hunger and Franco’s regime. They’re hard workers, though not very disciplined. At first I wasn’t sure about them, some being communists and unionists, but all they care about is sending money to their families in Spain. It seems the situation is rather dire there.”
“I’m not so sure things are much better here, at least not in the occupied zone,” Bonnay said.
“You know the rain doesn’t fall to everyone’s liking. In Vichy, things don’t seem to be so bad. At least someone finally took control of the country. The Masons and the Jews were destroying France, but Marshal Pétain will get our glory back.”
The maid arrived with a silver tray and placed several glasses and a crystal jar of lemonade on the table. Fabien served his brother-in-law and then took a glass for himself.
Bonnay cleared his throat. “We may not see things eye to eye, but I haven’t come to discuss politics. I need to spend some time here. I can work anywhere you put me on the farm. You know I’m not afraid to work.” He picked up his glass and took a sip. The cool, sweet liquid revived him. He had not eaten since the night before, and it was nearly suppertime.
“Of course you can work here, and your oldest boy too. He looks strong as an ox, just like his father. Paul looks to be more delicate, like our beloved Marguerite. How I miss her. She left us too soon. The world was robbed of an angel. By the time my doctor friend arrived, it was too late.” Fabien’s tone of reproach was not lost on Bonnay.
“Your sister was too selfless. She thought only of us and nothing of herself. When the Germans came, everything was in chaos. We hardly had enough to eat, and we were helping the refugees that fled Paris. By the time I knew she was sick, the tuberculosis was already too far along.”
“It’s true, my sister had a Christian heart of gold. I imagine that means nothing to a socialist like yourself, but to those of us who believe . . .”
“But you were a socialist yourself!” Bonnay’s ire began to rise.
“The key word there is were. We all change. Things are different now. With determination, a man can make a fortune and change his destiny,” Fabien said, watching the children play.
“Are you part of the Rassemblement National Populaire now?”
“Yes. Marcel Déat was once a socialist, too, but a long time ago he figured out that the future of the world held something else. Don’t you realize that everything has changed? Communism was leading us toward disaster. It all sounds so pretty, sharing everything equally, but human beings aren’t motivated by altruism. What really drives us is ambition.” As Fabien spoke, he gesticulated as if delivering a speech to a crowd.
“There’s no doubt things have changed. You can tell that by just looking around.”
Fabien’s children came out to the porch and stared at the strange, dirty man sitting with their father, then looked toward the children.
“They are your cousins. Go say hello.”
The girl smiled, but the boy stayed quiet and inexpressive. He hardly remembered the existence of cousins. The girl ran off to the big tree, then her brother reluctantly followed.
When the four boys saw two children dressed in white running toward them, they halted their games, though Moses and Paul were still moving on the swings with the momentum of their brothers’ pushes.
“Marcel? Paul? Don’t you remember me?” the girl asked. Alice was twelve years old. Her white skin was so thin that blue veins showed through. Her hands were delicate and her fingers long. Little Fabien was also pale, but his face was covered in freckles. His hair was a dark red, almost brown.
“Hello, cousin,” Marcel said, though without much enthusiasm.
Paul studied them as his swing kept moving, then he jumped off and went up to the boy. They were almost the same height, but that was the only similarity between them. Their clothing, facial expressions, and skin tone were in contrast. Paul smiled and asked, “So you’re Fabien?”
The boy did not respond. Rather, he turned and walked toward the river.
“What’s got into him?” Marcel asked.
“He’s just shy, and he doesn’t remember you. You came to see us the summer before the war, when we lived in our old house. We had so much fun together. I sure do miss your mother,” Alice said, greeting her cousins with the three official kisses. When she took note of the other two boys,