Your father and I are fine. We’ve received your letters and gather that ours aren’t making it to you. We are trying again, in hopes that one of our messages will get through. We’re overjoyed to hear that you are having a baby, and we implore you again to consider coming home—if not for your own safety, then for your child’s. We’ve spoken with our congressman’s office, and they might be able to arrange safe passage for you. The news reports from Europe are terrifying, sweetheart. I’m sure Marcel would not only understand, but would agree that this decision is for the best. Perhaps he can even come with you! Please keep writing, and we will do the same. We know we will see you—and our grandchild—very soon. Your father sends his love.
Ruby folded the note carefully and slipped it back into the envelope, marveling that it had reached her at all. She didn’t realize until her address smeared that she was crying. Her parents were expecting her to come home—and to bring her baby with her. Receiving this letter now, months after it had been sent, was like a window to a past that she could never get back. There was no baby anymore, no chance for escape. Getting out of Paris would take an act of God, and Ruby had begun to wonder if He, like the French government, had deserted the city.
Ruby dutifully wrote back, telling her mother about the loss of the baby. She sobbed as she wrote, once again seeing her son’s tiny, silent body, feeling the chill of him deep in her heart. She knew she wouldn’t be returning to the States, not while the war still raged, and she told her mother this. Each time she thought of boarding a ship back to America, she thought of the Dachers, and especially Charlotte. Abandoning them now, when they’d been there for her in her greatest hour of need, felt unthinkable.
Ruby posted the letter and spent the rest of the day wandering the city with no real purpose in mind. It was self-destructive, she knew. If a Nazi soldier questioned her, she wouldn’t be able to explain where she was going, for the truth was, she was going nowhere. She should have been one of the mothers pushing a pram occupied by a cooing infant. Instead, she was alone and as empty as she’d ever been in her life.
Paris was still Paris, with the lovely flowers of summer and the fresh, sun-drenched air. But the city was a shadow of its former self, and the blossoms and scents that had once been a comfort seemed merely like window dressing. Ruby, too, had become a shadow of the person she used to be. How had she ever giggled with her friends in a dormitory room, swooned over Clark Gable on the big screen, agonized about which dress she’d wear to a party? Now, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed; she hadn’t seen a movie in years; she wouldn’t know how to behave at a social event if she somehow found herself at one.
“You seem very sad,” Charlotte said that evening when she appeared at Ruby’s door to invite her over for coffee. One of her father’s former customers had managed to get his hands on some real coffee beans, an incredible treat.
“Oh, I’m all right,” Ruby reassured her. “But you’re very kind to worry, Charlotte.”
“You know,” the girl said after a moment, “things are never quite as dark as they seem.”
Ruby smiled. “Is that right?”
Charlotte nodded confidently. “You see, when you look back on things later in life, it’s sometimes easier to see the purpose. So perhaps for now, it’s best to try your hardest to focus on what lies ahead. The future is still something that can be changed, isn’t it?”
“It seems to me that that’s very good advice,” Ruby said, her eyes damp. “Thank you.”
Charlotte looked pleased. “So you will come for coffee? There’s something my parents would like to discuss with you.”
Curious, Ruby followed Charlotte next door to their corner apartment, where she found Madame and Monsieur Dacher at their table, a beautiful silver coffeepot and three ornate china cups before them. “We had hoped you would join us,” Madame Dacher said, rising to kiss Ruby on both cheeks. “We wanted to share this with you.”
“How very kind.” As Ruby sat down, Monsieur Dacher began to pour. The heavenly aroma of coffee, so familiar yet so foreign these days, seemed to wrap the room in warmth.
Madame Dacher emerged from the kitchen a moment later with chocolates and a small bowl of sugar. “Charlotte, dear, go get ready for bed.”
“But I’d like some coffee too! And I’d like to visit with Madame Benoit.”
“We need to have a grown-up conversation,” Madame Dacher said firmly. “Please, my dear. You can visit with her tomorrow.”
“I’m not a child anymore, you know.” But Charlotte said a terse good night to Ruby and her parents and headed toward the back of the apartment.
“There is a favor we would like to ask you,” Monsieur Dacher said after all three of them had taken a first sip of coffee and delighted in how wonderful it tasted.
“Yes, anything.”
“After this summer, we think that perhaps Charlotte will not return to school. There are—” Monsieur Dacher paused and began again. “There are circumstances that make it difficult now.”
“I’m very sorry,” Ruby said. The words were woefully inadequate.
“We are sorry too.” Madame Dacher took over, glancing at her husband. “This is not the France we knew.”
Ruby nodded, and the three of them shared a moment of silent understanding before Madame Dacher went on. “I will take over her schooling here at home. But we would like for her to learn English, and we were wondering whether we might impose upon you to help.”
“Of course!” Ruby responded immediately. Not only did she owe the Dachers a debt, but she would actually enjoy the opportunity to spend more time with the girl.
“We feel that it will be an important language for her to know in the future,” Madame Dacher continued.
“Britain will help us win this war,” Monsieur Dacher added. “And we would like to know that Charlotte’s future might include working with them.”
“Also,” Madame Dacher said, locking eyes with her husband, “we do not know what this war will bring for Jews. There are terrible rumors of things happening in the east.”
The Dachers exchanged looks. “As you may know, Sarah is from Poland,” Monsieur Dacher said. “She came to France as a small child with her parents, but she still has many family members who, until recently, were living near Krakow. We do not know what has become of them. As for me, my father is French, but my mother is from Poland too, and in fact, I was born there when she was on a journey to visit her parents.”
“I assumed you were both born in France.”
Monsieur Dacher shook his head. “Some of the reports from Poland in the last months . . .” He trailed off.
“The Germans are sending Jews to work camps,” Madame Dacher said bluntly, her gaze far away. “And there are rumors that some of them are dying.”
“But you see, it’s impossible to know the truth, because things are often greatly exaggerated,” Monsieur Dacher said quickly. “In any case, we feel strongly that such a thing would never happen here. The French will not turn on their own. We must endure the restrictions that have been placed upon us, but we will survive this.”
“Still, we feel that Charlotte knowing English will give her an advantage, whatever the future should bring,” Madame Dacher said. When she looked up, Ruby could see in her eyes that she didn’t share her husband’s optimism.
The coffee on the table between them was going cold, but Ruby was no longer thinking of what a rare treat it was. What must it be like to fear for your child’s future this way? She had been powerless to protect her own child, but she could be there for Charlotte if it came to that. And that was something.
There were a thousand things Ruby wanted to say, a hundred promises she wanted to make. But the Dachers were proud, and Ruby knew they weren’t looking for platitudes. They were looking for hope. “It would be my pleasure to help Charlotte learn English,” she said. “When shall we begin?”