Goodnight from Paris: A Novel by Jane Healey

Author:Jane Healey [Healey, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2023-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Nadine, Jean, and I sat at the wrought iron table in the courtyard, the pot of tea on it untouched. There was a sliver of a moon and a dazzling sky full of stars above us, and as I looked up, my first thought was that my husband, the love of my life, Jacques Tartière, was no longer on earth to see it. I would never again wake up to him sleeping next to me, or sit on a blanket with him for a sunset picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower. My worst nightmare had come true. He was gone, and the reality was both shocking and sickening.

“Tell me everything you know,” I said to Jean when I finally had no tears left to cry.

“Elise told me first when I went to deliver the food. She had just been to the hairdressing shop and overheard the woman next to her say that her husband had just returned from Algiers. He said that in the Battle of Damascus, between the Vichy troops and the Free French, Jacques Tartière had been killed with the Free French force along with two others.”

“She said Jacques’s full name?” I asked, still not believing it.

“She did,” Jean said.

“But wait—is this confirmed?” I said. “We can’t take one woman’s word in a hairdressing shop.”

Nadine nodded and poured us tea; her face was also stained with tears.

“I know,” Jean continued. “I didn’t want to tell you unless I knew for sure. That’s why I went to Richard O’Brien at the embassy. He . . . he confirmed it. Jacques’s father and stepmother had a Mass for him in the States. This . . . this horrible news is true. Again, I am so sorry. And I am sorry to be the one to tell you.”

“He was such a lovely man—I cannot believe it is true.” Nadine started crying, and this time I gave her a hug, to comfort her and myself. I still didn’t want to believe it either. Our married life had just begun; how could it already be over?

“Drue,” Jean said, looking in my eyes, “I . . . I’m so sorry, but there are some things we must discuss that can’t wait.”

“What?” I asked, already knowing in my heart what he was going to say.

“First, he was working for the British, which was bad enough, but he was just killed fighting with Charles de Gaulle and the Free French. I think this might present a new danger for you.”

“Why? Are you concerned about the Vichy government finding out?”

“Yes.” Jean nodded. “If they don’t know already, it will get back to Vichy officials that he was killed fighting with the Free French. The Nazis and their Vichy collaborators might take out their bitterness against such a brazen de Gaullist on his widow.”

“Great,” I said, putting my head in my hands. “Yet another reason for them to want to kill me. What do you propose I do?”

“You need to get rid of any letters he wrote you in service to the British, especially anywhere he makes it clear he’s a de Gaullist.

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