The Orphan's Tale

  17

  Noa

  Starting away from Astrid toward the train, I smile. I had known about the wedding. Peter had confided in me just a few hours earlier and I conspired with him to surprise Astrid. I’d fretted that she might mind—Astrid was not one for surprises—but now I am glad to have been part of the plan.

  Peter and Astrid are together now, and about to become a family. She seems happy, really happy, for the first time since I’ve known her. I’m happy for her, but I can’t help but wonder if things will change, whether Astrid will stay with Peter every night and become somehow less mine.

  I am suddenly lonely. Luc appears in my mind. I haven’t seen him since the night Theo had fallen ill a week earlier. I hadn’t been able to meet him the next night after the show as he asked—Theo, though better, had still been weak and I had not wanted to risk leaving him. So I’d left Luc a note in the belly box: Brother sick. Can’t come tonight. My note had disappeared so I had known he read it. Or so I hoped—what if someone else had found it? Even though I’d been vague on purpose, there would still be questions. For days there had been no response and I’d wondered if Luc could have lost interest so soon after our kiss, or had simply given up.

  I walk to the belly box now, scarcely daring to hope. Inside is a scrap of a page from a circus program, so crumpled that I wonder if someone had mistaken the compartment for a trash bin. I smooth out the paper. A message is written on the back in blurry charcoal: Tried to come see you. Liked watching you dance. Meet me at the town museum.

  Luc had been here tonight and had seen me dancing. I flush, excited and embarrassed at the same time. How had I not known? Worry nags at me then. The wedding was meant to be a secret. He should not have been here. But some part of me is sure that I could trust him.

  I study the note once more. Meet me at the museum. I know the building he means. But the old museum, which stands right in the center of town, is such an odd meeting place. And it is well past curfew. I can’t possibly go there.

  I had promised Astrid, too, that I would not see Luc again. I turn back now, searching for her, but she has disappeared into the gathering. Astrid will be with Peter tonight; surely she will not notice if I am gone. Still, the smart thing to do would be to stay at the wedding party until it is over and then go back to Theo. But we will be leaving soon and I might never see Luc again.

  I look in the direction of the train, needing to go check on Theo before I go anywhere. Inside the sleeper carriage, Theo lies awake on the berth, as if waiting for me. I pick him up and hold him to me, inhaling his warm, sleepy smell. I’ve been constantly worried since he became ill, as if reminded how very fragile he is, how he might be lost in an instant.

  Elsie stands from the adjacent berth, where she had been knitting. “Oh, good, you’re back,” she says. “Still time for me to join a bit of the party before it ends.”

  “I’m not back, that is...” I search for an explanation why I need her to watch Theo longer. But before I can finish, she skips from the train.

  I think about calling after her, then decide against it. “Just you and me,” I say to Theo, who gurgles his approval. I look from Theo to the door of the train and back again, wondering what to do. Do I dare bring him with me?

  I step out into the chilled night air, then stop. It is irresponsible to take Theo out like this. But if I want to see Luc, there’s no other choice. I wrap him inside my coat.

  I start away from the train, ducking low and clinging to the edge of the circus grounds so as not to be seen as I hurry for the cover of the trees. Once sheltered by the forest, I start in the direction of the village, finding my way slowly through the woods so as not to trip on one of the many tree roots and rocks that jut out from the hard, uneven earth. The path is the same one that Astrid had shown me the first day I had gone into Thiers, but it is eerie now, dark shadows seeming to loom between the trees. This time it is just Theo and me, alone in the woods as we had been the night we were found by the circus. I shiver, the fear and despair of that moment falling over me once more. Dried branches crackle beneath my feet, seeming to give us away. My skin prickles, as though someone might leap out of the bushes at any moment.

  I reach the edge of the forest and start for the footbridge. Then I stop, looking down at Theo, who gazes back at me with trusting eyes, counting on me to do what is best for him. This is so selfish of me, I think, my guilt rising. How can I risk his safety for this?

  As I near town, the streets are deserted after curfew, lights are blackened out. I tuck Theo further beneath my coat. He squirms on my hip, no longer the newborn content to lie in my arms. I pray he will not cry out.

  I do not take the main thoroughfare as I had when I came to town the day I met Luc; instead, I follow the side streets that run parallel to it, clinging to the shadows of the crumbling stone wall that runs along a climbing path.

  The museum sits on the northern edge of the town center. It is a small castle that was converted to show the town’s history, now shuttered for good. The road leading to the gate is exposed, bathed in moonlight.

  I stop uncertainly, my skin prickling. Meeting in the middle of town like this is foolish, I think, seeing Astrid glaring at me with disapproval in my mind. A heavy chain is wrapped around the gate of the museum, locking it. I step back angrily. Is this some kind of joke?

  “Noa,” Luc calls through the darkness, signaling me around the side of the museum to a door. Inside, the cavernous main gallery is damp and musty. In the moonlight I can see that the once-grand hall has been pillaged. A torn painting hangs off the wall and pieces of armor lie broken on the ground. Behind shattered glass displays, exhibits are empty, their valuables taken by the Germans or looters. Something, a bird or bat perhaps, flutters in the darkness beneath the high ceiling.

  “You came,” Luc says, as though he had not expected me to go through with it. He puts his arms around me and I deeply inhale his scent, a mix of pine and soap, burying my nose against his neck. Though it is only the second time he held me, his embrace feels like home.

  His lips near mine and I close my eyes with anticipation. But Theo squirms between us and I pull back. “Is this safe?” I ask as he leads me into a small anteroom to one side. There he lights a candle, which flickers, illuminating our long shadows on the wall. There is a scratching sound as something scurries from the corner, seeking darkness.

  “No one comes here,” Luc says. “It used to be the pride of the town. Not so much to be proud of anymore.” He looks down. “Is this your brother?” he asks, and I nod.

  “There was no one to mind him.” I hear the apology in my voice. I search Luc’s face for a sign of annoyance, but there is none.

  “Is he better now?” Luc asks with genuine concern.

  “He’s fine. But it was a high fever, terribly scary. That’s why I couldn’t meet you last Sunday,” I add.

  Luc nods solemnly. “I would have tried to see you sooner, but I knew it would be impossible until he was well.” He reaches into his coat. “Here, I brought this.” In his smooth open palm lies a cube of sugar. Real sugar. I fight the urge to grab it and shove it in my mouth. Instead I touch it to my tongue, shivering at the taste I’d almost forgotten. Then I lower it to Theo’s lips. He gurgles and smiles at the unfamiliar sweetness.

  “Thank you,” I say. “I haven’t tasted real sugar since...” I falter, remembering how my father had squirreled some away for my birthday nearly a year earlier. “Since before the war,” I finish lamely.

  “I told Papa that from now on, I would only live off the ration coupons like everyone else,” he says. “I don’t feel right having more than others.”

  “Luc...” I am not sure what to say. He reaches out his hand to stroke the smoothness of Theo’s palm. “Do you want to hold him?” I ask.

  “Really? I’ve never...” I pass Theo to Luc and the baby coos, falli
ng naturally into his large arms. Luc lowers himself to the floor slowly, still cradling Theo. Theo’s eyes begin to grow heavy and then close.

  Luc takes off his jacket and makes a soft bed of it for Theo, setting him down gently. Then he reaches for me, drawing me into his arms. “You found your way here with no trouble?” He kisses me, not waiting for an answer. I press closer to him, wanting more. I let his hands wander farther, and for a moment I am not broken and shamed, nor a circus freak. I am just a girl again.

  But as his fingers graze my hips, I stop him. “The baby...”

  “He’s falling asleep.”

  I burrow closer in Luc’s arms. “We’re going,” I say sadly.

  “I know. I promised to come see you in the next village, remember?”

  “Not there,” I reply. “We’re going back to Germany, or at least somewhere close to it.”

  His body stiffens and his frown grows deeper. “But that’s so dangerous.”

  “I know. There isn’t a choice.”

  “I’ll find you there, too,” he says earnestly.

  “You could hardly come more than once.”

  “Every week,” he counters. “More if you want.”

  “But it’s really far,” I protest.

  “So?” he asks. “Don’t you think I can manage it?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that...” I look down. “Why would you want to? I mean it’s so much trouble.”

  “Because I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you again,” he blurts. When I lift my head, his cheeks are red, as though the air has suddenly grown warm. There’s a look of fondness in his eyes. How can someone who has known me such a short time feel so much affection, when those who had loved me my whole life seemed to have none?

  “I want to show you something.” He stands and leads me to a small door at the back of the gallery. I look back to where Theo lies, still sleeping. Surely Luc does not mean for me to leave him alone.

  “What is it?” I ask, my curiosity growing as Luc opens the closet. He pulls out a painting, the oils so fresh the smell tickles my nose. It is a picture of an aerialist, I realize, midswing on the trapeze. How had he come to have it? I study her form, the familiar arc of her body on the sweep. Her hair is light and worn in a high knot like mine. Then, taking in the familiar red costume, I gasp.

  It is a portrait of me.

  No, not exactly me. A more beautiful version, body graceful, features flawless. Luc had painted me as he sees me, the image adoring.

  “Oh, Luc!” I say with amazement. I understand now the way he takes me in with an artist’s eye, looking intently, studying detail. “It’s stunning. You have real talent.” He has captured me perfectly, from the texture of my costume to the slight look of fear in my eyes that I never quite manage to hide.

  “You think so?” His face is doubtful, but a note of pride creeps into his voice.

  “Absolutely marvelous,” I reply, meaning it. I try to imagine the hours and care it had taken him. “Why did you give up on studying art?”

  His face clouds. “I wanted to be an artist. I used to paint in the loft of our barn, you know. But my father found what I was doing and he destroyed my work, forbade me from doing more. I begged him to let me become an art teacher at least, but he would hear none of it.” Luc’s eyes flicker as he relives the memory. He continues, “I painted in secret until he found out.” Luc held up his right hand with its twisted index finger. “He made sure I could never be a real artist.”

  I recoil in horror, not at Luc’s disfigurement, but at the cruelty inflicted by a father on his own child. “Not enough to stop me from being useful. Just from being good at the really intricate details,” he adds.

  I take his hand and kiss his finger, my heart weeping. None of us, it seems, not even Luc, is free from darkness and pain. “How can you stay with him?” I demand. “He’s a monster!”

  Luke’s eyes widen and I wonder if he will be angry with me. “He was doing what he thought was right,” he replies.

  We sit silently, neither speaking. Luc has trusted me with his awful secret. I should tell him, right now, about my own past. But then I hear Astrid’s voice: never assume that you know the mind of another. Looking into Luc’s clear blue eyes, I know he will not understand the choices I have made and the experiences that have brought me to make them.

  Instead, I reach for him, cupping his face in my palms and turning it to me. I kiss him over and over again, not stopping, heedless of where we are and the fact that Theo is just feet away. Luc’s arms are around me, hands on my waist and hips. For a second, I want to pull away. My stomach has never quite returned to what it was before childbirth. My breasts droop slightly from the milk I had carried.

  But then I wrap my arms around him and let myself be swept away. Luc’s hands reach under my skirt. I start to protest. We cannot possibly do this here. He lays me back gently, placing one hand under my head to protect it from the hardness of the stone floor. The German soldier, the only other man I have been with in this way, appears in my mind. I tense.

  Luc cups my chin in his hand then, gently bringing my gaze to his. “I love you, Noa,” he says.

  “I love you, too.” The words come out in a breathless rush. My passion grows, pushing the memories away.

  When it is over, we lie in a heap of half-strewn clothes on the hard stone floor, our legs tangled together. “That was wonderful!” I declare, too loudly. My voice echoes through the rafters of the museum, sending an unseen pigeon fluttering. We both laugh softly.

  He gathers me up in his arms, drawing me closer. “I’m so glad we shared our first time together,” he says, presuming that I am as innocent as he.

  “I’m sorry,” he says a minute later, taking my silence for regret. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation.”

  “You didn’t,” I reassure him. “I wanted it, too.”

  “If we had a settled future together...” he frets.

  “Or even a bed,” I joke.

  But his face remains somber. “Things should be different. This damn war,” he swears. If not for this damn war, I think, we never would have met. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

  I embrace him tightly. “Don’t be. I’m not.” Theo wakes then, his cry cutting through the stillness. I pull away to button my blouse. Luc stands and helps me up. I smooth my skirt as we go to Theo. Luc picks him up, more confident this time. He gazes at Theo fondly. We sink to the ground once more and the three of us huddle together in the darkness, a kind of makeshift family, listening to the sounds of the night museum, the scratching of mice and blowing of the wind outside.

  “Come with me,” Luc says. “Away from here. I’ll get a car and drive us to the border.”

  Us. Though Luc had spoken before about going away together, the suggestion seems more serious now, the possibility real. I try to imagine it, leaving the circus and starting a life with Luc. The idea is as terrifying as it is magnificent.

  “I can’t,” I say, wanting desperately to run away with him but knowing the risks and the reality. Where would we go? And what about Astrid, and the circus and a thousand other things I cannot explain to him?

  “Is it about Theo? We could take him with us, raise him as ours. He would never know differently.” Luc’s voice is hopeful, and I am touched that he wants to take responsibility for Theo.

  I shake my head firmly. “There’s so much more to it than that. Astrid and the circus... I owe them my life.”

  “Surely she would understand. She would want you to go...” he tries again. “Noa, I want to take you and Theo away from here, to a place where you will be safe.” He wants to take care of me. How I wish I was the girl I used to be. She might have let him. But I’ve come too far. I don’t know how to do that anymore.

  But I raise my finger to his lips. “Let’s not
talk about it anymore.”

  Theo begins to fuss again, tired and cold and confused by the unfamiliar surroundings.

  “We have to go,” I say reluctantly, not wanting to end this perfect moment but worried that someone might hear the noise and find us. Luc stands and passes Theo to me, tucking the jacket a bit closer around him.

  It is late when we start back, well after curfew. The village is dark and the woods are still. Luc follows me silently as we near the fairgrounds. The music has stopped and I wonder if I have been gone so long that it has ended and everyone is asleep. But the torches still burn in the grove. In their glow, I see Astrid, standing on the edge of the clearing. I can tell from the way that she is standing, arms crossed, that she is angry.

  Dread tightens my stomach to a knot. Astrid knows that I went, I think. That I broke my promise to her not to see Luc again.

  “Astrid,” I start forward around the corner of the train. “Let me explain.”

  Then I freeze.

  The circus folk are still gathered in the grove where the wedding celebration had taken place. They no longer dance, though, but stand motionless, like figures in a tableau.

  Taking another step forward, I understand why. In the center of the grove where the wedding ceremony had taken place just hours earlier are a half-dozen gendarmes.

  And their guns are pointed at Peter.

  18

  Astrid

  I stand frozen as the police move toward Peter, guns raised. Surely this cannot be real. A prank someone is playing on our wedding night. But no one is laughing. The faces around me are twisted with shock and terror.

  A minute and an eternity earlier Peter was gazing down at me, face aglow, contemplating our future together. Then a shadow passed over his eyes and the reflection of French police filled the space behind the other circus performers.

  The police had come in great numbers, foreclosing any chance of resistance or escape. Their faces are familiar from the village. Once they might have tipped their hats in greeting, or at least nodded on the street. Now they stand before him wearing ominous expressions, jackbooted feet spread wide. “Peter Moskowicz...” one of the policemen, presumably the captain, says in a low, terse voice. He looks a bit older than the others, with a graying mustache and pins adorning the front of his uniform. “You’re under arrest.”