All the lights above us, p.15
All the Lights Above Us, page 15
The general gave a weary sigh. “You don’t know that. This place is one big dust bunny. Looks like she left a long time ago. Maybe even deported. You should check with the Red Cross. But we can’t have you scampering about a goddamn war zone.”
Adelaide stomped her foot. “No deportation. It’s not possible. I would have heard something.”
Wade’s face crinkled, as if he wanted to pull her into a hug, while the general just looked irritated. “I hate to tell you, but that’s not always the case—”
“She’s not deported!” Adelaide’s voice came out in an angry bark. So forceful that even these two hard-trained military men took a timid step back. “Not deported. I know my daughter. She’s careful. Cautious. Smart. Too smart for the Germans. I have faith in her. St. Germain. That’s where she is. I must get there.”
“Madame—”
“Let me go there. If she’s not there, I’ll go home. No more getting in your way, I promise.”
In the bravest thing she’d seen him do so far, Wade stepped up beside her and put his hand on the small of her back. “I’ll take her, sir, if you’ll permit me. I’ve seen her this far. I’d like to see her the rest of the way. If that’s alright.”
Adelaide threw him a surprised glance. He’d barely spoken to her since they got stuck with one another. But then again, she hadn’t given him much of a chance to. She’d scorned him more than anything. Perhaps, like her own daughter, she had underestimated him …
The general looked like he wanted to argue for a second, but then he let loose a boisterous chuckle instead. “Madame, you have some real pluck, I’ll give you that.” He nodded at Wade. “Take her over there. It’s not far, and we’ve cleared out most this area already. But watch your ass, anyhow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you.” The general turned to Adelaide with a wink. “I pray you find your daughter. And when you do, both of you should come join my army. We could use the likes of you.”
She managed to grin through her roiling emotions. “What? An old woman like me?”
He winked at her. “You look like day-old bread that still has snap in it. We could teach these youngsters a thing or two.”
She laughed, but his bold voice cut her off. “But I must insist on one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“You’ll attract every German from here to Berlin smelling and looking like a swamp. You’re going to have to get out of that skirt.”
She glared. “And into what, exactly?”
Flora
CAEN CITY CENTER
Flora knelt over Bastien in stiff silence. Her eyes were black with rage, and her arms hung limp at her sides. Her thudding heart was the only thing that moved.
Your parents, they’re still alive.
A world of emotions washed over her. The strongest two were shock and anger, and both roughed up her stomach something awful. She couldn’t discount the sadness, either. The overpowering, numbing sorrow that could drag her into a pit and never let her escape.
All this time … For months, years, she had mourned her lost parents—the only loves of her life. The soul-crushing devastation kept her awake at night. It barely let her eat, and it turned her into a loose cannon who couldn’t check her emotions. Her position in the Resistance, the risks she took, she had done it all to follow in the footsteps of her dead parents and carry their banner. To keep them alive in a spiritual sense, since she had failed in the physical one.
Which reminded her of the guilt. All that guilt, the whippings and beatings she gave herself in the dark nights with a bottle of liquor. All because of a lie … A horrible, terrible, and life-wrecking lie, so big and so vast she didn’t know who else was ensnared in its web. Bastien was bad enough, but there had to be others.
“Flora?”
Bastien’s voice sent flames shooting down her body. She couldn’t look at him, because he had known her too long. His eyes could penetrate the mask she always wore, and the one she clung to now. He knew the sensitive and gentle Flora, who was soft and caring, who had held funerals for dead pigeons as a child. Who was capable of loving.
The Flora before the lie …
“Flora—”
“Does Geraud know?”
Her voice came out like a dagger hurled in a dark pub.
Bastien flinched at it. This time, his lungs let out a strange whistle when he exhaled. The internal bleeding was consuming him fast, like a flooded river spilling over its banks. Still, he looked more afraid of the purple rage tinging Flora’s forehead than death.
He sighed. “Yes, Flora. He knows.”
Flora bit her lip so hard it bled. Her vision went scarlet. She rocketed to her feet and took a few harried paces back and forth. She wanted to scream, kick, and punch. She wanted to beat Bastien to a bloodier pulp than he already was. The urge was surprisingly hard to control. It swelled in her chest and constricted her breathing. Her whole body throbbed as the violence begged for release.
Geraud’s haughty face burned into her brain like a branding iron. In that instant, he became her enemy. She didn’t care if he was friends with her parents, or that they trusted him more than anyone. Their trust was misplaced, because Geraud was a liar and a manipulator, just like every man who only wanted to use her to their own ends. Like every man who underestimated her, pushed her aside, and swept her under their ridiculous ornamental rugs.
Geraud was worse than those, because he knew what her parents’ death had done to her. He watched her transform from gentle Flora into a raging she-devil. He could have ended her misery at any time. He could have given her hope when there was none. Yet he kept his filthy little secrets and just watched her suffer.
And Bastien … that playful face she’d known since childhood. The one man who always treated her as an equal, at least to her face. Now he too had rammed a knife into her all-too-trusting heart.
Flora glowered down at him, and he shriveled under her shadow. “Flora, you must understand …” He paused to gasp in some oxygen. “He made me swear not to tell you.”
“I don’t give a shit, Bastien. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am.”
“Friends don’t lie to each other. You know who taught me that? My mother.”
“The Germans—”
Flora’s anger reached a boiling point she couldn’t contain. With a mind of its own, her leg jumped out and socked him right in the shin.
His shriek would have pierced anyone, but it didn’t faze Flora. “Don’t you dare pin this on Germans. There is still right. That’s what the Resistance is all about. Acting in the cause of what is right. Of loyalty. How can you be a part of that and lie to my face, Bastien? How?”
Bastien clutched his throbbing leg. He wailed, but the pain wasn’t just in his bones. “He made me swear it. He said he’d kill me.”
Flora’s fists clenched so hard her fingernails left cuts across her palms.
Geraud. He swore Bastien to silence, on pain of death, about his lie. That made him not only a liar, but also a killer. How could it matter that much if her parents were still alive? Why would he need to keep it from her? It didn’t make any sense. Nothing did anymore.
She knelt next to Bastien and got right in his face. “You better start talking, Bastien.”
Bastien sucked in another precious breath of air. From the noises in his lungs, he was running out of room in there. “You know I get coded messages from all over the network. Traffic picked up in the last few weeks.”
“I’m not an idiot, I know you work in coding.” Flora flinched at the volume of her voice. She looked around at all the turned heads. Then she took a deep breath to calm herself. When she spoke again, she forced a softer tone. “What does that have to do with my parents?”
“About a month ago, I started getting messages from a concentration camp in Poland. Top secret. The ink can only be read under a certain kind of light.”
Flora gritted her teeth to hold her patience. “Yes, I know that. Go on.”
Bastien’s eyes went wild with fright. “You won’t believe what the messages said, Flora. What the Nazis are doing. Terrible things. Unspeakable things.”
A stab of curiosity broke through Flora’s anger. Her fists loosened just a little. “What do you mean?”
“They’re killing them, Flora. The Jews. All of them. They want … they want to …” He had to stop for more air. “They want to exterminate them.”
Flora shook her head in anger. “Bull.”
“They herd them into big chambers … like showers. Then they gas them. Hundreds at a time.” He let out another miserable cough. “Extermination camps, Flora. Death camps. Camps where people go to disappear.”
“Lies!”
“It’s true. The letters came from the office of the commandant. Files that prove everything.” He wheezed in another breath. “Flora … they’re all stamped with your mother’s code pass. She’s sending them out.”
Flora’s mind spun faster than the props on the bombers flying over all morning. So many profound truths slammed into her head it made her dizzy. Her parents were alive. People she thought she could trust had kept it from her. Now there were these camps …
Of course, she knew about concentration camps. There were few in France who didn’t. However, she thought they were just prison camps. People endured a hard life of cold in the winter, heat in the summer, no food, and little water. Death stalked those places in many forms. Disease, starvation, and sheer exhaustion. Maybe stray bullets too. A concentration camp was a harrowing prospect, one that sent people deep into hiding. Yet people could survive there. At least, that’s what Flora thought. Were there really camps for the sole purpose of extermination?
Her instincts told her it couldn’t be true. No human could be capable of that, even though she had seen the Nazis do terrible things.
But when she couldn’t believe her own eyes, she had to believe her mother. The reason was simple. Her mother never lied. Not to her husband, not to Flora, not to anyone. Her mother’s words were truth, pure and absolute. A truth that was apparently still alive.
Flora stomped down her surging emotions. Then she grabbed Bastien by his bloody shoulder. “Where is this camp?”
He shook his head. More blood trickled from his mouth. “I … I …”
“Where in Poland? Tell me how to find them.”
Bastien leaned his head back. His pupils rolled up to expose the whites of his eyes. A horrible rattle escaped his throat. “I’m … so sorry, Flora.”
“Don’t you die now, you son of a bitch.” Flora swiped the back of her hand across his face. It made a violent crack and left a horrible red mark, but it didn’t revive him. His body seized in her arms, then went limp. A final hiss escaped his throat and he was gone.
Flora was too furious to grieve. Of course he would die right after he dropped a bomb on her chest, a riddle she had no idea how to solve. Her parents were alive in Poland, but he gave her no address, no town, not even a general direction in Poland. She couldn’t just walk there and find them.
She got to her feet and took one last look at the crazy hospital. Nurses fluttered sheets over those like Bastien who had passed their final seconds of life. Blood stained every corner. It choked the stuffy air in its terrible stench.
The hospital needed Flora, and Geraud had given her a job to do.
Geraud …
Her hands balled into hard rocks again. Her eyes turned into a nasty glare. Flushes of red crept up her sweating neck and poured into her cheeks.
He would tell her where her parents were. She’d beat it out of him if she had to.
Theda
QUEEN ALEXANDRA HOSPITAL
PORTSMOUTH
Theda, her stomach rumbling, found her way to the hospital tea room.
Black-skirted, white-aproned personnel laid out tired silverware and teapots on the wooden tables. The hanging lights, which swayed, flickered, and creaked with all the planes flying over, frequently doused them with dust. The air felt extra stuffy too, since the large windows lining the wall were closed to keep out the airplane exhaust. Only gray and tired daylight filtered in through the long, lacy drapes.
“Theda Brown.”
Theda turned.
A handful of Royal Army nurses had gathered at one of those tables for tea. The rattling of their china and the tinkling of their silverware made it sound like a pleasant affair.
Theda had to suppress a laugh. She’d never visualized these stern women as the merry sort. They certainly hadn’t been so far. Yet now, as the mountains of invasion casualties raced toward Portsmouth, they acted like regular London women on a very regular tea break.
One of them gave Theda a welcoming smile and patted the empty chair beside her. “Won’t you join us for tea, love?”
Love? Theda had never heard them address anyone so informally. She wasn’t sure why they would single her out like this, but she wouldn’t dare refuse. Especially not after they picked her to assist so much on the floor. She crossed the room to their table and dropped into the empty seat.
As soon as her body touched the chair, her insides shriveled with nerves. She didn’t know how to converse with these experienced women without sounding like a total novice.
She was glad when the woman next to her broke the silence. Theda recognized her as the nurse Dr. Davies had paired to work with her. She looked to be in her early thirties, with strawberry blonde locks and a pretty, dimpled smile. Her hazel eyes were tired but sincere. She held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Celia.”
Theda shook it. “I’m Theda, but you already knew that.”
The women all giggled. Not at her, but with her. They really seemed to like her.
Theda blushed as Celia put a saucer and mug with steaming tea before her. Tea that she knew would be watered down due to all the rationing. But it was still nice to see manners in good supply. What had she done to earn an entrance pass into this smart and worldly circle of women?
Theda reached for the tea with anxious fingers, feeling self-conscious again. Perhaps she ought to slurp this down and return to the other girls. They wouldn’t like being excluded, and she felt wrong enjoying a lavish tea break on such an intense day.
Although “Hurry up and wait” was one of the hospital’s favorite games. As the morning faded into afternoon, the preparation duties dwindled to nothing, and the hospital grew tense and quiet with anticipation. A lot of the personnel just stood around, with nothing to do but watch the clock and listen to the muffled radio.
Celia seemed to read her mind. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts, and line your belly too.” She dropped a dry scone on Theda’s tea saucer.
Another girl laughed. “Indeed. Take it from us, deary, this will be the last food you see all day.”
“And night,” Celia said with a snort.
Theda took a bite of the soft, warm scone. She didn’t enjoy it half as much as the special treatment by these hard-to-impress women.
Celia gave her a nudge. “I hope you don’t mind us taking you for ourselves today.”
Theda swallowed her tea so fast she almost spit it back up. “Was it your idea? I thought it was …”
She trailed off as the tips of her ears seared with embarrassment. She had wondered whose decision it really was to pair her up with Celia. She had convinced herself it was Dr. Davies. He knew how much she wanted to work in medicine. And she didn’t think these women would accept her for such important work without a nod from a higher-up like him or Eliza. She had come to fantasize over the idea, thinking it was the handsome doctor’s way of showing he thought about her outside of work too. Hearing he hadn’t come up with the suggestion gave her the faintest sting of disappointment.
Again, Celia read her mind, but this time she did with a distinct smirk. “Well, Doctor Davies didn’t put up any fuss, that’s certain.”
Theda looked around at the sea of smiling faces. “But … why choose me? I mean, why not one of the regular staff nurses here? Or Eliza, our ward sister? I would think there’s so many people more qualified.”
“They’re needed in the ORs, believe me.” Celia patted Theda’s hand. “We needed someone with us in the regular wards to count on, and pardon my saying so, but you do outshine the others with medical work.”
Theda barely managed to hide a smile of pleasure. They had noticed. They saw how much harder she worked, how desperate she was to earn their trust, how badly she longed to prove her worth. She stayed past her quitting time so often, took on so many extra duties, covered for other girls who couldn’t quite grasp things. She had drenched herself with sweat, lagged with lost sleep, and even cried with exhaustion now and then. But it had paid off.
Celia grinned. “You’re very talented, Theda. You deserve an opportunity to really shine.”
“I don’t have any special training or anything.”
“That’s the thing about wartime,” Celia said with a nod. “It opens dead-bolted doors with a cannon bang.”
Another nurse leaned in close to her. “Medicine seems quite suited to you, Theda. If you do well today, we could recommend you for training for a combat medical team.”
Theda’s shiny brown eyes practically glowed.
The nurse laughed. “If that’s something you would be interested in?”
What an understatement. Theda had wanted to travel the world her whole life. She had read about the women in auxiliary military units with envy. She had longed for her chance to do something outside of Portsmouth, even when the bullets were flying and the bombs were dropping. She dreamed of making her mark on this crazy world, if only she could escape the confines of Number 6.
Yet she met resistance from every angle. Her mother always reminded her that a woman’s place was at home. Girls her age couldn’t understand her desire to leave the comforts of their small, cozy town. Everyone, save William, always pointed out that men would never appreciate her if she didn’t start behaving “more like a girl.”
Celia observed her volunteer’s troubled expression. “Theda, you are more than capable, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
