43. Angelique
April 1944
France
Exhaustion refusesto let go as I slowly open my eyelids. The afternoon sunlight streams through the window and brightens my bed with its sorrowful glow.
I roll over and push to a sitting position, blinking the room into focus. My gaze lands on a man in the rocking chair in the corner of my room, his golden hair glowing in the light.
Surprise widens my eyes. “Johann?” Please tell me this is not a dream.
My vision is a little blurry from my nap, but I’m positive it’s him. Our two-week-old daughter is in his arms, cosy and asleep in her blanket. “Are you real? Or am I imagining you?”
He smiles the grin that always has my heart soaring, and he laughs. That has to be one of my favourite sounds. He’s as handsome as I remembered. He’s also worn at the edges and thinner than the last time I saw him, but we all look like that after years of occupation and struggling to stay alive.
His clothes are frayed and soiled. It’s obvious he has been in hiding for a while.
“I’m definitely real.” The adoration in his eyes propels my heart into my throat, loosens a sob from my lungs.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper and wipe away tears with my fingers, grinning at him in the same way he’s smiling at me. “How did you get into the flat?”
“A rumour reached me that I now have a daughter. I was able to make arrangements to visit you. Your flatmate let me in before she left.”
My heart splinters, already knowing the answer to my next question. “You won’t be able to stay, will you?”
“Unfortunately, no. We still have so much to do to end this war.” He pushes to his feet, walks over to the bed, and sits next to me. He leans down and kisses me softly. “God, I’ve missed you, Angelique.”
I smile, hiding how my heart is cracking into several pieces. “I’ve missed you too.”
His gaze slowly sweeps over my face as if to memorise it. His attention then shifts to our daughter in his arms. “She’s beautiful. Like her mother.” He tenderly strokes the fuzz on her head. “Your friend told me you named her Anna, after my sister.”
“I did. Is that all right with you?”
He glances up, and his beaming smile is the only answer I need.
“I was afraid you were dead because the maquis didn’t trust you,” I tell him.
“That was one of their top choices when I first approached them. It was only due to what I could provide—my language skills, my knowledge of some of the German plans, and my engineering background—that they let me join them. But that was not without a lot of arguing amongst themselves first. I’ve had to do things I never wanted to, but I don’t regret it. Not much, anyway.” His gaze returns to his daughter. “I’ve never been one for killing, whether it be animal or man.”
Pain lies raw and naked in his voice. I want to hold him close, to banish it. This war is forcing us all to be something we aren’t. It’s a regret that will haunt us to our graves. At the end of the day, it does not matter if we’re killing the enemy; we are still taking human lives. Not everyone is a monster in human clothing. The true monsters are the cruel and soulless ones getting other people to do their dirty work and the ones who relish killing. Everyone else…is just their puppet.
We’ve all lost so much due to greed and hate and ignorance.
“The maquis couldn’t fully trust I was not a German spy,” Johann says. “So guards were assigned to make sure I didn’t do anything foolish that would benefit the Germans. But if it meant fighting a regime I don’t believe in, it was a condition I was willing to accept.”
“How long do we have together?”
“A few hours.”
Nowhere near as long as I hoped for. “Is she asleep?” I smile at the precious bundle in his arms.
He nods. “She stirred when I came into the room and settled down when I picked her up.”
My smile widens. I can’t remember the last time I smiled this much. “She knows you’re her papa.”
He gently lowers Anna into her cradle. She whimpers and drifts back to sleep.
“She fed before I laid down for a nap,” I tell him. “So, she’ll probably sleep for another half an hour or so.”
Johann yanks his jumper over his head and unbuttons his trousers. “That gives me half an hour to hold my fiancée.”
A thud comes from the other room, followed by a muffled French curse.
“Someone is out there,” I say, standing, panic infusing my tone. I know it’s not Lise. She’s not due back yet. I take a step towards the door.
Johann gently grabs my wrist. “It’s okay. I told you the maquis group I’m with assigned guards to make sure I don’t do anything that will put the group at risk. That would be one of them.”
“You’re a prisoner?” The question fires from me louder than expected.
“He’s not a prisoner.” The deep male voice comes from the other side of the thin wall. “Just ignore me.”
“It’s hard to ignore you when you’re making all that racket.” Humour lightens Johann’s tone, softens some of the stress around his eyes.
The man on the other side of the wall laughs. “Don’t let me stop you from being with your fiancée. I don’t suppose her pretty friend is returning anytime soon, is she?”
Anna releases a small sigh but continues to sleep through the conversation.
Johann also releases a sigh, although his is nowhere near as small as his daughter’s. “I might as well introduce you to Gaston; otherwise, we won’t get any peace from him.”
He pulls his jumper back on, takes my hand, and we walk into the drawing room.
The man standing by the side table looks to be about Johann’s age but is a few inches shorter than my love. He rubs his hand against a jaw that appears recently shaved. I suspect that is not typically the case.Nothing states you’re a member of the maquis more than when you are heavily bearded.
“Angelique, this is Gaston,” Johann says.
I don’t correct him and tell him my new alias. If he and Gaston found me, they must already know it. But to Johann, I will no doubt always be Angelique, even after he learns my real name.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, mademoiselle. We’ve heard so much about you. Your fiancé doesn’t stop yammering on about you.” Gaston winks at me.
I grin, relieved Johann has found someone he can trust. That is a rare treat these days. These tiny pockets of humanity—of trust—are what give us hope and a reason to keep going during the darkest days. “I’m glad to hear he misses me.”
“I’ll let you two get back to being reacquainted. I’m here if you need me to look after your little princess. I haven’t seen my own daughter in two years, but I do remember how to hold a baby.”
Two years. That’s what this war is doing to families. As it is, I probably won’t get to see Johann again until the war is over and we are reunited. Soldiers are not the only ones separated from their families. Members of the maquis are not usually permitted to visit their loved ones. They remain hidden in the hills and woods, far away from their families.
“She’s asleep now,” Johann tells his friend. “But we will hold you to that if she wakes before we are ready.”
“And your pretty friend?” The question is directed at me.
“Are you married?”
“I am. But that doesn’t mean I cannot talk to another woman. And talking to your friend is more exciting than staring at the cracked wall.”
The corners of my mouth twitch. “She won’t be back for another hour.”
Johann settles his hand on the curve of my spine and guides me to my room.
After a quick peek at the sleeping form of our daughter, we remove our clothing and slip under the covers. I’m not healed enough to make love to Johann, so we hold each other, kiss, and whisper, “I love you,” over and over. The words brush softly over our lips in a sweet caress, and we fall deeper in love.
His mouth moves on mine, languid, passionate, and I pretend this never has to end. But Anna has different plans. A small rustle from her cradle signals she’s stirring awake. I climb out from under the covers, gather her up, and return to the bed where Johann is now sitting propped against the pillows.
I put her to my breast, and she hungrily nurses at what little milk my body is able to produce. Fortunately, it’s been enough so far to keep her alive. Anna peers at me through alert eyes.
“Would you like your papa to hold you again?” I ask her once she’s finished nursing. “I know he would like that very much.” I pass her to Johann.
He strokes her cheek and sings a song I recognize—a French lullaby. He has a beautiful voice, but that hardly comes as a surprise. Everything about this man is beautiful.
We stay like this for an hour or so, relishing what little time we have together, telling Anna stories of magic and wonder. Of a world so different than the one we currently live in.
“I have something for you,” Johann says as the door to the flat clicks open. Lise’s voice comes from the other room. She speaks quietly, and I cannot make out what she is saying to Gaston.
Johann climbs off the bed and pulls from his coat pocket a gold chain, the sunlight catching on the heart-shaped charm. “It belonged to my grandmother. I went to her sister’s home after I got rid of the car like I promised I would. She used to live near where I was. She died a long time ago, but her daughter was living in the house, and I told her about you. Told her as much as I could without putting us all at risk. She gave me the necklace to give to the woman I love and whom I plan to marry as soon as the war is over.”
He undoes the chain and fastens it around my neck. “Now you have a piece of me next to your heart.” He slips the warm metal under the neck of my blouse, hiding it from those who would happily steal it.
I tenderly stroke our daughter’s head and smile at him. “I already have something of yours close to my heart.”
Time used to frustrate me when I was a child. When I wanted something to last forever, it would be over in the blink of an eye. When I wanted something to end quickly, time stretched endlessly.
I greedily soak in every second I have with Johann, as if it were my last, but eventually he and Gaston have to leave. He reluctantly hands his daughter to the man to hold and then kisses me. Every ounce of love he feels for me and our daughter is poured into that kiss. Every ounce is returned by me in equal measure.
He pulls away and rests his brow on mine. “I’ll see you again one day soon, Angelique. But promise me, if an opportunity arises for you and Anna to return to your country, you won’t refuse it. Just send word so I know you’re both safe. I need you both to be safe.”
“I promise,” I say, even though I plan to break my word and wait for him. I cannot leave France without him by my side.
“As soon as this war is over, you will be my wife.” He kisses me one last time, and I do my best to bottle up my emotions. He needs to see me strong and not weeping.
Needs me to be brave and fierce like I was before our daughter came into the world.
“I love you.” My breath mists his lips with an endless promise.
“I love you too.”