The Nightingale

He rose, taking the picture with him. “I am to bed, Madame.”

She stood beside him. “I am afraid to trust you.”

“I would be more afraid not to.”

They were closer now, ringed together by the meager light.

“Are you a good man, Herr Captain?”

“I used to think so, Madame.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Do not thank me yet, Madame.”

He left her alone with the light and returned to his room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Vianne sat back down, waiting. At seven thirty, she retrieved the heavy black shawl that hung from a hook by the kitchen door.

Be brave, she thought. Just this once.

She covered her head and shoulders with the shawl and went outside.

Rachel and her children were waiting for her behind the barn. A wheelbarrow was beside them; in it Ari lay wrapped in blankets, asleep. Tucked around him were a few possessions Rachel had chosen to take with her. “You have false papers?” Vianne asked.

Rachel nodded. “I don’t know how good they are, and they cost me my wedding ring.” She looked at Vianne. They communicated everything without speaking aloud.

Are you sure you want to come with us?

I’m sure.

“Why do we have to leave?” Sarah said, looking frightened.

Rachel put a hand on Sarah’s head and gazed down at her. “I need you to be strong for me, Sarah. Remember our talk?”

Sarah nodded slowly. “For Ari and Papa.”

They crossed the dirt road and pushed their way through the field of hay toward the copse of trees in the distance. Once in the spindly forest, Vianne felt safer, protected somewhat. By the time they arrived at the Frette property, night had fallen. They found the cattle trail that led into a deeper wood, where thick, ropey roots veined the dry ground, causing Rachel to have to push the wheelbarrow hard to keep it moving. Time and again, it thumped up over some root and clattered back down. Ari whimpered in his sleep and greedily sucked his thumb. Vianne could feel the sweat running down her back.

“I have been in need of exercise,” Rachel said, breathing heavily.

“And I love a good walk through the woods,” Vianne answered. “What about you, M’mselle Sarah, what do you find lovely about our adventure?”

“I’m not wearing that stupid star,” Sarah said. “How come Sophie isn’t with us? She loves the woods. Remember the scavenger hunts we used to have? She found everything first.”

Through a break in the trees up ahead, Vianne saw a flashing light, and then the black-and-white markings of the border crossing.

The gate was illuminated by lights so bright only the enemy would dare use them—or be able to afford to. A German guard stood by, his rifle glinting silver in the unnatural light. There was a small line of people waiting to pass through. Approval would only be granted if the paperwork was in order. If Rachel’s false papers didn’t work, she and the children would be arrested.

It was real suddenly. Vianne came to a stop. She would have to watch it all from here.

“I’ll write if I can,” Rachel said.

Vianne’s throat tightened. Even if the best happened, she might not hear from her friend for years. Or ever. In this new world, there was no certain way to keep in touch with those you loved.

“Don’t give me that look,” Rachel said. “We will be together again in no time, drinking champagne and dancing to that jazz music you love.”

Vianne wiped the tears from her eyes. “You know I won’t be seen with you in public when you start dancing.”

Sarah tugged at her sleeve. “T-tell Sophie I said good-bye.”

Vianne knelt down and hugged Sarah. She could have held on forever; instead she let go.

She started to reach for Rachel, but her friend backed away. “If I hug you I’ll cry and I can’t cry.”

Vianne’s arms dropped heavily to her side.

Rachel reached down for the wheelbarrow. She and her children left the protection of the trees and joined the queue of people at the checkpoint. A man on a bicycle pedaled through and kept going, and then an old woman pushing a flower cart was waved on. Rachel was almost to the front of the queue when a whistle shrieked and someone yelled in German. The guard turned his machine gun on the crowd and opened fire.

Tiny red bursts peppered the dark.

Ra-ta-ta-tat.

A woman screamed as the man beside her crumpled to the ground. The queue instantly dispersed; people ran in all directions.

It happened so fast Vianne couldn’t react. She saw Rachel and Sarah running toward her, back to the trees; Sarah in front, Rachel in back with the wheelbarrow.

“Here!” Vianne cried out, her voice lost in the splatter of gunfire.

Sarah dropped to her knees in the grass.

“Sarah!” Rachel cried.

Vianne swooped forward and pulled Sarah into her arms. She carried her into the woods and laid her on the ground, unbuttoning her coat.

The girl’s chest was riddled with bullet holes. Blood bubbled up, spilled over, oozing.