she felt a surge of guilt so powerful it nearly knocked her off her feet. He was trying to protect her, take care of her, because as far as he knew, she was carrying his child. How would he feel when he found out the truth? His renewed affection made the situation so much worse. He had become again, in many ways, the man she had married nearly eight years earlier, but of course it was too late to turn back the clock.

“Is the baby moving now?” Michel asked. She nodded, and he smiled, his whole face lighting up, as he reached tentatively for her belly.

“Sweet baby,” she murmured, “that’s your papa. Can you feel him?”

Michel leaned in and whispered to her womb, “I love you already, and I have not even met you yet, my child.”

When the baby kicked once, sharply, hard enough that Michel could surely feel it, the rush of love Céline felt was enormous. Michel was smiling in disbelief at her belly, his hand still cradling it, his lips still inches away, and she had a fleeting, beautiful vision of a future for the three of them—Michel, the baby, and her. Though the circumstances were terrible, this was what was meant to be.

When Michel finally pulled away, his expression was serious. “Darling, I have news.”

All at once, the clear image of the future seemed to disappear. “What is it?”

“I must go tonight to épernay.”

“But it’s already two in the morning.”

“Yes. There is something planned for dawn. I will not be back until late tomorrow morning, and I need you to keep Theo away from the caves so he is not aware of my absence. I don’t think Inès will be home until much later, so she should not be a problem.”

“What are you doing, Michel?” Fear rippled through her as the baby went still, perhaps sensing her apprehension.

“It is better that you do not know.”

“But you’ve always trusted me to help.”

“This is not about trust, my love.” He hesitated. “In case things go wrong, I want you to be able to deny knowing anything.”

“Michel, please, don’t do this.” She knew what she was asking was unfair, but the closer she got to the baby’s arrival, the more she selfishly wanted to keep them all safe. Of course they both continued to work with Madame Gaudin, but moving arms on their own property felt somehow different than venturing out in the dead of night, looking for trouble. “Please, think of me. Think of the baby.”

“But I am. There is word that the authorities are planning another round of Jewish arrests. You’re not in danger yet—it’s foreign-born Jews again, the ones they missed last time. We are hoping that by creating a, er, problem for them, we will distract them long enough to get a few more people to safety.”