“Something happened to your mother?” He was already moving into her apartment.
“Yes.” Charlotte swallowed hard, scrambling after him. She could see him looking around quickly, and she wondered fleetingly what he was seeing. Did he notice the Star of David quilt her grandmother had sewn, now lying folded over a chair? Did he see the threadbare sofa, the worn rug, the things Maman was ashamed of? “She fell while we were chopping potatoes. I—I can’t wake her up.”
Charlotte could feel tears streaming down her face, and she was embarrassed. She wasn’t a baby; why was she crying? But the pilot didn’t seem to notice. He was already kneeling beside her mother, placing two fingers on her neck, and bending his ear toward her mouth.
“Is she breathing?” Charlotte asked, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt.
“She is. Do you have a clean towel you can bring me?” he asked without turning around. “And a jug of cool water, please?”
“Of course.” Charlotte raced into the bathroom, where she grabbed a fresh towel. She handed it to the pilot, who was still bent over her mother, then she quickly got him a large pitcher of water. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Yes. I think she just fainted. Look, she’s already regaining consciousness.”
Charlotte peered over his shoulder at her mother, whose eyelids were indeed beginning to flutter. “Oh, thank God. Maman? Maman? Are you all right?”
Her mother mumbled something unintelligible and closed her eyes again.
“She’ll be okay,” the pilot said. “We’ll just need to check and see how badly she hit her head. Had she been ill?”
“Not that I know of.” Charlotte felt like a terrible daughter. How could she not have noticed that there was something wrong with her mother?
“Don’t worry,” the pilot said, apparently reading her thoughts. “Sometimes these things just happen. And you acted quickly to get her help. You showed great presence of mind.”
“But I risked exposing you.” She realized suddenly how foolish she’d been. “If someone had seen—”
“But no one did. Besides, when one’s mother is ill, it’s impossible to think clearly, isn’t it?”
Charlotte nodded. “Do you—do you have a mother?” She knew the question was silly as soon as it was out of her mouth. Of course he had a mother!
“Yes, I did. She was a wonderful woman.” He hesitated. “Now, let’s get your mum over to the couch so that we can prop her head up a bit, shall we?”
Charlotte nodded, and as the pilot scooped her mother effortlessly into his arms, she grabbed the bloodied towel and the water and followed him to where he laid her down gently. Maman’s eyelids were fluttering again, and she was trying to say something. “What is it, Maman?” Charlotte asked, leaning in.
“The man,” her mother rasped weakly. “Who is the man?”
The pilot smiled and stepped back as Charlotte squeezed Maman’s hand. “A friend, Maman. He’s a friend.”
AN HOUR LATER, MAMAN WAS resting comfortably in her own bed, her head bandaged after the pilot had determined that the wound wasn’t deep. “It might be a good idea to have a doctor take a look, just to ensure it doesn’t get infected,” he said. “But it’s nothing to worry about for now. As for the fainting, I think perhaps your mother isn’t getting enough to eat.”
“None of us are.”
The pilot nodded. “Rations are very tight, aren’t they?”
“I sometimes think the damned Nazis are trying to starve us all to death.”
“I certainly wouldn’t put it past them.” If the pilot was shocked by her language, he didn’t show it. “Let’s say we let your mother rest for a while. She should feel better after a bit of a sleep.”
Charlotte hesitated, nodded to herself, and led the airman out of the room. “Can I make you some coffee to thank you?” she asked.
He smiled again. He really did have a very nice smile, and she’d been right about his eyes crinkling at the edges. “But you’ve just told me that things are strictly rationed.”
“We have a bit of real coffee saved for special occasions.”
“Oh, but I don’t think this is a special occasion. Your mother would surely have woken on her own. How about a simple glass of water, and you and I can have a chat?”
Charlotte suddenly felt shy. “Okay.” She got him a glass of water from the kitchen and returned to the living room to find him sitting in the chair that her father normally used. She hesitated before handing him the glass.
He leaned forward. “Do you know Ruby very well?”
“Yes. We’re very good friends.” Charlotte knew she was boasting, overselling her friendship with her neighbor, but Ruby really was her closest friend these days.
“Perhaps you can answer a question for me, then.”
Charlotte paused. “Maybe.”
“Do you think there’s anything I can do to help her? She seems sad, and I wish I knew how to fix it.”
Charlotte was startled; it wasn’t at all what she’d expected him to ask. “I—I don’t know.” Was he fishing for information? He didn’t look like a gossip. In fact, he appeared genuinely concerned. “It’s not because of her husband, you know. I think she misses him sometimes, but he wasn’t very kind to her. Not as kind as someone should be to someone like Ruby, anyhow.”
“It’s hard to imagine being unkind to a woman like her.”
Charlotte felt guilty. She knew she’d said too much. But the pilot didn’t look like he was judging Ruby. He just looked sort of sad himself. “Not to speak ill of the dead. But I think—I think Monsieur Benoit made her feel useless.”
“She’s anything but useless, isn’t she?”
“She’s very strong.”
“And yet there’s a sadness to her.” The pilot looked lost in thought.
“It’s because of the baby, I think.”
“The baby?” He leaned back like she’d knocked the wind out of him.
She swallowed hard. Now she’d definitely gone too far. “I shouldn’t have said anything. She—she doesn’t like to talk about it. But she was pregnant, you see, a while ago. And the baby was born too early, without breathing. She hasn’t been the same since it happened.”
The pilot’s gaze was still on Charlotte, but she had the sense that his mind was somewhere far away. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said softly. “Very sorry indeed.”
“Me too,” Charlotte agreed. They were silent for so long that Charlotte began to grow uneasy. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He seemed to snap back to reality.
“What are you doing in Paris?”
He told her of being shot down and hiking to the city in search of the man who lived in the building with the red door. “And I should probably move on now,” he concluded. “But I can’t bring myself to.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “I don’t exactly know.”
“Is it because of Ruby?”
“Maybe.” He refocused his gaze on her. “Charlotte, would you do something for me?”
“Yes, anything.” She was relieved to think she might be able to pay him back for helping her.
“Will you promise to look out for her after I leave? Make sure that she has some happiness in her days?”
Charlotte swelled with pride. “Yes, sir, I will.” She paused. “You care about her.”
“I do.” The pilot stood up and smiled once more. “Let me check on your mother again, and then I should be heading back.”
“Of course.” Charlotte led him down the hall to her parents’ bedroom once again, where he felt her mother’s pulse, put a hand on her forehead, and watched her sleep for a moment.
“She should be fine,” he said. “But come back and get me if there’s any problem, all right?”
“Yes. Thank you again.” Charlotte led him out of the room, already feeling sad that their time together was up. He’d been a welcome distraction, and much like Ruby, he had talked to her as if she were an adult. “Can I give you some bread and cheese to thank you?”