16. Saving Rebecca

Chapter sixteen

Saving Rebecca

I park the police pick-up car on the street and turn off the engine, but I remain sitting in the car. I have to decide whether I should do it or not. Luc is playing with a ball in the middle of the street, kicking it against the building wall at a safe distance from Ms. Sophie's barber shop glass storefront. Years ago, he accidentally broke it, and there were many shouts and anger. But I think she's since forgiven him, especially now that he's so alone. What will I do with the girl? Should I risk my life? I can still regret it. I'm not responsible for her.

"Hey, Luc," I get out of the car and slam the door behind me.

"Hey, Mr. Allard," he smiles at me. "Shall we play?"

"Pass the ball," I stand on the other side of the street and wait.

"Here it comes," he kicks the ball to me.

"Say, Luc," I kick the ball back, "can you stay still for a long time?"

"How do you mean? Mr. Allard. "

"If I tell you to be still and not move, how long can you do it?" I ask him as we play.

"I can do it for a while," he answers. "Sometimes I sit quietly in the street and wait, without moving even a bit."

"Without moving at all?"

"Can I tell you something, Mr. Allard? But promise you won't tell anyone," Luc stops the ball with his foot.

"I promise," I come closer to him.

"Sometimes I make a deal with God," he looks at me with an embarrassed look. "For example, if I manage to hold my breath and not move for a really long time, then my father will come back. Or there was that time, a long time ago, when Mom was able to bring me two pieces of chocolate, and I decided that if I won't eat them for a week, then my father would come back. And I wanted the chocolate so badly, but I managed to hold back," he smiles at me.

"I promise, your dad will be back," I caress his hair. "Goodbye, Luc, say hello to your mom for me," I walk to the building's entrance. My mom must already be waiting for me with dinner.

"Shall we play tomorrow too?"

"We'll play tomorrow," I reply, knowing that tomorrow may be different.

"You're different," Mom says to me later, when we're sitting together and eating dinner. "You're quiet today."

"I'm always quiet," I answer.

"But today, you're a different kind of quiet," she watches me while eating .

"The news about the war bothers me," I say the first thing that comes to mind. I need to think of a plan and don't know what to do. Am I even capable of doing such a thing?

"I gave birth to you. I'm your mother. I know you. You're not bothered by the German army's war in Russia," she stops eating and looks at me.

"I have to go to somewhere after dinner," I say. She mustn't know anything of what I might do.

"Where are you going in the dark? It's late, and there's a curfew."

"I'm going; I'm a policeman, I can go."

"You shouldn't talk to me like that. I'm your mother."

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's better that you don't know where I'm going."

"Is it to that woman?"

"No, Mother, it's not to that woman. I'm not going to any woman," I answer and recall that woman, even though there was nothing between us.

"So, where are you going?"

"I have to sort something out," I don't want to tell her I'm going to the priest. It's better she doesn't know.

"Can't it wait for tomorrow? You didn't use to hide things from me."

"Trust me, it's okay. You don't have to worry."

"I just don't want you walking in the dark. It's not safe out there with the Germans."

"I'll be fine," I reply, trying to sound reassuring.

"I hope this woman's worth it," she quietly says as she resumes eating.

"It's not a woman," I say and bite my food. I still remember the touch of her wet skin that night she asked me to help her. I still remember her warmth at the tip of my fingers when she took my hand and placed it on her breasts. Why did she choose me?

"Bye, Mom," I say to her later, as I stand by the door and put on my coat.

"Beware of the Nazis," she hugs me.

"I won't be back late, don't worry," I hug her.

"You're a good man, Mathéo. I know Dad would've been proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, wondering if, in some secret motherly way, she knows where I'm going and why.

On the way to the priest's house, I stop at the building entrance of Mrs. Colette, Luc's mother, and put half a German army chocolate bar into their mailbox. Sometimes, the Germans give us some of the army rations they receive. I need the other half of the chocolate bar.

Then, when on the street, I stop for a few minutes, take out a box of cigarettes, and light a cigarette for myself. The taste of smoke chokes my breath and burns my throat. I cough, and I feel dizzy, but I don't stop.

After I finish it, I light another one. I need to get used to it. I need to be ready. I couldn't think of a better plan. It has to be tomorrow. There won't be another chance.

"Mathéo, come in, don't stand outside," Father Nicholas opens the door of his house and leads me inside. I follow him and look around. I've never been here; I've only seen him in church. His apartment is simple, similar to ours. The cloak he wears during sermons is hanging on a hanger by the door, and there's a large bookcase in the guest room, it's full of black and brown religious manuscripts.

"Good evening, Father," I say. "I apologize for bothering you with this."

"Is everything okay? We agreed that you would come to the sermon on Sunday," he stares at me. It's strange for me to see him without the cloak he wears at church. Now he wears simple, black pants and a plain button-down shirt, and only a chain with a silver cross hanging around his neck, as if to remind himself that even at home, he's still a man of God.

"I apologize, Father, but it has to be tomorrow."

"What has to be tomorrow?"

"The girl."

"Is she in danger?"

"Yes, it has to be tomorrow. Can you help me?" I can't explain to him what Sergeant Pascal said, but it doesn't matter.

"I don't know if they're ready. I don't have answers yet," he sighed. "But God will help you," he looks at me, "and I'm God's messenger. We'll do everything we can and pray."

"Thank you, Father," I say, realizing that I've decided what I should do at this moment. I feel my entire body tensing up, yet his presence relaxes me.

"Do you have a plan? "

"Partly, Father, I'll get her out of the camp hidden in a burlap sack. I have to pass the German checkpoint on the way to Paris. I think I can do it, and I'll bring her to you, Father."

"Don't bring her here. It's more dangerous here. Bring her to the church," he tells me. "I'll wait for her in the church, there are places to hide her there, and there's a chance they won't dare enter."

"And what will happen to her after that?"

"I'll hand her over to someone who'll take her out of Paris, to a monastery, where they won't look for her; but she'll have to have a new identity - as a Christian girl. You'll have to prepare her for that," he looks at me. "She doesn't know me, and she'll have to trust me. Otherwise, she'll put us all in danger; you, me, and herself."

"I'll take care of it," I reply. I'll have to think about it through the night. I have so many more details to figure out.

"Do you know her from before? Will she trust you?"

"No, Father, I met her in the camp," I answer, recalling the moment she asked me if I was a good hunter. Am I a good hunter?

"I trust you," he keeps scanning me with his blue eyes.

"Thank you, Father. I should go home, it's already late. Mother is worried about me," I say goodbye to him and head for the door.

"Mathéo," he calls out to me as I'm standing outside the open door.

"Yes, Father?" I turn to him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He looks at me. "It's dangerous. You're putting yourself at risk in order to save a Jewish girl you don't know. Are you sure you want to do this? "

"I know, Father," I say. "It's true, I don't really know her. But I'm not risking myself for a Jewish girl I don't know. I know the look in her eyes, and I remember the look in her mother's eyes. I'm doing it to help someone in this horrible war. I'm risking myself so I know that I did something, as small as it may be. I'm doing it for myself, so I know that I choose to be on the right side. I'm risking myself so that I can sleep at night without their looks haunting me for the rest of my life, knowing I could've done something."

"Your father would be proud of you, Mathéo, I know that. He would have been proud to meet the man you've become. Godspeed tomorrow," he places his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you, Father," I turn my face away from him, I don't want him to see the anticipation and tension on my face. "I'll see you tomorrow evening at church. I'll bring the girl with me."

"Mathéo, do you have the pick-up truck today? Fernard told me you switched with him," Sergeant Pascal asks me at the end of the day, as I prepare to leave the barracks. The time has come. Clouds are covering the sky, and it's getting dark outside.

"Yes, Fernard will take the car tomorrow," I reply and try to speak calmly. I'm very tense.

"Take me with you to the city. I have something to deliver there," he smiles at me .

"No problem," I answer. "Me too," I smile back at him and try to hide my nervousness. I knew it could happen, that he'd want to join, but I have no choice. I have to take the risk. There's no other solution.

"I knew you were one of ours, that you know how to take care of yourself and not just work as a guard here," he pats my shoulder. "Have you finished your shift for today?"

"In a little while, I'll call you before I leave for town," I open the barracks door.

"Don't forget," he sits on the wooden bench inside the barracks and lights himself a cigarette.

I rush out and into the compound. I need to find her and take her with me. Fortunately, it's starting to rain. This increases the chance that I'll be able to pass the Nazi checkpoint on the way to Paris.

"Patrol," I say to the guard at the gate and go inside. The empty burlap sack is tucked under my shirt; I feel the rough fabric against my skin. The guard watches me for a moment then silently opens the gate. He's one of the new ones, which is also good; he won't ask any questions.

"Rebecca," I walk into the empty classroom and call her name, seeing her peering out of her hiding place.

"The good hunter with the glasses," she smiles at me. "What did you bring me?"

"Rebecca," I approach her and try to say the right words, so as not to scare her. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she nods. "You're a good hunter."

"True," I say. "But there's a problem."

"What's the problem? "

"A lot of bad new hunters have arrived at the camp," I see how she coils a little. Her hand tightly grips the pencil she's holding. "We need to escape from the camp, so they don't catch you," I continue as I take out the burlap sack that I've hidden under my shirt. "We'll hide you in the sack, and that's how we'll escape the bad hunters."

"Like Mommy wanted me to do with Mr. Chambu?" She asks and nods.

"Yes," I reply, even though I don't understand what she's talking about.

"And you'll hide me and take me to Mrs. Angelina, even though I lost the note?"

"No, I won't take you to Mrs. Angelina. I'll take you somewhere else."

"And Mommy will be there?"

"Mommy will come and visit in a while, but only if you wait for her silently and hide without moving. Will you be able to hide without moving?"

"Yes," she answers. "I won't move at all."

"And if you hide and don't move, and be really quiet, I'll give you a surprise," I take the half package of chocolate out of my uniform pocket and show it to her.

"I promise."

"Great, but one more thing, you can't go by Rebecca from now on."

"Why?"

"Because the bad hunters are looking for Rebecca, and we want to confuse them."

"So, what's my name?" She looks at me with sad eyes.

"What's your name? "

"Yes," she looks at me, and it seems as if she's about to start crying. What women's name do I know? I'm trying to think.

"Your name is Sophie. From now on, your name is Sophie," I tell her the first name I can think of.

"That's an ugly name."

"That's your name from now on. What's your name?" I ask her. I have to hurry. This is taking too long.

"Sophie."

"Good, and if you hear the name Rebecca, you mustn't answer."

"Okay."

"Rebecca," I call her. I have to check on her.

"What?"

"You mustn't answer me, only if I call you Sophie," I raise my hand and slap her.

The look of interest in her eyes turns to shock, and she pulls back in panic, trying to steady herself and struggling not to cry. I feel a terrible lump in my throat, but I had to do it.

"What's your name?" I once again ask her.

"Sophie."

"Is your name Rebecca?"

"No," she shakes her head and looks fearfully at my hand.

"Rebecca, take it," I take out half the chocolate bar, break off a piece and hand it to her.

"My name is Sophie," she says in a shaky voice and doesn't extend her hand.

"Sophie, are you Jewish?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"What's your mother's name?"

"Mommy. "

"Sophie, take it."

"Thanks," she reaches out and shoves the piece into her mouth, but she doesn't smile at me. How will I explain to her that I did it for her sake?

"Now you need to get into the sack, and I'll take you," I tell her. "But first, we need to take the yellow badge off your dress," I pull a penknife out of my pants pocket and kneel down in front of her.

"It's forbidden," she says to me, her eyes looking at the knife I'm holding in my hand in fear. Does she still trust me?

"Sophie, you have to trust me. I won't hurt you. I'll just cut the yellow badge off."

"It's forbidden. It's the Star of Life and Death. It mustn't be taken off. Mommy doesn't allow it," she keeps looking at me.

"You must, or the bad hunters will find you." Does she still think I'm a good hunter?

"Will you hit me if I take it off?"

"No, I won't beat you if you take it off. No one will beat you anymore." I tell her and am ashamed of what I did.

"And if you take it off, can I keep it in my pocket?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Okay," she says, and I carefully unravel the yellow badge from her dress. When I finish, I place the yellow badge in her hand and stand up. Without it, she looks like an ordinary, thin, wild, and dirty girl.

"Now, get into the sack," I open the burlap sack. "We have to hurry. Soon, the bad hunters will come looking for you."

"Hang on," she tells me. She runs behind her hiding place, brings her shaggy teddy bear, and stands before me .

"Remember, don't move, don't talk, and don't try to get out of the sack until I open it," I tell her as she sits inside the big sack, and I close over her. Then, I tie it, lift her on my shoulders, and start walking toward the gate. I can't take it back from now on. None of us can afford to make a mistake - neither I nor her.

"What's in the sack?" The guard at the camp gate asks me as I leave with the sack on my shoulders. The rain continues to fall, and it's already dark outside. Everything will be fine as long as he doesn't shine his flashlight on the sack.

"Jewish goods they don't need," I answer.

"They keep robbing the world, even from here." he opens the gate for me and hurries back to the guard post that shelters him from the rain.

I walk with her on my shoulders, in the mud, surprised at how light she is. I've passed the first barrier. Now, we need to successfully pass the trip to Paris with Sergeant Pascal and the German checkpoint.

"Sophie, I'm putting you in a car, don't move," I whisper to her as I place her in the trunk, next to the sack of potatoes Sergeant Pascal has already placed there.

"Good," she whispers back to me.

In the dark, I make sure the sack rests firmly on the metal floor. I have nothing to put under it that would make her comfortable. She'll have to survive the trip. I close the trunk tarp cover and go to the barracks to call Sergeant Pascal .

"Why did you take so long?" He asks me.

"I picked only the best Jewish items," I answer and smile, but inside I feel the tension rise. "Let's go. Our warm homes are waiting for us in Paris."

We step into the car and start driving, passing the houses in Drancy, and getting on the road leading to Paris. Fortunately, the rain doesn't stop falling, although it's making me drive slower. Shortly before the German checkpoint I light myself a cigarette. I need to have a pack of cigarettes ready in my uniform pocket for the German soldier at the checkpoint.

"What happened that made you start smoking?" Sergeant Pascal asks me and lights himself one.

"If the Germans give us gifts, we should enjoy them," I reply.

"We should definitely enjoy what this war has to offer us, especially the Jewish women who are willing to give themselves to us in exchange for the Nazis' cigarettes," I hear him laugh. His cigarette looks like a firefly in the dark, momentarily lighting up as he inhales. I look away from his cigarette and concentrate on the dark road. The car's wartime headlights mask only allow for two narrow light strips to illuminate the road. The cigarette I smoke makes me nauseous, as well as his statement about the Jewish women. I mustn't think about what he said. I have to focus. We'll arrive at the German checkpoint at the next turn.

"Let me do the talking, if we have to," Pascal says, exhaling smoke as the road curves. I can barely make out the German barrier in the dark and rain. I slow down the vehicle and stop in front of it. A soldier holding a flashlight runs out of the guard post, approaches us, and shines it on us, blinding us for a moment. He then immediately moves away and lifts the barrier, signaling us to pass without asking us as to the purpose of our drive. Either he already knows us, or he doesn't want to get wet in the pouring rain, like all soldiers around the world.

"That was easy," Sergeant Pascal says, and I remain silent. I've also passed the second barrier. So far, everything is going to plan. But I can't smile yet. I'm too tense, so I open the car window momentarily and throw out the cigarette I'm holding. I don't need it anymore. Now, all I have to do is bring Sergeant Pascal home.

The city is dark, and I move slowly through the deserted streets. A few more minutes, and it'll all be over.

I park the car next to his house and hurry out to open the trunk in the rain. He mustn't accidentally touch the bag Rebecca is hiding in and find out.

"All is well?" he asks me as I pull the sack of potatoes from the back and hand it to him. What should I answer? I need to think of an answer fast.

"I chose the heavier sack for you. After all, you're the Sergeant, and I'm not," I reply.

"You should know that I'm very pleased with you. I recommended you for a promotion," he says. "We'll talk about it in the next few days."

"Thank you. Good night. Don't stay out in the rain," I tell him as he turns.

"Good night. See you tomorrow," I still hear him as he walks to the building with the sack on his shoulder. I rush to the car and start it. Now, all I have to do is get to the church without encountering any sudden German patrol on the street. It's not curfew yet .

I drive slowly on the wet streets, to avoid slipping, staying away from the main avenue, and prefer the side streets. Just a few more minutes and all this will be behind me.

In the distance, I notice a German patrol, but I turn into one of the alleys, and they don't signal me to stop. Shortly before the church, I stop and turn off the engine. I remain seated in the quiet car for a few minutes and look at the street in front of the church. The street is quiet, and I can only hear the rain hitting the tin roof and the trunk's tarp. There's no one waiting for me there.

I try to start the engine again, but it won't start. Is it possible that it got wet from the rain? I curse silently and repeatedly flick the starter. The engine screeches and wails but finally starts. I sigh in relief, drive the short distance, and park next to the church door.

"Rebecca," I open the tarp cover and whisper in the dark.

"My name is Sophie," she answers from the sack, and I smile. Carefully, I untie the rope tying the sack.

"Let's go, Sophie, get out. We've arrived," I whisper, and she gets out of the bag and stands in front of me.

I help her out of the trunk and give her a hand as we rush to the church, my other hand holding the empty burlap sack so as not to leave any traces. The heavy church door is closed, and I forcefully pull it open.

The hall inside is dark. Only a few candles are lit in front of the altar. I walk with Sophie in the aisle between the dark pews and hold her hand. Only the sound of our steps is heard.

"You have arrived," Father Nicholas emerges from a side room .

"Sophie, this is Father Nicholas. Go to him and do what he tells you," I bend down on my knees and tell her.

But she stands there, looking at me, holding on to her rag bear.

"It's okay. You can go with him. He's a good hunter," I say and smile at her, although I'm not sure if she can see my smile in the dark.

"You promised," she tells me.

"What did I promise?"

"The chocolate. I was quiet the whole time."

"Right, I forgot," I take the half bar of chocolate out of my uniform pocket and give it to her.

She holds it and turns, walks over to Father Nicholas. He puts his hand on her shoulder, and they disappear into the side room, leaving me standing on my knees in the passage. She didn't say goodbye to me.

"Goodbye, Sophie," I whisper and cross myself, looking up at the Virgin statue above me. I managed to get her out of the camp. She'll be fine.

The following day at the camp, I hand over the car to Fernard. He needs to get goods from Le Bourget airport and later from the police headquarters in Paris.

Towards noon, I go up to guard in tower number two. My eyes examine the people inside the camp, and I try not to think about Sophie.

But when I finish my shift and approach the barracks, I see all the policemen standing in attention, in a straight line, before Captain Becker.

The Nazi officer watches Fernard, who's standing one step ahead of all the others. German soldiers holding submachine guns are standing on both sides of the captain, and on the ground, at his black boots, lies a yellow badge.