In the midst of war, in the face of her husband’s cruelty, Lisette found a love so pure and beautiful that sometimes she could scarcely breathe from the sheer wonder of it. She refused to feel regret or guilt for loving Hank Watkins. She had never felt such pleasure and delight in a man’s company, in his touch, in the intimacy they shared.
She tried to seem normal as she went about her day, but it was hard to keep the smile from her face, the light from her eyes, the color from her cheeks. Her mother kept asking her if she had a fever, or if she had been drinking. Lisette said it was because of the secret news no one was supposed to know about—that the Allies had invaded France in the north, and it was only a matter of time before they came to the south.
She continued to visit Hank as often as she dared, only now her visits were deeply satisfying assignations. She took pictures, because she never wanted to forget him, but she hid the film in order to keep their secret. She promised it would not be developed until the war was over.
Didier seemed preoccupied with his German friends and took no notice of her at all. She was surprised one day in August when he and his sister, Rotrude, approached her in the kitchen garden, their faces grim.
“When did you plan to tell me about the baby?” he demanded without preamble.
The shock of his question took her breath away. She felt as if every drop of blood had drained into the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be coy,” said Rotrude with a mean twist of a smile. “Why wouldn’t you share this joyous news with everyone?”
“Because it’s not . . . I’m not . . .” But she was. She had known for the past week. Her menses had always been as regular as the phases of the moon, and only a few days after a missed period, she knew.
“You’ve thrown up your breakfast every morning for a week,” Rotrude said.
Didier pinched Lisette’s breast so hard that she cried out in pain. “My sister tells me the breasts are tender during pregnancy.”
She turned away, hugging herself, her heart pounding in panic. Then, deep within her core, a steely spike of courage formed. “Then instead of bullying the mother of your child,” she said, “you should take pride, because finally there will be an heir for Sauveterre, just as you’ve always wanted.”
Rotrude stepped in. “Will you let her lie to you like that?” she demanded. “Your first wife never conceived. You’ve fucked every housemaid and fieldworker in the place, and have never managed to make a baby. What makes you think this one is yours?”
“Because he is the lord of Sauveterre and the mayor of Bellerive,” Lisette said, praying his pride would supersede suspicion. The lie made her sick, but to do otherwise would doom not only her, but her parents. And without her, Hank would likely die in the wilderness.
“Lisette is right,” Didier said, yanking her into a rough embrace. “We must have a special dinner tonight and share the news. Isn’t there still a bottle of champagne in the cave?”
She swallowed hard, remembering the bottle she had stolen to drink with Hank. “I wouldn’t know. The Nazis help themselves to everything.”
“Everything?” Rotrude demanded with a sneer. “Even your wife, Didier?” She hated Lisette, because Lisette had supplanted her at Sauveterre. And if an heir was born, then Rotrude and her daughter, Petra, would be relegated to mere guests in the household.
“Will you let your sister speak to you with such disrespect?” Lisette quietly asked Didier.
He let go of her and turned to Rotrude. “Make sure there’s a feast tonight,” he ordered. “And don’t forget the champagne.”
After the encounter, Lisette couldn’t even look at herself in a mirror. Pretending the tiny, fragile life inside her belonged to Didier was the worst sort of lie, but she had to hide the truth in order to protect Hank.
“Let us take Papa to the market,” she said to her mother later that morning. She had to get out of the house. “Didier is demanding a big supper tonight. We can take the scooter. I have an extra petrol coupon from last month.”
She loved taking her father out in the cart attached to the scooter. It made him forget, just for a while, that he could no longer walk. Going to town allowed him to reconnect with friends, the way he used to do. The Monday market was not the same as it had been before the war. With so few men to work the fields, and the Germans taking the lion’s share, the yield was less bountiful. But this was the Var, and it was high summer, and there was fish from the harbor, big tubs of olives, and lovely spice blends. The gardens of Sauveterre were bursting with tomatoes and peppers, aubergines and courgettes, so they would have everything they needed for Didier’s feast.
She left her parents at the Café de la Rive by the bridge, one of the few still open in the village. It was a foggy morning, cool for August. Papa’s friends, the Cabrets, helped him to sit at a table. The ersatz coffee was vile stuff, just an excuse for enjoying a few moments of companionship. The setting by the river beside the mossy old fountain with the spitting fish, under a shade trellis twined with grapevines, reminded her of the old days. Seeing her mother and father with their friends filled Lisette’s heart with warmth.
She had not yet told them about the baby. She didn’t know what to say. For their own protection, she had never complained to them about Didier. Perhaps they would be thrilled to know they were going to become grandparents.
“Why do you look at us so?” asked her mother with a smile.
“You all look so content, four friends having coffee together. In that soft light . . .” She took out her camera and composed the shot, capturing the play of fog and shadow, and the expressions on their faces.
“Would you like me to come help you at the market?”
“No, Maman. It’s fine. Once the fog lifts, it’s going to be a beautiful day. I’ll come back for you later.” She disengaged the sidecar and drove away on the scooter. When she was well away from the bridge, she took a detour. Leaving the scooter concealed amid the old vines shrouded in fog, she ran to the borie to see Hank.
He grinned and opened his arms when she burst in. “Hi there, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you until later.”
“I’m supposed to be at the market,” she said, “and I saw a chance to slip away.” She covered his face with kisses, and when they made love, her ardor was so intense that it brought tears to her eyes. Yet in the aftermath, there was a kind of peace she had never felt before. To be held in the arms of a man who loved her, to know they’d created a new life together, was the sweetest blessing she’d ever felt.
Although she longed to tell him, she didn’t dare. Not yet, anyway, with the future so uncertain. And there was a very small, dark place in her mind where she had to allow that the baby could in fact be Didier’s.
“What is this?” he asked softly, gently touching the dark bruise on her breast. “How did you hurt yourself?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, the lie spilling easily from her lips. If Hank found out about Didier’s cruelty, he would hunt her husband down and get himself killed in the process. “I must have bumped myself while getting Rocinante into his harness.”
He leaned over and kissed the bruise. “Be careful. I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt.” He rolled a largish, rounded stone toward her. “I made you something.”
She sat up, pulling her shawl around her. He had carefully chiseled a phrase in the stone—Journey Without End.
“It’s beautiful, Hank,” she said, tracing a finger over the letters.
“It means I’ll never stop loving you, no matter what,” he said.
“I have to leave it here,” she said, placing it near the opening of the hut.
“We can bring it back to Vermont after the war.”
She pressed her cheek against his bare chest. “Vermont, eh? You are taking me to Vermont?”
“I am. And your dear parents, too, and if your Nazi-loving husband tries to stop me, he’ll be damned sorry.”
They lay in each other’s arms, not speaking, only dreaming, and she knew it was the same dream. She hovered on the verge of tears, because she wanted to tell him about the baby. Instead, she slowly extricated herself from his arms and got dressed. “I must go back to the village now.”