Lea stored the book back in its proper place. She will follow you to the ends of the earth, her mother had told her. What you ask her to do, she will do without question, as I would if I could be there with you today and the next day and the day after that.
As it turned out, it wasn’t only Ava who disapproved of Lea and Julien’s friendship.
“Stay away from the girl,” Madame Claire told her son. The strangers had been with them for more than three months. Far too long, in Madame’s opinion, particularly when it came to the girl. She had seen her with Julien in the garden, speaking with their heads close together. Something Julien said had sent Lea into gales of laughter. That was when Claire knew. She’d seen it before. She herself had been a girl of twelve when she’d first become infatuated with a neighbor, and it had not turned out well. Young love could be harmful, and the best thing to do was nip it in the bud. “I don’t want you in the same room when no one else is there.”
“Why would you say that?” Julien asked his mother.
“I have your best interest at heart,” Madame Lévi told him. It was not a time to form attachments or venture into amour de jeunesse, foolish puppy love. “It doesn’t matter if you understand. Just do as I say.”
From then on, they were carefully watched. Still, they managed to leave notes for each other in the first Monsieur Lévi’s desk drawer in the library.
Hidden candies on the third shelf of the library. Not very good. Caramel.
Have you read Kafka? You should. You must. The Castle is on the fourth shelf. Don’t let my mother see you reading it. Of course, she disapproves of him.
Are you a hunter or a wolf?
Trick question?
Tricky question.
Wolf.
Agreed. Always.
I want to show you Paris.
I want to be shown.
We’ll be in trouble.
Good. Let’s.
Meet me at noon.
This past May, Jewish men, most of whom were foreign, between the ages of eighteen and forty had been called up to present themselves to the Paris police. All had received a green postcard, and so the wave of arrests of five thousand men that followed was called billet vert. Almost all had been Polish refugees. Even if French Jews had been included, Julien and Victor had been too young, and Professor Lévi, at forty-six, was too old. Still, Madame Lévi worried more than ever. She instructed both of her sons that they were not to leave the property. Both boys nodded and didn’t argue, but the boys knew they would disobey her. They could not sit still and let the world pass them by. Victor often went out his window at night, leaping down to the garden, to meet with his friends. Julien planned to show Lea Paris, no matter what he had promised his mother.
On the day Julien took her to see the city, his hair was slicked back and he wore a pressed white shirt. Lea hadn’t seen any more of the city than she had during her initial walk from the train station. The neighborhood was a maze of tiny streets and alleyways, a maze Julien knew so well, he could be blindfolded and still find his way. He backtracked through the small cobbled streets that took them to a bridge that crossed to the Île Saint-Louis. They waited until the bridge was empty, then dashed across and quickly took the flight of steps to the river so they could walk along the Seine in the wilting, green heat. There was such a hush it was as though they’d entered a dream. They went on in a trance, as Julien described the places where they walked as they’d been before the war, the crowds on summer days, the ice cream shops, the boats on the river, the fishermen underneath the bridges who caught salmon, carp, and eel.
Lea didn’t know where to begin when he questioned her about herself. What could she say, that she’d witnessed a murder, that there was still blood on her shoes even though Ava had cleaned them so well, that her mother had sent her away and her grandmother was trapped in their apartment with no means of escape, that she kept a secret close to her heart that she could never divulge?
The best she could do was shrug off his interest. It was probably a