Last Twilight in Paris

8. Helaine

8

Helaine

Paris, 1941

Helaine stepped from the apartment building onto the pavement. It was a warm June day and the linden trees that lined the sidewalk were flush with green and the birds that flitted among them chirped defiantly. Much had changed in the city since the Germans had come the previous year, with Nazi flags billowing from the H?tel de Ville and German military vehicles at every corner. But here in Montmartre, the sloped, winding streets were still pleasant in spring and it was possible to forget for a few minutes that anything had happened at all.

Helaine set out for the local boulangerie, hoping to find a few rolls reduced to half price because it was later in the day. But when she reached the shop, it was already closed. There were fewer baked goods to sell now that butter was nonexistent and there was only coarse chestnut flour, not wheat. Helaine berated herself for not having gone earlier. She started home.

Across the street from the boulangerie, Helaine noticed a group of people in the park. At first, she thought they might be parents with children, playing. But closer, she could see that they were all grown women. Many were kneeling on the ground. Curious, Helaine moved closer. The women were digging at the earth.

One of the women noticed Helaine and stood. “Do you want to join us?” she asked. She looked to be about Helaine’s age or a year or two younger, with dark braids crisscrossed around the back of her head to form a kind of bun.

“What are you doing?” Helaine asked.

“Gardening.”

“I can see that. But why in the park?”

The woman nodded. “We’ve been given permission by the city to use the park for gardening space. We are going to grow vegetables so that our families have enough to eat. The shortages are only going to get worse.” Helaine understood. She had seen firsthand the lack of produce in the stores and had heard stories of entire herds of cattle making their way across the border into Germany, crops requisitioned to feed Axis soldiers at the front. “We are going to divide up the harvest among everyone who works. We could use another pair of hands.”

“I would like to help.” The extra food would come in handy for feeding herself and Gabriel. She was bored, too, of trying to fill her days while Gabriel rehearsed and played and taught. “I’m Helaine.”

“Isa.” She handed Helaine a pair of gardening gloves and gestured to a patch of dirt. “You can start by weeding there.”

Helaine knelt uncertainly on the hard earth. Another woman working beside Helaine eyed her with disinterest. Helaine faltered. She had helped Maman pot houseplants but had never worked in a garden. She tried to pull up a weed, but it snapped in two. The woman beside Helaine looked at her disdainfully now. Isa bent down beside her to help. “You have to pull from the root, so the whole thing comes up,” she explained.

“Have you lived in Montmartre long?” Helaine asked Isa as they worked side by side.

“My whole life. My parents are artists and they raised me and my four younger brothers here. The littlest two are still in school. I hoped to be a painter myself. Of course, being an artist does not bring in much of a pension, so it falls to me to find work and pay the bills.” Isa spoke matter-of-factly, no hint of sadness or resentment in her voice. “And you?”

“I moved to Montmartre when I married my husband, Gabriel, a few years ago.”

“Gabriel Lemarque, the cellist?” Helaine nodded. “I know Gabriel! We’ve been neighbors for years. I live on your street. How is it that we have not met?”

“I don’t know,” Helaine replied. “But I’m glad that we have now.”

Helaine worked alongside Isa for about two hours. “I should go,” she said finally when the sun began to drop behind the row of houses to the west. “But I’ll come again tomorrow if that’s all right.”

“You are always welcome,” Isa said warmly.

Helaine rushed back to the flat, filthy from gardening, but exhilarated from the sense of purpose and having met Isa. When Gabriel returned, Helaine told him about Isa. “She’s a good person,” he remarked. “And I’m glad you found a friend. You shouldn’t be alone so much, especially if anything were to happen to me.” There was an ominous note to his voice and Helaine grew worried. What did Gabriel expect to happen to him?

Helaine went to work in the park every day that the weather permitted to till the soil and plant seeds in long, even rows. She and Isa became fast friends. When it was too rainy to garden, Isa came around to the flat for tea. She also showed Helaine the hidden shops in back alleys that had the goods that were growing harder to find, like sugar and coffee, and the makeshift stands where scarce items could be purchased on the black market for a price.

At first, Helaine approached Isa’s friendship uncertainly. After a childhood alone, friendship was like a foreign language and Helaine was not sure why anyone would want to spend time with her. But she came to welcome their long conversations that skipped topics easily.

“Are you Jewish?” Isa asked as they worked in the garden together on a cloudy June morning. Helaine nodded. Though it was not something she tried to hide, they had never discussed it before. How could Isa tell? “Are you worried?”

“About the Germans?” Helaine considered the question. “Yes, of course.”

“There was a roundup of many men last month.”

Helaine nodded gravely. “I understand the arrests were of Jewish immigrants, non-French citizens.” More than a third of the Jews in Paris were foreigners, having fled persecution from other countries. Not that those poor souls being taken was any better, but thinking the arrests were limited to non-native French people gave Helaine a kind of comfort. Surely it could not happen to her. “Terrible, of course. But I should be safe.”

“I don’t know. Still, you must be careful, Helaine.”

The next day, Helaine could not work in the park because it was raining and Isa was staying away because of a cold. The door to the flat opened just after lunch and Gabriel stormed in. Helaine looked up from her journal, startled. She had not expected him for hours. “Was your rehearsal canceled?” she asked as he entered, carrying his cello. His expression was grim. “Darling, what is it?” Helaine asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I was fired!” he burst out unceremoniously.

“That isn’t possible.” Gabriel was one of the symphony’s most gifted musicians, a rising star.

“We were to play a smaller engagement at the Salle Pleyel.” Helaine recognized the name of the once-prestigious theater, now frequented almost entirely by German officers. “At the instruction of the Propaganda Stauffel, they added Bruckner to the program. A shameless attempt to appease the Germans. I refused to play it, so they fired me.” This was not the first time Helaine had heard Gabriel talk about the politics of music. He and some of the other instrumentalists did not want to play the German pieces, which seemed to appear on the programs with more frequency now.

“But, Gabriel, this is your career—and your livelihood.” Gabriel’s salary from the symphony was their primary source of income and Helaine could not imagine how they would live without it. And she was not worried just about the money. Though Helaine did not want to say it aloud and appear cowardly, she worried that there might be repercussions for his refusal to play certain music.

Gabriel would not be swayed. “It will give me more time to work on my own music.” Composing his own pieces was truly Gabriel’s heart. It did not, however, pay the bills.

Helaine was torn. She was proud that Gabriel stood by his anti-German principles so steadfastly. On the other hand, the Bruckner concerto was a piece of classical music that had been around for years. What would be the harm in going along and playing it? Helaine was not one to rock the boat. “Perhaps if you apologize…” Helaine began.

“Apologize?” Gabriel exploded, and it was the first time Helaine had ever seen him angry with her. There suddenly seemed a side to him that she did not know at all. “They should apologize to me. I won’t do it!”

“You must. What choice do you have? If you refuse, what will become of us?”

“I can’t. They are using our music as instruments of propaganda and I won’t be party to that. I’d sooner stop playing altogether than help them.” He carried his cello purposefully to the window and opened it, and Helaine realized with alarm that he meant to throw the cello out and smash it on the street below.

“Gabriel, no!” Helaine rushed to him and took the cello from his hands. She set it in the corner, then wrapped her arms around him and led him to the small sofa she had found at a secondhand shop just weeks earlier. “This isn’t the way.”

“How, then?” Gabriel looked into Helaine’s eyes, searching for answers she didn’t have. Helaine didn’t speak but held him silently. Her mind turned with worry. She understood his principles. But his music was their only source of income. If he didn’t play with the symphony, she was unsure how they would live. Their only item of value was Gabriel’s beloved cello, and she couldn’t ask him to sell that. Even if she did, she did not know how much it would fetch. If she had to, she would bring herself to ask her parents for money.

After Gabriel was dismissed from the symphony, Helaine thought he would be around the flat more often. At first, he went out to give lessons and play in small groups. But his private teaching and concerts also soon dried up. It was as if others, learning that he had been blacklisted, were afraid to have anything to do with him.

Helaine continued with her own daily routine, mornings gardening with Isa and the other women, and walks through the city as the weather permitted. One day, when the autumn air was particularly pleasant, Helaine strolled farther than usual and found herself crossing the Pont Neuf into the Latin Quarter. The Left Bank was not a neighborhood that was as familiar to her, but she enjoyed the energetic vibe of the university students who gathered defiantly in the cafés.

In an alleyway between two buildings, Helaine spotted a stall with some chocolate croissants in the front case, the kind she had not been able to find for Gabriel in months. They were being sold on the black market, undoubtedly; such things were no longer found in established shops. As she fished a few coins from her purse to buy two, she heard a commotion from across the street. Looking up, Helaine saw a police officer detaining a man. She wondered if he was a pickpocket or some sort of thief; petty crime was not uncommon on the streets. But the man was well-dressed and did not seem likely to cause trouble. What had he done?

“Jewish,” she heard a young woman behind her in line whisper to her friend, and Helaine wondered how she knew.

The man fumbled for his papers and handed them to the officer. “I’m a French citizen,” he offered. But that did not seem to satisfy the policeman. Helaine could not hear the exchange, but the officer’s voice was angry, the man’s pleading. A few minutes later, he was escorted roughly into the police car, all pretense of civility gone.

As the police car sped away, Helaine fought the urge to cry out. How were such things happening here on the streets of modern Paris? Before now, she had kept her head in the sand. She had wanted to believe the lie that it only happened to others and not to people like her. But the truth was before her now, impossible to ignore. No one was safe, not Helaine herself, nor her family.

She was suddenly seized with the urge to go see her parents. To check on them, warn them and make sure they were all right. Even as she thought this, she worried that they might not want to see her. Surely they would put the past aside after everything that was happening now. And even if they did not and still refused to speak with her, she had to see them and know that they were safe.

That night as they lay in bed together Helaine broached the subject with Gabriel. “I saw a terrible arrest today.”

His face grew somber. “Things are getting so much worse for the Jews.” Once he would have told her that things would not come to their part of the city, that she was safe. Now he did not bother to mince words. “Perhaps we should consider leaving France.” He raised the topic with more urgency this time. “I can seek an invitation to play in England and we can just go and not return.”

“Gabriel, no! This is our home.” Helaine had spent her en tire life in Paris. For all of the awful changes, she could not bear the thought of leaving. “Your whole career is here. How would you live?”

He shrugged. “We would find a way. Your safety matters most.”

Not her safety alone, Helaine thought. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t want to leave. But I do want to go see my parents. I need to make sure they are all right.”

“Darling, no. It’s too dangerous to go across the city anymore. Surely you understand that after what you saw today. Promise me you won’t go,” he said. She did not answer and neither of them spoke for several seconds. Then he drew her close, as though the matter had been resolved. Soon he was fast asleep. But Helaine lay awake, thinking.

The next morning, Helaine slipped from bed. Gabriel snored lightly beside her. “I didn’t promise,” she whispered before leaving the flat.

The autumn air was crisp as she made her way from Montmartre toward her parents’ neighborhood. The walk was a reminder of that first day she had set out from her childhood home. Only, now the lively cafés were somber, and the shop windows that once had been filled with bright and colorful goods were sparse and drab. How had life changed so much since then?

The streets grew busier as she neared her parents’ neighborhood, the familiar patchwork of stores still bustling with people going about the business of feeding their families and otherwise trying to survive. But the once-convivial atmosphere was tense and businesslike; everyone was trying to do what they needed to quickly and get home. As she neared the corner of Rue de Navarin, Helaine saw why: there was a checkpoint, a police car blocking the street and two officers checking papers of the passersby.

Panicked, Louise started to turn around. Though her papers were in order, she was terrified of being confronted by the po lice, especially after she had seen the Jewish man arrested on the Left Bank. Behind her, a police car had parked at the corner. She was trapped. One of the policeman at the blockade, noticing her abrupt action, started toward her. “Papers,” he demanded.

Helaine fumbled in her bag and handed the officer her identification card. He scanned it. “You don’t live in this neighborhood. What are you doing here?”

“My parents…” she began nervously.

“Laina!” a voice boomed. Helaine froze, terrified of having attention called to her when she could afford it least. But it was Gabriel, his face red from running. He must have awoken and realized she had gone to see her parents, then come after her to try to stop her. He stood panting, assessing the situation. The policeman was between Gabriel and Helaine. Gabriel could do nothing to help her.

In spite of this, he raced toward her. “Laina, the doctor called. Your test results are in and you must come at once.” He had risked everything to save her.

The policeman stepped backward. “Doctor?” he asked with a worried expression.

Gabriel nodded gravely. “Quite serious. We don’t know if it’s contagious.” He took Helaine’s arm and started to lead her away.

The policeman moved even farther away, giving them a wide berth. “Do not leave the house again until you are well,” he ordered.

“Laina, what were you thinking?” Gabriel said when they were away from the checkpoint. “When I woke up and found you gone, I was so worried.”

“I wanted to go check on my parents.”

“I know, but it’s too dangerous. Surely you see that now.” Helaine nodded. She did, but she was more worried than ever about her parents.

After that, she shortened her daily walks, not venturing farther than the market or the gardening plot at the park. But things seemed to change overnight, the city becoming less hers. The streets that had once seemed a wonderland to her now felt dark and menacing. It was as if unseen dangers lurked at every turn.

One afternoon, Helaine returned from her walk to see Gabriel sitting on the windowsill, staring out over the rooftops. She expected Gabriel to be playing his cello. Despite war or politics, his love of the instrument would not change. But his cello still lay in its case, untouched. There was a folded piece of paper next to him. Helaine’s heart seized. She had heard of deportations to forced labor camps in the east. “What is that?”

“I went to try to make amends with the symphony. You were right, we cannot survive without my income.” Gabriel was willing to swallow his pride in order to provide for them. “A small group of the musicians are going to tour Germany. A show of so-called goodwill from the Vichy regime.” Helaine nodded. The French government was little more than a puppet of the German occupiers. “They’ve invited me to come with them.”

“Invited?” An invisible hand seemed to close around Helaine’s throat.

“More like ordered. I have to go.”

“No!” Her eyes burned and the tears spilled forth, splashing hot against her cheeks. “You can’t leave me.” Helaine felt ashamed of her cowardly reaction. There were so many bigger things to think about than her own happiness now. But it seemed so unfair. She had finally found Gabriel and this life, and it was being snatched out from beneath them by the war. “You can’t go to Germany, not now. It’s too dangerous.”

“What choice do I have? We must stay in the good graces of the Vichy regime.” Still, Helaine was surprised. Gabriel had always been so staunchly anti-fascist; it was hard to imagine him going along with this. “I could be sent to compulsory service in Germany anyway,” he added. Helaine nodded, recognizing the truth. Men were being ordered to Germany for forced labor as part of the Service du Travail Obligatoire, and those who refused were arrested.

Gabriel continued, “You told me to play along. We can’t have it both ways.” Surely there was a way to do just enough without becoming complicit. Going to Germany felt like a step too far. But Gabriel was right, cooperation was a slippery slope, and once he started, he was in too deep to stop.

“Don’t you see?” he pressed. “If I go and do this for them, we will have special status and be protected.”

“No one is safe anymore,” Helaine countered. “They have taken artists and intellectuals. You won’t be any different.”

“I’ve received assurances that you will be left alone while I am on tour.” As ever, he was not thinking of himself, but of her.

“Reassurances?” What good were they? The Germans had broken every promise they had made. That they would not invade France. That French Jewish citizens would be safe. But Gabriel could do nothing but agree and hope for the best that this time it would be different. “And what then?” Helaine asked, seeking answers he did not have. Surely he could not stay on tour until the war was over. “Let me come with you.” Even going to Germany, she thought, would be better than staying here alone once more.

Gabriel took her hands. “Darling, that is impossible. And even if I could bring you, Germany would be more dangerous for you as a Jew, not less. It will be a few weeks, a month at most. And it isn’t combat. It’s music.” How could he not see that even music had become an act of war?

“You know, you don’t have to report. You could go abroad on tour to the States or Britain,” Helaine suggested. Her heart broke at the notion of him going even farther away, but at least then he would be safe.

“And leave you behind in France? Never.” Helaine wanted to tell him that by going off to play for the Germans, he would be abandoning her just the same. But she understood what he meant. “I will go play on the tour and get back to you as quickly as I can.”

Helaine knew he would not be dissuaded. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow, first thing.”

Helaine started to protest further. She could not bear for him to go, especially so soon. She sank to the windowsill beside him.

“Perhaps you should go back to your parents,” he said.

“No!” Helaine was aghast. How could she possibly return to her parents’ house? She had broken so severely with them. That would mean negating all that she and Gabriel had built, admitting that she had been wrong, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. “I will stay here.” Even as she spoke, Helaine saw what lay before her: endless days of waiting and nights alone. She dreaded it. But what other choice did she have?

“After I’m gone, it might not be safe for you here,” he fretted.

“This is our home,” she insisted. “I can’t leave it.”

“I won’t insist upon it.” Helaine was grateful that Gabriel, as ever, would let her decide for herself. But it did not quell her unease about his leaving or about their future. “But you must be careful,” he added.

“I shall. You should rest now.”

“I know, but I hate to waste a minute of the time we have left.”

“Me, too.”

Gabriel drew her to him and closed his eyes. Soon he slept, but Helaine lay awake. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out the window at the city below, knowing that it would somehow look different when he was gone.

Then Helaine got up and began to prepare a satchel of things he might need for him to take with him. She added a change of clothes, some canned beans. She wished that she might have prepared some meals for him to take. But she hadn’t known.

When the skyline above Notre-Dame began to pinken, Helaine reluctantly nudged Gabriel awake. He reached for her. But his movements were rushed now, as though his mind was already set on the journey before him.

He sat up and reached under the mattress and pulled out a small wad of cash. “Where did you get that?” she asked as he handed it to her.

“I took my money out of the bank. I wish I had more to give you, but that’s all I have and you must make it last.” Helaine nodded solemnly. Though it would have been a paltry sum during her childhood, it was more money than she had seen since coming here. She could manage if she was careful and budgeted.

“Why did you withdraw it?”

“In case the banks become unreliable. Because they might not give you the money as a Jew. Or if something should happen to me and they impound my account.” So many ifs.

“I should go.”

“No, wait.” Helaine had known that this moment was coming, had dreaded it. Now that it was here, she was desperate to stop time and hold on to Gabriel for a little longer.

He put his arms around her. “Darling, I know. It is unbearable. But we must be strong. We have no other choice.” She did not answer but lingered in his arms, trying to memorize the feel of his arms around her and the scent of his skin.

Finally, he broke away from her and reluctantly stood. A few minutes later, he walked to the door of the flat, dressed and packed, but not wanting to leave.

Helaine remembered then her grandmother’s necklace. She had taken it with her the night she left home. She reached into the cupboard where she had stored it after she first arrived and pulled it out. She didn’t want to part with it—at least not all of it. But she needed to give him something before they said farewell. She separated the two halves, then gave him one.

“You keep one and I keep the other until we are back together,” she said, trying to convey that it was not just a necklace, but a promise they were making to one another.

He took the necklace and placed it solemnly in his breast pocket, then put his hand over his heart. “I shall keep it right here until we are together again.”

Tears sprang to Helaine’s eyes. “I can’t do this without you.” She had vowed to herself not to cry and make this harder on him than it already was. She was ashamed of herself for being so weak. It was so selfish to think of her own needs now. But she had given up her whole world for Gabriel and now he was leaving.

He placed his hands on both sides of her cheeks. “You are stronger than you know.” It was the first time anyone had ever called her strong, the very opposite of what she had been raised to believe. All of the things she had been told her whole life before him about her weaknesses welled up inside her and threatened to spill forth.

Before she could speak, Gabriel kissed her firmly once. And then he was gone.