Two Crosses (42 page)

“It is likely that you will not be alone,” David had warned him last week. Now Jean-Louis watched out of the corner of his eye for a handsome brown-haired Frenchman, tall and muscular.

The docks were quiet. Boat after boat floated peacefully in its place in the morning mist. “The
Capitaine
,” David had said. “Black with white trim.” Every boat looked black in the predawn light.

For thirty minutes the round-bellied history professor strolled along the docks nonchalantly. In the distance a boat crept silently into harbor. Jean-Louis watched its approach. Squinting, he could make out the name
Capitaine
on the side.

Anne-Marie breathed shallowly in Marcus Cirou’s bedroom. Her legs were wrapped in thick gauze, and a large bandage covered her head. Her eyes were closed. Moustafa held her hand as he sat beside the bed, stroking her fingers.

Every few minutes her eyelids would flutter and almost open. She moaned softly. “Ophélie.”

She opened her eyes and stared at Moustafa. Sad brown eyes. He touched her face.

“He came … from … nowhere,” Anne-Marie whispered feebly.

“Shh, my
habibti
. Save your strength. You’re safe now.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Moustafa. I don’t know … I don’t know about … the children.…” She began to cry.

“Don’t worry about the children, Anne-Marie. They all got to the boat. It’s okay.”

“Okay.… Yes.” She smiled weakly, squeezed his hand, then fell back asleep.

Moustafa bent over her and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry that you are still here, my beautiful one. But I will care for you. We will survive.”

26

Mother Griolet leaned on her desk as she looked out at the thirty-four children seated before her in the basement classroom. Their eyes were riveted on her. Soft-brown eyes in pale-white faces. Black eyes surrounded by dark-olive skin. French eyes, pied-noir eyes, Arab eyes.

“
Bonjour, mes enfants
,” she began. “Today we are happy to welcome the five new children who arrived at St. Joseph on Saturday. Most of you have already met them, but I would like to introduce them to you again.”

She came around the desk and walked to the first row. Smiling down at a little girl, she said, “This is Rachel and her little brother, Guy. Welcome to St. Joseph.”

The children stared up at her with fearful eyes, and Mother Griolet felt a pang of pity for them. She tried to imagine the scene Jean-Louis had described, the details he had heard from Jacques, the captain of the boat. The children had barely escaped death when a man opened fire on them while they were boarding. The assailant had thrown the young woman who was accompanying the children into the sea, and then, miraculously, another man had shot the attacker down as the children scrambled on board.

The terror was still in the children’s eyes when they arrived at St. Joseph, so Mother Griolet had ordered three days of rest and games and good food. No classes for the new children until Thursday.

“And these are the three brothers who have come to us, Yacin, Hamid, and Amar,” she continued. “We are very happy to have you here with us.”

The other children clapped their hands loudly, enthusiastically, giggling together.

“
Les enfants!
” Mother Griolet reproached them. “Please calm down. There are times to have fun and times to be serious. I have told you this before. And you remember our little play of last week? One day you will perform it for real. You must be ready. Remember? We thank God for our healthy bodies. What would we be like if it were not so?”

Immediately twenty-nine children went limp on their desks, while the new children stared at them wide-eyed. Christophe and André slapped clumsily at each other. Anne-Sophie stood up with her eyes closed and felt about her desk, bumping into another chair. Hakim moaned softly in the corner, crouching on the floor. Lorène and Marine rolled their eyes and shook their heads. Ophélie ran to the back of the room and hid in a broom closet.

“Children, please behave,” Mother Griolet said sternly. They acted as if they didn’t hear her. “Children!” She raised her voice, but still the children ignored her. Then quietly she whispered, “Thank God for our healthy bodies.”

Finally the children returned to their desks, sat straight and attentive, and were silent.

“Very good, children. Excellent. Now please get out your math books.” As they took out their workbooks, Mother Griolet muttered under her breath, “I think we are ready now, Lord.”

The open market bustled with people in the old part of Aix-en-Provence. Mme de Saléon busied herself squeezing avocados, picking through endives, apples, and lettuce.

“
Coucou!
David,” she called, waving a thick bunch of radishes his way. “What do you think? These will be heavenly for lunch,
n’est-ce pas
?”

David looked up from where he had been examining green and black olives. “Of course, Madeleine, they’ll be delicious with some soft butter. And a good glass of rouge.” He winked at her. “Will you excuse me for a moment? I’m going to fetch the bread. I’ll meet you at the apartment.”

“
Impeccable, mon ami
,” Mme de Saléon agreed.

David wound his way through the twisting, narrow cobblestone streets of Aix until he came to the small street directly behind the cours Mirabeau. Quickly he found the boulangerie and entered. A line of customers waited in front of him. The boulanger saw him enter and lifted his eyebrows, still talking merrily with a pretty young woman who was paying for her purchase.

When the store was empty of other customers, the baker smiled at David. “
Alors, mon pote
, what’s up with you?”

“A baguette and a gros pain will do me fine today, Gilbert. I suppose that is no trouble?”

“No trouble at all,” replied the baker. The store remained deserted except for the two men.

“And your friend, the redhead?” Gilbert asked quietly.

David shook his head. “My friend the redhead, poor woman. She has her hands full.”

“Nice woman,” Gilbert commented, raising his eyebrows. “You should keep her out of trouble,
mon pote
. Take care of your women. I have a nice little place in the mountains with a chimney and a double bed. You work too much, M. David.”

David laughed heartily as a stooped woman with a straw basket teeming with fruits and vegetables puffed her way into the boulangerie.

“Thanks for the advice, Gilbert. I might take you up on it someday.” He picked up the two loaves of bread and his change and departed.

Mme de Saléon brought a plateful of radishes to her elegantly set table and sat down across from David. “So tell me, my friend. How are you? The last time we talked you had just sent your girlfriend off unexpectedly to Montpellier.” She looked at David with tender gray eyes.

David shifted his weight in his chair and began buttering a radish. “I’m doing pretty well, Madeleine. But there are some problems back in Montpellier. How much longer do you give the war? Another month? Six?”

Mme de Saléon’s eyes sparkled. “We never tried to guess in the other war, David. We just kept doing what there was to do each day.”

“I know. Each man has his part to play. Keep quiet, and the others will be safe. I know.”

“Do you have the ‘information’ you need?”

“We had brought all that we could … until now. Now I have some more work ahead. A lot more.”

“When will you go back to Montpellier then?”

“Two days, maybe three. I still have a visit to make in Aigues-Mortes.”

“And your girl, Gabriella, she enjoys this line of work too?”

David chuckled. “If you asked her, she would say she has no choice. She’s got the guts and the brains for it, but she’s so blasted religious. She looks at life in a strange way, Madeleine.”

“Religious!” Madeleine clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Why, that is just fine. Religion has its place, you know. Look at your orphanage in Castelnau.” She prodded him playfully. “If it weren’t for religion, where would you keep your ‘information’?”

“True, but Gabriella is more than devout. She really believes a God up there is directing her life. It makes her untouchable!” He wiped his mouth and laid down his napkin on the table.

“Untouchable, and so all the more desirable. Is that your problem?”

David’s eyes flashed. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s that I know it just can’t work. I’ve seen firsthand what happened to a woman who loved God and fell in love with a man who did not.”

Mme de Saléon’s face clouded. “David … you exaggerate.”

He raised his voice. “No, Madeleine! I don’t. Mother’s love for Father was passionate and pure. And he abandoned her. He abandoned us.”

“David! It isn’t true. Why must you insist on this? Do you forget that I was there? I wouldn’t be sitting here now if your mother had not stayed in Paris. Yes, there was a risk involved. But your mother and father were in agreement. And she had an American passport. He had no idea it would turn out—” She paused, a mist in her eyes. She continued softly. “He had no idea that she, that you all, would be taken.”

David said nothing, his dark eyes brooding. He bit into a buttered radish. “Anyway, it’s of no use. Gabriella loves another. I’ve never been very lucky at fighting with the gods.” He smiled wryly.

Madeleine shrugged, stood up, and hurried off to the kitchen for the main course.