I finally flick a glance at Jean, only to find him staring at the ceiling now, visibly uncomfortable. He sucks in a breath then exchanges a slightly panicked glance with Marion who winces and shrugs.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’ve got it all wrong, Noah,” Jean says. “We weren’t alone that day. Do you remember that?”
“Fleur was with us at first but then she was gone,” Dad frowns, then pauses. “Wasn’t she?”
“Well, yes, but—” Jean scratches his neck awkwardly then tries again. “Do you remember the roadblock?” Dad gives a helpless shrug. Jean inhales sharply then to my surprise, he narrows his eyes. “We drove right into a trap and we were virtually defenseless. Do you remember that?”
“I…”
“Do you remember you wanted to surrender? To surrender!” Jean repeats himself as if he can’t believe this even now, his voice rising as he does so. Dad’s mouth falls open in shock. Jean’s fist thumps against the table now and he leans forward as he hisses, “Months of training where they drilled into us to never allow ourselves to be captured and you were telling me to pull the car over and surrender right when the Germans were finally on the back foot! I wouldn’t—Fleur wouldn’t…！”
“Love,” Marion says, her voice low and urgent. Jean breaks off to stare at her. “Stop and take a breath,” she says gently. He nods, swallows, and turns back to Dad.
“I kept driving and tried to turn around, but the Germans shot out the back tire and we went off the road for a moment, colliding rather violently with the wall of a ditch. That’s when you struck your head. That’s probably when you were shot, because the car took a lot of bullets about then too. But it all happened very quickly so I don’t know for sure. What matters most here is that it wasn’t me who saved your life. It was Fleur.”
“You took me to the hospital. You even thought to take me some distance away for help in case the Germans were looking for me, isn’t that right? Why else would you take me all the way to Brive-La-Galliarde—that’s…what…forty-five kilometers? Fifty?”
“Noah, God. No,” Jean mutters, his face flushing. “I was twenty-two years old. It was my first deployment and I’d been in France for less than a day. I was impatient to get to work and I thought I knew everything, but the minute I saw that roadblock, I panicked. Fleur told me to hide with you in a farmer’s barn while she drew the Germans away from us. I waited there with you until things were quiet again, but she didn’t come back and you wouldn’t wake up and the God’s honest truth is I had no idea what to do.”
“But…”
“Luckily for you—an old farmer had watched the whole thing unfold. He saw us go into his barn, but he couldn’t come to help at first, because Fleur was in a gunfight with the Germans not far from his house. She held them off for at least half an hour, but they eventually captured her and left. Only once the farmer was sure they were all gone did he come back to check on us. He loaded us into his cart, hid us under some hay, and drove us to Brive-La-Galliarde. He thought to take you some distance away in case the Germans knew Fleur had been traveling with others and checked the hospitals. None of that was my doing. If anything, I was a liability that day and to be completely frank, if the farmer hadn’t insisted otherwise, I might have just left you there in that barn.”
“But Fleur didn’t make it,” Dad croaks. “Professor Read said she didn’t survive the war.”
Jean shrugs. “All I know is the farmer saw her captured.”
“But…”
“I did try to help her before I left,” Jean says, almost to himself. “I found the local Maquis group. The last I heard they were going to try to find out if she was in a local prison to see if a rescue attempt was feasible. But I couldn’t stop to help. You and Fleur were out of commission, so it was up to me to continue alone.”
“This is just awful,” Dad whispers hoarsely. “My God. To think that brave young woman traded her life for mine…it’s just…”
“Noah,” Jean says sharply. “Is this really why you tracked me down?”
“I just wanted to express my gratitude.”
Jean sighs impatiently. He looks from Dad to me and Theo, then stands abruptly.
“We should continue this in my study.”
Dad rises and follows Jean from the dining room, leaving me, Theo and Marion. She forces a smile.
“Talk of war is never easy,” she says. “Jean really was very troubled last night,” she murmurs, then she glances hesitantly toward me. “He was hoping your father might be coming to apologize.” At my blank look, she drops her voice and adds in a whisper, “To make peace.”
“Apologize?” I say, alarmed. “What on earth…”
“I shouldn’t say,” Marion says, flushing. She stands and starts to clear the food from the table. “Honestly, it’s between them. I really… I just…”
“Please, Mrs. Allaire,” I say urgently, and I stand too. She’s frazzled—stacking plates full of food on top of one another and avoiding my eyes. Theo stands too and he takes a plate gently from her hand.
“The female agent. Fleur. She was hurt so I do understand why your father insisted they take the car that day,” she says. Beneath the powder on her face, Marion Allaire is flushing. She gives me a desperate look. “But your father was the circuit leader. Don’t you think it’s terribly bad luck that the route he insisted they take happened to be guarded by four trucks full of Germans? That your father tried to insist they surrender the minute they saw them?”
“What are you suggesting?” I gasp.
“This is why Jean never wanted to speak to Professor Read,” Marion says to Theo, frustrated. “There had been rumors of a double agent among their ranks for some time. Jean didn’t want to speak out of turn and potentially ruin your father’s reputation but he always suspected—”
“Charlotte,” Dad says stiffly. Theo and I look up at the doorway. My father is white as a sheet. “It’s time for us to leave.”
It is a long, uncomfortable drive home with Dad. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles stay white, and every now and again I see him shake his head as though in frustration or disbelief. Theo and I make a few gallant attempts at chitchat, but the tension radiating from my father in the tiny space is oppressive and distracting now and we can’t seem to find a rhythm.
This time, Dad doesn’t bother looking for a parking spot on Theo’s street. He just stops in the middle of the road outside the building, blocking traffic. The car behind him honks impatiently but Dad doesn’t seem to notice.
“Thank you for letting me come along,” Theo says as he’s scrambling from the car. He gives me a helpless, apologetic look. “If I can help at all with anything else, please don’t hesitate to call me. You both have my number—”
“Thanks for joining us,” I reply, as Dad gives a distracted wave and starts to drive away. I can only hope Theo isn’t insulted by the way Dad is behaving. I lean out the window to call back to Theo, “You’ve been very generous to try to help us—！”