fields of white wildflowers that glowed in the dark. He had been gone for several months, working with the Armée Juive. When he and Marianne were together, he felt like a carefree boy, helping her father with chores, sneaking up to her room when the old man was safely asleep, not thinking of anything more than his bare skin against hers. But as soon as he left the farm he was someone else entirely, and a darkness lingered inside him. He had been party to acts he did not wish to discuss or even think about. Now he had returned to the house in the woods because he was in need of a partner.
He had brought a satchel of food and supplies from the Félix farm, and after he greeted his old cohorts, he set to helping with dinner. Watching Marianne, he had learned how to cook, and he prepared a vegetable stew that was surprisingly tasty. In the past weeks it had become clear that Arno was still reeling from the bombing that had taken his friend’s life. It was decided it was best for him to stay and help guard Bettina and the forgery operation. It was Ettie who would be Victor’s partner, and after dinner they walked out toward the little silver river to talk privately.
“I hear you can catch a fish in your hands,” Victor said, amused. She was so slight and fierce he thought of her as a wild little sister.
“I’m even better with a gun,” Ettie informed him.
“I’m not surprised. So tonight we move on from here.”
Ettie had been waiting for this, the chance to fight, but she felt a tug inside her. She had grown close to Bettina, and it was difficult to say goodbye, and she worried about Arno, who suffered from nightmares and often gave them a scare when he disappeared into the woods and couldn’t be found. Her feelings must have shown in her face, and Victor offered to get her belongings and say her goodbyes while she waited in the car.
“It’s fine,” Ettie said. “I have nothing and there’s no need to say goodbye.”
Victor shrugged; there she was, the fierce girl, her decision clearly made. Without a word to the others, they got into the car. Ettie was always a surprise, so much tougher than she looked. Being with her in the car, as she silently looked out the window, made him long for Marianne, who was so kindhearted and gentle that even when she was angry with him for some foolish thing he’d said or done, he felt her deep affection and love.
They drove for quite a while, over the mountains, on steep narrow roads framed by thornbushes that hit against the car. After more than an hour they arrived at a small stone château painted a pale pink, with windows that were framed by dark green shutters. It was past twilight now and darkness was settling down into the woods. The trees were crisscrossed by vines, and something smelled sweet, a wildflower Ettie didn’t recognize as she followed Victor along the path. There was a side entrance, a black iron door decorated with filigree. The house belonged to a doctor, and this path was the route his patients took to his office during the day. In the evening, it was shadowy, and a chestnut tree blocked the entryway from view. Safe, Ettie thought. This is a safe house.
Henri Girard had been the doctor in town for nearly twenty-five years. Before that, his father, also called Henri Girard, had been the local physician. Girard was a good-looking, tall man, very dignified. His grandfather had been a nobleman, and even though he was a country doctor, Girard’s manners were very refined. He had been to school in Paris, and had taught at the medical school there for a while. But he had decided he preferred the relationships he had with his patients in this small village. People came from across the mountains to see him, sometimes traveling hours, and he had brought more than fifty souls into the world, most of whom he still saw as patients, though many were now grown men and women with families of their own. He had come to be known as someone who would help Jewish resisters, and his barn was often a stopping point for those on their way to the border.
The doctor shook Ettie’s hand and welcomed her in the parlor where patients waited should the doctor be busy when they