While Paris Slept by Ruth Druart

Author:Ruth Druart [DRUART, RUTH]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2021-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-Three

The South, June 2, 1944

CHARLOTTE

The next evening, under cover of darkness, we set off alone. Marie has given us both a pair of cord-soled espadrilles; apparently they’re the best things for climbing the Pyrénées. I’m just relieved they’re not big hard leather boots, and I am able to squash the backs down—the skin on my heels is still tender. Jean-Luc carries a small bag containing a change of clothes, milk, cognac, and water, while I carry Samuel, the long pillowcase tied around me, holding him close against my chest.

In silence we follow the trail that was described to us, but the brisk pace soon makes me hot and clammy. I lift Samuel away from my body, letting some air circulate, but the movement wakes him, and I feel his fingers reaching out, clinging onto my light coat. “Shh,” I whisper, pulling him back closer to me, covering his head with my hand. He settles back into me, and I decide I can put up with the extra heat his little body is giving out. In a few days’ time, if all goes well, we will be safe and ready to start our new life. Reaching out for Jean-Luc’s hand, I pause in my stride.

“It’s okay, Charlotte. We’re going to make it.”

“I know.” I squeeze his hand, but we don’t speak again, the only sound the soft impression of our feet on the rough ground, and the hooting of owls.

We haven’t been walking for long when Florentino steps out soundlessly from the darkness. Without a word, we follow him through a small pine forest; the numerous trees and the ground covered in small soft twigs absorb any sound we make. I feel safer here with Florentino than I did on the trail, but he walks so quickly, darting in and out among the tall, thin trees. I feel my breath rasping in my chest and a ring of sweat gathers around my hairline. Briskly I wipe it away, blowing air up onto my hot face. I worry for Jean-Luc with his cane, but he doesn’t slow down, not once.

After a few hours, we come to a farmhouse. Florentino pushes hard on the heavy wooden door and lets us in. It’s dark inside except for the light of a couple of dim candles. I heave a sigh of relief, impatient to sit down and unstrap Samuel. My neck aches with the weight of him and I feel a rivulet of sweat dripping down my chest. An old woman comes to greet us, helping me out of my light coat and unknotting the pillowcase tied around my back. I lift Samuel out, watching as he screws up his eyes, probably sensing the change in environment. His face is red and I realize he must have been just as overheated as I was. He brings a tiny fist up to his mouth and lets out a cry.

Jean-Luc is soon by my side with a bottle ready. Taking Samuel from me, he makes soothing noises as he cradles him in his arms.

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