What I Promise You

By Liz Tolsma

A Family’s History Is Lost to the Ravages of WWII in Southwest France
 
1942
Noémie Treves, a young, pregnant Jewish woman, had her entire world shattered when she is arrested and taken to the Camp de Rivesaltes transit camp in Southwest France. No sooner does she arrive, though, than she assists in helping two young girls scheduled for transport escape to a nearby maternity hospital. The matron there befriends her and changes her name to help hide her. But nothing goes according to plan, and Hannah finds herself doing the unimaginable to save one precious life.
 
2022
Caitlyn Laurant is haunted by recent events in her life and hopes becoming a nurse on the mission field will help her forget. While in training, she and her friends travel to France where her grandfather was born. What should have been an easy search for his birthplace turns into anything but and reveals secrets that no one alive has ever heard.

Don't miss the Echoes of the Past Series
Book 1 - What I Would Tell You

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbour Publishing
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781636097787

Liz Tolsma

Bestselling author Liz Tolsma loves to write so much it’s often hard to tear her away from her computer. When she closes her laptop’s lid, she might walk her hyperactive Jack Russell terrier, weed her large perennial garden or binge on HGTV shows. She’s married to her high school sweetheart, and together they adopted three children. She’s proud to be the mom of a US marine.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

22 August, 1955

Elne, France

They say every building has a story, an unwritten history contained within its structure. Walls hold secrets, burying them deep into their cores, into darkness that is never meant to see the light of day, nothing but faint whispers of what has been, what might have been, and what will never be known.

If this building in front of me could tell a tale, what would it be? One of sorrow and overwhelming pain, fear and insecurity, even horror? Or would it be one of joy and peace, safety and rest, a haven?

If I open the doors, I might release bright children’s laughter that echoes in the high-ceilinged rooms, a music that tinkles like chandeliers on a morning breeze. But if I throw open the windows, the eyes into the building’s soul, I might discharge crying and screaming.

Perhaps it is best to leave the building alone, crumbling, sinking into the rocky ground, the past buried in the ruins of the place. Unspeakable events that unfolded within are best never disturbed, like a coating of dust on furniture that would choke someone if they dared to run a cloth over the surface, releasing a consuming cloud.

Perhaps it is best to allow the past to be lost to time. Then again, maybe it is a past that is worth the remembering, like photographs dug from deep within an attic trunk, rediscovered and restored.

There are overgrown gardens, coneflowers and black-eyed Susans and lamb’s ears that have gone wild and intermingled with the lawn, a tangle of color and grass that only needs a bit of weeding and taming to return them to their former glory. Others have been consumed by briars and brambles that pierce the tender skin of any hand that attempts to control them, so that only a bulldozing will set it right again.

And what of the building before me? What secrets and stories and laughter and pain does it contain?

I know. I know only too well.

CHAPTER TWO

15 July, 1942

Perpignan, Vichy France

Somewhere in the distance, crickets sang their night song. From underneath the window, a cat meowed a pitiful plea, likely wanting to be let in to sleep, out of the heavy, damp night air. Otherwise, the world was still and quiet, tucked in slumber as a beam of moonlight streamed through the thin bedroom curtains.

Noémie Treves snuggled deeper into her husband Levi’s strong embrace. For a moment he stirred, adjusting to her new position, then he settled down. His light snore, so familiar to her, added to the comforting coziness of the night.

She touched the place where their child slept. Or perhaps the little one was awake. Because it was early in her pregnancy, she had yet to feel the baby move within her. What would it be like when the child actually fluttered? What a wondrous moment that would be. One to look forward to. One to embrace.

If only Maman were alive to experience this with her. To guide her in what to expect.

Still, she had Levi, and for now, they were at peace. Their small city was as safe as it could be in the midst of a war that embroiled the entire world. Though the Nazis controlled the northern part of France, here in the South, they were in no immediate danger. The Vichy didn’t care for Jews like them very much, but at least they weren’t arresting them in great numbers and shipping them away to Poland.

Oui, there were whispers about Jews in the city disappearing off the streets—not in great numbers, but a few. Whispers of what was happening just a few kilometers away in Rivesaltes. When it had been a camp for Spaniards fleeing the civil war, it was bad enough. Rumors swirled like leaves in the wind about how much worse it was now that it was full of Jews and those who opposed the Vichy regime.

She shoved away the thoughts of conflict, of men killing each other with guns, of airplanes dropping their deadly bombs on innocent civilians, of people wearing yellow stars disappearing from the streets, never to be heard from again.

People who were taken because of her.

All these concerns and regrets continued to creep in, no matter how she worked to put them away, to keep them on a high shelf where she couldn’t reach them. They tore her heart to shreds and ate at her very soul. Why had she been so naive? So trusting? Too trusting?

She had blood on her hands, blood that would never wash away.

Once she had forced herself to close the lid on that box, she worked to bring to mind happier thoughts. She and Levi had so much good coming their way. They had settled in this charming town in the balmy south of France. He worked hard in the vineyards and olive groves and provided well for her. And now they were expecting the amazing gift of a child.

What more could she want? Oui, she would be happy to be working again, creating beautiful stained-glass creations, but that was not possible now. Staying alive was their main concern.

As long as the Vichy remained in power and she and Levi kept themselves as much out of trouble as possible, they had nothing to fear. Life could go on as normal as possible despite the rationing and blackouts. They were minor inconveniences compared to the horrors many were experiencing in other parts of Europe.

The news that the Vichy were ramping up their arrests to placate the Germans was nothing but saber-rattling. It had to be. For over two years, they had lived here in peace. She prayed that would never change. If nothing else, they had the Spanish border not too far away.

As she stared into the darkness softened by moonlight, her eyelids fluttered and were almost shut when the cold, wet nose of her sweet little dachshund Tchin touched hers. Though the dog’s body was tiny, the entire bed shook as she wagged her tail. Noémie reached over and pulled the squirmy animal into her arms and whispered into her soft ear. Go to sleep, my sweet nugget. You may snooze all day, but I have work to do.

Levi tightened his grip on her. What’s going on? His voice was heavy with sleep.

Now see, Tchin, what you’ve done? You have the entire house awake. She reached behind her and stroked Levi’s beard-covered cheek. I’m sorry, my love. It’s just this dog who thinks it’s time to play.

Wait until the baby comes. I guess it’s a good thing we’re getting used to waking up in the middle of the night. Great practice for when we become parents.

Still, you need your rest. We all do because, as you say, our days of sleeping through the night are numbered. She tucked Tchin underneath the covers, up against her chest, then reached behind her to claim a kiss from Levi. Go back to sleep.

He kissed her with fervor. You make that difficult.

Enough. You won’t be any good for work in the morning, and how will I explain the bags under my eyes when I go to get bread?

That you have a husband who loves you.

Good night, Levi. She kissed his hand and rested with her back against his chest. Warm. Protected. Loved.

A drum beat interrupted her half slumber, at first distant and slow, then faster and nearer, harsher, demanding.

She blinked her eyes open. The thumping wasn’t a drum. Fists pounded at their door. She bolted upright, Tchin jumping from the bed and running toward the entrance, yipping and yapping for all she was worth.

Levi shrugged into his robe and slippers and shuffled to the door. Noémie raced after him and grabbed him by the arm just as he was about to turn the knob. Don’t. She kept her voice quiet but insistent.

Why?

The pounding came again, its rhythm and intensity the same as the throbbing of her heart. Open up. Though spoken in French, the words were harsh and strict. Gendarmes. French police who worked for the German puppet government.

That’s why. Maybe if they think no one is home, they’ll go away and leave us alone. Moments ago, she had been so confident of their safety. But the saber-rattling wasn’t a false narrative.

It was true.

Though they had done nothing, those with the power and authority to arrest banged on their door.

Levi bent and kissed the top of her head. "Ma chérie, I only wish that were possible. Even if, by some miracle, they went away now, they would be back."

Then we’d have time to hide or get away. She had to make him see that they had to buy a few hours, a few days to escape.

They will question us and release us. Or resettle us. That’s what I’ve heard. He stroked her cheek, sending a shiver down her arms.

"I’ve heard about Camp de Rivesaltes. That isn’t a place I want to go. No one does."

The pounding continued. Open up, or we will kick in the door!

Levi turned the lock and pushed the door open. He had barely cracked it when the gendarmes flung it wide and poured in. Before Noémie could even register what was going on, a burly officer with a scruffy mustache grabbed her and wrenched her arms behind her back. Pain shot to her shoulders, and she gasped.

Levi lunged for her, but another soldier, this one even bigger than the one holding her, punched her husband in the gut, then in the face. He crumpled to the ground.

Levi!

When she attempted to go to him, the one holding her tightened his grip on her wrists, surely bruising them. She swallowed back the salty tears that had built in her eyes and her burning throat.

Levi’s guard pulled him to a standing position. Pack. You have five minutes. One suitcase each. Now.

Noémie changed and threw everything she could manage to fit into her one brown bag while Levi did the same. Before stepping out of their sanctuary, Levi came to her and took her in his arms. "Je t’adore, Noémie.

Je t’adore. Never forget that, no matter what."

"Je t’adore, Levi, mon coeur. My heart." Before she was ready, the guards entered and grabbed them again then shoved them toward the doorway. They herded them down the winding staircase, three flights, and out the door to the narrow, shop-lined street.

At this time, all was usually quiet, but now the hum of truck engines broke the stillness of the night. Up and down the street, lights shone through the cracks in the shutters. Their neighbors, their fellow Jews, emerged from their homes, many dressed in their nightclothes, in the clutches of the police. Along with Levi and Noémie, they were forced into the backs of the trucks.

There was Monsieur Charpac, the tailor from across the street and Monsieur Furtado, the man who owned the anchovy and sardine shop at the end of the road, both with their wives and several children. Levi helped Madame Krivine, the jewelry maker, in, and she sat on the hard wood bench beside Noémie. This is our worst nightmare coming true.

All Noémie could do was nod and rub her belly where her child grew.

Madame Krivine shifted closer to Noémie as more men, women, and children climbed inside. Levi was still helping them aboard. Do you think they’ll treat you better because of your condition?

I hope that will be the case.

Then you’re delusional. They take pity on no one.

A gunshot echoed off the hundred-year-old buildings, and Noémie jumped. Is there a fight on the street?

Someone resisted them, and they don’t let such a crime go unpunished. Madame Krivine pulled her coat tighter and sat up straight, her once-smooth skin now crinkled. Don’t give them the satisfaction. You’re a statuesque woman. Stand tall and proud. They want to humble us. Stay proud and strong.

Strong. Oui, Noémie could do that. Had to do that. She’d been strong when leading the glass factory after Papa died, taking over and being in charge of men old enough to be her father. Standing firm on her proposals and changes.

But this was something entirely different. What would Camp de Rivesaltes be like? Were the stories about it true?

A moment later, Levi squeezed in between her and Madame Krivine. He drew Noémie close, and she leaned against his shoulder. Her rock. Her strength. She drew on it now as she drew on air. Don’t leave me. He’d been with her and had encouraged her when she was alone in the world and facing the daunting task of heading up a company of fifteen employees.

I’m not going anywhere. Levi kissed her temple. As much as it’s in my power, I’ll stay by your side and protect you and our child. If I can help it, I won’t allow them to hurt you.

The truck lurched forward, flinging them all to the side. Noémie almost ended up in Levi’s lap. She clung to him as they began their trip to …

Who knew where the Germans were going to take them. Camp de Rivesaltes was only a guess. Who knew what was going to happen to them. Who knew what fate awaited them.

Many of her acquaintances would say Hashem knew everything. Some of her Christian friends had told her that in their Bible, Hashem knew every hair on their heads and every sparrow that fell from a branch. With a sigh, she rested against her husband.

If only it was true. But if He knew everything, He would stop this carnage.

Soon they left Perpignan behind and came to the country. The road was narrow and bumpy. When they hit a rut, she and Levi bounced in unison, sometimes pushed against the truck’s canvas top. Because it was bound tightly, they wouldn’t fall out.

Theirs wasn’t the only truck. Through the opening at the back, she spied others following them. Maybe two or three, it was difficult to tell. How many were there?

Levi leaned over and whispered into her ear, loud enough so she would hear over the engine noise. Will you promise me something?

She nodded. Of course. Anything for you.

If something happens to me, take care of yourself and our child. Don’t let anything happen to the baby. Even if I don’t survive whatever lies ahead of us, do everything you can, whatever you have to, in order to live. To give life to our little one.

She shushed him with a kiss. Don’t speak like that. We are both going to be fine. We’ll raise him and the others that we are blessed with and grow old together. We’ll go home to Mulhouse and wander the cobbled streets between the half-timbered houses and watch the sun rise over the Rhine. Life will be good. You’ll see.

Levi pulled her closer, and together they endured the ride. Even though it wasn’t very long, she was stiff and sore by the time the brakes screeched, signaling an end to their journey.

Hopefully it was the end and there wasn’t anything else awaiting them.

A moment later, a German soldier flipped down the tailgate. "Out, out, all of you. Now! Schnell. Schnell."

The others who had been crowded into the truck with them scrambled for the exit and jumped to the ground. Levi held her back so they were the last to get off. He helped her down and took her by the hand.

Bright lights illuminated the scene in front of them. As far as the eye could see, white concrete barracks stretched across the barren plain. The wind whipped her skirt and tangled it around her legs. A deep chill settled in her bones.

Guards with German shepherds surrounded them, the dogs’ ears pricked as they barked and growled. Noémie stepped closer to Levi’s side.

Get moving!

Though no one knew where they were going, they advanced as one, like a wave on the sea.

Then they stopped, and a tall soldier shouted commands at them through a megaphone. Two lines. Make two lines. Women to the left, men to the right.

There was no way she was going to be separated from Levi. She grasped his hand tighter.

You have to let me go. His words were firm, his voice steady. How could he remain so calm when she trembled from head to toe?

I can’t. Her strength seeped from her limbs, and her legs shook. How will I do this without you by my side?

You are a strong woman. You’ve endured much more. You will survive this. As Levi spoke, a soldier approached and pulled them apart. Though she held to Levi with all her strength, she was no match for the well-muscled Nazi.

They marched Levi away and forced her in the opposite direction. Levi, je t’adore!

The wind swept her words away, and Levi disappeared from sight.

CHAPTER THREE

18 August, 1942

Camp de Rivesaltes, Vichy France

Little by little, Noémie shrugged off sleep and rolled over in bed. She reached for Levi but came up empty. Was he up already? Had she overslept?

Fatigue tugged at her, and she struggled to remain awake. Perhaps if she pulled away the quilt, she would rouse. But instead of a quilt, all that covered her was a thin blanket.

Oui, it was summer. No quilt needed. But this bed wasn’t soft, and there was no cotton mattress. Only this one, filled with filthy, bug-infested straw.

What was going on?

She forced her eyelids open. In the semidarkness, she made out a long room with beds stretching from one end to the other on each side. Was she sick and in a hospital ward?

Then like a tsunami, reality crashed into her. This was no hospital. And Levi wasn’t nearby.

This was Camp de Rivesaltes. And she was a prisoner.

Every morning since they had been here, the same scenario repeated itself. Every morning, the same realization slammed into her, a physical force that struck her.

Was that what it was like for those she might have saved? She could have spared them this. They could be waking up in their beds in England, preparing for another day’s work or play.

Now she was receiving her just punishment for her crimes.

The familiar morning sickness greeted her as she awakened. By now, it should be gone, but just the thought of the thin rice gruel the guards served them every morning and evening sent her stomach soaring and diving. She pushed it down. At four months along, she only had a slight bump.

You’d better get up and get moving. Hannah, a dark-haired woman who occupied the bed next to Noémie, passed her and slapped her on the bottom of her feet. Roll call soon.

Though Noémie curled into a ball, not willing to face the day in front of her, Hannah would have no part of it. You’ve been here a few weeks, and you know how this works. If you don’t show up, it’s the rest of us who pay the price. I’ll carry you out there myself if I need to.

Noémie couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. A woman after her own heart. I’ll move faster if you leave me alone. And if the awful morning sickness would pass.

Hannah tipped her head to the side and studied Noémie. She held out her hand and assisted Noémie to her feet.

The room spun, and she barely kept the bile that was rising in her throat from spilling out of her mouth. She had to fight with all she had to keep herself and her child safe.

Are you okay?

Noémie nodded. I will be. Just give me a minute.

A minute isn’t something you have. If you need extra time, you have to get up earlier.

Earlier than this? She pointed to the sky, light pink streaks barely visible through the cracked window.

You can lean on me if you need to. Hannah was certainly built large enough to carry both of them.

"Merci, but I need to stand on my own two feet here."

That’s for sure.

Then I will. Noémie took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Without too much in her stomach, there was little chance she would vomit. All she had to do was ignore the nausea.

Easier said than done.

At least she didn’t have to get dressed. Any items she’d had were soon stolen. She hadn’t washed her dress in weeks because she’d learned her lesson the hard way.

She followed Hannah and several dozen or so women out the door and into the warm, late-summer morning. Once more, the wind from the plain whipped at her uncombed hair and her rumpled dress. The gale never stopped, often knocking over the wobbly carts they used to distribute the rice.

Thankfully, Levi had insisted that she wear her sturdy boots, even though she would have much preferred her cooler peep-toe pumps. The ground was rough and rocky, and she would have turned an ankle in them.

She and Hannah took their places next to each other, keeping the rows and columns straight, just the way the German-controlled gendarmes liked them.

Because Noémie had spent all her life in the French and German area of Mulhouse, she was well aware of this characteristic. One that Maman often employed herself. Noémie was also conditioned to be that way.

As she stood waiting for her name to be called by the large-boned woman with narrow eyes and ruddy cheeks, she snuck glimpses of the countryside surrounding them.

Not that there was much to see. Barracks surrounded them, but their section in particular was fenced off with barbed wire. That was new since yesterday. If the rumors were to be believed, the Nazis pressured the Vichy government more and more. And the Vichys were bending to the German will.

Beyond the fence lay desolate wilderness, nothing but grass dried by the summer’s heat and drought and a few scrubby bushes and trees. The Pyrenees mountains rose against the horizon, blue and gray against the early-morning sky. On the other side of the craggy rocks lay Spain. Freedom. Was there a way to escape? A way to get out of here and make it to safety?

Yet these mountains were also a barrier. Another fence, hemming them in. The terrain was steep and rocky, not easy for a pregnant woman to cross, especially with no supplies.

Hannah elbowed her in the side, drawing her attention away from the magnificent yet confining mountains. Don’t look there. They’ll know what you’re thinking. And in your condition, you would never make it. Your chances are better here.

"Soyez silencieux! Be quiet! No talking is allowed." The muscular woman in charge directed her cold stare right at Hannah then flicked it in Noémie’s direction.

For the rest of the agonizing hour or so, as the sun rose over the plains, Noémie stood as still as possible, her feet sweating in the heavy boots. Even though her stomach was still queasy, she managed to keep its very few contents inside. One small victory.

At last they were released, and Noémie and Hannah headed toward the barracks together.

What about Levi? Had his morning been similar? It had been a while since she’d seen him, had been able to speak to him and touch him. And with the fences, it would be more difficult. She would have to keep a watchful eye on the guards.

Hannah nodded toward the new fencing. Perhaps if we are model prisoners, they’ll set us free. Perhaps life won’t be so hard for us if we do what they tell us.

From someone who, from all appearances, was a fighter, it was strange she would talk about being a model prisoner. Why do you believe that if we obey, we’ll be saved?

Hannah stared at the smudgy mountains on the horizon for several long minutes. I just do. You have to trust me. Her voice wavered, a crack in her invincible facade.

Noémie leaned closer to Hannah and kept her voice to a whisper. Have you attempted to escape?

The screech of young children’s voices saved Hannah from answering. As if some bell only they could hear had rung, they poured from their barracks and toward a woman just entering the block from a different part of the camp.

She opened her arms to the children and embraced as many of them as she could. Instead of civilian clothes, she wore a pale blue nurse’s uniform with a white apron over it and a white cap on her head.

Something about her manner, her easy smile, the way the children responded to her, drew Noémie to her. Every day, she held herself back from running to Fräulein Reiter’s arms along with the children.

With the self-sacrificing nature of Fräulein Reiter, a volunteer from the Swiss Children’s Aid and Red Cross Aid to Children who voluntarily lived in the camp, it was sure to be a place of safety and comfort.

She’d been there for almost a year and had managed to get a good number of children away from this cesspool. If Noémie were Catholic, she’d be nominating Fräulein Reiter for sainthood.

That invisible pull, that tug on Noémie’s heartstrings, was now too urgent to ignore. She followed the stream of children but stood at a distance as they interacted with the nurse.

Hello, my lovelies, hello. How are you all today?

A chorus of sweet, high voices answered the question while Fräulein Reiter laughed, her eyes dancing with light.

What have you brought us today? A brown-haired boy, no more than eight, posed the question.

Fräulein Reiter hushed him and cast a glance at the guards near the fence. All in good time. No reason to be impatient. Shall we go inside, out of the wind, and see what there is?

Fräulein Reiter, did you see that Beryl and Margot are back?

She spun to the slender girl behind her, a curl escaping the yellow kerchief on her head. All the sparkle and light fled her eyes. Back?

Oui, they came in a truck last night from the home they’d been living in.

Two girls, about eight and ten years old, mirror images of each other, stepped forward, heads bowed, holding hands. Noémie gasped. Beryl and Margot de Carcassona, along with their parents, had been neighbors of theirs in Perpignan. They’d disappeared a few weeks before the roundup in which Levi and Noémie were taken, and no one knew what had become of them. Strange that she hadn’t run into Madame de Carcassona in the camp. She moved toward the children.

As soon as they spotted Noémie, they raced to her, and she gathered the girls to herself. Oh, how delicious it was for her thirsty soul to hold them. Why are you here?

Beryl gazed at her, a shower of tears dampening her pale cheek. They said that Maman and Papa are being moved to another camp and that we had to come here so we could go with them.

"Non. Fräulein Reiter shook her head so hard that she had to hold her cap on her head. They assured me you would stay at the children’s home. I won’t allow it. Who took you?"

Gendarmes. Margot shook in Noémie’s arms. They said we had to come with them or Maman and Papa would be in terrible trouble. The matron at the home didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t have any other choice but to send us with them. So here we are. Another cascade of tears followed.

That home is Swiss territory. Neutral. They can’t enter and take who they like. Unacceptable. The Vichy may be caving to Nazi commands, but I never will. She peered at the girls who stared at their battered, dust-covered shoes. Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you. I’ll make sure you’re safe. Let me speak to the camp commander about this right away. We’ll get it straightened out.

A collective groan rose from the other children.

Now, now, you’ll have to wait for our classes today. Sometimes we don’t get what we want right when we want it.

Never had children been more able to understand the truth in that statement. Still, it was a shame the little ones, so happy to be with Fräulein Reiter, who had experienced so much hurt and disappointment in their short lives, had to endure even a second more of it.

Noémie turned her attention to Fräulein Reiter. Can I do something?

Perhaps. I’ve appreciated your assistance these past few weeks. She turned to the gaggle of children. Would you like it if Madame Treves is with you for a little while? Fräulein Reiter’s words were warm, like a spring sunbeam.

Oui! Oui! Like a wave rolling into shore, the children moved toward Noémie, almost knocking her to the ground with their enthusiastic hugs.

Merci. Fräulein Reiter reached into her bag and passed Noémie a small sack. A little something for them. With that, she was off, out of the enclosure that penned the Jews in like they were pigs.

A little boy with the biggest eyes ever to grace a child’s face took Noémie by the hand. Come on. Let’s go to school. Fräulein Reiter is nice. And you’re nice too.

For the first time since the gendarmes had pounded at the door and roused her and Levi from their slumber, Noémie laughed. "Merci beaucoup. I love your enthusiasm for school. More children should be like you. What do you say you lead the way, and we’ll get started."

Soon the boys and girls were seated on the cool concrete floor of one of the barracks, eating the rolls that were in the bag Fräulein Reiter had left with her. Some of the children were nothing but skin-covered skeletons. Most of them slept on wooden beds and scratched the lice that crawled in their hair.

Hannah came with her. Though Fräulein Reiter manages to get food and bring it to us, there is never enough. And if the children have come from other camps, they may not have had as much to eat there as the children here do.

Which isn’t much. Noémie’s morning sickness had passed, and she was more than ready for a substantial meal.

Never is.

How would she be able to carry her pregnancy to term in such conditions? What would become of her and her child? And what does it mean that children who had been taken out of here are back? I know those girls.

Hannah shrugged. Fräulein Reiter worked to get them to a Swiss orphanage in the east, to save them. I can’t say I’m not worried about them sending the two here and telling them they’re to be transported elsewhere with their parents.

Can she save them again? I know she’s a force to be reckoned with, but that’s a tall order.

Hannah shrugged. There’s no guarantee any of us will survive.

CHAPTER FOUR

22 August, 1955

Elne, France

The dry, brown grass crunches underneath my white pumps as I meander around the building. At the back sits an old, rusty swing set, the wooden seats rotted away long ago. Still, the squeaks of the chains and the squeals of the children reverberate in the air.

Almost as if no time has passed at all.

The bare dirt where children’s feet scraped the ground to bring