In This Hospitable Land (22 page)

Shortly after moving into La Font, during the first of the strong rainstorms that swept across the mountains from the west, the Sauverins heard a tick tick tick from leaks in the roof. Once again the Brignands—the Sauverins’ lifesavers in so many ways—stepped in, recommending an “old carpenter” for the repairs. He was able to come up and do the job almost right away. Despite his sixty years he proved adept at negotiating the old roof’s perilous slope.

“Good thing I’m here now,” he said laconically, looking up at the sky and nodding agreement with himself. “Weather’s going to change soon. Snow’s on the way.”

Still no sign of the Bédouès contingent. Instead a huge sack filled with forty-five kilograms of barley arrived—and onions too, lots and lots of onions. Alex also sent along a crate with another dozen chickens and a note explaining that he thought it more important to have more chickens rather than extra rabbits since the pair of rabbits he had sent were male and female. With luck they would fulfill the old expression and multiply.

On her family’s last day in Bédouès, Geneviève was packing. In the last several weeks the friends the Sauverins had made had become exceptionally generous, selling them food and other goods they could ill afford to do without themselves, sometimes offering desirable items as presents. The pair of breeding rabbits the Sauverins had been given was particularly valuable and the owners had refused payment—an astonishing sacrifice in such hard times.

More recently becoming aware of Alex and Geneviève’s impending departure, a number of neighbors had come to say good-bye—including Nichette, the maid from the de Montforts’ château who had been the first local to befriend them. One acquaintance offered to sell them a couple of goats at an impossibly low price to which Alex had agreed without a moment’s hesitation. What a happy surprise discovering one of the goats was pregnant!

Initially Alex and Geneviève had intended to stay through the end of the month. But when they learned that the Germans had ordered all Jews in occupied France to register with the authorities, they felt they should move before things got worse in unoccupied Vichy France.

Late in the day, Camille Mousand, a favorite neighbor who had lived in Bédouès all her life, stopped by. She wore a work apron over a blue dress faded by endlessly repeated washings and bore a farewell gift: a huge slab of pig fat with a little bit of bacon attached.

“Thanks so much,” Geneviève said, glad she had been brought up well enough to make offering thanks reflexive because she was thinking,
What on earth am I going to do with this?

Despite their brief acquaintance Camille knew Geneviève fairly well. “You say ‘thank you’ but I don’t think you know the value that fat will have for you.”

“Of course I do. And I’m very grateful on behalf of my family. Besides, I love bacon!”

“Further proof you’re no true Jew,” Camille said with a hearty laugh. Then she grew serious, wished Geneviève the best always, kissed her on both cheeks, and walked away. Geneviève could read her sadness in the slump of her retreating shoulders.

“Isn’t her husband a poacher?” Alex asked, returning from the mayor’s garden plot for the last time.

“I guess that’s why they always have meat that isn’t on the ration list,” Geneviève replied. “But why would they give us all this fat? For a couple so tight with its money…”

“We have been well treated here,” Alex acknowledged somewhat grudgingly.

The next afternoon Alex and Geneviève loaded their belongings and their children onto the old red bus. Handing everything in, Geneviève couldn’t help musing.
It’s so dirty and smelly. And it’s getting to seem normal to me.

At the last moment Lucien Mauriac came to hug Geneviève and shake Alex’s hand.

“Bédouès will never be the same without you,” he said. “It feels as if you belong here now. You will certainly not be forgotten.”

“We’ll be back,” Alex said, though he had no idea whether or not that was so.

“I look forward to it,” Lucien called out, waving as the bus pulled away noisomely.

Only when her nostrils filled with the scent of fatback did Geneviève begin to realize how meaningful the time in Bédouès had been. They had all discovered so much there: their internal resources and their ability to cope with true adversity.

As the kilometers passed by, Geneviève found herself crying.

The bus driver had told the Sauverins when to expect the Bédouès contingent. As the bus rumbled slowly in the distance toward Soleyrols, André could hardly conceal his excitement. Louis and Rose joined him in front of their house. Denise ran down the path from La Font with Ida and Christel.

The lumbering conveyance chugged to a stop in front of the café. Ten adults and children became a joyful blur of hugs and kisses. Then the children led a scramble uphill to the great farmhouse. Toward the rear André marveled that Alex had taken to dressing like the local laborers. He himself had given up ties but still wore a wool jacket and white shirt every day.

Soleyrols was on the southeast face of the mountains but it was higher than Bédouès. Harsh wintry winds—as the old carpenter had warned—were already beginning to bite. Denise and the children had made La Font as cheery and welcoming as possible, but even with the woodstove and fireplace stoked and blazing the farmhouse remained cold.

Ida and Christel acted as tour guides for Katie and Philippe. Geneviève expressed appreciation of the place and all her sister had done but André knew she was disappointed. Alex had a clearheaded, practical response: he wanted André to show him the rest of the grounds.

The sun’s setting brought a bitter tang to the still, chilled air. André hurried Alex through outbuildings, fields, and stands of trees. With a now-practiced eye Alex assessed the property positively, praising his brother for finding and choosing a farm well-suited to their purposes, including keeping them hidden from prying eyes.

The brothers talked briefly of work to be done and improvements to make. Alex was anxious to see about piping water into the kitchen to reduce the time spent out-of-doors in the soon-to-be freezing temperatures.

For dinner Denise served a stew made from the barley, carrots, and onions Alex had sent from Bédouès and the first chicken André had slain, which Denise, with advice from Albertine, had plucked and cut apart. Beets from Bédouès served as the one side dish. André poured wine acquired in Vialas and topped off the meal with fine coffee brewed from grounds from the café.

It took longer than dinner for the family to discuss everything that had happened since the end of August. The tale of Geneviève’s ax accident and the miracle of her healing made André laugh loudly about this “evidence” of the efficacy of homeopathy. He too was stunned when Geneviève lifted her skirt to show no trace of the wound.

The lack of indoor plumbing was something the newcomers had gotten used to at the Porfile place but they did object to the smell caused by the goats kept in one of the spaces under the house and the chickens and rabbits in another. The animals were right below the bedrooms and the floorboards were made out of old, dry wood full of cracks.

“At least the animals’ body heat helps with the cold,” Denise suggested.

“It would be easier to put up with the smell,” Geneviève retorted, “if it came with
enough
heat. Perhaps if those rabbits hop to it…”

That night all slept soundly and long. They awoke to the season’s first snow.

The four cousins couldn’t wait to go out and play. But André and Alex got out first, afraid the early snow would dash their hopes of installing a water tap.

Rounding the corner of the café the brothers were startled to see their father outside his house chopping wood in the light but persistent snowfall. Despite the cold Louis had removed his coat and laid it carefully aside. Still he perspired.

Alarmed, André cried out, “Father! Be careful! You’re not used to such physical labor!”

“But it helps me keep warm.”

“We can do all the chopping you need,” Alex insisted, gently but firmly taking the ax out of his father’s hands. “There are safer ways to stay warm.”