Hiding Edith (13 page)

All too quickly, the service was over. The congregation rose and Edith followed. They crossed themselves, and she did the same. Suddenly, next to her, Sarah gasped and Edith froze. The two girls locked eyes, realizing at exactly the same moment that Edith had crossed herself with her left hand instead of her right.

Edith’s face went red with the pounding of her heart, and sweat broke out on her brow. Making the sign of the cross was so basic that to cross yourself incorrectly in a Catholic church was almost like telling the whole world that you were an imposter. Shatta’s voice rushed into her mind: “There can be no mistakes. Your safety will depend on this.”

Not only had Edith jeopardized her own life, but she might have placed Sarah and the others in danger as well. She desperately searched the faces of the people around her. Had anyone noticed? Men and women were shaking hands and greeting one another, wishing each other peace and a rapid end to the war.

No one had paid her any attention.

Sarah reached out a hand to her friend and the two girls quickly walked out of the church.

“That was close,” Edith whispered.

Sarah nodded. “I thought Jeanette next to me saw, but it doesn’t look like it.” Like all the girls, Jeanette was giggling and talking with her friends, ignoring Edith and Sarah as usual. For once, Edith
was grateful that she and Sarah were nearly invisible. Being invisible meant that mistakes might go unnoticed. Still, they would have to be extra careful.

Edith worried for the rest of the day.
Maybe I should just not leave the school,
she thought.
Maybe I should stay inside, avoid places where one small lapse might give me away.

So, it was with mixed feelings that Edith followed Madame Picot and the others out the door the next day for a routine trip to the department store in town. There, madame would buy supplies for the school — and the girls would carry the packages. Edith often wondered what became of all those purchases. She and her friends from Moissac certainly never saw the soap or clothing that madame bought.

Edith walked slowly up and down the half-empty aisles of the store, inspecting the sparse items on the shelves and filling the empty spaces with thoughts of all the things she’d like to buy. Before long, she was lost in childhood memories of playing “store” with Therese.

“I will take a bottle of perfume, and two bars of soap. Oh no, not that perfume
—
the very expensive one.”

Therese, the shopkeeper, quickly rushed to get the things her young customer had requested. “Of course, mademoiselle, the very best.”

“Then I’ll take two bottles. Please wrap them up.”

As the memory of those playful days swept back over her, Edith reached out to touch the colorful ribbons displayed on a table. She longed to have just one to tie in her hair, just as Mutti had done
so many times. She was so lost in her happy daydream that she did not notice someone stopping directly in front of her.

“Hello, little girl.”

Startled, Edith looked up into the face of a Nazi soldier.

“I said hello,” the soldier repeated.

“Bonjour. Good day,” Edith murmured. The words practically stuck in her throat.

The soldier looked at her with a slight smirk. He was tall and straight, arms folded easily across his chest. She could hear the squeak of his tall black boots as he swayed slightly back and forth.

“What’s your name?” The soldier leaned closer. Edith could smell his cigarette smoke.

“I’m Edith,” she finally croaked. “Edith Servant.”

“Edith,” he said thoughtfully, looking her up and down. “A German name, yes?”

Edith’s head was spinning. What did he mean? Did he hear something in her accent that didn’t sound French? Had he guessed she was Jewish? Would he drag her away? Shoot her? All of these thoughts raced through Edith’s mind as she faced this Nazi soldier. Then, suddenly, she knew what to say.

“Edith is a French name.” Edith replied, staring the soldier squarely in the eye. “Haven’t you heard of Edith Piaf?” Edith Piaf was France’s most beloved singer. Her picture appeared in magazines and newspapers, and everyone knew her music.

The soldier paused a moment and then chuckled. “Yes, of course. Very clever, little sparrow, just like Edith Piaf.” He tapped her lightly on the head and moved on.

Edith closed her eyes tightly, trying to control her shaking. Surely the soldier must have sensed that she was Jewish but had chosen to ignore it. Perhaps her quick thinking had amused him. It had certainly saved her life.

“Are you all right?” Edith opened her eyes to see Sarah staring at her.

“Did you see what just happened?” Edith asked.

Sarah nodded.

That was twice that she had come close to being discovered, Edith thought, as she followed Sarah and the others out the door and back to their school. That added up to two very scary experiences. It was more than she could handle in two days. It was more than most people could manage in a lifetime.

For several days, Edith could not get the soldier out of her mind. She could still hear the creak of his boots, and smell the odor of stale cigarette smoke. Her dreams were filled with soldiers shouting questions at her as she crossed herself over and over with her left hand.

Edith would awake confused and disoriented.
Where am I?
she wondered, lying in the dark.
Who am I?
she’d ask as she sat in school.
Did I tell the man delivering milk that my parents are dead? Where am I from? Where was I born?
And all the while, Mutti’s last words haunted Edith. “Remember who you are.”
Who am I,
Edith mused,
when every day I lie to the people around me?

It was weeks before the pain of that day faded to a dull ache. Edith pushed it deep inside her, where others couldn’t see how much it hurt. That was the only way she knew to keep going. It was the first warm day in spring. Edith and Sarah had been at the school for seven months. How was it possible? Would they spend another winter in hiding?

The girls were sitting on the school steps, listening to bombs exploding in the distance, like irregular muted thunder. One explosion, silence, then two louder blasts. These bomb blasts had become a regular occurrence.

“Maybe the bombing’s a good thing,” said Sarah cautiously. “Maybe it means the war will be over soon.”

Edith nodded. She knew that the Allied airplanes were closing in on Hitler’s armies.

Several nights earlier, she and Sarah had been scrounging for food behind the kitchen and she had heard the voice of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt of the United States of America talking on the radio.

“Until the victory that is now assured is won, the United States will persevere in its efforts to rescue the victims of brutality of the Nazis. This government will use all means at its command to aid the escape of all intended victims of the Nazis.”

The president’s message was spoken in English, a language that Edith was learning here at the school. She did not understand every word that she heard, but some of them were clear. The president in his commanding authority had said,
“the victory that is now assured.”
That meant that he was confident that the United States and the Allies would defeat Hitler and his armies.

“We have to hope it’s true,” Edith now said.

Above their heads, the leaves of the ash trees whispered and swished in the warm breeze. Edith turned her face up to the sun.
Among the dark green leaves she could see hundreds of butterflies, their wings tightly closed, clinging to the leaves and swaying in the gentle wind. As she watched, they began to flutter, opening and closing their bright orange wings streaked with bold black and white stripes. Then, the whole mass lifted and flew off, like a bouquet of flowers carried by the wind.

Edith was so entranced that she barely noticed Sarah jump up and run toward a young man standing by the open gate. She looked over just as Sarah flung herself into his arms.

“Jacques!” Sarah cried. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Edith, this is my brother, Jacques.” Sarah was so excited that she was babbling.

Jacques was tall and thin, his clothes ragged and ill fitting. Nervously he pulled off his cap and glanced around. “I’ve been traveling for weeks, Sarah,” he muttered, “looking everywhere for you. I finally found Germaine, your counselor in Moissac. It took some doing to convince her I was your brother and that she could tell me where you were.” Jacques smiled wryly. “I don’t think she liked the looks of me.”

Sarah was practically dancing. “The important thing is, you’re here.” Then she looked around and lowered her voice. “But you can’t stay, Jacques. The others think we’re orphans, with no one. Oh, but please, tell me how you are, and how are Maman and —”

“I don’t have much time, Sarah,” Jacques interrupted. “And there’s no kind way to tell you. Maman has died. A cough in her chest. I tried to find a doctor, medicine, but no one could help us.”

Jacques and Sarah’s mother had been hiding in a barn — the farmers let them stay as long as they didn’t make trouble. He described how Sarah’s mother had grown weaker and weaker, until she had no fight left. He had buried her in the farmer’s field before heading out to look for Sarah. As Jacques spoke, Edith could see Sarah shrink back into her shell.

“And Papa?” Sarah whispered.

Jacques shook his head. “Still no word.”

“What about you, Jacques?” Sarah asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to join the Resistance. With Maman gone, I’m free to go.”

Sarah shook her head. “Free?”

Jacques shrugged. “Free enough.”

He stayed a few more minutes. Then he hugged Sarah, said goodbye to Edith, and walked down the path and out the gate.

The two girls sat together on the front steps, saying little. A butterfly flitted past Edith’s face and then soared high up into the clear blue sky. Moments earlier the sky had been filled with these delicate butterflies. Now there was nothing.

This is so cruel
, Edith thought. She had seen the butterflies come to life just when Jacques had arrived to announce the death of Sarah’s mother. Life beginning and life ending. Edith placed her arm around Sarah’s shoulders and sat with her friend until it was time to go inside to class.

Sarah barely said a word for the rest of the day, and Edith didn’t even try to talk to her. What was there to say? Besides, all Edith could think about was her own mother.

Was she being selfish, she wondered, to be preoccupied with her own family when Sarah was living her nightmare? But she couldn’t help the thoughts that filled her mind. Was Mutti safe? Was she lying sick somewhere, fighting to stay alive? Would Therese be next to appear on the steps of the school with terrible news? That was unimaginable. But who could have envisioned everything that had already happened in the past months and years? It was all unthinkable.

After classes that day, Edith sat on Sarah’s bed, holding her hand. Sarah lay, quiet and pale, her eyes closed. At first, Edith barely noticed the muted sound of engines in the distance, and the dull explosions. But the drone of airplanes quickly became louder.

“That’s strange,” said Edith. “It sounds like the planes are flying this way. Maybe they’re going to circle back to their targets.”

But the hum became a rumble and the rumble a roar, until it seemed as if the planes were headed right for the school.

Edith’s grip on Sarah’s hand tightened. “Sarah,” she said urgently. “I think we’d better —”

The explosion shattered the window above the bed. Edith and Sarah dove to the floor, clutching each other tightly and covering their heads. The floor heaved, tossing Edith and Sarah against each other and then, against the bed frame. A sharp whistle pierced the air.

“Another one’s coming!” screamed Edith.

The next bomb exploded in the graveyard next door. The detonation reverberated inside Edith’s head as the lights in the room flickered and went out. Pictures fell, along with chunks of plaster from the ceiling. Smoke and dust filled the room. Shards of glass bounced around the floor with each vibration. Edith could hear the other girls screaming and crying in terror.

She could not breathe. Her heart pounded so loud that it seemed louder than the planes. Surely the next bomb would hit their building.
Is this how it will all end?
Edith wondered.
No!
her mind screamed.
This can’t be. I won’t die like this. I won’t.

Seconds later the whistle began again, and Edith closed her eyes. But this time, the bomb blast was farther away. The explosion rocked the room gently one more time. She heard the planes rumble off into the distance, growing fainter and more muffled, and then there was quiet.

Many minutes passed as she and Sarah lay under the bed, holding each other and trembling in shocked silence. There were no sounds around them. As loud as the bombs had been minutes earlier, now the silence was equally deafening. And then, slowly, Edith raised her head. “Sarah, are you all right?”