The Forger of Marseille: A Novel by Linda Joy Myers

Author:Linda Joy Myers
Format: epub

A day later, fate caught up with them. Simone was driving when she felt the car hesitate and cough before it rolled to a shivering stop. They all exchanged glances and jumped out of the car.

Mathieu’s face grew red as he cranked and cranked until he gave up in a frustrated sweat. César lifted the hood and fiddled with wires. Mathieu gave Simone a hopeless look. They would have to walk.

Claude’s Rosey had gotten them through the belly of France; without this trusty little Citroën, they’d surely be dead by now. But now she would sit in much deserved rest. With few words, they removed the instruments, bags of clothing and tools, and art supplies from the back of the car, then gathered around the car and bowed their heads. After a moment of proper mourning, they pushed Rosey into the ditch.

The sun pressed on Simone’s head and shoulders as they trudged along the road, now almost empty of walking refugees. Cars whizzed by, and Simone tried to feel grateful that they’d made it so far without having to do this grueling slog in the heat, loaded with belongings. The wind lifted dust from the fields and swirled it up into funnel clouds. Grit and dirt from the road powdered their skin. Simone kept washing dust particles from her eyes. All this walking seemed impossible, but they did it, one step, then another, pausing to sip from the little bit of water they had left. According to the map, Lyon was the next large town that would have a train station. It might take a few days to get there.

Before long, the sky was scattered with stars. They pushed on.

A lorry roared up behind them—full of German or French—soldiers? It was a French lorry, but you couldn’t know who anyone was any longer. The three of them dove toward the ditch. In French, someone called out, “Bonsoir! We’re only going as far as Lyon, but there’s room in the back.”

Three young men in civilian clothes got out of the truck, but they looked like French soldiers with their mismatched boots and brown shirts that had once been uniforms. The insignia had been torn off, leaving loose threads. Two women peeked out from behind a drape of canvas, a gray-haired woman and a younger one holding her hand. They tilted their heads in greeting, no doubt also rescued by the men.

“Trying to get to Switzerland before the Germans get us. Get in.”

Mathieu looked to Simone and César. “Okay?”

César nodded, and the three of them climbed in and squeezed next to each other on the floor. Everything was communicated with eyes—how exhausted they all were, how impossible and chaotic everything was—a world turned upside down.

Simone leaned against César and closed her eyes as the lorry swayed and rattled down the road. The next thing she knew the lorry had stopped. She’d fallen asleep, and now everyone was gathering their things in the dark.

The men opened the canvas and told everyone to get out.

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