She wished she could tell them the truth. But now wasn’t the time. It would only complicate matters. Before she did anything, she needed to save them.
“Rose,” her father said after a moment. He stood and walked over to where she sat. He knelt beside her, the way he used to when she was a little girl. She remembered, in that moment, the way he’d been so patient with her when he’d taught her to tie her shoelaces, the way he’d comforted her the first time she skinned her knee, the way he’d pinched her cheeks when she was just a little girl and called her ma filfille en sucre, my little girl made of sugar. “We will do what they say. If we follow the rules, everything will be fine.”
She looked into his eyes and knew in that moment that she would never change his mind. And so she wept, for she had already lost him. She had already lost them all.
When Jacob came for her later that night, she wasn’t ready. How could she ever be ready? She gazed into his gold-flecked green eyes, which had always reminded her of a magical ocean, and thought about how she could get lost there forever. Her own eyes filled with hot, stinging tears as she realized she might never sail those seas again.
“Rose, we must go,” he whispered urgently. He took her in his arms and tried to absorb her sobs with his body.
“But how can I leave them, Jacob?” she whispered into his chest.
“You must, my love,” he said. “You must save our baby.”
She looked up at him. She knew he was right. There were tears in his eyes too. “Will you try to protect them?” she asked.
“With every ounce of my being,” Jacob vowed. “But first I must protect you.”
Before they left, she slipped into the room Alain and Claude shared. Claude was sleeping soundly, but Alain was wide awake.
“You’re leaving now, aren’t you, Rose?” Alain whispered when she drew close.
She sat down on the side of his bed. “Yes, my dear,” she whispered. “Will you come with us?”
“I must stay with Maman and Papa,” Alain said after a moment. “Maybe they are right.”
“They are not,” Rose said.
Alain nodded. “I know,” he whispered. He paused for a moment and then wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Rose,” he whispered.
“I love you too, my little man,” she replied, pulling him tightly to her. She knew Alain didn’t understand why she was leaving him. She knew it seemed to him as if she was choosing Jacob over her family. But she couldn’t tell him about the baby growing within her. He was eleven, too young to understand. She hoped that someday, he would realize that she felt as though her heart were being ripped in two.
Thirty minutes later, Jacob led her through an alleyway, where his friend Jean Michel, who was part of the resistance movement, waited outside a darkened doorway.
Jean Michel kissed Rose hello on both cheeks. “You are very brave, Rose,” he said simply.
“I am not brave; I am frightened,” she replied. She did not want anyone to think she was brave. To think that it was brave to leave her family behind was absurd. She felt, in that moment, like the worst human being on the earth.
“May we have a moment alone?” Jacob asked Jean Michel.
Jean Michel nodded. “But quickly, please. There isn’t much time.” He slipped through the doorway, leaving Rose and Jacob alone in the darkness.
“You are doing the right thing,” Jacob whispered.
“It does not feel that way anymore,” Rose said. She took a deep breath. “You are completely sure? About this roundup?”
Jacob nodded. “I’m certain. It’s beginning in a few hours, Rose.”
She shook her head. “What has happened to us?” she asked. “To this country?”
“The world has gone mad,” Jacob murmured.
She took a deep breath. “You will come back for me?”
“I will come back for you,” Jacob said immediately. “You are my life, Rose. You and our baby. You know that.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I will find you, Rose,” Jacob said. “When all of the horrors are over, and you are safe, I will come for you. I give you my word. I will not rest until I am beside you again.”
“Nor will I,” Rose murmured.
He pulled her to him, and she breathed in the scent of him, memorized the feel of his arms around her, pressed her head against his chest, and wished she never had to let go. But then Jean Michel was back, and he was gently pulling her away from Jacob, softly telling her that they had to go now, before it was too late. She knew only that Jean Michel, a Catholic, was taking her to another man who was part of a resistance, a man named Ali, who was a Muslim. It was the sort of thing that would have made her smile—Catholics, Jews, and Muslims working together as one—had the world not been falling down around them.