Chapter Twenty #3
Well, they weren’t wasting any time. Zelie let her chin sag toward her chest and her gaze drop to Julie’s shoes.
“At the time, all I could think about was Jacques. He died fighting for France. I . . . I wanted to do something to honor him, and when Jean asked if I would help, I thought it was what Jacques would want.” She blinked as if fighting back tears.
“Jean?” Curiosity colored her hostess’s tone.
They’d already decided, she and the others, that there was no point in denying who the former head of the group had been—she’d been seen in Navarre’s company too often.
Plus, his execution could be used to explain both her unusual position and the falling apart they were trying to convince Vichy was more complete than it was. “Loustaunau-Lacau.”
“Ah.” Whether the name really meant anything to Julie or not, she sounded enlightened. And no doubt her husband was taking notes next door.
Zelie drew in a loud, shuddering breath. “Then he was arrested, and I didn’t know what to do. I was only a records keeper. A secretary. I tried to make a go of it, but I didn’t know what I was doing, and no one wanted to listen to me. I didn’t know how to get out, and . . . and . . .”
“You poor dear.” As if truly concerned, Julie got up and perched on the arm of Zelie’s chair. “You must have been terrified,” she said, draping an arm over Zelie’s bent shoulders.
“Constantly.” As a child, she’d learned to turn on her tears when Pappa was frustrated, effectively rendering him useless.
It had never worked on Jacques, but she hadn’t forgotten the lesson.
It was easy to think about the pain of the mailbag, the terror when she hadn’t known where her children were, her mother, Marcel, the others.
To think of Navarre, the man who’d seen potential in her when Jacques had called her useless.
Easy to let the tears build and spill over.
“And now I . . . I don’t know how to convince .
. . convince them that I’m done. All those .
. . those men turned on me . . . at the first opportunity.
And now . . . now they’ll leave me . . . me to hang for it.”
“Oh, Zelie.” Julie’s hand rubbed circles on her back. “You poor lamb, led astray by untrustworthy men. It happens to the best of us when we no longer have our husbands to guide us. You’ve ended up in the teeth of a wolf.”
Wolf—that was Rivière’s new call sign. Little did this woman know that Zelie hadn’t been the lamb to fall in with the wolf, she’d been one of the ones to recruit him.
At least Emile had left Rivière’s name off his list. A favor to them? To the man he’d clearly liked?
She’d let go of her bitterness toward Marcel’s cousin, but for this first time, she felt the cool rush of forgiveness for him. What he did was despicable—but he could have undone them completely. Instead, he’d left intact just enough of their foundation for them to rebuild on.
Julie leaned close to give her an awkward hug. “I’ll speak with my husband. Surely mercy can be extended to you, if you promise not to do anything so foolish again.”
Oh, she’d definitely determined not to be foolish any longer. Zelie let a sob shudder through her. “I won’t. Never.”
“There, now. I’m sure we’ll get this all settled. Louis? Louis?” She raised her voice, though Rollin waited a long moment before answering, as if he’d had to travel nearer.
“Yes, darling? Oh! What’s this? I meant for you to make her feel at home, Julie, not to reduce her to tears.” He rushed in, dropping to a knee before Zelie’s chair.
Julie’s hand returned to its circling. “You’ve frightened the life out of her with those threats of yours. But it’s as I’ve told you—she was deceived. And now is being used as a patsy, the poor child. She was just a secretary, left holding the bag, as it were.”
“I thought it must be so.” Rollin sighed and patted Zelie’s shoulder. “I am sorry to have frightened you, madame. I only meant to get the names of those you’d answered to.”
“It was that officer arrested in Algiers,” Julie said, “for conspiracy.”
“Ah. Now it’s all coming together.” Another patronizing pat.
“Rest easy, madame. No one will expect you to pay the price for his sins. You have turned over what money you could, we’re already in possession of the paperwork left behind.
I think if you promise to avoid any more Resistance work, we can safely let you go. ”
She looked up, blinked her wet eyes, and instilled a bit of wonder into the quivering of her lips. “Truly? Oh, monsieur. I was afraid I was leaving my children orphans, that—”
“No, no.” He chuckled and stood. “I daresay you’ve been frightened back onto the straight and narrow, haven’t you? And you’re ready to leave the work to those of us who know what we’re doing?”
Oh, without question. They just had very different definitions about who, exactly, knew what they were doing. And what the straight and narrow demanded of her. She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, monsieur. Of course. I am done with that disorganized network.”
And ready to build one neither Vichy nor Germany could shake again.