The Paris Agent(19)
I can hear the finality in Theo’s voice and I know he’s trying to wind this discussion to a close, but I can’t accept that. I reach across and place my hand on his forearm and drop my voice to a plea as I say, “Theo. Please. There has to be something you can do. This means so much to Dad.”
“It’s okay, Lottie—” Dad starts to say, but I see a softening in Theo’s face as he looks from my hand back to my eyes. A spark of hope flares to life in my chest.
“The best I could offer would be to try to speak to Harry on your behalf,” Theo says hesitantly, but when Dad and I immediately brighten, he hastens to add, “I don’t know that it will do us any good, but I could make a call for you.” Then he sighs and adds, “At the very least I know Mrs. White will be more helpful if I’m on the other end of the line.”
Dad and I exchange numbers with Theo then start the drive back to Liverpool. The rain is pelting down now as I stare out the window, watching the blurred lights inside the houses passing by. I think about the families putting their children into bed, parents sitting before a television to relax at last after a long day. All I can remember about the night before Mum died is that it rained just like this. I can’t help but wonder how many people innocently going about their lives tonight have no idea that it is the last time they are sitting with someone they love.
“He seemed very smart. Knowledgeable and helpful,” Dad says, startling me out of my reverie.
“He also seemed pessimistic, Dad,” I say reluctantly.
“Perhaps it was foolish for me to think I could find a man I’ve not seen for twenty-six years when I don’t know the first thing about him.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’d have to lie to say I’m not having the same concerns.
“Dad, you must have seen things…done things…” I break off uncertainly. “It must have been very difficult for you during the war. Is that why…why you never…” God, it’s hard for me to even ask him about it. No wonder he’s never spoken freely about that time.
“Right after the war, I put all of that era into a box in my mind and closed the lid so I could marry your mother and build a life with her. But this is exactly why I am so determined to at least try to look back now. It’s overdue, love. I need to try to find Remy and I need…” Dad breaks off, then sucks in a breath. “I need to make some sense of it all. My memories of that time are so muddled, and sometimes when I think about those days, feelings float by me and they don’t make much sense out of context. It’s hard to look back, but I’ve run long enough. I need to make peace with whatever happened back then.” Dad reaches forward and turns the radio on, but he keeps the volume low. His voice is barely a whisper as he adds, “If you have questions, and I imagine you do, I will try to answer them. But as you’ve probably already noticed, there’s a lot I’m not sure of. A lot I don’t know.”
We fall into silence after that—a space held by my father for me to probe and question, and yet, I don’t.
It’s not that I’m not curious. I am, desperately so.
It’s simply that I can hear the tension in his voice even as he offers to share his past with me. My father has been through more than enough in this past year without me digging around in what’s left of his darkest memories. Perhaps Aunt Kathleen is right and there are a few skeletons buried in the closet of my father’s past, but surely that only makes it more difficult for him to embark upon this project.
For the very first time, I wonder if the gaps in his memory aren’t just from his injury…but maybe from trauma too. And maybe that’s why my mother was so determined that Dad should just look forward, never back.
C H A P T E R 5
ELOISE
Rouen, France
February, 1944
By lunchtime, the train had reached the outskirts of Rouen. I stared out the window as we passed through the southwest of the town, the industrial district, or what was left of it after the sustained Allied bombing raids in recent months.
“Such savage bombing, no?” the colonel beside me said sadly, leaning forward as he followed my gaze to the rubble. I bit my tongue—suppressing an irrational urge to point out that the Allies were hardly unprovoked in trying to ensure the town’s infrastructure remained useless to her occupiers. “I do hope your uncle is found safe and well. Please be in touch if I can help.”
Soon enough the train had stopped at Gare Saint-Sever. The soldiers around me said goodbye as they passed me my bags, but when one saw me struggling to make my way out of the seat, he insisted on carrying the two suitcases that had been stored above his seat. When he lowered them to the ground outside of the station, I heard the colonel calling me.
“Miss Leroy?” I had been about to walk away—so close to escaping unscathed! Now, my spine stiffened despite my best efforts to hide my frustration, and I turned back to him, trying to force a calm but questioning smile on my face. “I have a car waiting. Could I offer you a lift to your hotel?”
I would be staying the night in a lodging house, but I was never going to reveal the details of that to the colonel. Still, this was an offer I did not want to refuse—I didn’t want to offend him, or even to have to explain why I didn’t want to get into his car. Besides, a chauffeur-driven car ride across a bridge to the right bank of the Seine would likely mean avoiding the military checkpoint on the bridge, and although this would only be a temporary reprieve from that test, it was a welcome one. Basile had warned me the city was filled with Gestapo and the French Milice and I’d be showing my papers to various guards constantly.